Erik von Darkmoor saluted and said, “Sir,” and left the tent before anyone could say another word.
He hurried in search of Jadow Shati, for he needed to make sure his own men knew what they must do before any other officer could find them and send them off on another mission. He might give public acknowledgment to the new commander, but he wasn’t about to turn his own men over to the whim of a man who a year before had been hosting parties at his peaceful seaside estate a half-continent away.
Save those soldiers guarding prisoners, the entire-ty of the Kingdom’s Army of the West stood at attention as the wagon carrying Greylock’s body rolled south. Men who barely knew the Knight-Marshal of Krondor stood side by side with men who had served every step of the way with Owen.
Despite the previous day’s victory, there was a grim mood in camp, as if everyone sensed that the easy victories were behind them now, and that the future held only more loss and suffering.
Drummers beat a slow tattoo and a single horn blew farewell, and as the wagon passed each company on parade, they dipped their banners and the men saluted, fist over heart, head bowed, until the wagon 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 444
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moved on.
When the last company on parade was left behind, a company of Krondorian lancers, twenty handpicked men, fell in, ten on each side of the wagon, to escort the leader of their army back to the capital.
Each company commander dismissed his men, and Richard, Earl of Makurlic, sounded an officer’s call. Erik hurried to the command tent, putting aside his discomfort at seeing someone else sitting in Owen’s old chair.
Earl Richard was an old man, grey hair and blue eyes his dominant features. His long face seemed worn by years of duty, but his voice was strong and without hesitation when he spoke. “I am appointing Captain von Darkmoor my second-in-command, gentleman, to keep as much continuity as possible.
For that reason, I’m asking all of you to return to your previous assignments, and to funnel all communications through Captain von Darkmoor. I will instruct my son, Lelan, to assume command of our cavalry units from Makurlic. That will be all.”
The nobles and other officers departed, and Richard said, “Erik, stay a moment.”
“Sir?” asked Erik when they were alone.
“I know why you chose me, son,” said the old officer. “You’ve a fair grasp of politics. I appreciate that. What I don’t appreciate is any thought you might have of using me for your own gains.”
Erik stiffened. “Sir, I will follow your orders and offer you the best counsel of which I am capable.
Should you find my service lacking, you may remove me at your pleasure and I will not voice objection, even to the Prince.”
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“Well said,” replied the Earl, “but now I need to know your heart. I’ve seen you lead men in the field, von Darkmoor, and the reports of your actions last year at Nightmare Ridge do you credit, but I need to know I can depend on you.”
“My lord,” said Erik, “I have no ambitions in this.
I am a reluctant Captain, but I serve to my utmost. If you wish to replace me and have me serve at the van of my men, I will acknowledge your orders and depart immediately to fulfill whatever mission you name.”
The old man studied Erik a while longer, then said, “That won’t be necessary, Erik. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Erik nodded. He outlined his fears and Greylock’s, that they were being lulled by a series of modest defenses to have them charge foolishly into Fadawah’s real southern position. Erik pointed to a stack of parchments. “Subai’s messages are there, sir, and I suggest you read them.” Erik pointed to the map on the table before Earl Richard. “We’re here, and about here”—his finger jumped up the map about sixty miles—“we should hit the first serious defensive position. If what Subai writes is accurate, it’s going to be hell to pay getting to Ylith.”
“I assume you’ve considered all the alternatives, landing on Free Cities soil and attacking from the west, attempting to land outside the harbor, and the rest?”
Erik nodded.
“I’ll want you to cover those discarded options for me later, just in case I might think of something you and Owen missed, but I’m certain you didn’t miss anything. Assuming that’s true, what do we do 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 446
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next?”
Erik said, “I want to take a patrol and go north, and see how far I can get before things get nasty. I want to see what Subai saw, my lord.”
Richard, Earl of Makurlic, said nothing for a long moment, his mind weighing options, then he said, “I sent a letter to Prince Patrick, asking him to relieve me of this command, but until he does, I suppose I should act like a commander.
“Here’s what you do. Send those Hadati hillmen ahead up the right flank. They can move through the hills better than anyone we have. Have them leave at once. Then send a company of your Crimson Eagles up the left flank, along the coast but out of sight.
“Then at first light tomorrow, I want you and my son to lead a patrol of cavalry up the highway. Be as loud and careless as you wish.”
Erik nodded. “That should flush out anyone looking to lay an ambush.”
“If the Gods were kinder, you’d all ride into Ylith at the same time and hoist an ale. The Gods, however, have been short on kindness toward the Kingdom of late.” He looked up and saw Erik still standing there. “Well, go, dismissed, whatever it is I’m supposed to say.”
Erik grinned at the old man. “Yes, sir,” he said with a salute, and he was off.
