Magician's End

  As they approached the Keshian lines, Martin said to the four hunters, ‘Men, I would take it as a personal favour if you said nothing to anyone about what we’ve seen.’

  ‘Who’d believe us, Highness?’ asked Tom.

  The others nodded and Will chuckled, but Martin pressed on. ‘Still, rumours spread like fire on dry straw, and Ylith is barely approaching what we might think of as normal times. There are still plenty of scared, battle-weary folks who don’t need to be told more horror is on the way. All right?’

  The four agreed and Bethany said, ‘What are we going to do when we reach the city?’

  Martin said, ‘There are some things I need to talk over with George Bolton before I head south.’

  She sighed and patted his arm. The idea of him leaving so soon after arriving didn’t please her. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve got to get to Krondor as fast as I can, and hope a magician named Ruffio is still there, or someone knows how to reach him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because riding horses until they drop to reach Prince Edward isn’t going to solve anything; because Edward’s not about to leave the Fields of Albalyn with a civil war threatening; and besides, from what we saw, bows and arrows are only so useful. No, we need magicians, and if I can find Ruffio, he can get word to where it needs to go, to the temples, to Stardock …’ He glanced over at the four hunters, and lowered his voice. ‘And to others I’ll tell you about when we’re alone.’

  She looked confused and curious, but nodded to say she would wait.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Martin. ‘If we’re quick enough we should be able to slip behind the southern patrol and loop around to the main gate of the city. No need to use the old keep tunnel if we’re already back on our side of the line.’

  It was an exhausted and filthy band that reached the gates of Ylith an hour after sunrise six days after leaving the elves. By the time the gates of the city were opened, Captain Bolton, Brendan, and the mayor were waiting. Martin outlined the situation as Sergeant Oaks appeared, obviously just awakened. When Martin finished, the old sergeant said, ‘Orders, Highness?’

  Martin said, ‘I’m going to need four men to travel with me to Krondor. The rest of you will stay to bolster the garrison here until I return.’

  Oaks wasn’t happy, but he merely said, ‘Yes, Highness.’

  ‘We’ll need two horses each and we’ll ride them until they drop: there’s a need for speedy travel.’

  Brendan said, ‘I’ll go see to the mounts.’

  ‘No,’ said Martin. ‘Send someone else. I have something I need you to do. We’ll talk later.’

  Something about Martin’s demeanour made Brendan think twice about objecting. He signalled for one of the boys who were acting as messengers and aides for the soldiers and instructed him as to Martin’s needs. The boy ran off in a hurry.

  Martin quickly finished detailing some things he’d like done in the city to the mayor, Bolton, and Oaks, then motioned for Bethany and Brendan to accompany him as he left for the mayor’s house for a quick bath and meal. Once the three of them were out of earshot of the others he said, ‘I’ve got some things I’d like the two of you to do. If either of you want to say no, I’ll understand. I can order Oaks to send a couple of his men, but I’d rather leave these tasks to people I trust.’

  ‘Whatever you ask,’ said Brendan.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Bethany.

  Turning to Bethany he said, ‘I need you to take the four hunters after you’ve rested and travel to Elvandar.’

  ‘Elvandar?’ she said. ‘Really?’

  Martin nodded. ‘I know that elf Tanderae said he’d sent someone north, but I’d feel better knowing we had someone talking to the Elf Queen. Those Star Elves don’t strike me as practised hunters, and we’ve had word of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path moving down from the Northlands again. Between those dark murderers and the Keshians, we’ve no guarantees the Elf Queen will know what’s happening in the Grey Towers. That’s elf-magic and maybe she can help. But she can’t do anything if she doesn’t know.

  ‘From the Yabon side of the mountains to the south side of the River Boundary you shouldn’t even see a hint of a Keshian or a Dark Brother, so I think it’s a relatively safe journey. Besides, you know how to move through the woods like an elf.’

  She smiled. ‘It will be good to see our mothers.’ Both Martin’s mother and Bethany’s were safe in Elvandar since fleeing Crydee.

  ‘Tell the boys and take what you need and leave in the morning,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving as soon as the horses are ready – I’ve got most of today to ride, but you could use a few hours’ sleep.’

  ‘What do I say to the Elf Queen?’

  ‘You saw as much as I did, Beth. Just tell her what you saw and that these Star Elves are hard pressed by whatever is trapped within their city.’ He paused. ‘If you can remember what Tanderae said about betrayal from within, that might be important.’

