Pug shook his head. “Together, I think, but other than that . . . ?”
He looked around and said, “Chezarul, have your men search down here, and in the warehouses above. Have them mark—but not move—anything they find. I suspect the Nighthawks have left nothing behind, but perhaps they’ve missed something.”
He looked at his son. “I wonder what your brother’s doing now?”
2 9 0
Flight of the Nighthawks
* * *
Tal pulled himself up out of the muck, spitting out flavors he didn’t wish to think about, let alone experience. The blast had taken him completely by surprise, and his ears still rang. Standing still for a moment, he attempted to wipe off the fi lth as best he could. As the ringing subsided, he could hear men approaching from down the tunnel, and he drew his sword.
When he was certain that the men were his, Tal motioned for them to follow, then hurried down the smaller tunnel to where Magnus had been. Tal could barely make him out in the gloom, but he moved as fast as he could, slogging through the sewage, and slowly overtook the magician.
Magnus stopped as the tunnel began to rise and when Tal fi nally reached him said, “Sorry about the noise. Couldn’t be helped.”
“A little warning?”
“No time,” said Magnus, turning back toward the beckoning darkness. “Are the men coming?”
“Can’t you hear them?”
“I can scarcely hear you,” said Magnus. “I had barely got a shield up when that trap sprang open—I didn’t have time to consider the subtleties like being able to hear or see afterward.”
“The men will catch up in a minute or two.”
“Let’s wait for them. I’m done with surprises.”
In less than two minutes a company of thirty armed men reached them, and Magnus said, “Everyone ready?”
Before anyone could answer, he had turned up the incline and trudged into the darkness ahead.
Tal motioned for men to light some lanterns, and just as the fi rst was struck, light sprang up all around Magnus. Tal shrugged, indicated to the man holding the lantern to keep it alight anyway, then followed after the tall magician.
They came to a large opening at the end of the tunnel, blocked by an iron grating. The far side was piled waist - deep in debris. Above the gate was a vertical passage with several outflows emptying down it. A steady trickle of filth rained down on anyone standing before the grating.
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“Is someone supposed to clean out this catch basin?” asked Tal.
“You’ll have to ask the Imperial Keshian Government’s engineers about that, assuming anyone is responsible for this mess,” answered Magnus.
Tal said, “It appears to be a dead end. Look at the rubbish, no one’s passed through there in years, even if there was a way to move that grating.”
“Appearances are sometimes deceiving,” said Magnus.
He moved his wooden staff into his left hand and held his right hand outward, with his palm facing the grating. The air fi lled with the sound of tortured metal as the iron twisted. Dust and powdered rock filled the air as the metal ripped itself out of the stonework and fell forward, releasing the mass of debris it held back. Those behind Tal moved to either side of the tunnel to allow the mass of rubbish to fl oat by.
When the following water was down to a trickle, Magnus said,
“Now, let’s see what’s up here.”
They moved up an incline to a huge sump, full of foul - smelling sludge. Tal looked past Magnus into the tank and said, “What is that?”
“Catchment basin of some sort, I should think,” said Magnus.
“Like on a farm, where they store all the manure so they can use it again for fertilizer.” He leaned out a little and looked up, straining his eyes in the dim light. “I wonder what’s up there?”
One of the men behind him overheard the question and spoke up. “If I’m correct, we’re right below one of the farmers’ markets.
Wagons from the farms unload up there every day.”
Magnus said, “Sounds right. This mess smells odd.”
The man behind them said, “It’s mostly vegetables and fruit that is thrown down here to rot to a pulp. A couple of good rainstorms and it’s washed away.”
“Rotting fruit and vegetables smell different than spoiled meat,”
said Tal. “Is there anything else?”
Magnus shook his head. “There may be something hidden under this sludge, but I doubt it. I think we’ve been led on a . . .” His voice trailed off as something caught his eye.
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Flight of the Nighthawks
“What is it?” asked Tal.
