The Serpentwar Saga. Raymond E. Feist

experience on the gallows had left him alternating between black depression and giddy elation. He had entered the compound in good spirits, which hadn’t worn off as he had waited before the nameless building.

      De Loungville had gone inside for over an hour and had returned with a man who appeared to be some sort of chirurgeon, who had examined all the prisoners and had made several comments on their condition Erik hadn’t understood. For the first time in his life he had some sense of how horses felt when he examined them for fitness.

      The prisoners had been run through some strange drills and asked to march around. This had brought rude comments and mocking observations from those men in black who were standing around while the prisoners drilled.

      At the end of the day, they had been ordered to the second large building, the mess. Fully half the tables were unoccupied after the men in black were seated. Young boys in the livery of squires of the Prince’s court in Krondor raced between the tables heaping abundance beyond Erik’s dreams on them. Breads, hot and slathered with butter, pitchers of cow’s milk, cooled by ice brought down by riders from the nearby mountains. Meats – chicken, beef, and pork – surrounded by vegetables of every description were set down next to platters of cheese and fruit.

      Erik was suddenly hungry beyond belief and ate.

      He lay almost comatose in a tent next to Roo that night.

      The next morning, training had begun, and they had been ordered to build the mountain. Robert de Loungville had ordered them to pick up seemingly endless piles of rocks and move them half the distance across the compound to build this hill.

      His revery was broken by Sho Pi saying, ‘I apologize.’

      Erik reached the peak and, as he knelt and started filling the bag with rocks, said, ‘For what?’

      ‘My temper got the best of me. Had I let him knock me down, we would not have to do this over.’

      Erik finished loading up his sack. ‘Oh, I think he’d have found a reason. You just provided a convenient excuse.’

      Moving carefully down the hill as Sho Pi took his place at the summit, Erik said, ‘It was worth it to see him dumped on his prat.’

      ‘I trust you feel that way tomorrow, friend Erik.’

      Despite aching shoulders and legs and black-and-blue marks all over his body from the constantly rolling rocks, Erik knew he would.

      ‘Get out of there, you dogs!’

      Erik and Roo were out of their bedding and on their feet before they were fully awake. Corporal Foster looked at the six men. Billy Goodwin, Biggo, and Luis were on one side of the large tent, while Erik and Roo were on the other with Sho Pi. All six stood at what they had come to learn was the approved stance, what the soldiers called ‘at attention,’ head back, eyes forward, hands to either side of them, palms in, feet at an angle together at the heels, each man before the foot of his wood and straw bed.

      If this morning was like the others, they would be working for an hour or so before the morning meal, when they would be required to sit in silence at a table removed from the forty or so men who occupied the compound. They had been forbidden to speak to the other men, and those black-clad soldiers had shown no inclination to speak to the prisoners.

      That they were soldiers was beyond doubt to Erik. They spent long hours drilling, climbing the wooden walls, jumping barricades, riding horseback, practicing with all manner of weapons.

      Instead of being returned to the rock hill, for their third day of moving the rocks to Robert de Loungville’s newly chosen location, they were marched before the big building where Erik was now convinced the officers lived. They were told to stand at attention and wait, while de Loungville entered the building.

      A few minutes later he reemerged with another man behind. The second man struck Erik as looking somewhat odd, though he couldn’t place why. He was slender, blond, and youthful – no more than twenty or twenty-five years of age – but de Loungville showed obvious deference to him as they spoke.

      ‘These are the last six,’ he said. The blond-haired man nodded, saying nothing. ‘I don’t like this,’ de Loungville continued. ‘We planned for sixty men, not thirty-six.’

      The other man spoke at last, and there was something strange in his speech: soft and well mannered, yet different from what Erik had heard among the nobles and wealthy merchants of Darkmoor and Ravensburg. Erik had heard a lot of foreign accents in his day, but he couldn’t place this one. ‘Agreed, but conditions force us to make do with what we have. What about these?’

      ‘They have promise, Calis, but we’ve months of training ahead.’

      ‘Who are they?’ asked the man called Calis.

      Robert de Loungville moved before Biggo. ‘This one’s called Biggo. Strong as an ox and almost as intelligent. Quicker than he looks. Calm – doesn’t rattle easily.’

      He stepped before the next. ‘Luis de Savona. Rodezian cutthroat. Likes to use a knife. Handy where we’re going.’

      Then he said, ‘Billy Goodwin. Looks like a simple lad, but he’d cut your throat for the fun of it. Too mean when angered, but he can be broken.’

      He came to stand before Erik. ‘This is von Darkmoor’s bastard. Probably too stupid to live, but he’s almost as strong as Biggo and he’ll do as he’s told.’

      Then he was before Roo. ‘Rupert Avery. He’s a sneaky little rodent, but he’s got potential.’ He then grabbed Roo’s ever-present noose and pulled him forward, almost off balance, as he shouted into his face, ‘If I don’t kill him first for being so damned ugly!’

      Then he let go and Roo almost fell backwards over-compensating, as de Loungville stepped before Sho Pi. ‘This is the Keshian I told you about. Could be very useful to us if he can learn to keep his temper. More dangerous than Goodwin; this one doesn’t show it when he’s getting angry.’

      Then he turned to the six prisoners. ‘Do you see this man, here?’ asked de Loungville.

      The prisoners said, ‘Yes, Sergeant!’

      De Loungville said, ‘Be afraid of him. Be very afraid.’ He looked from face to face. ‘He is not what he seems. He is the Eagle of Krondor, and wise men keep out of sight when he flies above.’

      Calis indulged himself in a slight smile at the rhetoric, nodded, and said, ‘You men will live or die as the Kingdom requires. I will see you dead before I will let you jeopardize the mission we will be upon. Is this understood?’

      The men nodded. They had no idea what mission they were to be a part of, but it had been driven home daily that it was vital to the interests of the Kingdom and that each of them would instantly be killed if they appeared in any way to threaten its success. Erik was certain he had never been more convinced of any single fact in his life than he was of this.

      Calis studied each face, then said, ‘You have two weeks, Bobby.’

      ‘Two weeks! I was to have three more months!’

      With a hint of a distant sadness, Calis said, ‘Arutha is dead. Nicholas was not told of his father’s plan until the day after hearing of his death. It was a shock. He’s not convinced of the wisdom of what we do.’ He turned and looked at de Loungville. ‘Two weeks, and any man who isn’t reliable, hang him.’ Without another word he returned inside the building.

      De Loungville glanced from face to face one more time, then said, ‘Be very afraid.’

      The next morning, the hill of rocks was gone. The men in black had been ordered to remove it, and thirty of them had made quick work of the pile. Erik and the others had been taken to another part of the compound by Corporal Foster.

      He had stood before them and said, ‘Any of you murdering mother-lovers think you know how to handle a sword?’

      The men glanced at one another, but no one spoke. They had learned within a few hours