“For the moment,” conceded Dash. “Two of my men were dumped on the jail steps last night, their throats cut. I want those who did it.”
“No one’s bragging.”
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“See what you can find out, but at midnight tonight, I’ll be here, and you better be as well, with names.”
“That might prove difficult,” said the snitch.
“Make it happen,” said Dash, hauling the little man up so that Dash’s nose almost touched Kirby’s.
“I don’t need to make up crimes to get you hung.
Keep me happy.”
“I live to keep you happy, Sheriff.”
“Exactly.” He let go of the little man’s shirt. “And pass word back to that old man.”
“What old man?” asked Kirby, feigning ignorance.
“I don’t have to tell you who,” said Dash. “Tell him if this murder lands at his feet, any faint affection I might feel toward his merry band of mummers will be gone forever. If they’re his pranksters cutting throats, he better serve them up to me, or the Mockers will be crushed, root and branch.”
Kirby swallowed hard. “I’ll pass that along, if it becomes appropriate.”
Dash pushed the little man outside the door. “Go.
Midnight,” he ordered.
Dash saw that he still had an hour of daylight and imagined there were many tasks waiting for him back at headquarters. He turned to retrace his steps back to the New Market Jail, and cursed Patrick for giving him this thankless task of beating obedience into his subjects. But as long as it was his job, vowed Dash, he would do it properly. And that started with keeping his constables alive.
Dash hurried through the failing light into the shadows of Krondor.
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Eighteen
Revelations
OWEN SQUIRMED.
He didn’t seem able to find a comfortable position in his camp chair, and yet the situation demanded he sit for hours reviewing reports and communiqués.
Erik approached, looming up out of the evening darkness against the campfires burning in every direction. He saluted. “We’ve interrogated the captains, and they’re as ignorant as the swordsmen they’ve hired.”
“There’s a pattern here, somewhere,” said Owen.
“I’m just too stupid to see it.” He indicated that Erik should sit.
“Not stupid,” said Erik, sitting next to his commander. “Just tired.”
“Not that tired,” said Owen. His old leathery face wrinkled in a smile. “I’ve gotten three good nights’
sleep, truth to tell, since you opened the gates. In fact, it’s been too good.” He leaned forward, looking at the map as if there was something in there to see, if he just stared at it long enough.
Companies of regular soldiers were arriving from 398
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the south. The prisoners were being kept in a makeshift compound, fashioned of freshly felled trees. Erik said, “The best I can come up with is Fadawah has some men he wasn’t really happy with, so he thought he’d turn them over to us to feed.”
“Well, if you hadn’t opened that gate, we would have bled a bit getting over that wall,” said Owen, hiking his thumb over his shoulder at the large earthen breastwork behind his command pavilion.
“True, but we would have taken it in a day or two.”
“I’m wondering why Fadawah is going to all the trouble of making us think he’s down here and then letting us discover he isn’t.”
“I’m guessing,” said Erik, “but if he’s taken LaMut, he might be moving south of Ylith now, getting ready for a counterattack.”
“He can’t ignore Yabon,” said Owen. “As long as Duke Carl is up there with his army, Fadawah has to keep a strong face northward. Carl can get men in and out of there if Fadawah doesn’t keep the pressure on. Even so, there are Hadati hillmen still up there who can probably sneak through his lines at will.
And I’m sure the dwarves and elves aren’t proving, hospitable neighbors if his patrols wander too far from their current position. No, he must take all of Yabon before he turns south.”
“Well, he can’t hope to slow us down with these little sham positions.”
Owen’s face showed concern. “I don’t know if these are shams as much as they’re just . . . irritations, to make us proceed slowly.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe they’re designed to make us go fast.”
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“What do you mean?”
“Say we find one or two more of these lightly defended positions?”
“Okay, so we do.”
Erik pointed to the map. “Let’s say we hit Quester’s View and find another fortification like this. We get all excited and strike out toward Ylith.”
“And run into a meat grinder?”
Erik nodded. He pointed to details on the map.
“There’s this line of unforgiving ridges north of the road from Questor’s View to Hawk’s Hollow. He holds both ends of the road, and if he keeps us off the ridge, he can dig in here.” Erik’s finger showed a particularly narrow point in the road about twenty miles south of Ylith. “Let say he sets up a series of fortifications, tunnels, catapults, arrow towers, the entire bag of tricks. We stick a boot into that mess too fast and we may draw back a bloody stump.” His finger traced a line from that point up to the dot on the map representing Ylith. “He’s got thirty-foot-high walls, and a single weak point, an eastern gate by the docks. That he can fortify, and if he sinks ships in the harbor mouth, he can sit inside the city like a turtle in its shell.” The more he spoke, the more Erik was certain of his analysis. “We can’t land on the western shore; that’s Free Cities land, and if we try it, Patrick risks alienating the only neutral party left on the Bitter Sea. Besides, to get there we’d probably run up against whatever warships Queg has in the area.”
