Shards of a Broken Crown. Raymond E. Feist

willing to surrender?”

      “Nothing that simple, I’m afraid.” The General smiled a half-smile that Jimmy found both reassuring and unsettling. “Patrick would likely throw me and my men into a camp and get around to shipping us back to Novindus when he found the means, and that could be years down the road.”

      “You’re turning coat?”

      “Not quite. Surrender or take his gold for service, either way I end up a man looking for a boat back to a land that has no place for me. No, Jimmy, I need a different solution. I need a future, for me and my men.”

      “What do you wish me to tell the Prince’s men?”

      “Tell them that I have handpicked the men with me here in Krondor. Tell them those I had reservations about were left behind with Noradan. I can vouch for my men.” He looked into Jimmy’s eyes a moment. “Tell your Prince of Krondor I will swear fealty to the crown, in exchange for land and titles. Grant me estates and income, and I will lead the army north to visit with my old friends Noradan and Fadawah.”

      Jimmy was silent for a moment. He was both astonished at the suggestion and amazed at the logic behind it. He shook his head. “I don’t know what he will say.”

      “If we knew what he would say, we wouldn’t have to send you, now, would we?”

      Jimmy shook his head.

      “Come, get something to eat, and leave at first light.” He led Jimmy down the stairs.

      Jimmy watched the man’s back and considered what he wanted. In a single breath he had set a price: forgive the assault on the Western Realm, and more, grant the man a patent of nobility, name him Earl or Baron of some lands in the West, and give him the power to rule over those lands. Jimmy shook his head. Would Patrick do it, or would his temper doom men on both sides of the wall to more useless bloodshed?

      Dash sipped at the watery soup and said, “So then what?”

      “We stayed in that basement a week or more. Hard to judge being in the gloom all that time.” The old man motioned to put aside his bowl, held in a badly deformed hand, and the young woman moved to take it before it fell to the floor. “Thank you, Trina,” he said.

      His voice was as scarred as his face, but after getting used to the sound of it, Dash understood him well enough.

      The three men who had come with Dash were still missing, and only Dash, the old man, and the woman thief sat around the simple wooden table.

      “What should I call you?” asked Dash.

      “Your grandfather insisted on calling me Lysle. It was a name I hadn’t used in more score of years than I can count, but it serves. I’ve had so many in my life I barely know which one is truly mine.”

      “Lysle, you were telling me about Grandfather and Grandmother.”

      “James set fire to the oil he rigged in the sewers. We knew it would be a close thing and it was. I was in the escape tunnel ahead of them, and when the explosion came I shot from the mouth of the tunnel like a cork from a bottle of sparkling wine. I was badly burned, as you see, and had half my bones broken, but I’m a tough nut.”

      The woman named Trina spoke. “And we found a healing priest who worked on him.”

      “Damn near killed the man, making him do his healings over me, my merry band of cutthroats did. But they saved me before the poor brother of Killian passed out from exhaustion. He squeezed a few years more of life for me, while I set matters in Krondor right.”

      “Grandfather and Grandmother?”

      The old man shook his head. “James and Gamina were last in the tunnel, behind me. They never had a chance, boy.”

      Dash had known his grandfather and grandmother were dead; his great-grandfather Pug had said so, but upon finding the Upright Man alive, a faint hope had been rekindled in Dash. Now it was extinguished again, and the pain was again felt.

      Lysle said, “If it is any comfort, I know they died quickly, and together.”

      Dash nodded. “Grandmother would never have wanted to live without Grandfather.”

      “I never knew my brother well, Dash. We had met once as young men, and then again a few years ago.” The old man laughed, a dry chuckle. “He put me out of business, actually, and damn near got me killed by some of the more ambitious men in the Mockers.

      “But those few days I spent with him and your grandmother, they were my chance to hear the stories. I’m sure you heard most of them. Prince Arutha and the journey to Moraline, the fall of Armengar, where he got the idea for that nasty fire trap that got himself killed. I heard how he had journeyed to Kesh, during that matter with the Crawler, and when Lord Nirome had tried to depose the Empress. He told me of his rise in power and the time he spent ruling in Rillanon.

      “I had thought myself something of a man of some accomplishments. When my father had died, one of his most trusted lieutenants had seized control of the Mockers, naming himself the Virtuous Man. I in turn deposed him and called myself the Sagacious Man. And I returned to the name Upright Man to signal an agreement I had with your grandfather and create the false impression I had deposed myself with the members of the Mockers.

      “But my accomplishments pale next to those of Jimmy the Hand. The thief who ruled in turn the two mightiest cities in the Kingdom. He who was the most powerful noble in the nation. What a man he was.”

      Dash nodded. “When you put it that way, I see what you mean. To me he was Grandfather, and he had lots of wonderful stories. I sometimes forgot they were true.”

      The Upright Man said, “Now, the question is, what to do with you?”

      “Me?”

      “You’re here spying for your father. That’s not a problem, in and of itself, but the fact is you’ve seen me, talked to me, and letting you go is a problem.”

      “Would it make a difference if I swore to say nothing about you to anyone?”

      The old man laughed his dry chuckle again. “Hardly. You’re who you are, boy, and things might remain on the square between us for a while, but eventually, when things return to something like before around here, the day will come when some Mocker will create a problem that will call a little too much attention to us. It happens from time to time. And then you’ll find yourself wondering just where your loyalties lie, to your Prince or your old Uncle Lysle. Considering our deep family bond, I have no doubt you’d turn me in the first chance you get.”

      Dash stood up. “Grandfather taught me better.” He glanced at the girl, and then at his great-uncle. “Besides, the Mockers I’ve seen don’t exactly look a menace to the sovereignty of the nation at the moment, and then there’s the small matter that we don’t presently control Krondor.”

      “That’s a matter of some weight, true. And it gives me pause about ordering your death. You don’t presently pose a threat. What do you think you can manage for us if we help you get free and back to your father?”

      Dash said, “I can’t promise anything. I don’t have the authority. But I suspect with a little conversation, I can get Father to authorize a general pardon for any of your people who help us retake the city.”

      “A little fighting for an amnesty?”

      “Something like that. Having a few of you inside the walls at key locations at the right time could save a lot of lives under the walls.”

      “Well, let me think on this, and then I’ll tell you what I’ll do tomorrow. Get some rest and don’t try to escape.”

      “What of my friends?”

      “They’re being cared for. I don’t know how important they are to you, but I’m counting on them having a little call on your loyalties, so I can keep you in line.”

      Dash