Into a Dark Realm. Raymond E. Feist

whatever’s left of it before the tide comes in and drowns you, of course.’

      ‘Barbarian!’

      Jommy grinned. ‘Been called that more than a few times since I got to Kesh.’

      ‘What do you wish to know?’ asked the desertman.

      ‘One thing only,’ said Jommy, losing his grin. ‘Where’s Jomo Ketlami?’

      ‘I don’t know!’ shouted the man as he tried to gain purchase for his feet in the dangling cargo net.

      ‘We know he’s somewhere in the city!’ shouted Jommy. ‘We know he hasn’t got out of the city. And we know that you have been doing business with him for years. Here’s the deal: you tell us where he is, we pull you up. Then we go find him, get what we want to know from him, and kill him. You’ve got no worries.

      ‘Or you don’t tell us and we leave you hanging. You might climb up to the top of this derrick, and get down from there somehow, but even if you do, we’ll just start spreading the word you sold out Ketlami. So we’ll just keep an eye on you, wait until he kills you, and we’ll have him, anyway.’ Jommy’s grin returned. ‘Your choice, mate.’

      ‘I can’t!’ cried the terrified trader.

      ‘Five imperial silvers he doesn’t die when he hits the rocks,’ said Tad.

      ‘I don’t know,’ Zane replied. ‘Seems like that’s a bit better than even money.’

      ‘What say you to my five against your four?’

      Zane nodded enthusiastically. ‘Done!’

      ‘Wait!’

      Jommy said, ‘Yes?’

      ‘Don’t cut the rope, please. I have children to care for!’

      ‘Liar,’ said Zane. ‘It’s well known you tell the girls at the bordellos you’re without a wife.’

      ‘I didn’t say I had a wife,’ admitted the little man. ‘But I do care for the handful of bastards I’ve sired.’

      ‘You are the soul of generosity, mate,’ observed Jommy.

      ‘There are men who do far less for their get,’ replied the dangling trader. ‘I have even taken the eldest into my house to learn a craft!’

      ‘Which?’ asked Zane. ‘Trading, spying, lying, or cheating at cards?’

      ‘You know,’ asked Tad, ‘that as we stand here jibber-jabbing, the tide’s coming in?’

      ‘So?’ Jommy looked at his friend with a narrowing gaze.

      ‘Well, if we don’t cut the rope soon, then the chances are he’ll just drown, and that means the bet’s off.’

      ‘Can’t have that,’ said Zane. He flourished the large hunting knife he was holding, twirled it like an expert, and began sawing at the heavy rope that ran up through the block and tackle below the topmost pulley of the derrick.

      ‘No!’ shouted the panic-stricken little man. ‘I’ll talk!’

      ‘So, talk,’ returned Jommy.

      ‘Not until you pull me up!’

      Zane glanced at his companions. ‘A reasonable request?’

      ‘Well, I don’t think he’s going to be able to best all three of us,’ said Tad. ‘After all, he’s an unarmed, skinny little fellow and we’re, what did he call us?’

      ‘Murderous cut-throats,’ supplied Zane.

      ‘Pull him up, then,’ said Jommy.

      Tad and Zed both gripped the heavy crank used to raise the netting, and turned it. Being well oiled, it moved freely and the little man quickly rose the dozen feet necessary to bring his head above the edge of the dock.

      Jommy had his sword out and pointed to a spot on the dock. ‘Put him there, lads.’

      Tad and Zane ceased cranking, set the lock to keep the net from falling back, and then grabbed the long wooden arm used to swing cargo around. When they had the trader safely above the docks he let go of the net, dropping a few feet to the stones.

      Before Aziz could think to flee again, Jommy had his sword’s point at the man’s throat. ‘Now, you were going to tell us the whereabouts of Jomo Ketlami.’

      With eyes downcast Aziz said, ‘You must find him and kill him quickly, and those who serve him, for if any of those … murderers linger, my life is over.’

      ‘That’s our plan,’ said Jommy. ‘Now, where is he?’

      ‘You were mistaken about him still being in the city. He has more ways through the walls than a sewer rat. There are caves in the hills above the beach a half-day’s ride to the southwest, and there he has gone to ground.’

      ‘And you know this how?’ asked Tad.

      ‘He sent word, before he fled. He has need of me. Without me, he has no way to send messages to his confederates in other cities on the Bitter Sea. I am to find my way to those caves in two nights, for he has messages he must send to his murderous brothers.’

      ‘I think we should just kill him,’ said Zane. ‘He’s in a lot deeper than we thought.’

      ‘No,’ said Jommy, putting up his sword as Tad gripped Aziz by the shoulder. ‘I think we’re going to take him back to the inn and have him sit down with your dad, and we’ll let him decide this.’ To the trader, Jommy said, ‘It’s all the same to me if you live or die, so if I were in your place, I’d put some effort into convincing us it’s better for everyone involved if you stay alive.’

      The man nodded.

      ‘Come along,’ said Jommy. ‘If you’re lying to us, your bastards will have to learn to fend for themselves.’

      ‘On their heads, I will tell you only the truth.’

      ‘No,’ said Jommy. ‘It’s on your head, Aziz.’

      As the sun vanished below the western horizon, the four men moved away from the docks into the pest hole of a city that was Durbin.

      Armed men moved silently through the night. Before them lay a small cave, large enough to admit one man at a time, half-hidden under an overhanging cliff, where a knoll rearing up over the beach had been worn away by years of erosion. Above the cave two archers crouched, ready to fire down on anyone attempting to exit the cave without permission.

      Mist rolled in off the Bitter Sea, and no moon was visible though the overcast. The night was coal-mine dark and the men surrounding the cave could barely make out one another in the murk.

      Caleb, son of Pug, motioned for his three boys to wait. Behind him his brother Magnus stood ready to answer any magical onslaught that might be forthcoming. A dozen other men were also moving to form a semi-circle around another exit to the cave a hundred yards down the cliff.

      The two brothers bore a strong resemblance to one another. They were tall and slender yet strong, with hair to the shoulders, an almost regal bearing which they had inherited from their mother, and eyes that seemed to look through you. The one startling difference was in their colouring. Caleb had dark brown hair and eyes, while Magnus’s hair was the palest blond, looking white in the sun, and his eyes were the palest blue. Caleb wore hunting garb, tunic and trousers, knee-high boots, and a floppy-brimmed hat, while Magnus wore simple black robes with the hood thrown back.

      Caleb had spent most of the night before interrogating the trader Aziz with the help of his brother. Magnus lacked the special art to determine if the trader was telling the truth or lying, but the trader didn’t know that, and after a simple demonstration of Magnus’s magical ability Aziz was convinced the magician could parse falsehood from sincerity. Magnus came back with Caleb before dawn and the two brothers had employed their respective skills – tracking and magic