Owen sighed. “More to the point, our fleet needs to support the army on its western flank to make sure we’re supplied and to carry the wounded south to Sarth and Krondor.”
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we had the eyes of a bird we’d see a very heavy set of fortifications being built along that stretch right now.”
“It all makes sense,” said Owen. “But then I’ve seen too many things in war that make no sense to count too heavily on theory. We’ll have to wait to see what Subai says when he gets word back to us.”
“If he gets word back,” said Erik.
“Let’s cover our bet,” said Owen.
“What?” asked Erik.
“I’m going to send an order to Admiral Reeves to send a fast cutter up the coast from Sarth. I want to see how far north he can get before someone tries to discourage him.”
Erik sat forward. “Care to bet it’s about there?”
he said, his finger stabbing at a point on the coast due west of Questor’s View.
“No bet,” said Owen. “I’ve come to appreciate your instincts.”
Erik sat back in the chair. “I actually hope I’m wrong and Fadawah’s all tied up outside of Yabon. I can imagine what I would do if I was building defensive fortifications along that route.”
Owen said, “You have too much imagination. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
Erik looked at his old friend and said, “Not often enough.” He stood and said, “I have things to see to.
I’ll report in when I’ve done talking to the rest of the prisoners.”
“Supper is ready. Get back here before it’s all gone.” Owen added, “I’ll be here,” and went back to his reports as Erik
walked off.
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began to fume. It was already a quarter hour past midnight and Kirby hadn’t put in an appearance. He was about to start looking for him when he sensed someone was behind him. He slipped his hand over the hilt of his dagger and moved with a feigned casual motion, walking back toward the rear entrance of the burned-out building.
As soon as he slipped through the door, he stepped sideways, reaching toward an exposed roof beam with both hands, pulling himself up with a single fluid motion. Out came the dagger and he waited.
A moment later a figure emerged from the door and glanced around. Dash waited. The cloaked figure below him took a step forward and Dash dropped to the ground, his dagger going to the lurker’s throat.
From beneath the hood, a voice said, “Going to bite me, Puppy?”
Dash spun the figure around. “Trina!”
The young woman smiled. “It’s nice to be remembered.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Put down that toothpick and I’ll tell you.”
Dash grinned. “Sorry, but I’ll bet you’re as dangerous as you are beautiful.”
The woman pouted theatrically. “You flatterer.”
Dash lost his smile. “I’ve got dead men and I want some answers. Where’s Kirby Dokins?”
“Dead,” said the women.
Dash put away his dagger.
“Am I suddenly less dangerous?”
“No,” said Dash, pulling the woman back inside the building. “But you wouldn’t have been sent to tell me the Mockers killed my snitch.”
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“And?”
“That means you didn’t kill my men.”
“Very good, Puppy.”
“Who did?”
“An old acquaintance of yours thinks there’s a new gang moving into the city. Smugglers, maybe, though there doesn’t seem to be a lot of new goods in the market, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” said Dash. The woman meant there wasn’t a noticeable increase in drugs, stolen goods, or other contraband.
“Another Crawler?”
“You know your history, Puppy.”
“That’s Sheriff Puppy, to you,” said Dash.
She laughed. It was the first time he had heard her laugh without mockery. It was a sweet sound. She said, “We’re left alone, so if someone is planning on moving into our territory, they’re not ready to try yet.
“Our old friend said to tell you we don’t know who killed your two lads, but you should know they weren’t altar boys from the Temple of Sung. Find out who Nolan and Riggs were working for before they joined your gang and you might have a clue.”
Dash was silent, then said, “So the Upright Man thinks these two knew their killers.”
“Maybe. Or maybe they just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but either way, once the deed was done, someone wanted you to think was done it to defy your authority. That’s why they were dumped on your doorstep. Had the Mockers killed those men, they would have been dumped in the harbor.”
“Who killed Kirby?”
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around, being his usually pesky self, then suddenly about two hours ago, he turns up floating in the sewer.”
“Where?”
“Five Points, near the big outfall below Stinky Street.” Stinky Street was Poor Quarter’s slang for Tanners Road, where many odorous businesses had resided before the war. Five Points was the name of a large confluence of sewers, three big ones, two small ones. Dash had never been there, but he knew where it was.
“You working Five Points?”
“We’re not up there, but don’t ask me where we’re working.”
Dash grinned in the darkness. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Not ever, Sheriff Puppy, not ever.”
Dash said, “Anything else?”
“No,” said Trina.
“Tell the old man thanks.”
Trina said, “He didn’t do it from love, Sheriff Puppy. We’re just not ready to take on the crown. But he did tell me one other thing to tell you.”
“What?”
