Silverthorn. Raymond E. Feist

to join the Brotherhood of the Dark Path?’

      Martin considered. ‘I would not dismiss such a possibility. The goblins have long served the moredhel. Though I would have thought it more likely the Dark Brothers would be moving south, returning to their homes in the Grey Tower Mountains.’ The dark cousins to the elves had been driven northward from the Grey Towers by the Tsurani invasion during the Riftwar. Martin said to Caldric, ‘My lord, have there been reportings of the Dark Brotherhood?’

      Caldric shook his head. ‘There have been the usual sightings along the foothills of the Teeth of the World, Duke Martin, but nothing extraordinary. Lords Northwarden, Ironpass, and Highcastle send their usual reports, nothing more, regarding the Brotherhood.’

      Lyam said, ‘Arutha, we shall leave it to you and Martin to review these reports and determine what may be required in the West.’ He looked at Caldric. ‘What else, my lord?’

      ‘A message from the Empress of Great Kesh, Your Majesty.’

      ‘And what has Kesh to say to Isles?’

      ‘The Empress has ordered her ambassador, one Abdur Rachman Memo Hazara-Khan, to Isles for the purpose of discussing ending whatever contention may exist between Kesh and Isles.’

      Lyam said, ‘That news pleases us, my lord. Overlong has the issue of the Vale of Dreams prevented our Kingdom and Great Kesh from treating fairly with one another in other matters. It would prove doubly beneficial to our two nations if we could settle this matter for all time.’ Lyam stood. ‘But send word that His Excellency will have to attend us in Krondor, for we have a wedding to celebrate.

      ‘My lords and ladies of the court, it is with profound pleasure that we announce the forthcoming wedding of our brother Arutha to the Princess Anita.’ The King turned to Arutha and Anita, taking them each by the hand and presenting them to the assembled court, who applauded the announcement.

      From where she stood next to her brothers, Carline threw Laurie a dark frown, and went to kiss Anita’s cheek. While good cheer reigned in the hall, Lyam said, ‘This day’s business is at an end.’

      • CHAPTER TWO •

      Krondor

      THE CITY SLUMBERED.

      A mantle of heavy fog had rolled in off the Bitter Sea, enshrouding Krondor in dense whiteness. The capital of the Western Realm of the Kingdom never rested, but normal night sounds were muffled by the nearly impenetrable haze cloaking the movements of those still travelling the streets. Everything seemed more subdued, less strident than usual, almost as if the city were at peace with itself.

      For one inhabitant of the city the night’s conditions were nearly ideal. The fog had turned every street into a narrow, dark passageway, each block of buildings into an isolated island. The unending gloom was punctuated slightly by streetlamps at the corners, small way stations of warmth and brightness for passersby before they once more plunged into the damp and murky night. But between those small havens of illumination one given to working in darkness was granted additional protection, as small noises were deadened and movements were masked from chance observation. Jimmy the Hand went about his business.

      About fifteen years of age, Jimmy was already counted among the most gifted members of the Mockers, the Guild of Thieves. Jimmy had been a thief nearly all his short life, a street boy who had graduated from stealing fruit from peddlers’ carts to full membership in the Mockers. Jimmy’s father was unknown to him, and his mother had been a prostitute in the Poor Quarter until her death at the hands of a drunken sailor. Since then the boy had been a Mocker, and his rise had been rapid. The most astonishing thing about Jimmy’s rise was not his age, for the Mockers were of the opinion that as soon as a boy was ready to try thieving, he should be turned loose. Failure had its own rewards. A poor thief was quickly a dead thief. As long as another Mocker was not put at risk, there was little loss in the death of a thief of limited talents. No, the most astonishing fact of Jimmy’s rapid rise was that he was nearly as good as he thought he was.

      With stealth bordering on the preternatural he moved about the room. The night’s quiet was broken only by the deep snores of his unsuspecting host and hostess. The faint glow from a distant street-lamp, entering the open window, was his only illumination. Jimmy peered around, his other senses aiding his search. A sudden change in the sound of the floorboards under Jimmy’s light tread, and the thief found what he was looking for. He laughed inwardly at the merchant’s lack of originality in hoarding his wealth. With economical movement the boy thief had the false floorboard up and his hand into Trig the Fuller’s hideaway.

      Trig snorted and rolled over, bringing a responding snore from his fat wife. Jimmy froze in place, barely breathing, until the two sleeping figures were quiescent for several minutes. He then extracted a heavy pouch and gently placed the booty in his tunic, secured by his wide belt. He put the board back and returned to the window. With luck it might be days before the theft was discovered.

      He stepped through the window and, turning backwards, reached up to grip the eaves. A quick pull, and he was sitting on the roof. Overhanging the edge, he closed the window shutters with a gentle push and jiggled the hook and twine so the inside latch fell back into place. He quickly retrieved his twine, silently laughing at the perplexity sure to result when the fuller tried to figure out how the gold had been taken. Jimmy lay quietly for a moment, listening for sounds of waking inside. When none came, he relaxed.

      He rose and began making his way along the Thieves’ Highway, as the rooftops of the city were known. He leapt from the roof of Trig’s house to the next, then sat down upon the tiles to inspect his haul. The pouch was evidence the fuller had been a thrifty man, holding back a fair share of his steady profits. It would keep Jimmy in comfort for months if he didn’t gamble it all away.

      A slight noise caused Jimmy to drop to the roof, hugging the tiles in silence. He heard another sound, a scuffle of movement coming from the other side of a gable halfway down the roof from where he lay. The boy cursed his luck and ran a hand through his fog-damp curly brown hair. For another to be upon the rooftops nearby could only spell trouble. Jimmy was working without writ from the Nightmaster of Mockers, a habit of his that had earned him reprimands and beatings the few times he had been found out, but if he was now jeopardizing another Mocker’s nightwork, he was in line for more than harsh words or a cuffing around the room. Jimmy was treated as an adult by others in the guild, his position hard won by skill and wit. In turn he was expected to be a responsible member, his age being of no account. By his risking the life of another Mocker, his own could be forfeit.

      The other alternative could prove as bad. If a freebooting thief was working the city without permission from the Mockers, it was Jimmy’s duty to identify and report him. That would somewhat mitigate Jimmy’s own breach of Mocker etiquette, especially if he gave the guild its normal two thirds of the fuller’s gold.

      Jimmy slipped over the peak of the roof and crawled along until he was opposite the source of the noise. He need only glimpse the independent thief and report him. The Nightmaster would circulate the man’s description and sooner or later he would be paid a visit by some guild bashers who would educate him in the proper courtesies due the Mockers by visiting thieves. Jimmy edged upwards and peered over the rooftop. He saw nothing. Looking about, he glimpsed a faint movement from the corner of his eye and turned. Again he saw nothing. Jimmy the Hand settled down to wait. There was something here that provoked his sensitive curiosity.

      That acute curiosity was one of Jimmy’s only weaknesses when it came to work – that and an occasional irritation with the need to divide his loot with the guild, which took a dim view of this reluctance. His upbringing by the Mockers had given him an appreciation of life – a scepticism bordering on cynicism – far beyond his years. He was uneducated but canny. One thing he knew: sound does not issue from thin air – except when magic is in play.

      Jimmy settled down a moment to puzzle out what he didn’t see before him. Either some invisible spirit was squirming about uncomfortably on the roof tiles, which while possible was highly unlikely, or something more corporeal was hidden deep within the shadows