Krondor the Betrayal (32 page)

Locklear said, ‘‘You’ve been practicing. I’m impressed.’’

‘‘I’ll never learn to use the bow, but this thing is pretty easy,’’ said James, putting away the crossbow.

‘‘Not very accurate, though.’’

James nodded. ‘‘Find a good one, then keep it. Some of them 219

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shoot all over the place; this one usually hits what I’m aiming at.’’

The old man was puffing a bit, and when he reached them, he put his staff down and leaned on it. ‘‘Thanks, lads. That was a little closer than I care to think about.’’

‘‘Are you Master Patrus?’’ asked Locklear.

‘‘Just Patrus,’’ said the old man. ‘‘Yes, I’m he. Why, you looking for me?’’

James said, ‘‘And a company of Baron Gabot’s soldiers.’’

The old man was slender and had a silly hat the same color as his robe, which looked more like a nightcap than any sort of proper hat. Along with the ivory-colored robe, the old man appeared to be walking about in his nightclothes. He sported a wispy grey moustache and goatee. He pointed back the way he had come. ‘‘We got jumped a half day back, by a mixed company of those damned Dark Brothers and trolls. Those trolls were a handful, I can tell you.’’

James said, ‘‘I’ve fought them. You’re the only one to get away?’’

‘‘One or another of the lads may have found a way through.

Some of them got up into the ridges. I’m an old man; best I could do was hurry along the road and keep them ducking behind me.’’

‘‘Where did they jump you?’’

‘‘About two miles ahead,’’ said the old magician.

‘‘That staff of yours is handy,’’ observed Locklear.

‘‘Well, lad, the truth is it’s a little bit of fire, not much more than a scorch mark if it hits you, but it’s just hot enough to make you duck if you see the fireball coming at you. I made the thing years ago to impress some pesky townspeople down south who were trying to run me off. A few little fireballs tossed their way, and they left me alone.’’

James laughed. ‘‘Owyn didn’t tell me you were such a character.’’

‘‘Owyn Belefote? Where do you know that rascal from?’’

asked Patrus.

‘‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you while we walk. If you’re up to it, I want to check out the place those trolls jumped you.

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Otherwise, you can continue back to Northwarden. It should be safe between here and there.’’

‘‘I think I’ll stick close to you, lads. Who are you?’’

‘‘I’m Squire James of Krondor, and this is Squire Locklear.

We’re members of the Prince’s court.’’ They started walking their horses rather than ride while the old man walked.

‘‘Prince Arutha’s lads? You wouldn’t happen to know Pug of Stardock, would you?’’

‘‘We’ve had the pleasure,’’ said Locklear.

‘‘I’d like to meet him sometime. I’ve heard a thing or two about his academy. Told Owyn he ought to get himself down there; I’d taught him everything he could learn.’’

James said, ‘‘Locklear here met Owyn on his way back from Stardock; he was visiting his aunt in Yabon. I think Stardock didn’t work out too well for him.’’

‘‘Bah!’’ said the old magician, picking his way along the road with his staff. ‘‘The boy has talent, a fair amount from what I can tell, but I think he’s one of those Greater Paths, whatever that is, because a lot of what I tried to teach him just didn’t work. But the things that did, why, he was fierce with it, he was.’’ The old country magician looked up the pass, and said,

‘‘Company’s coming.’’

Locklear drew his sword, and James unlimbered his crossbow again. But rather than trolls or dark elves, two dusty members of Baron Gabot’s company came into view. One was obviously wounded, and the other looked very tired.

‘‘Patrus!’’ said the wounded soldier. ‘‘We thought they’d gotten you.’’

‘‘Not even close,’’ said the old man with a grin. ‘‘These lads lent a hand.’’

‘‘I’m Squire James. What did you see?’’

The senior-most soldier reported, indicating a squad of twenty Dark Brothers and an equal number of trolls had ambushed their patrol, and only a falling-out between the two factions had kept them from killing all of Gabot’s men.

‘‘That’s interesting,’’ said Locklear.

‘‘Very,’’ agreed James. ‘‘If they’re fighting, it’s over pay.’’

Patrus nodded. ‘‘Troll mercenaries don’t wait to get paid.

They go back home or take it out of your hide.’’

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‘‘I don’t know what caused the row,’’ said the wounded soldier, ‘‘but we were running and one of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path yelled something at a troll, and instead of chasing us, the troll turned and tried to slice up the brother. It was a fair me´leé by the time we got away.’’

