Krondor: Tear of the Gods. Raymond E. Feist

‘I’m fine.’

      James then looked around the room. Bolts of cloth were overturned and had been sent every which way, and many were now stained with crimson.

      Letting out a long breath, James said, ‘What a mess.’

       • CHAPTER TWO •

       Schemes

      JAMES SHEATHED HIS SWORD.

      ‘Where did the children go?’

      Jazhara looked around, then glanced up the stairs. ‘I’ll look up there. You see if they are hiding in that office,’ she instructed, and pointed to the door at the rear of the shop.

      James nodded, with a half-smile. No point in making an issue out of who was in charge, he thought, turning to comply with her instructions. She was, after all, a princess by birth. Then as he reached the door he wondered, does a court magician outrank a squire?

      He opened the door, sword at the ready, in case someone else lurked within. He entered a small office at the centre of which stood a writing table. Two burning lamps lighted the room, and a large chest stood against the far wall. The chest was apparently unlocked, its hasp hanging open, but James had received too many harsh lessons about trusting appearances, and so he approached the chest with caution. He glanced first at the papers spread across the writing table and saw several in a Keshian script he recognized. Most of these were orders for dyed cloth. Other letters in the King’s Tongue were also business-related. Then he spied two documents in a script he did not know.

      He was examining the chest for traps when Jazhara appeared in the doorway. Through clenched teeth she said, ‘The dog had the children caged.’

      James turned and looked through the door and saw a dozen frightened children, ranging in age from five to ten, standing mute behind the magician. They were dressed in filthy rags, their faces streaked with grime. James let out a slow sigh. Poor children in Krondor were nothing unusual; he had been an ‘urchin’ himself before becoming a thief. But systematic abuse of children was not part of normal Kingdom practices. ‘What do we do with them?’

      ‘What was that place you spoke of earlier?’

      ‘The Sign of the Yellow Shield. It’s an orphanage established by the Princess and the Order of Dala.’

      One of the children drew back at mention of the place, and James remembered Nita’s reaction. James called into the main room, ‘You, boy, why does that frighten you?’

      The lad just shook his head, fear written across his face.

      Jazhara put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right. No one will hurt you. Why are you frightened?’

      A girl behind the boy said, ‘These men said they were from the Yellow Shield and if we came here they’d feed us.’

      James rose, left the office, pushed past Jazhara to where the nearest thug lay in a pool of blood. To an older boy he said, ‘Run outside and find a city watchman. You should find one two streets over by the Inn of the Five Stars. Tell him Squire James requires two men here as soon as possible. Can you remember that?’

      The boy nodded and ran off, leaving the street door open behind him. James glanced after him and said, ‘Well, if he doesn’t head straight for a hideout somewhere, help should be here in a few minutes.’

      Jazhara watched as James turned the dead Keshian over and looted his purse. ‘What are you looking for?’ she asked.

      James held up a ring. ‘This.’ He rose and handed it to her to examine.

      She turned the ring over in her hand. It was a simple iron ring with a small painted yellow iron shield fastened to it. ‘Those who serve the Order of Dala wear a ring similar to this. I suspect these men showed this to the children to lure them here, claiming they were taking them to the orphanage.’

      Jazhara glanced towards the children, several of whom nodded. ‘That would explain why Nita was so adamant about not going there,’ she said.

      James returned to the office and looked again at the closed chest. He hesitated, then opened it. Inside were more documents. He removed a few and asked, ‘Jazhara, can you read these? They appear to be in a form of Keshian I don’t understand.’

      Jazhara took the proffered documents and glanced at the topmost. ‘I can read them, but it’s a desert script, from the area around Durbin, and not from the interior of Kesh.’

      James nodded. He could only read formal court Keshian. Jazhara’s eyes widened. ‘Filthy traitor! Yusuf has been using my great-uncle and his resources, setting Kesh against your Prince, and your Prince against Kesh!’

      James looked perplexed. Finding out that Yusuf was a Keshian agent was hardly a shock. Discovering he was also betraying his master was. ‘Why?’

      Jazhara held out a single page. ‘To serve someone named “the Crawler.’’

      James rolled his eyes heavenward, but stayed silent. The Crawler had been a thorn in the side of both the Prince and the Mockers for months now and James was no closer to establishing his identity than he had been the day he had first heard his name. Hoping for some clue, he asked, ‘What else does it say?’

      Jazhara finished reading the document, then looked at the next. ‘This Crawler is someone of note, someone who rewarded Yusuf handsomely for his betrayal. There are references to payments already made of large amounts of gold and other considerations.’

      She hurried through several other documents, then came to one that caused her to stop and go pale. ‘This cannot be …’ she whispered.

      ‘What?’ asked James.

      ‘It is a warrant for my death should I choose not to serve Yusuf. It bears my great-uncle’s signature and seal.’

      She held it out with a shaking hand and James took it. He examined the paper closely then said, ‘It isn’t.’

      ‘Isn’t?’ she asked softly.

      ‘You said it cannot be and I’m saying you’re right. It isn’t real. It’s a forgery.’

      ‘How can you be certain?’ she asked. ‘I’ve seen my great-uncle’s script and seal many times and this appears to be from his hand and ring.’

      James grinned. ‘It’s too flawless. I doubt that even your great-uncle could order the death of his favourite niece without some noticeable trembling in his hand. The letters are too perfect. I can’t read the words, but I can see the handwriting and it’s a clever forgery. Besides, even if the handwriting displayed that slight agitation I’d expect, there are two other reasons.’

      ‘Which are?’ she asked as the sound of approaching footsteps reached them.

      ‘Your great-uncle would never be stupid enough to sign his own name to a death warrant on any Keshian noble, especially one in his own family. More to the point, we’ve seen a fair number of documents bearing his seal in the palace over the years and there’s a tiny imperfection in his signet.’ James pointed. ‘Look here. Where the long point of the star touches the bottom of the seal there should be a fine crack, as if the ring has a tiny fracture. This seal doesn’t have it. The ring wasn’t his.’

      ‘Then why?’ asked Jazhara. As she spoke, a small company of the city watch appeared outside the door.

      ‘Because,’ said James, striding towards the door, ‘if the new court mage in Krondor dies and someone in the Imperial Court starts casting around for someone to blame, who better than the head of the Keshian Intelligence Corps? Someone in the Empress’s Palace might wish to see him removed and replaced with his own man.’

      ‘The Crawler?’ asked Jazhara.

      James turned and nodded.