The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist

going to pull a sword or break a head, and a full-scale city riot will be under way.’ He lowered his voice even more. ‘And if most of the city’s constabulary is on one side or the other, even those fifty lancers won’t be able to stop it.’

      Owyn nodded. ‘What do you want us to do?’

      Pointing to Gorath, he said, ‘First light tomorrow, I’d like you up snooping outside the city. You know what to look for.’ To Owyn he said, ‘Do you know any of the prominent families of Romney?’

      ‘Not well,’ said Owyn, ‘but as my father’s a baron and I’ve got enough names to drop around, I should be able to get an invitation to tea or supper from someone around here.’

      James said, ‘Good. I’ll snoop around.’

      ‘Where?’ asked Owyn.

      James grinned. ‘In parts of the city where wise men fear to go.’

      Owyn nodded. ‘What else?’

      ‘Do you know a Baron Cavell, north of here?’ asked James.

      Owyn finished a mouthful of food. ‘Corvallis of Cavell? I should. He’s my uncle. My mother’s uncle, actually, but only a few years older than her. Why?’

      ‘Richard of Romney says he’s being stalked by the Nighthawks.’

      Owyn said, ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Uncle Corvallis always had a hot temper and an unforgiving nature. Made it easy for him to collect enemies. Still, I find it hard to imagine that anyone wants him dead.’

      James shrugged. ‘That’s what Earl Richard said the Baron of Cavell claims.’

      Gorath said, ‘If they wanted him dead, he’d be dead.’

      James said, ‘Well, according to Richard, your uncle Corvallis is hiding out in a room in a house in the middle of Cavell Village, with armed guards in every room.’

      Owyn nodded. ‘The old keep was gutted mysteriously in a fire years ago. The family’s been living in the best house in the village since then, and talking about restoring the old keep, but at this point it’s still abandoned.’

      James said, ‘Well, we might have to go talk to your uncle if we can’t find the Nighthawks down here.’

      Gorath observed, ‘I haven’t noticed much difficulty in finding them.’

      James nodded agreement. ‘Too true.’

      They finished their meal and turned in for the night.

      

      The shout had barely registered on James the next morning and he was out of bed, grabbing his trousers and boots. Gorath was also awake and reaching for his sword. Owyn stirred on his pallet next to Gorath’s and said, ‘What?’

      ‘Sounds like a riot is commenced,’ said Gorath.

      James listened to the sound and said, ‘No, it’s something else.’

      He finished dressing and hurried down the hall to the stairs to the common room. As he approached the front of the building he could hear the voices from out in front. The landlord stood at the door to his inn, listening as people hurried by.

      ‘What is it?’ demanded James.

      With a dark look, the innkeeper said, ‘Murder. The cry is murder has been done in the night.’

      ‘Murder?’ asked Owyn, coming down the stairs. ‘Who?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said the innkeeper. ‘But they’re saying it was done over at the Black Sheep Inn.’

      James was through the door before the words had vanished from the air, Owyn and Gorath following. He didn’t bother to go and saddle his horse, but rather sprinted through the streets, following the flood of people who swept along like a stream, heading across the bridge toward the main square of the city.

      As he neared the square, he found a press of people being held back by a few men with pole arms, all wearing armbands. None of the Royal Lancers was in evidence. James had to push his way through the crowd and when he reached the front, he was barred by a man holding a pike.

      James pushed aside the pike shouting, ‘On the business of the Crown!’

      The man obviously wasn’t prepared for that and hesitated, letting James, Gorath and Owyn pass. But he managed to keep others back as Richard, Earl of Romney, came striding across the square, toward the fountain. He saw James and exclaimed, ‘Squire!’

      James crossed to where he waited and said, ‘My lord? What is it?’

      Barely able to speak because of his rage, he pointed to the open door of the Black Sheep Inn and said, ‘Look!’

      James hurried to the entrance.

      Entering the commons he saw Royal Lancers, sprawled across tables or on the floor, their eyes vacant and fixed. He needed no healer or priest to pronounce the men dead. He looked over at a cowering stableboy, who had found the bodies when he had come in for breakfast an hour earlier, and said, ‘All of them?’

      The boy was so terrified he could barely speak. ‘Sir,’ he nodded. ‘The officer is in his room upstairs, and the sergeant and some of the others. The rest died down here.’

      Gorath crossed to the table and picked up a mug of ale. He sniffed at it. ‘Poison,’ he said, ‘or I’m a goblin. You can smell it.’

      James took the mug and sniffed it, judging the moredhel’s sense of smell keener than his own, for he could detect no odour beyond that of warm ale. He noticed a slight black sediment in the mug. He fished out a tiny bit with his finger, then touched it to the tip of his tongue. Spitting it out, he said, ‘You may be right, and there may be poison in this ale, but what you’re smelling is tarweed.’

      ‘Tarweed?’ asked Owyn, looking pale despite the number of corpses he had seen already.

      James nodded, putting down the mug. ‘Old trick in some of the seedier inns in the Kingdom. Tarweed is nasty stuff in large amounts, but in small doses it makes you thirsty. You lace bad ale with it, and the customers drink it like it was dwarven winter ale.’

      ‘Can it kill you?’ asked Owyn.

      ‘No, but there are many tasteless poisons that can,’ said James.

      He turned to the boy and said, ‘What’s your name?’

      ‘Jason,’ the boy answered, terrified. ‘What are they going to do to me?’ he asked.

      ‘Nothing, why?’

      ‘I served these men, sir. My master always said the care of our guests was our responsibility.’

      James said, ‘Perhaps, but you couldn’t know the ale was poisoned, could you?’

      ‘No, but I knew something was odd, and I didn’t say anything.’

      James was now acutely interested. ‘What was odd?’

      ‘The men who came with the ale. We buy our ale from the Sign of the Upturned Keg down in Sloop. I know the waggon drivers. This time it was strange men.’

      James took Jason by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. ‘Is there anything you can tell us about these men, anything special?’

      Jason stared at the ceiling a moment, as if struggling to remember. ‘They were dark men, maybe Keshians, and they spoke oddly. And they seemed worried, but they didn’t say anything. One wore a medallion that swung out from under his tunic when he leaned over to hand a keg down to his partner.’

      ‘What did it look like?’ demanded James.

      ‘It had a bird on it.’

      James glanced at Gorath and Owyn. ‘What else?’ asked James.

      ‘They told me to forget I had ever seen them,’ replied Jason. ‘And they smelled funny,