  She nodded, hesitated, then realized Martin wished to speak with his brother alone. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you later.’ She hurried off.

  Brendan said, ‘What do you want me to do, Martin?’

  ‘I’m going to ask much of you, but do you think you can find a boat and get down the coast past the Quegan patrols?’

  Brendan was quiet for a minute, then said, ‘I think so. There are a couple of small cutters still in the harbour. One’s a nice little double headsail that should make good time. I can sail her at night and lay in close to the coast with the mast down in the day if I see Quegan galleys. If I hug close to shore and avoid shoals, yes, I can get south of here. Are we sailing to Krondor?’

  ‘No,’ said Martin. ‘I’m riding, as I told the others. I must get word to Prince Edward of this invasion or attack or whatever it is in the Grey Towers. But as certain as bears sleep in the winter, whatever those elves are facing needs magic as well as arms to withstand it, and I’m remembering what Jim Dasher told us about on our last night in Rillanon.’

  ‘The Conclave?’

  ‘Yes, and you remember where he said we’d find them?’

  Brendan’s expression turned sour. ‘Sorcerer’s Isle.’

  ‘If the Conclave is there, you can safely ignore all those tales of monsters and evil sorcerers. And if you can get to Sarth, it’s almost a straight sail south to the island. The stories have a castle on the east tip of the island, so that’s where I’d start looking.’

  Brendan nodded. ‘I understand. If you can’t find that Ruffio, you’ll be riding hard from Krondor to the Fields of Albalyn.’

  ‘And that means weeks before I can find Prince Edward. And who knows if he’ll be willing to send anyone to the west?’

  ‘OK, I’ll leave at sunset and start for Sarth.’

  Martin looked around. ‘It’s odd how normal this city looks at times like these.’

  ‘Enjoy, Brother,’ said Brendan. ‘I’m coming to believe normality as we once knew it will never return.’

  ‘As long as something normal returns, I’ll settle for it being different,’ said Martin.

  The two brothers took one last look around the still-quiet street and headed in different directions, on different tasks, but sharing the same determination to do their best or die trying.

  • CHAPTER SIX •

  Assassins

  HAL LUNGED.

  Ty Hawkins beat aside the blade and riposted. Hal barely avoided the point of Ty’s sword with a frantic parry, but before he could get back on line, Ty was already back in place, ready for his attack.

  ‘Enough,’ said Tal Hawkins. To Hal he said, ‘You’re still over-reaching when you sense a weakness. Most times you’ll survive that mistake, because you’re as fast a blade as I’ve seen in my life. But Ty is not like most of the opponents you’ll face. And you must never assume the man facing you is not my son’s equal. Else you will find yourself losing the bout.’

  ‘Or face down on the ground bleedi
ng,’ added Ty. He removed the basket helm he wore for practice and wiped away the perspiration. ‘But you came close.’

  Hal removed his basket helm and also wiped his brow with the back of his gauntlet. He motioned to a servant who took his helm, then Ty’s.

  Tal smiled at his son. ‘When you faced him in the Masters’ Court, I told you he was faster.’

  Ty grinned back. ‘I’m going to have to practise faster, I guess.’

  Hal laughed. ‘Thank you for the bout. I needed it.’

  Tal put his hand on Hal’s shoulder. ‘I understand. Waiting for the other side to make the next move can be grinding on the nerves.’

  Tal said, ‘I feel like a steam. You two need to clean up.’

  Ty and Hal exchanged questioning looks, and Ty said, ‘He’s right. We both reek.’

  Hal glanced around and decided he’d find out what this was about when they were alone. He motioned for the palace servant who had been assigned to him as he unbuttoned his heavily padded practice tunic. When it was off he handed it to the page and said, ‘Bring fresh clothes to the baths.’

  Ty echoed the instruction to the lad who cared for his needs, and the two young nobles left the empty room Hal had commandeered for use as a practice hall. It was used primarily as an extra dining hall, hence it being long enough for good fencing practice. That meant it also had a back entrance that opened onto a long hall that led to stairs down to the next level, the main servants’ quarters and lesser guest quarters, a floor above the baths.

  They moved quickly down the stairs into the very busy royal kitchens. A massive complex of rooms, it was centred around a core kitchen with two hearths for roasting meat or boiling soups, preparation space, and ovens. Even with no king in residence, there were hundreds of mouths to feed every day and with the current influx of eastern nobles attending the Congress when it ratified the next king – whenever that finally occurred – the demand for food and drink was constant.