Talwin signaled from outside the building and Dash waved a reply through the open front door. He then motioned with his hand indicating Talwin and the men next to him should circle around the next block of buildings and come up behind the men they stalked. Their targets, four men who had been wait-
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ing for a fifth for the last half hour, were gathered together in a workyard behind an abandoned shop in the poor quarter. Talwin vanished into the night with his men.
It had taken Dash, with the help of the Mockers, a week to discover this meeting place. Talwin had identified three men who were very likely to be Keshian agents, and the fourth was either another agent or their employee. Dash had overheard enough snippets of conversation to know they were getting restless waiting for someone and would soon leave if that person didn’t show up.
Dash wanted Talwin and the two constables with him ready to come in from the other side of the yard, through a broken-down fence next to an alley. Dash and his men were in an old shop, hiding by hanging above the main floor in the rafters. A glance into the murk of the shop’s ceiling showed his three men crouched uncomfortably on the roof beam. He’d better get them down soon, he thought, or they’d be too stiff to move.
Dash motioned and the three men hung from their fingers, then dropped quietly to the floor. Dash crouched low so as not to alert the men out back, as he was closest to the open door.’
“He’s not coming,” said one of the four men, a muscular man dressed like a common laborer. “We should split up and meet somewhere else tomorrow.”
“Maybe they got him,” a second man said; he was thin and dangerous-looking, and bore a sword and dagger at his belt.
“Who?” asked the first man.
“Who do you think?” offered the first man. “The Prince’s men.”
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“They’d have to be quicker than they’ve been so far,” came the voice of a man ducking into view from the next building. “You almost got nicked,” he said.
“What do you mean?” asked the first man.
“I saw constables hurrying away from just in front of this building. They looked like they was looking through the door. They must have just missed you all.”
Dash decided it was time. He pulled his sword and ran from his hiding place, his three constables behind him. The first man turned and fled, running right into Talwin as he climbed through a large hole in the fence. “Put down your weapons!” Dash commanded.
Four of the men put down weapons, but the one slender man, the one Dash had judged dangerous, pulled his. “Run!” he shouted to his companions, and as if to buy them time, he launched a two-weapon attack on Dash.
Dash had practiced against this style of fighting before, but this man was very good at it. One of his constables tried to come to his aid but only managed to almost get Dash killed. “Back off!” Dash commanded after he slipped aside of a thrust, while his constable moved away.
Talwin walked up behind the slender man and slammed him in the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. Dash, frustrated at the long wait, turned to his constable and shouted, “That’s how you do it!
You hit them from behind! You don’t leap in and almost get someone killed! Got it?”
The constable nodded, looking embarrassed, and Dash turned to inspect the other prisoners. The fifth man, the one who arrived last, looked familiar to 52893_~1.QXD 8/30/2002 10:02 AM Page 449
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Dash. Dash studied him for a moment, then his eyes widened. “I know you! You’re a clerk from the palace!” The man said nothing, looking terrified.
Talwin said, “Let’s get this bunch to the palace for some questioning . . . if you agree, Sheriff.”
“Good idea, Deputy,” said Dash.
The other members of the constabulary knew something odd was going on with Talwin, but no one had voiced any concerns, or at least not within Dash’s hearing. Dash, Talwin, and the other five constables ordered two of the prisoners to pick up their unconscious comrade and started them on their way to the palace.
“They’re not Keshian,” said Talwin as he closed the door behind them.
“Then who are they working for?” asked Dash.
They were in Dash’s room, unused since he had been given the office of Sheriff. “I think they’re working for the Keshians, but they may not know that.”
Dash had appropriated five rooms in the palace in which each of the prisoners was isolated. He didn’t want them talking to one another before questioning each in turn. Talwin had briefly spoken to each man, before beginning intensive questioning. He said,
“We’ve got one interesting case, Pickney, a clerk from the Prince’s office. The rest of them are . . . odd.
One vagabond swordsman, one baker, a stablehand, and a journeyman mason.”
Dash said, “Hardly the lot I’d pick for conspiracy.”
Talwin said, “I think they’re dupes. Not one of them has the wits of a bug. Pickney worries me.”
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“I’d worry a little about that swordsman—”
“Desgarden,” supplied Talwin, “is the happy blade who tried to kill you.”
“Desgarden,” repeated Dash. “He was willing to try to fight his way out rather than be captured.”
“Either he has an inflated sense of his own ability with a sword, or he’s just as stupid as I think he is.”
“Stupid he may be,” said Dash, “but unlike the other three, he’s not what I would consider a ‘stand-up’ citizen. He has the look of someone who knows his way around the back alleys and sewers. He may be part of those who are causing some troubles in the Poor Quarter.”
Talwin nodded. “Well, let me squeeze them and see what I can find out.”