“Over there, can you see it?” He pointed.
According to Caleb, who had hunted with him more than anyone else, Talwin Hawkins possessed the best eyesight of any man alive.
He could see a hawk on the wing a mile away or spot a fawn hiding in a thicket while others walked past. Once Magnus had indicated where to look, he saw it.
“I’ll get it,” he said, stepping into the sludge. He sank to his thighs before hitting solid rock.
“Brave man,” said Magnus.
“I’m already a total mess,” said Tal, wading through the muck until he reached the object.
“What is it?” asked Magnus.
Tal reached down. “I think it’s some sort of a jar, made out of stone.”
As his fingers brushed the object, Magnus shouted, “Don’t touch it!”
Pain exploded up Tal’s right arm as a blinding light fi lled the chamber. Magnus turned to the men behind and shouted, “Run!”
They didn’t need any further prompt, and fl ed immediately. Magnus turned to see blazing flames erupt from the vessel that Tal had touched, and quickly incanted a shield spell cocooning Tal in an enchantment that would momentarily protect him from further harm.
But even in the blinding brilliance, Magnus could see Tal writhing in pain as he tried to stay upright. Stumbling backward, he held out his right arm, which had been badly burned. Magnus could see the blistering flesh, charred black in places, and the small fl ames that still ringed the sleeve of his tunic.
His face was a mask of agony and Magnus knew he had only moments to get Tal out of there before the heat of the explosion overcame the spell and killed him. He reached within himself and attempted to contact Pug. Father!
Pug appeared next to him instantly and raised his hand to ward off the quickly rising heat. The sewage around the vessel was bubbling, crackling, and drying quickly enough that it was starting to burn.
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Tal stumbled toward the two magicians. “We’ve got to get him out!” shouted Magnus.
Pug closed his eyes, mouthed an incantation, and suddenly the fire was gone. He and Magnus moved swiftly, ignoring the heat of the sewage as they grabbed Tal as he collapsed. “Take him to the island!”
Pug shouted.
Magnus put his staff in the crook of his arm and reached into his robe. He pulled out a Tsurani orb and put his arm around Talwin’s shoulders. Then suddenly they were gone.
Pug looked around the smoldering pit of garbage and moved to stand over the stone vessel in the middle of the room. The heat had burned away the surrounding plant waste and the item sat upon bare stone. He reached out and touched the object. It vibrated with magical energy, and the quality of that energy was disgustingly familiar to Pug.
He lifted it up. “Got you!” he said softly, with a note of triumph in his voice.
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TWENTY
V a r e n
Tal gritted his teeth.
The pain was tremendous and the stench from the burned flesh of his right arm was sickening, but Nakor quickly applied bandages soaked in a solution made from powder that he had pulled out of his ever- present rucksack. Miranda arrived in the room set aside for Tal on the island, holding an earthenware cup. “Here, drink this;
it’ll help ease the pain.”
Caleb helped Tal to sit up and drink. “What is it?”
asked Tal. “Another magical potion?”
“Brandy,” said Miranda. “I could give you something to knock you unconscious, if you’d like.”
As he clenched his teeth, Tal’s eyes ran with tears as Nakor finished putting the soaked wraps over his charred fl esh.
“Wait,” said Nakor. “Brandy?”
Raymond E. Feist
Miranda said, “Yes.”
Nakor nodded to Pug, who put his hand over Tal’s forehead, and the swordsman fell unconscious. Nakor then took the cup from Miranda and downed it. “Thanks. Brandy’s not good for him. Sleep is better. He’ll hurt for a few more days, but it’s the itching that will drive him crazy. Give him something for that.”
Miranda had answered Pug’s summons and now they all were gathered in a villa a few miles outside of the city, owned by the Conclave. Caleb said, “I need to get back into the city tonight. I’ve got three boys stashed away in a safe house—”
“Three?” asked his mother. “Are you collecting them?”