The other soldier nodded. ‘‘They had their blood up, the trolls did, and they seemed just as satisfied killing Dark Brothers as they did us.’’

‘‘Great,’’ said James. ‘‘Confusion to the enemy. Now, you boys all right to get back to the Baron alone?’’

‘‘If there’s no one waiting between here and there to jump us, we’ll be okay,’’ said the wounded soldier.

‘‘Good. Go and report to the Baron and when you’re done telling him what you’ve seen, tell him we’re going to go snoop around and see what else we can find.’’

‘‘Very well, Squire,’’ said the unwounded soldier, saluting.

The soldiers continued on, and Locklear said, ‘‘What do you have in mind?’’

‘‘If those soldiers got jumped by trolls, there’s a camp nearby.’’

‘‘Yes,’’ said Patrus. ‘‘The town of Raglam’s ahead. It’s sort of an open town. Not quite Kingdom, but enough humans living there that it’s not particularly Northlands, either. Lots of weapons runners, slavers, other no-accounts visit there all the time.’’

‘‘Sounds like my kind of place,’’ said James with a grin.

‘‘You going to get us killed?’’

James’s grin widened. ‘‘Never, Locklear, my old friend; you’re going to get killed someday over a woman, not because of anything I’m planning.’’

Locklear returned the grin. ‘‘Well, if she’s beautiful enough.’’

They laughed, and Patrus said, ‘‘You boys got something you’d like to tell an old conjurer like me about?’’

‘‘I thought we might take a ride into Raglam and have a look around.’’

Patrus shook his head. ‘‘Crazy, that’s what you two are.

Sounds like fun.’’

The old magician started marching up the draw, and James and Locklear exchanged glances, then laughter.

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*

*

They were arrayed before the Queen’s Row Tavern, which was obviously crowded, and Owyn said, ‘‘Why don’t we try the abbey?’’

Gorath nodded. They bid their escort good-bye and rode on, and Gorath said, ‘‘I would have thought you’d prefer an ale and the company of others than the monks of Ishap.’’

‘‘I would, had I means to pay for that ale,’’ said Owyn.

‘‘Unless you’ve secreted away some booty you failed to mention to me, I’m without a copper to my name, thanks to Delekhan’s guards. In all the preparation for heading off to Northwarden, the Prince was so busy . . . I forgot to ask for funds.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘So we beg?’’

‘‘We ask for hospitality. I suspect Abbot Graves a more likely source for such than an overworked innkeeper.’’

Gorath said, ‘‘Perhaps you’re right.’’

‘‘Besides, we might even convince the Abbot to lend us the price of a meal or two between here and Krondor.’’

‘‘We should have thought of that before leaving Prince Arutha.’’

‘‘I didn’t think of it,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘You didn’t think of it.

We didn’t think of it. So, there’s no ‘should,’ is there?’’

Gorath grumbled that this was so.

They reached the abbey and saw the gate was closed. ‘‘Hello, the abbey!’’ called Owyn.

‘‘Who is it?’’ came a voice from within.

‘‘Owyn Belefote. We came to see the Abbot.’’

‘‘Wait,’’ was the terse reply. And they waited.

Nearly a quarter hour passed before the gate opened, and a very worried-looking monk admitted them. As soon as they had passed through the gate, it slammed behind them. Dismounting, Owyn asked, ‘‘What is this?’’

A monk took their horses, and said, ‘‘The Abbot waits for you within.’’

They went inside and found Abbot Graves overseeing a pair of monks who appeared to be packing things up.

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‘‘Are you leaving?’’ asked Gorath.

Looking at the two, Graves said, ‘‘Where is James?’’

‘‘Last we saw him he was on his way to Northwarden,’’

replied Owyn. ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘Damn!’’ swore the Abbot. ‘‘I was hoping he could do me a service.’’

Owyn repeated Gorath. ‘‘Are you leaving?’’

‘‘I must,’’ said Graves. ‘‘Twice in the last week, Nighthawks have tried to kill me.’’

Owyn and Gorath exchanged questioning looks. Owyn said,

‘‘But Abbot, James killed the leader of the Nighthawks.’’

‘‘Navon is dead?’’ asked Graves.

Before anyone could react, Gorath had his sword drawn and the point leveled at the Abbot’s throat. Two monks leaped to their feet, one trying to put as much distance between himself and the moredhel as possible, while the other assumed a fighting stance, as if ready to defend the abbey’s leader. ‘‘Wait!’’

shouted Owyn, putting his hands out.