Dash said, “Good. I think I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight. It’s been a month.”
Talwin said, “By the way, I should be leaving your service at the end of the week.”
“Oh?” said Dash, with a slight smile. “Have I been that difficult an employer?”
“Duke Rufio arrives.”
“It’s been confirmed he’s to be Duke of Krondor?”
“Not publicly,” said Talwin. “You didn’t hear that from me.”
Dash waved away the man, who closed the door while Dash took off his boots. He lay back on his own bed and marveled at how soft his heavy down mattress was compared to that straw thing in the back of the jail.
He was wondering if he should take this one back with him when he fell asleep.
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He came awake suddenly when someone pounded on his door.
“What?” he said sleepily, opening his door.
Talwin said, “We need to talk.”
Dash waved him inside. “How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours.”
“It wasn’t long enough,” said Dash.
“We have a grave problem.”
“What?” asked Dash, coming awake.
“Those five are dupes, as I suspected, but they were working for someone inside the palace, and from what I can tell, he’s an agent for Kesh.”
“Inside the palace?”
Talwin nodded. “The clerk believes him to be someone connected with a business concern—he thinks it might be your old employer, Rupert Avery.”
“Hardly,” said Dash. “Whatever Roo needs to know, he simply asks. The crown owes him so much gold, we usually tell him.”
“I know. He’s well connected with you, von Darkmoor, and others. But that’s what Pickney believed. Desgarden on the other hand, thinks he’s working for a band of smugglers from Durbin.”
“Cut to it, what’s going on?”
“These five, and others I’ll warrant, were gathering information on the deployment of resources, soldiers, the condition of defenses, every potentially valuable bit of information an enemy might want.
They were feeding it to someone here in the palace.”
“Now I’m confused. I could see someone in the palace feeding the information to someone outside, but from outside in?”
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is, the person inside the castle they were reporting to wasn’t part of Patrick’s staff.”
“Who was it?”
Talwin said, “A man who was working here when Patrick arrived, but who stayed on when Duko left. A man who seemed to be everywhere when someone needed help with documents or messages. A man named Malar Enares.”
Dash said, “Gods! He’s that servant we met out in the woods last winter. He claimed to be from the vale.”
Talwin shook his head. “If we had access to your grandfather’s documents, I bet we’d find his name amongst those on a list of agents of Great Kesh.”
Suddenly Dash was concerned about his brother.
“I need to see if there are any messages in from Duko down at Port Vykor in the last few days.”
“Enares left with your brother, right?”
“Right,” said Dash. “If he’s a Keshian agent, he’s either already left for Kesh, to let them know how bad things are in the city, or he’s down in Port Vykor doing more harm.”
“Send word to Duko, and if your brother has arrived there safely, let me know.”
“Are you quitting the constabulary today?” asked Dash as he pulled on his boots and moved to the door.
“I think so. Once the new Duke is in his office, I need to repair the damage done during the war. There are agents who reported to me who don’t know I’m still alive. There are agents I don’t know are dead yet. Your grandfather had a marvelously devious mind and created a thing of beauty. It may take me the rest of my life, but eventually I’ll get the intelli-
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gence network he made back in place.”
“Well, as long as I’m the Sheriff of Krondor, if you need help, let me know.”
“I will,” said Talwin, following Dash through the door. Talwin turned without another word and moved back toward the rooms in which the prisoners were kept, while Dash hurried toward the Knight-Marshal’s office, where all incoming military messages would be logged before being sent to Prince Patrick, or north to Lord Greylock. If Jimmy had sent word, it would be there. Dash picked up the pace and was almost running when he reached the door.
The sleepy-looking clerk looked up and said,
“Yes, Sheriff?”
“Has there been a message from Port Vykor in the last day or two?”
The clerk looked over a long scroll upon which the most recent messages were logged. “No, sir, none in the last five days.”
Dash said, “If one arrives anytime soon, inform me at once. Thank you.” He turned around and started back toward his room. Then he glanced outside and saw the sun was rising. Putting aside fatigue, he turned and started toward the door to the courtyard and the way back to the New Market Jail. He had a great deal of work to do and it couldn’t wait on worrying about his brother.
“Sheriff Puppy,” came the voice through the window.
Dash came awake. He had spent a long day keeping the city under control and had retired to the little room in the rear of the old inn he used for sleeping.
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“Trina?” he asked as he stood up to look through the shutters. Opening them, he saw the young woman’s face illuminated by moonlight.
Grinning, he stood there in his under-trousers.
His shirt, trousers, and boots lay in a heap beside his straw mattress. “Why do I doubt you came to my window because you couldn’t bear to be away from me?”
She smiled back and took a moment to look him up and down, then said, “You’re a pretty enough boy, Sheriff Puppy, but I like my men with a little more experience.”