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

Hearing nothing, he opened it and found another barracks, with twenty well-made empty beds. ‘No one has been here for a while,’ he observed.

      ‘Not quite true,’ said Gorath, pointing. ‘One pair of footprints. Heading that way.’ He indicated the far end of the room, where stone stairs rose up the wall to a hole in the ceiling. Next to the stairs was a bed left unmade, apart from the others. A huge wardrobe had been placed next to the bed, incongruous in its setting. It was made of highly polished wood with gilt trim, and when James opened it, clothing of expensive weave and boots of fine leather could be seen.

      ‘I’m willing to bet the leader of this band of cutthroats is the dandy who uses this bed.’ He looked around. ‘See if there’s anything here that might identify this fashion pate. I’m going to check the next floor.’

      James hurried up the steps and discovered a large wooden door barred the way. It was attached to the stones by heavy hinges and a hasp with a lock. Locks had rarely proved a problem to the former thief, but this one was of ingenious design and James had fallen out of the habit of travelling with lockpicks. ‘Owyn, what’s up here?’

      Owyn paused, as if searching his memory, then said, ‘It’s another storage room, smaller, but similar to this one, and then there’s a long tunnel leading back into the mountain.’

      James came down the stairs. ‘Either our quarry is hiding something up there from his own men, or he’s fearful of someone stumbling into this lair from above.’

      ‘I doubt the second case,’ said Owyn. ‘Someone would have to get into the old keep, know how to activate the door from the armoury to the first tunnel, and besides, most of the upper passages were buried in the collapse of the old wine cellar.’

      ‘Then he’s keeping something under lock for his own reasons.’

      ‘Perhaps gold,’ suggested Gorath. ‘Assassins would have to be paid.’

      James said, ‘There is that.’ He came down the stairs. ‘Find anything?’

      ‘Just this,’ said Owyn. He held out a book.

      James took it and read the title on the first page. ‘The Abbot’s Journal,’ he read aloud. He flipped a few pages and said, ‘It’s a collection of stories about your uncle’s family, it seems.’ He handed it back to Owyn. ‘How did it get here?’

      Owyn said, ‘I have no idea. It may have been lost when my uncle evacuated the keep after the fire, and someone combing the rubble above might have found it.’

      ‘Bring it along,’ said James. ‘I think I’ll do some reading before bed tonight.’

      James led them back the way they had come.

      

      James moved the beds and Gorath asked, ‘Is this some human custom of which I’m not aware?’

      James grinned. ‘Unless there were no other Nighthawks around, someone is going to find it odd that two of their lads went missing. My best guess is Nighthawks don’t usually go absent without permission. So it’s not unlikely that whoever discovers they are gone might decide to come see if we three had something to do with it.’

      Once he had the beds crowded against the door, he said, ‘If they act as usual, one or more of them will come through that window while the rest come in that door. They’ll come fast, through the outer door and up the stairs before Peter the Grey can get out of bed to find out what’s causing all the noise. If they work as planned, by the time old Peter gets through the kitchen and up these stairs he’ll find three bodies here and an open window.’

      Owyn said, ‘If they come.’

      James grinned. ‘Oh, they’ll come. We’re the only newcomers in the area who’ve been hanging around, visiting the Baron, asking questions. I just don’t know if they’ll come tonight or tomorrow night.’ James turned the lamp down low, enough so he could read, sat down next to the lamp on the floor, and opened the book he had had Owyn carry back from Cavell Run.

      Owyn produced a second book and said, ‘I might as well put this time to good use, as well. I’ve neglected this too long.’

      ‘What is it?’ asked Gorath.

      ‘My book of magic.’

      ‘You wrote a book?’ asked the dark elf.

      ‘No, it’s a book each student keeps, recording thoughts, discoveries, and notations of things observed or learned.’ He produced a quill and a tiny vial of ink. ‘When Nago almost hit me with that spell he threw, I sensed something, and, well, it’s hard to explain, but I’m puzzling out how he did it. I think with some more study I can do it.’

      James looked up. ‘What does it do?’

      ‘If I’m right, it should immobilize the person struck, maybe more.’

      ‘More?’ asked James, now very interested.

      ‘I think it might eventually kill the victim.’

      Gorath, said, ‘If it immobilizes, what does it matter? You just pull out your dagger and walk up and cut his throat.’

      Owyn said, ‘I guess. When I was at Stardock, the teachers didn’t delve too deeply into violent applications.’

      James yawned. ‘Which is wise. It wouldn’t do to have a bunch of you youngsters wandering around that island tossing off fireballs and blasts of lightning at each other. The tavern brawls would be pretty impressive in the carnage they left behind.’

      Owyn laughed. ‘Maybe you’re right. Some of the students were twice my age. I think magic takes a long time to master.’

      James said, ‘If one ever does master it.’

      ‘I heard Pug was a true master,’ said Owyn.

      James yawned again. ‘I’ve seen him do some pretty impressive things,’ he admitted through his yawn. ‘Mercy, but this waiting is trying on the nerves.’

      ‘Then get some sleep,’ said Gorath. ‘I’ll watch.’

      Owyn asked, ‘Do you know Pug well?’

      ‘We met a few times,’ said James. ‘Why? Didn’t you meet him at Stardock?’

      ‘No, I saw him from time to time, with his family, but he spends most of his time in his tower or off away from Stardock. Most of the teaching is done by others. I met him only that one time in Krondor, briefly, when his daughter was trying to read Gorath’s mind.’

      ‘I’ve never met the girl, though I hear she’s a nice kid,’ said James, as he thumbed through the book. ‘Her brother Willie’s a good lad. He’s training to be an officer in Arutha’s guard.’

      ‘Hmmm,’ said Owyn, and James glanced over to see the young magician lost in his notes.

      James looked through the book in his lap again for nearly a half hour. ‘This is the most improbable collection of accounts and … outright fabrications I’ve ever encountered.’

      Owyn looked up. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘There’s lists of births and deaths, as if someone sat down one day and told this Abbot Cafrel the Cavell family history in one sitting, then suddenly we’re talking about missing treasure, swords of incredible magic power, and curses.’

      ‘Sounds interesting,’ said Gorath, who was trying to be polite.

      James laughed. ‘I agree,’ he said, putting aside the book. ‘You watch and I’ll sleep. Wake me in two hours.’

      James curled up and Owyn studied, and Gorath watched the window, his hand resting on his sword.

      

      They came the next night. James had again been reading the Cavell family history and Owyn was meditating on the bed, his eyes closed as he was developing a method of casting the spell Nago had used on him. Gorath lay sleeping