Shadow of a Dark Queen. Raymond E. Feist

to offer by way of an alternative, so he said nothing. They sat at the rear of the barn, beneath the hayloft.

      ‘Erik?’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘How do you feel?’

      ‘Not bad. My shoulder feels like new.’

      ‘No, I don’t mean that,’ said Roo, nibbling on a long straw. ‘I mean about everything – killing Stefan and the rest.’

      Erik said nothing for a long while; at last he said, ‘He needed killing, I guess. I don’t feel much of anything. I felt very strange when he went all limp after you stuck him. I felt a lot worse when that bandit got in the way of my sword point. That made me feel sick.’ He was quiet for a minute. ‘It’s odd, isn’t it? I hold my own half brother so you can kill him and don’t feel much – not even relief because of the way he abused Rosalyn – but a complete stranger, a murderer probably, and I feel almost like vomiting.’

      Roo said, ‘Don’t be so hard on murderers. That’s us, remember?’ He yawned. ‘Maybe you have to be holding the blade; that robber dying didn’t bother me, but I can still feel the way it was when I stuck my dagger into Stefan. I was sure mad at him then.’

      Erik let out a long sigh. ‘It doesn’t do to dwell on this, I think. We’re outlaws and there’s nothing to do for it but try to get to the Sunset Islands. There’s a legacy of some sort waiting for me at Barret’s Coffee House, and I mean to go there, then find the first ship heading west.’

      ‘What legacy?’ Roo sounded intrigued. ‘You never mentioned it before.’

      ‘Well, “legacy” may be too big a word. My father left something for me with a solicitor and litigator at Barret’s Coffee House.’

      The sound of a wagon in the distance brought both young men to their feet. Roo peered out the door. ‘Either the farmer got tired of waiting in the line or he’s back from morning market in the city, but either way the entire family seems to be riding in the wagon and we can’t get out without being seen.’

      ‘Come on,’ said Erik, climbing the ladder to the hayloft. Roo followed and found what Erik had been looking for, a door outside. He knelt and said, ‘Stay back against the wall until they’ve unhitched the wagons and gone inside. Then we’ll jump down from here and head into the city. It should be about time, anyway.’

      Just then the door to the barn was heaved open, and a child’s voice shouted above the loud creaking, ‘Papa! I didn’t get to see the Prince.’

      A woman’s voice said, ‘If you hadn’t been hitting your sister, you would have seen him ride by.’

      Another male voice, an adult’s, said, ‘Papa, why do you think the king named Nicholas Prince instead of Erland?’

      ‘That’s the business of the Crown, and none of mine,’ came the answer as the wagon rolled into the barn, backed in by the farmer. Erik peeked over the edge of the loft and saw the farmer sitting in the wagon seat, letting his eldest son push the horses backwards as he kept an eye on things. They had obviously done this hundreds of times, and Erik appreciated the ease with which they ensured the horses did exactly what was asked, keeping the wagon intact and those riding in it safe. They continued to talk.

      The son said, ‘Father, what’s it going to be like with a new Prince?’

      ‘Don’t know,’ said the farmer. ‘Seems like Arutha was ruling there long as I can remember. Back to before I can remember. Fifty-three years on the throne of the West. Well, Nicholas is the son said to be the most like his father, so maybe things won’t change much.’ The wagon stopped rolling. ‘Get Davy out of his traces first and put him away. I want you to take Brownie outside and walk her so I can see if she’s really lame on her left front or just acting lazy, like usual.’

      The elder boy did as he was instructed while from the house the distant shouts of the younger boy and a girl could be heard, followed almost instantly by a scolding from their mother. The farmer dismounted from the wagon and removed some grain sacks from the back, loading them into a pile below the hayloft.

      When the second horse was out of her traces, father and son left the barn, and Erik said, ‘We’d better clear out. If they need fodder for the animals, the boy will be up here in a few minutes.’

      ‘It’s still light out,’ Roo complained.

      ‘It’s almost sundown. We’ll just keep the barn between us and the house for a bit. If anyone sees us we’ll be two travelers walking across the field, heading for town.’

      Roo said, ‘I hope you know what the hell you’re talking about.’

      Erik pushed open the door to the outside through which hay was hoisted into the loft, and looked down. ‘It’s only a bit of a jump, but be careful not to twist your ankle. I don’t want to have to carry you.’

      ‘Right,’ said Roo with thinly disguised concern. He looked down to the ground below and found the distance far greater than he had remembered. ‘Can’t we climb back down the ladder and sneak out?’

      ‘One door, remember? And they’re exercising a horse right in front of it.’

      The creak from out front told Erik and Roo the farmer was returning. ‘Lazy creature. Why should I feed you if you’re pretending to be lame to get out of work?’ asked the farmer with affection.

      His son’s voice carried to the loft as Erik lowered himself to hang from the edge, then let go. ‘I like the way that lameness moves from foreleg to back, then from right to left, depending on which way she’s going.’ His laughter showed his genuine amusement.

      Roo repeated Erik’s movements, hanging for what seemed the longest moment before he let go, expecting to slam hard into the ground and break both legs. Erik’s powerful hands closed around his waist and slowed him just enough so that he landed lightly on his feet. Roo turned and whispered, ‘See, nothing to it.’

      ‘Did you hear something out back?’ came the voice of the son.

      Erik motioned for silence and they hurried away from the barn.

      Whatever curiosity the farmer’s eldest son might have had, the requirements of caring for the animals must have displaced it, for no one came to investigate the sound. Erik and Roo hastened along, until they were a quarter mile across the field, then slowed to a casual walk.

      They plodded down the rolling hillside, approaching the outer buildings of the city as the sun went down. Erik looked at the foulburg as they neared it, and said, ‘Keep an eye out for guards.’

      They reached a low row of huts and simple gardens. with no clear passage between the buildings. In the evening light they could see a few hundred yards to the north of them that another road entered the city. They made out movement along the road, but neither Roo nor Erik could tell if it was field hands returning to the city or soldiers on patrol using the thoroughfare.

      Roo said, ‘Look,’ and pointed to what was little more than a clear space between two houses, but through which they could reach the first north-south street in town without having to use the main roads. They stepped over a low fence, carefully avoiding the rows of vegetables planted there, and made their way to the back of the hut. Ducking low so as not to be seen through the single window, they skirted away from the rear door and moved between the buildings. Obviously in one of the poorer sections of town, this little alleyway was heavily littered with trash. They picked their way along, trying to be as quiet as possible.

      Reaching the street, Roo peered out and pulled back, hugging the wall. ‘It’s pretty empty.’

      ‘Do you think we’re beyond where the guards are?’

      ‘I don’t know. But at least we’re in Krondor.’

      Roo moved out into the street, then strolled along, as Erik caught up. They glanced right and left and saw only a few locals, some of whom paused to study the two young men. Roo started to feel self-conscious about