“Long story. And Pasko and Amafi are also waiting for me.”
Pug said, “Go later, there are things to discuss.” He motioned for them to follow him into a larger room, once used for galas, and now empty except for a few chairs and tables.
Once they were inside, Pug looked around the room. Besides his wife and their two sons, Chezarul also sat in the large main room of the villa, along with two of his most trusted men, who would act as runners if word needed to be sent into the city. Their horses were already saddled. Two adepts from Sorcerer’s Isle patrolled the perimeter of the estate with a dozen of Chezarul’s guards to ensure that no one approached undetected.
Pug said, “I’m concerned by the fact that Caleb’s first attack was anticipated, and that the Nighthawks seem to have fl ed the city. We either have a spy in our group or we are under some extremely subtle observation. I can rule out the second, as Miranda and I have used every art at our disposal to ensure this wasn’t the case. Which means we have a spy.”
Caleb said, “Who knew about the attack?” He pointed to Chezarul. “He, I, a few key lieutenants, and the rest of us in this room.”
“And Kaspar,” said Pug.
Perplexed, Caleb took a deep breath. “But he was in the palace and did not know the time or location. They knew exactly when we were coming, Father, and Kaspar knew nothing about the raid today; we couldn’t get word to him without exposing Amafi or Pasko to unnecessary scrutiny.
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“So, if we have a spy, it’s someone in this room.”
Chezarul said, “These men are like sons to me. I stake my life on their loyalty.”
Pug nodded. “I have no doubt.” He looked at the tall, thin, dangerous - looking fellow named Donmati, and his heavily muscled companion named Dahab. “No man would rise this high in our company without being tested.”
Miranda said, “Unless our spy doesn’t know he’s a spy.”
Pug’s eyes narrowed as he regarded his wife. “Explain, please.”
Miranda said, “Caleb, where did you first obtain your information on the Nighthawks’ nest?”
“From a man calling himself the Magistrate.”
Miranda asked, “Did he know who you were?”
Caleb said, “Only that we were men with gold.”
Miranda said, “So he paid other people to gather information for you?”
Pug said, “My love, where are you going with this?”
“Only that those who were watching Caleb, Kaspar, and Talwin may not have been aware of who, ultimately, was getting that information.”
Pug turned to Chezarul and said, “How fast can you get a message to this Magistrate?”
“Hours, at the most. I would receive an answer from him by morning.”
“Then send a message and arrange a meeting. Give him whatever assurances and gold he asks for, I will not take no for an answer.”
Chezarul bowed his head and said, “At once.” He motioned to his lieutenants and the three men left.
Pug said to Caleb, “With Talwin injured, I need you to go to Pasko and have him get a message to Kaspar. Let him know the Nighthawks appear to have departed the city, but that we cannot be sure. They could be resting in a house down the road from here, for all we know, or they may already be on their way to another nation.
“Tell him that we still do not know where Varen is.” Then, more to himself than to Caleb, Pug said, “But if he’s not skulking in the sewers, he’s probably close to the seat of power. Kaspar will under-2 9 7
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stand that as well as anyone. Should anything suddenly appear out of the ordinary in the palace, we need to know.” Pug reached into his robe and pulled out a small silver object that appeared to be little more than a charm. “Tell him to keep this on his person at all times, and that if he needs to summon one of us, to break it.” He pointed to Magnus, Miranda, and himself. “One of us can be there in an instant.
Tell him it’s also useful if he needs to leave in a hurry. We can get Pasko and him out of there quickly.”
Caleb said, “Yes, Father.” He embraced Pug, his brother, then his mother, and hurried out to the stable where a horse would be waiting for him.
“One thing about this troubles me,” said Magnus.
His mother dryly said, “Only one?”
“There are other magicians in Kesh besides Varen; some of them are on good terms with us and the Academy at Stardock, but not one word has come from the north warning us that Varen could be in Kesh.”
“Save for the evidence of the magical traps,” said Miranda.
