Krondor: Tear of the Gods. Raymond E. Feist

the man attempting to flee from within, Captain Garruth and his men sprang forward and the man was down in moments. Inside, the others threw up their hands and knelt, the mercenary’s universal sign of surrender.

      Garruth indicated that two of his six men were to guard the prisoners. To James he said, ‘There are more of them than these six. I’ll take my men to the basement, if you three will check upstairs.’

      James nodded. ‘Who’s supposed to be up there?’

      ‘Just the lads sleeping until their mid-watch shift, and a scribe named Dennison. The sheriff and his men sleep up there.’ Glancing at the hacked bodies, he said, ‘I doubt any of them are alive.’ He scratched his beard. ‘It was a perfect raid. They knew exactly when to hit. The company was at its lowest complement and least able to defend itself, and reinforcements were unlikely to get here quickly.’ He started towards the stairs leading down to the cells, and two of his men followed cautiously.

      James motioned to William and Jazhara to accompany him and they made their way to the stairs leading to the upper floor of the jail. As they reached the steps, they ducked reflexively as another explosion came from above.

      While smoke and stone dust poured down the steps, Captain Garruth shouted, ‘He’s heading for the North Gate!’

      James didn’t hesitate. ‘Come on!’ he bellowed, and ran through the gaping hole just a few feet away.

      Looking down the crowded street leading to the North Gate, James could see the head and shoulders of a large man towering above the throng, shoving his way through the curious onlookers who had gathered to see what the commotion at the jail was. James, William, and Jazhara raced after him.

      As they neared the crowd, James glanced back and saw that Garruth’s men were engaged in a struggle with about a half-dozen mercenaries. To William and Jazhara, he shouted, ‘We’re on our own!’

      People who had been shoved aside by the big man found themselves being pushed aside once more, this time by James and his companions. ‘Out of the way! Prince’s business!’ he shouted.

      In the din of voices he could barely be heard and finally James let William, who was stockier and stronger than James, take the lead. People jumped aside as they recognized the garb of the prince’s personal household guards, when he bellowed, ‘Stand aside in the name of the Prince!’

      Still, precious moments had been lost, and the big man was out of sight. As they neared the intersection with the road that emptied out through the North Gate, another mighty explosion could be heard, followed instantly by screams and shouts.

      They reached the corner and saw a large, two-storey building in flames. Smoke billowed from the lower windows as flames climbed the outside wall.

      ‘Gods,’ said James. ‘He’s fired the orphanage.’

      From the main door four women and a man were ushering out children, many of whom looked stunned and disoriented, coughing from the heavy smoke. James ran to the door.

      The man turned, saw William’s garb and shouted, ‘Someone’s burned the orphanage! They threw a bomb through that window.’ He pointed with a shaking finger. ‘Flames erupted and we barely got out alive.’

      Jazhara said, ‘Are all the children out?’

      A scream from upstairs answered her.

      The man coughed and said, ‘I tried to go upstairs, but the fire near the stairs is too intense.’

      ‘How many are up there?’ asked William.

      ‘Three,’ said one of the women, who was crying. ‘I called the children for supper, but they were taking their time coming down …’

      ‘I may be able to help,’ said Jazhara.

      ‘How?’ asked James.

      ‘I have a spell which will protect you from the heat unless you touch the flame itself. But it lasts only a short time.’

      The man said, ‘Then weave it quickly, woman. Their lives are at stake.’

      William started to strip off his armour, but James said, ‘No, I’m faster than you.’ He also had no armour to doff. He handed his sword to William and said, ‘Ready.’

      Jazhara said, ‘The spell will protect you from the heat, but you must be careful not to breathe the smoke too deeply as it will kill as fast as a flame.’ She pulled a handkerchief from the hands of one of the nearby women and handed it to James. ‘Hold this over your mouth and nose.’

      She closed her eyes, putting her right hand on James’s arm and the back of her left hand to her forehead. She made a short incantation and finally said, ‘There. It is done. Now hurry, for it will last but a short time’

      James said, ‘I didn’t feel anything.’

      ‘It’s done,’ she repeated.

      ‘I usually feel magic when it’s—’

      ‘Go!’ she said, pushing him towards the door. ‘Time is short!’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Go!’ she repeated with a strong push.

      James tumbled head-first through the door, and ducked at the sight of flames licking the ceiling above. To his surprise, he felt no heat.

      The smoke, however, caused his eyes to water and he blinked furiously to clear them. He wished he had thought to wet the cloth he held over his nose and mouth. He made for a stairway, following a serpentine route around flaming tables and burning tapestries.

      He quickly reached the top of the stairs and did not have to ask if the children were still alive. Three tiny voices split the air with their screams and coughs. James shouted, ‘Stay where you are, children! I’m coming to get you!’

      He hurried towards the shouts at the other end of the room, a barracks of sorts where the children obviously slept. Bedding was smouldering and flames climbed the walls, but he found a straight path to the children.

      Two boys and a girl huddled in the corner, terrified to the point of immobility. James quickly decided that trying to guide them through the flames was pointless. The older of the two boys appeared to be about seven or eight years of age. The other boy and girl he guessed as being closer to four.

      He knelt and said, ‘Come here.’

      The children stood up and he gathered the two smaller children up, one under each arm, then said to the older boy, ‘Climb on my back!’

      The boy did, clamping his arm over James’s throat. James put down the other two children, almost gagging. ‘Not so hard!’ he said, prying the boy’s arm from across his windpipe. ‘Here,’ he said, placing the boy’s arms across his chest. ‘Like this!’

      Then he scooped up the other children and hurried back to the stairs. He moved quickly down the steps and saw the flames had closed around the landing. ‘Damn!’ he muttered.

      There was nothing for it but to run. He leapt as far as he could through the flames and instantly understood Jazhara’s warning. The heat itself hadn’t been noticeable, but the second the flames touched him he could certainly feel it. ‘Oooh!’ he shouted, as he landed in a relatively clear patch of wooden floor, while the planks on all sides smouldered and burned.

      The roof above was making alarming sounds, creaks and groans, that told James the support timbers were weakening. Soon the upper floor would collapse on him and the children if he didn’t move. The smoke was making the children cough and James’s eyes were tearing to the point of being unable to see through the smoke. Taking in a lungful that caused him to cough, he shouted, ‘Jazhara! William!’

      William’s booming voice answered from slightly to his left. ‘This way!’

      James didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward, trying as well as he could to avoid the flames, but by the time he came spilling out the door with a child under each arm and