.

party of Great Ones came through here last week. And it is rumoured some brigands from my home world, grey warriors, have also been seen near the city.’

      ‘Grey warriors?’ asked Locklear. ‘Houseless men? What would they be doing here in LaMut?’

      Sumani shrugged. ‘It may be those without honour have heard that here a man may rise by his own wits and talents, and not be bound by his rank at birth. Or it may be they are seeking riches in this land. With a grey warrior, who can say?’ A frown crossed Sumani’s face.

      ‘What?’ asked Locklear.

      ‘Just this one thing: the rift is controlled by those who serve the Great Ones on Kelewan, and Kingdom soldiers guard the gate on this side. To pass through, these grey warriors would have to have documents, or allies among those guarding the rift gate.’

      ‘Bribes?’ asked Locklear.

      ‘Here, perhaps. I’ve found in the Kingdom the concept of honour is different than at home. But betrayal from the servants of the Great Ones?’ He shook his head. ‘That is impossible.’

      ‘Thanks,’ said Locklear, smelling a puzzle. ‘I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.’

      The Tsurani laughed. ‘That is a funny thing to say,’ he observed. ‘Let me know if I may be of any further service.’

      Locklear nodded. He took a lantern from the innkeeper and returned to the table. Gorath and Owyn rose, and Locklear led his companions up the stairs to a simple room with four beds. He motioned for Owyn to help him move one of the beds across the door, barring it against a sudden attack, then he moved another directly below the window. ‘Owyn,’ he said, pointing to the bed under the window, ‘you sleep there.’

      ‘Why?’ asked the young man from Timons. ‘It’s draughty under there.’

      Gorath looked on with a slight turn to his lip, as if amused, as Locklear answered, ‘Because if anyone climbs in through the window, they’ll step on you and your shouts will alert us.’

      Grumbling, Owyn wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and lay down. Locklear indicated one of the beds to Gorath, who lay upon it without comment. Locklear sat on his bed and blew out the flame in the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. Voices from the common room below carried upstairs, and Locklear let his mind wander. The presence of foreigners and the attack by the Quegans worried him, and the rumour of Tsurani grey warriors in the area caused him additional concern, but fatigue and his injury caused him to quickly fall asleep.

       • TWO •

       Deception

      THE SOLDIER WAVED THEM IN.

      ‘You may enter,’ he informed Locklear.

      Locklear led his companions into the guardroom of the castle.

      They had approached the castle on foot, after an early-morning climb up a long, winding road from the city. He was doubly glad they had chosen to spend the night in the city. His ribs still hurt, but after a night’s sleep in a relatively warm bed and two meals he was feeling twice as fit as he had the day before.

      The captain of the castle guard looked up as they entered and said, ‘Squire Locklear, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes, Captain Belford,’ said Locklear, accepting the captain’s hand. ‘We met when I passed through on my way north a few months back.’

      ‘I remember,’ said the captain with a half-hidden grin. Locklear knew the captain must have heard the rumour of the reason for his banishment to the north. ‘What can I do for you?’

      ‘I’d like to see the Earl, if he has the time.’

      ‘I’m sure he’d love to see you again, sir, but the Earl’s not here,’ said the seasoned old fighter. ‘He’s off on some errand with a troop of men – all Tsurani-bred – leaving me here to take care of things.’

      ‘The Countess?’ asked Locklear, inquiring after Kasumi’s wife.

      ‘Down in the city, actually. Shopping and visiting with her family.’ Earl Kasumi had married the daughter of one of LaMut’s more prosperous merchants. ‘If you need something official, you can wait until one of them gets back or ask me, squire. As long as you don’t need an armed escort somewhere.’

      Locklear grimaced. ‘I had been thinking about asking for some men to accompany us down to Ylith.’

      ‘Wish I could oblige, squire, and if you’ve the Prince’s warrant with you, I’d scrape together a dozen swords for you, but as it is, the Earl’s off training recruits, I’ve got my usual patrols along the frontier, and the rest of the lads are out looking for a bunch of Tsurani renegades.’

      Owyn said, ‘Renegades?’ Locklear had mentioned nothing of the Tsurani grey warriors to his companions.

      ‘I heard some rumours,’ was all Locklear said.

      The captain motioned for the three of them to sit. Owyn was left standing when Gorath and Locklear took the only two free chairs in the office. ‘I wish it was only rumours,’ said Belford. ‘You know that Tsurani magician, Makala?’

      ‘By reputation only,’ said Locklear. ‘He was due to arrive in Krondor a few weeks after I departed some months ago. The other Tsurani Great Ones spoke of him, but as they weren’t the most sociable bunch, I only gathered a few things about him. He’s very influential in their Assembly of Magicians, is keen to foster trade and what I believe the Prince is calling “cultural exchanges” between the Empire of Tsuranuanni and the Kingdom, and he was personally coming for a visit.’

      ‘Well, he did that,’ said the captain. ‘He arrived here a few days ago and called on the Earl. Every Tsurani of any rank does that, as the Earl’s father is very important on the Tsurani home world. So it’s a duty thing.’ The old captain rubbed his beard-stubbled chin with a gloved hand. ‘The Tsurani are very deep into “duty”, I have learned in my time with the Earl. Anyway, they were here for a couple of days, Makala, some other Black Robes, and honour guards and bearers and the bunch, and it seems some of the bearers weren’t really bearers, but were some kind of dishonoured warriors from the Empire.’

      ‘Grey warriors,’ said Locklear. ‘I heard.’ That would explain how the grey warriors got through the rift, thought Locklear, disguised as bearers.

      ‘That’s who my lads are looking for. Rumour is they fled east. If they get over the mountains and into the Dimwood, we’ll never find them.’

      ‘Why the fuss?’ asked Owyn. ‘Are they slaves or indentured?’

      ‘Squire?’ said the captain pointedly.

      ‘He’s the son of the Baron of Timons,’ explained Locklear.

      ‘Well, young sir,’ said the captain, ‘these men are something like outlaws on their own world, which by itself isn’t enough to have me chasing after them, but here they stole something of value to this Makala – a ruby of some rarity, I gather – and he’s making enough of a fuss about it that you’d think the gods themselves lent it to him and he’s got to take it back in a week. So the Earl, some because he’s polite, and some because he’s Tsurani and used to jumping whenever one of those Black Robes barks, he’s got us combing the hills looking for those bastards.’

      Locklear smiled at Owyn, as if asking if that was explanation enough. The captain looked at Gorath, as if expecting him to say something. Gorath remained silent. Locklear didn’t know if the captain recognized the moredhel for what he was or thought him an elf, and didn’t see the need to explain things to him. The captain said, ‘What would you need an escort for, if I may make so bold as to ask?’

      ‘We’ve had some problems,’