Magnus said, “Perhaps Varen hasn’t used any unusual magic?
There is nothing to prevent him from inhabiting the body of someone in a position where the practice would call no attention to him.
There are a number of magicians and priests who frequent the palace from time to time.”
“Yes,” said Pug. “Rumor suggests that Diigai has been using magic to prolong his life, as he is more than a century old. There could be more truth to that hearsay than we fi rst thought.”
“Could Varen be the one giving the Emperor life - extending magic?” asked Magnus.
“No,” said Pug. “We’ve already investigated the matter, and while the rumor abounds he’s using magic, no one magician or priest has been alone with Diigai for years. That doesn’t mean that one isn’t coming to see him in secret, but we’ve talked to all our contacts in the Keshian temples, and we know that none of the more powerful priests are helping the Emperor. Even Varen could not possess one so highly placed and not be found out.”
“Then who?” asked Miranda. “Whose life has he stolen?”
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Flight of the Nighthawks
Just then Nakor appeared. Bek stood at his shoulder with one hand resting on it. Nakor said, “I wanted to make sure he stayed out of trouble.”
Pug nodded. “Ralan, go to the kitchen and find something to eat.”
The large young man nodded, frowning slightly at being dis-missed, but saying nothing. When he was gone, Miranda said, “We were just speculating about whose life Varen is currently living.”
Magnus looked at his father. “I’m inclined to suspect someone in the palace,” Magnus said. “Perhaps even one of the princes?”
“Possible, but unlikely,” said Pug. “From what Kaspar and Tal have said, Varen exhibits erratic behavior over time. He might go undetected for a while, but the princes of Kesh are scrutinized too closely for Varen to occupy one of them and not draw attention to himself. No, it’s someone highly placed but not obvious. He might be inhabiting the body of anyone close to the Emperor, perhaps even one of his concubines.”
Miranda said, “A woman who can influence the Emperor could be a possibility . . . though I don’t know how likely it would be for him to choose
a woman’s body.” With a slightly rueful smile she said,
“You men seem to have certain inclinations that you are unlikely to surrender.” She paused, then said, “I think he’s likely taken hold of someone who can cause a great deal of trouble suddenly and without warning.”
Pug said, “You’ve just named half the nobility of Kesh, certainly the men of rank among the Charioteers and Horse, as well as half a dozen highly placed generals in the Legion and Household Guard.
At the right moment, a sudden attack . . .” Pug shook his head. “He has so many places to hide.”
“But we know for certain that he’s here?” asked Nakor.
“Yes, we do.” A sack sat against the wall and Pug now picked it up, opened it, and pulled out the vessel Tal had found in the sewer.
Nakor held out his hand and Pug handed it to him to examine while Miranda said, “What is it?”
Nakor said, “Oh! It is Varen! He’s in here!”
Miranda moved instantly, her dark eyes flashing as she took two 2 9 9
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steps and plucked the object out of Nakor’s hand. It was a simple earthenware jar, with a stopper fixed with a wax seal. “There’re no wards or other spells around it; are you sure?”
“The ward is inactive. If I hadn’t acted, Talwin would be dead.”
“Do we destroy it?”
“Not until we find Varen,” said Pug. “If we destroy it now, he’ll know. His soul will return to whatever body he inhabits now and he will go to ground. Whatever plot he’s hatching will be abandoned and he’ll flee to safety, only to labor years and construct another plan before he risks confronting the Conclave again. Remember, this man has lived at least as long as we have, perhaps longer, and he can easily flee from body to body as long as this device is intact.”
“Where did you find it?” asked Miranda.
Pug told them how Tal had uncovered it and Nakor said, “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He grinned. “We could have dismantled this city one brick at a time, and it still may not have occurred to anyone to sift through three feet of vegetable sludge in a sewer. But Varen could go to the vegetable market any time he wished, and have the vessel rise up to him with a wave of his hand.”