Krondor: Tear of the Gods. Raymond E. Feist

passing the door of a new orphanage, recently opened by the Order of Dala, the goddess known as ‘Shield to the Weak.’ The sign above the door featured a yellow shield with the Order’s mark upon it. Princess Anita had been instrumental in helping to secure the title to the building and funding it for the Order. James wondered absently how different his life might have been had he found his way to such a place when his mother had died, rather than ending up in the Guild of Thieves.

      In the distance he could see two guardsmen speaking with a solitary young woman. He left off his musings and quickened his pace.

      As he approached, he studied the young woman. Several facts were immediately manifest. He had expected a noblewoman of Kesh, bedecked in fine silks and jewellery, with a complement of servants and guards at her disposal. Instead he beheld a solitary figure, wearing clothing far more appropriate for rigorous travel than for court ceremony. She was dark-skinned, not as dark as those who lived farther south in Great Kesh, but darker than was common in Krondor, and in the gloom of night, her dark hair, tied back in a single braid, reflected the flickering torchlight with a gleam like a raven’s wing. Her eyes, when they turned upon James, were also dark, almost black in the faint light.

      Her bearing and the set of her eyes communicated an intensity that James often admired in others, if it was leavened with intelligence. There could be no doubt of intelligence, else Pug would never have recommended her for the post as Arutha’s magical advisor.

      She carried a heavy staff of either oak or yew, shod at both ends in iron. It was a weapon of choice among many travellers, especially those who by inclination or lack of time couldn’t train in blades and bows. James knew from experience it was not a weapon to be taken lightly; against any but the most heavily-armoured foe a staff could break bones, disarm or render an opponent unconscious. And this woman appeared to have the muscle to wield it effectively. Unlike the ladies of Arutha’s court, her bare arms showed the effects of strenuous labour or hours spent in the weapons yard.

      As he neared, James summed up his first impression of the new court magician: a striking woman, not pretty but very attractive in an unusual way. Now James understood his friend William’s distress at the news of her appointment to the Prince’s court. If she had been his first lover, as James suspected, William would not easily put her behind him, not for many years. Given his young friend’s recent infatuation with Talia, the daughter of a local innkeeper, James chuckled to himself as he surmised that William’s personal life was about to get very interesting. James didn’t envy him the discomfort, but knew it would no doubt prove entertaining to witness. He smiled to himself as he closed upon the group.

      One of the two guards conversing with the young woman noticed James and greeted him. ‘Well met, Squire. We’ve been expectin’ you.’

      James nodded and replied, ‘Gentlemen. My thanks for keeping an eye on our guest.’

      The second guard chimed in. ‘We felt bad, I mean, her bein’ a noble and all, and havin’ to wait so long, but we didn’t have enough men to send with her to the palace.’ He indicated the other pair at the far end of the gate.

      James appreciated their dilemma. If any of them had left his post, for whatever reason, without permission, the guard captain would have had their ears. ‘Not to worry. You’ve done your duty.’

      Turning to the young woman, James bowed and said, ‘Your pardon, milady, for making you wait. I am Squire James of Krondor.’

      The young magician smiled and suddenly James reevaluated his appraisal. She was very pretty, if in an unusual fashion for the women of the Western Kingdom. She said, ‘It is I who should apologize for arriving at this unseemly hour, but our caravan was delayed. I am Jazhara, most recently of Stardock.’

      Glancing around, James said, ‘A pleasure to meet you, Jazhara. Where is your entourage?’

      ‘At my father’s estates on the edge of the Jal-Pur desert. I had no servants at Stardock and requested none to travel here. I find that the use of servants tends to weaken the will. Since I began studying the mystic arts, I have always travelled alone.’

      James found the availability of servants one of the key attractions of the Prince’s court; always having someone around to send on errands or fetch things was very useful. He was also now embarrassed to discover he should have ordered a squad of soldiers to escort Jazhara and himself back to the palace; her rank required such, but he had assumed she’d have her own bodyguards in place. Still, if she didn’t bring it up, neither would he. He merely said, ‘I quite understand. If you are willing, however, we can leave your baggage under the watch of the guards, and I will arrange to have it brought to the palace in the morning.’

      ‘That will be fine. Shall we go?’

      He decided to avoid shortcuts and keep to the broader thoroughfares. It would take a bit longer to reach the palace, but would afford them safer travel. He suspected that in addition to knowing how to use that staff to good effect, Jazhara probably had several nasty magician’s tricks at her disposal, but the risk of an international incident to save a few minutes’ walk wasn’t worth it.

      Deciding that being direct was his best course, James asked, ‘What does your great-uncle think of this appointment?’

      Jazhara smiled. ‘I do not know, but I suspect he is less than happy. Since he was already unhappy that I chose to study at Stardock – over my father’s objections – rather than marry a “suitable young lord,” I fear I’ve likely put him in a dark mood.’

      James smiled. ‘Having met your great-uncle on a few occasions, I should think you’d want to stay on his good side.’

      With a slight twist of her lips, Jazhara said, ‘To the world he is the mighty Lord Hazara-Khan, a man to be dreaded by those who put their own interests ahead of the Empire’s. To me he is Uncle Rachman – “Raka” I called him because I couldn’t manage his name when I was little – and he can deny me little. He wanted to marry me off to a minor prince of the Imperial House, a distant cousin to the Empress, but when I threatened to run away if he sent me south, he relented.’

      James chuckled. They rounded a corner and headed down a large boulevard that would eventually lead them back to the palace.

      After only a few minutes, James found himself enjoying the company of this young woman from Kesh. She was quick, observant, keen-eyed, and witty. Her banter was clever and entertaining without the acerbic, nasty edge one found so often among the nobles of the Prince’s court.

      Unfortunately, she was too entertaining: James suddenly realized he had turned a corner a few streets back without thinking and now they were in the area he had planned on avoiding.

      ‘What is it?’ Jazhara asked.

      James turned and grinned at her, a grin that could barely be seen in the faint glow of a distant lantern hanging outside an inn. ‘You’re very perceptive, milady.’

      ‘It’s part of the trade, sir,’ she replied, her voice a mix of playfulness and caution. ‘Is something wrong?’

      ‘I just got caught up in our discourse and without thought turned us into a part of the city it might be best to avoid at this hour.’

      James noticed a very slight shift in the way she held her staff, but her voice remained calm. ‘Are we in danger?’

      ‘Most probably not, but one never knows in Krondor. Best to be alert. We shall be at the palace in a few minutes.’

      Without comment, they both picked up the pace slightly, and hurried along, each watching the side of the street for possible assailants in the gloom, James taking the left, Jazhara the right.

      They had rounded the corner that put them in sight of the palace district when a sound echoed off to James’s left. He turned and as he did so he recognized the trap: a pebble being tossed from the right.

      As he turned back towards Jazhara, a small figure darted from the shadows. Jazhara had also spun to look in the same direction as James and was slow to recover.

      The assailant darted