“Don’t make threats. The day you declare war on the Mockers, take your sword to bed with you.”
Dash said, “Then tell my uncle that advice works both ways.”
“Then good night.”
“Lovely to see you again, Trina.”
“Always a pleasure, Sheriff Puppy,” said the woman thief. Then she ducked through the door and was gone.
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followed. Besides, he could find her any time he wanted. And more to the point, his mind was wrestling with the question: Who killed his men?
He slipped into the darkness, heading back to his headquarters.
Roo chuckled at the sight before him. Nakor was jumping around like a grasshopper, shouting orders at the workers as they tried to wrestle the statue upright. Roo moved his own wagon over to the side of the road and let those carts and wagons behind him pass. He jumped down and crossed the road to where Nakor’s wagon was parked.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh.
Nakor said, “These fools are determined to destroy this work of art!”
Roo said, “I think they’ll get it where you want it, but why do you want it out here?” He made a sweeping motion with his hand, indicating a vacant field outside the gates of Krondor. A small farm had occupied this plot of land, but the house had been destroyed and now only a charred square of foundation stones marked its passing.
“I want everyone entering the city to see this,”
said Nakor as the workers got the statue upright.
Roo paused. There was something about the woman’s expression that captivated the eye. He studied it for a long moment, then said, “It’s really very lovely, Nakor. Is that your goddess?”
“That’s the Lady,” said Nakor with a nod.
“But why not put her in the center of your temple?”
“Because I don’t yet have a temple,” said Nakor as he motioned for the workers to return to the 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 406
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wagon. “I have to find a place to build one.”
Roo laughed. “Don’t look at me. I already sprang for one warehouse in Darkmoor. Besides, I don’t own any buildings near Temple Square.”
A gleam entered Nakor’s eyes. “Yes! Temple Square. That’s where we need to build!”
“Builders I have,” said Roo. Then he fixed Nakor with a narrow gaze. “But I’m a little short on charity these days.”
“Ah,” said Nakor with a laugh. “Then you must have money. You’re only penurious when you have gold. When you’re broke, you’re very generous.”
Roo laughed. “You are the most amazing man, Nakor.”
“Yes, I am,” he agreed. “Now, I have some gold, so you won’t have to build me a temple, but I would like some, shall we call it discounts?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He looked around so as not to be overheard. “There is a lot of confusion in the city still. Many landowners are dead and the crown hasn’t established a policy yet on who owns what.”
“You mean Patrick hasn’t seized unclaimed land yet.”
“You catch on,” said Roo. “Squatters seem to have a certain advantage if the real owner doesn’t press a claim. I happen to know that the empty lot on the northwest corner of Temple Square, over by the Temple of Lims-Kragma, was owned by
a former associate of mine. It was always a difficult piece of land to dispose of, being located between the Death Goddess’s temple and the Temple of Guis-wa. Old Crowley tried to sell it to me once, and I declined. As Crowley is now among those who didn’t survive the 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 407
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war, that land is unclaimed.” Roo whispered, “He left no survivors. So it’s you, some other squatter, or the crown who’s going to get it.”
Nakor grinned. “Being between the Death Goddess and the Red-Jawed Hunter doesn’t bother me, so I’m certain it won’t bother the Lady. I’ll go check it out.”
Roo glanced back at the statue. “That’s really quite good.”
Nakor laughed. “The sculptor was inspired.”
“I can believe it. Who modeled for it?”
“One of my students. She’s special.”
“I can see that,” said Roo.
As Nakor climbed back on his wagon, motioning for the workers to climb into the back, he said,
“Where are you bound?”
“Back to Ravensburg. I’m rebuilding the Inn of the Pintail for Milo. With his daughter living in Darkmoor now, he’s going to sell me half interest.”
“You, an innkeeper?” asked Nakor with a disbelieving laugh.
“Any business that can make a profit, Nakor.”
Nakor laughed, waved, and urged his wagon on into the press of traffic heading into the city.
Roo climbed aboard his own wagon and looked again at the statue. He saw there were people who were stopping to look at it or glancing at it as they drove past. One woman reached out and touched it reverently, and Roo admitted to himself that the sculptor must have, indeed, been inspired.
He flicked the reins and urged his horses into the traffic on the road, heading east. Things were still difficult, but since capturing Vasarius, life had taken a turn for the better.
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He had discovered he really enjoyed his children, and Karli was quite a bit better company than he imagined when he married her. While no gold had been forthcoming from the crown since the winter, he knew that eventually he could use that debt to his own advantage. He needed a good base of liquid wealth, then he could turn the debt into licenses and concessions from the crown. Eventually peace between the Kingdom and Kesh would be achieved, and when that happened the profitable luxury trade would again be open, and now with Jacob Esterbrook dead, there would be no stranglehold on trade with the South.