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

you please tell Uncle Corvallis we’re here?’

      The woman nodded and hurried off. A few minutes later a tall man, affecting a velvet coat and lace-front shirt, with far too many rings, arrived and said coolly, ‘Nephew, we had no word of your arrival.’ He cast a disapproving eye upon James and Gorath.

      ‘That’s all right, uncle. We intrude. We’ve already made arrangements to stay at the inn across the square. May I present to you Seigneur James, squire to Prince Arutha, and our companion, Gorath. Gentlemen, my uncle, Baron Corvallis of Cavell.’

      At the mention of a relationship to the Prince of Krondor, Baron Corvallis’s attitude softened slightly. He nodded at James and said, ‘Seigneur.’ Looking at Gorath as if he didn’t know what to make of him, he said, ‘Elven sir, welcome.’ He made a sweeping gesture and said, ‘If you will join me in my parlour, I’ll send for some wine.’ He signalled to the serving woman and said, ‘Miri, a bottle of wine and four goblets.’

      They followed the Baron into a hallway through what had been the old common room of the inn, now divided into several different rooms. The rear stairway to the upper rooms was visible at the end of the entrance hall, and James absently wondered if the old bar was still intact. Apparently he would never know, as they turned into a corner room with two large windows, overlooking the village square. The Baron indicated three chairs and took a fourth for himself. ‘What brings you to Cavell Village, Seigneur?’

      ‘The Prince’s business,’ said James. ‘There was some trouble down in Romney, and, as an outgrowth of that, we’re investigating rumours of Nighthawks returning to the Kingdom.’

      At mention of Nighthawks, the Baron almost levitated out of his chair. ‘Rumours!’ he shouted. ‘They are not rumours. There is wicked slaughter being done here in the north and I have sent reports to my lord the Duke of Cheam. They have tried to kill me three times!’

      James attempted to look concerned. ‘It was those very things that brought me here. The Prince is adamant, as is his brother the King –’ Lyam probably had no idea what was happening, but James had long ago learned that dropping the King’s name from time to time was a very powerful thing to do ‘– can’t countenance the idea of unprovoked assaults upon their nobles.’

      At mention of the King, the Baron seemed almost reassured. ‘Good, it’s about time.’

      James said, ‘Why don’t you tell us of your situation.’

      His face flushed with emotion, the Baron spoke quickly and with anger. ‘Three years ago a maid died in a fire that started near the abandoned wine cellar. At the time, I thought it was merely a tragic accident, but now I’m convinced it was but the first attempt on my life.

      ‘A year ago, while out hunting, a band of riders, all clad in black, appeared on the ridgeline and rode at us with weapons at the ready. Only a fox flushed by my hounds saved me, as the animal bolted across a field before the attackers, and the pursuing hounds caused their horses to falter. Lost my best hound that day.’

      He motioned to Miri, who had appeared at the door, to serve his guests. ‘Then last month, I was shot at by men from behind cover. The arrow cut my tunic, here.’ He pointed to his shoulder. ‘A hand’s span lower and I’d be a dead man.’

      James glanced at Owyn who nodded slightly, indicating the Baron wasn’t exaggerating.

      Baron Corvallis continued. ‘I dare not leave my own house, save perhaps to visit the inn with personal guards on all sides. My daughter disobeys me and runs like a common child across the fields and consorts with all manner of questionable riff-raff. She should be meeting respectable suitors at her age, but instead she walks through the fields with … a despicable creature who woos her with sweet lies.’

      Owyn tried to look serious, but was obviously amused by something. He said, ‘Who is this foul being, uncle?’

      ‘A man of commerce! Ugyne should be accepting court from the sons of barons, earls, even dukes, but not a common merchant. My solicitor Myron loves her, and while lowborn, has some ties to nobility. I would suffer him ask for her hand if she would settle down, but she’s filled with fanciful notions of romance and adventure, irritating enough traits in a son, but utterly unacceptable in a daughter.’

      ‘Does this agent of chaos have a name, uncle?’ asked Owyn.

      Nearly spitting, Corvallis said, ‘Navon du Sandau! I know he is a criminal. He wears clothing of costly weave and rides the finest black horse I have seen, yet he speaks little of his commercial enterprises. He claims to be a factor for several rich families and nobles, as well as an agent for trading concerns in the south and west. Yet I have never seen him on an errand of business; rather he is mysteriously absent or hanging around, wooing my daughter.’

      Owyn sipped at his wine, then asked, ‘Where is Ugyne, uncle?’

      ‘Probably out near the road, wandering the fields, waiting for snow to fall or Navon to arrive.’

      James took another drink of the somewhat indifferent wine and said, ‘We’ve imposed upon your hospitality long enough.’ He stood and said, ‘We’ll investigate this as quickly as we can and see what can be done to end these threats on the peace of your village.’

      ‘Thank you, Seigneur,’ said the Baron. He said, ‘Owyn, give my regards to your father and mother when next you see them.’ He nodded at Gorath as the moredhel walked past. Unsure of what to say, he merely nodded again.

      At the door, he said, ‘Owyn, if you’re in the village next Sixthday, do me the pleasure of dining with us. Bring your friends.’

      The door closed and James laughed. ‘That gives us five days to find what we’re looking for and leave before he’s forced to make good on his offer.’

      Owyn said, ‘My uncle is a difficult man at the best of times, but he is genuinely frightened.’

      ‘Even I, who know not your race that well, could tell that,’ said Gorath. ‘Yet one thought bothers me.’

      ‘What?’ asked James. ‘Only one?’

      ‘Among many,’ said Gorath. ‘If the Nighthawks had truly wanted him dead, he would be dead. The dogs interrupting the attack on horse, perhaps. But a near miss by an archer seems improbable.’

      ‘Having faced the Nighthawks several times, I’d agree,’ said James. They entered the Duck’s Head Inn.

      The common room was relatively uncrowded, it still being afternoon. The innkeeper crossed from behind the bar and said, ‘You’re the gentlemen in to see the Baron?’

      ‘Yes,’ said James.

      ‘I’m Peter the Grey,’ he said with a slight bow, ‘and I have the privilege of owning this establishment. Your rooms are ready any time you are, and we have a full board and a choice of wines and ale.’

      ‘Ale,’ said Gorath. ‘I have little affection for wine.’

      James laughed. ‘Given the Baron’s choice in wine, I don’t blame you.’

      Owyn nodded. ‘You can’t imagine what it would have been had you not been a member of the Prince’s court.’

      Peter the Grey’s eyebrows shot up. ‘A member of the Prince’s court? Well, then, I best ensure we only serve the finest. A member, gentlemen!’

      As Peter hurried away, James called after, ‘And food, please.’

      They sat and Owyn said, ‘Sorry you had to endure the ramblings of my uncle. Compared to the troubles we’re investigating, his woes must be pathetic by comparison.’

      James was thoughtful. ‘Perhaps, but there may be a connection here. I’m not quite sure what it is, but why would the Nighthawks harass your uncle, yet not kill him?’

      ‘To keep him frightened,’ suggested Gorath.

      Just then Peter the Grey arrived with the ale and placed frosty