‘‘How did you know du Sandau was the leader of the Nighthawks?’’ demanded Gorath. ‘‘We could have been killed for lack of that knowledge.’’

Graves held up his hands. ‘‘Because he was extorting me.’’

Owyn put his hand on Gorath’s sword and slowly forced the point down. ‘‘Let’s talk,’’ he said calmly.

Graves motioned for the monk who was ready to attack to withdraw, and the young cleric nodded and departed, the other monk a step behind him.

Gorath said, ‘‘Explain this ‘extorting’ before I kill you.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘Sandau was forcing Graves to do something against his will by threatening him with something. Isn’t that right?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ Graves replied. ‘‘He found out something about me and used it to gain my help in whatever he was plotting.’’

Owyn sat on the table where the monks had been working and said, ‘‘How can anyone force a priest of Ishap to do anything? You have magic and a powerful church to call on. What did he do?’’

Graves said, ‘‘As I told Jimmy—James, I have ties from my old life that aren’t completely severed.’’ Graves sat, and Gorath 224

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put his sword away. ‘‘I used to be a thief, a basher, for the Mockers in Krondor. I provided protection for cargo we were running in and out of the city, and kept anyone else from setting up a gang, and I protected our girls, so no one roughed them up.’’

He looked down, and his expression was one of regret.

‘‘When I felt the call and went to the Temple of Ishap, I tried to put that life behind me. The church trained me for two years, and I took vows. But I wasn’t honest in my vow.’’

‘‘How could you lie taking a vow in a temple?’’ asked Owyn, his expression showing astonishment. ‘‘It can’t be done!’’

Graves said, ‘‘It can, if you don’t know it’s a lie when you make it. I honestly thought I was rid of my past, but I was lying to myself.’’

‘‘What does that mean?’’ asked Gorath.

‘‘I thought I had severed all ties, but I hadn’t. When I was placed in the brotherhood of monks, I was asked to work on behalf of the temple in Krondor. So I was back among my old haunts.’’

He fell silent, as if reluctant to go on.

‘‘What happened?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘There’s a woman. She was a girl I knew when I was a basher. She was as tough as a boot and mean as an alley cat.

That’s what we called her, Kat. Her name is Katherine.’’

‘‘A whore?’’ asked Gorath.

‘‘No, a thief,’’ said Graves. ‘‘She was a fair pickpocket and tough enough to be a basher, but where she really excelled was boosting. She could steal your nightshirt off you while you slept and you’d wake naked and wondering where your laundry was.’’ He sighed. ‘‘She was a little slip of a thing when I met her. I used to tease her and watch her get mad at me.

Then when she got older I’d tease her and she’d tease back.

‘‘Then I fell in love with her.’’

‘‘But you left her to take orders with Ishap?’’ said Owyn.

‘‘She’s a lively thing, and she could do better than me. A lot of the younger boys would like to take up with her. I thought she would be better off with someone else. I thought it would be easy to put her out of my mind. But it wasn’t.

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‘‘I saw her on the streets from time to time, and someplace, somehow, a fellow named the Crawler got wind of her, and one night this Navon du Sandau comes up to me, bright as gold, and sits down at a table at the Queen’s Cross, and says,

‘We know about your little kitty cat in Krondor. If you don’t do what we tell you to do, she’s dead.’ He said if I asked the temple for help, she’d be dead.’’

‘‘You believed him?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘I had to. He knew things. This Crawler had been looking for people for a long time, I guess, because he knew enough about my old life. I knew he’d kill her before I could do anything.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘So why are you getting ready for travel?’’

‘‘I was expecting a message a month ago from du Sandau.

Instead a Nighthawk tried to climb the wall of the abbey. The brother responsible for defending the abbey intercepted him, and it was close, but the assassin died.

‘‘Then two weeks later, I was walking back from the center of town when a crossbow bolt intended for me struck the brother walking next to me.’’

‘‘Where are you going?’’ asked Owyn.

Graves said, ‘‘I am owed some favors by a man in a village near Sloop. He has dealings in Kesh. I sent him a message asking him to help me get out of the Kingdom. Today a message came from him indicating he could help.’’

Owyn said, ‘‘Michael Waylander?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ replied Graves. ‘‘How did you know?’’

Owyn said, ‘‘There is a relationship here. Waylander, you, the Nighthawks, and this Crawler. I’m not sure I can begin to guess at it, but if James were here, he might puzzle this out.’’