A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

Jimmy. ‘What is it?’

      Jimmy said, ‘Nighthawks.’

      The Knight-Marshal of Krondor needed no further warning. He grabbed at the sleeve of the first guard he met in the hall, motioning for another to follow. To the first he said, ‘Send for Captain Valdis and have him join me.’

      The soldier said, ‘Where will you be, sir?’

      Gardan sent the man off with a shove. ‘Tell him to find us.’

      As they hurried along, Gardan gathered nearly a dozen soldiers to him. When Arutha reached the door to his quarters, he hesitated a moment, as if fearful to open the door.

      Pushing open the door, he discovered Anita sitting next to the cribs wherein their sons slept. She looked up and at once an expression of alarm crossed her features. Coming to her husband, she said, ‘What is it?’

      Arutha closed the door behind him, motioning for Carline and the others to wait without. ‘Nothing, yet.’ He paused a moment. ‘I want you to take the babies and visit your mother.’

      Anita said, ‘She would welcome that,’ but her tone left no doubt she understood there was more here than she was being told. ‘Her illness is past, though she still doesn’t feel up to travel. It will be a treat for her.’ Then she fixed Arutha with a questioning look. ‘And we shall be more easily protected in her small estate than here.’

      Arutha knew better than to attempt to hide anything from Anita. ‘Yes. We again have Nighthawks to worry about.’

      Anita came to her husband and rested her head against his chest. The last assassination attempt had nearly cost her life. ‘I have no fear for myself, but the babies …’

      ‘You leave tomorrow.’

      ‘I’ll make ready.’

      Arutha kissed her and moved toward the door. ‘I’ll return shortly. Jimmy advises I keep in quarters until the palace is free of strangers. Good advice, but I must remain on public view a while longer. The Nighthawks think us ignorant of their return. We cannot let them think otherwise, yet.’

      Finding humour amid the terror, Anita said, ‘Jimmy still seeks to be First Adviser to the Prince?’

      Arutha smiled at that. ‘He’s not spoken of being named Duke of Krondor for nearly a year. Sometimes I think he’d be better suited than many others likely to come to that office.’

      Arutha opened the door and found Gardan, Jimmy, Laurie, and Carline waiting. Others had been moved away by a company of the Royal Household Guard. Next to Gardan, Captain Valdis waited. Arutha told him, ‘I want a full company of lancers ready to ride in the morning, Captain. The Princess and the Princes will be travelling to the Princess Mother’s estates. Guard them well.’

      Captain Valdis saluted and turned to issue orders. To Gardan, Arutha said, ‘Begin to slowly place men back at post throughout the palace and have every possible hiding place searched. Should any inquire, say Her Highness is feeling poorly and I am staying with her for a while. I’ll return to the great hall shortly.’ Gardan nodded and left. Then Arutha added to Jimmy, ‘I have an errand for you.’

      Jimmy said, ‘I’ll leave at once.’

      Arutha said, ‘What do you think you’re going to do?’

      ‘Go to the docks,’ said the boy with a grim smile.

      Arutha nodded, again both pleased and surprised at the boy’s grasp of things. ‘Yes. If you must, search all night. But as soon as you can, find Trevor Hull and bring him here.’

       • CHAPTER TWO •

       Discovery

      JIMMY SEARCHED THE ROOM.

      The Fiddler Crab Inn was a haunt of many who wished a safe harbour from questions and prying eyes. As the sun began to set the room was crowded with locals, so Jimmy was at once the source of curiosity, for his clothing marked him out of place. A few native to the city knew him by sight – after the Poor Quarter, the docks had been a second home to him – but no small number of those in the inn marked him as a rich boy out on the evening, perhaps one with some gold to be shaken loose.

      One such man, a sailor by the look of him, drunken and belligerent, barred Jimmy’s passage through the room. ‘Here and now, such a fine young gentleman as yourself’ll be having a spare coin or two to buy a drink in celebration of the little Princes, wouldn’t you think?’ He rested his hand upon his belt dagger.

      Jimmy adroitly sidestepped the man and was half past him, saying, ‘No, I wouldn’t.’ The man reached for Jimmy’s shoulder and tried to halt him. Jimmy came around in a fluid movement, and the man found the point of a dirk levelled at his throat. ‘I said I don’t have any extra gold.’

      The man backed away, and several onlookers laughed. But others began to circle the squire. Jimmy knew at once he had made an error. He’d had no time to scrounge up clothing to fit his present environment, but he could have made a show of turning over a half-empty purse to the man. Still, once begun, such a confrontation could not be aborted. A moment before, Jimmy’s purse had been at risk, now it was his life.

      Jimmy backed up, seeking to place his back to a wall. His expression was hard and revealed no hint of fear, and a few who surrounded him suddenly understood that here was someone who knew his way about the docks. Softly he said, ‘I’m looking for Trevor Hull.’

      At once the men stopped advancing upon the boy. One turned and indicated with his head a back door. Jimmy hurried toward it and pulled aside the hanging cloth cover.

      A group of men sat gambling in a large, smoke-filled room. From the pile of betting markers on the table, it was for high stakes. The game was lin-lan, common to the southern Kingdom and northern Kesh. A colourful display of cards was unfolded and players bet and dealt in turn, determining odds and payoffs by which cards were turned. Among the gamblers were two men, one with a scar from forehead to chin, running through a milk-white right eye, and the other a bald, pock-faced man.

      Aaron Cook, the bald man and first mate on the customs cutter Royal Raven, looked up as Jimmy pushed toward the table. He nudged the other man, who sat regarding his cards with disgust, throwing them down. When he saw the youth, the man with the white eye smiled then, as he took note of Jimmy’s expression, the smile faded. Jimmy spoke loudly, over the noise in the room. ‘Your old friend Arthur wants you.’

      Trevor Hull, onetime pirate and smuggler, knew at once who Jimmy meant. Arthur was the name Arutha had used when Hull’s smugglers and the Mockers had joined forces to get Arutha and Anita out of Krondor while Guy du Bas-Tyra’s secret police had been combing the city for them. After the Riftwar, Arutha had pardoned Hull and his crew for past crimes and had enlisted them in the Royal Customs Service.

      Hull and Cook stood as one and left the table. One of the other gamblers, a heavyset merchant of some means by his dress, spoke around a pipe. ‘Where are you off to? The hand’s not played out.’

      Hull, his shock of grey hair fanning out around his head like a nimbus, shouted, ‘It is for me. Hell, I only have a run in blue and a pair of four counts to play,’ and he reached back and turned over all his cards.

      Jimmy winced as men around the table began to curse and throw in their cards. In the common room, as they headed for the door, Jimmy observed, ‘You’re a mean man, Hull.’

      The old smuggler turned customs officer laughed an evil laugh. ‘That fat fool was ahead, and on my gold. I just wanted to take some wind out of his sails.’ The nature of the game was such that as soon as he revealed his hand, play was disrupted. The only fair thing would be to leave the bets out and redeal the entire hand, a prospect not appreciated by those with good cards left to play.

      Outside