  Two auxiliary kitchens were also in operation, adding two more hearths and four working ovens, and a further two for back-up. The last two were used if a gala was underway or on Midsummer Day, the Festival of Banapis, when the gates of the palace were thrown open and the city feasted at the king’s table.

  The two young nobles made their way through a busy press of cooks and helpers, with one particularly striking blonde helper catching Ty’s eye. He smiled and paused to speak with her, but Hal grabbed his arm. ‘Later.’

  Ty threw Hal a dark look, but said nothing. They moved through the servants’ wing of the palace, heading back towards the main corridors that fed into the grand entryway, the hall that ran from the main doors of the palace – once the heart of an ancient keep – to the throne room. As Hal was reminded each time he needed to go from one side of the palace to the other, it was massive.

  Originally a fortress above a village on one of several islands in what became known as the Sea of Kingdoms, the fortress had been replaced by several increasingly larger constructions, first of wood and mud, then stone, and finally the first castle had been erected on this site. Of the last castle, only vestigial walls remained, now part of the heart of the palace, surrounding on three sides the king’s reception area and throne room. The rear wall had been torn down to accommodate floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the bay.

  Now the two young men cut across the entry hallway, which was as wide as most streets in the city, and reached the beginning of the labyrinth of apartments and offices that ended at the royal apartment complex on the opposite side from where they started. Rillanon might not have the tradition of opulence that was found in the older Kingdom of Roldem, but it seemed to be attempting to overtake it as best it could, Hal thought. He glanced through the massive doors that opened onto the reception courtyard and gave a view of the city beyond. In the afternoon sun, it was dazzling.

  Rodric the Fourth, occasionally called the Mad King, though never in this palace, had been obsessed about turning Rillanon into the most splendid city in the world. To that end he had started a beautification project of unprecedented scale. Stone quarries in all corners of the Kingdom, and some in Queg and Kesh, were searched out for the finest marble and granite, which was shipped to the city in a steady stream to replace the ancient walls of the palaces, the royal complex, and the royal precinct. Over the years subsequent kings had continued the process, so that now merchants and commoners found stone-cutters and masons with royal commissions arriving one day to announce that old masonry, stone facing, and even ancient whitewashed daub, was being replaced by stone, courtesy of the king.

  The result, centuries later, was that on a sunny day, when approached from the sea, Rillanon sparkled like a jewel, and as one came closer, the rainbow of colours playing over the façades of the city was stunning. From rose to pale blue, golden yellow to pale violet, the range of colours was breath-taking.

  At times of conflict the cost to the royal treasury might be debated, and the impact on taxes was undoubted, but no one argued about the results. Rillanon was the Jewel of the Sea of Kingdoms.

  Hal and Ty reached a long descending staircase, lit by lamps in sconces, and reached a basement two floors below the main hall. One of the pleasures of the palace was that one of Hal’s ancestors had installed a Quegan-style bath in a previously dank and little-used sub-basement. Unlike the Quegans who had evolved bathing into a pastime, Kesh’s baths were more a way to mitigate the scorching summer heat near cool pools and fountains, dipping in and out all day, so that cleanliness was rarely an issue for the scantily clad Truebloods of the City of Kesh. They could drop their light robes or girdles, slip into cool water, and wait for the evening’s cooler air.

  The Quegans, on the other hand, had come to colonize the Bitter Sea and, as a result, had a much more varied climate during the year. They had developed a three-room bath process, later up to five rooms, for steam and dry heat.

  Hal had discovered the almost-sybaritic pleasures of bathing since coming to Rillanon. He and Ty entered the first room, the cold bath, and handed their clothes to attendants. The dry stone floors told them they were the first nobles of the day to partake of the bath’s pleasures.

  The two young men slipped into the bath, descending two broad steps of marble, until they were able to kneel and cover their shoulders with the bracing cold water. Hal dunked his head and when he came up said, ‘If I were king, my friend, I’d be here every day.’

  Ty ducked his head and emerged, wiping his face. He grinned. ‘These days the desire to be king makes you a target, Hal.’

  ‘True,’ said Hal, turning and swimming to the far end of the pool, Ty a half stroke behind him.

  They reached the end, pulled themselves up onto the stone deck and found servants holding towels. The softness of the king’s woven towels never ceased to amaze Hal. He had grown up in a castle where coarse linen was the fabric of choice for drying everything, from kitchen utensils to the duke’s sons.

  They walked through a short hall that brought them into the warm room. A shallow pool of water occupied all but a two-foot-wide ledge around the perimeter and was filled with warm water. A series of low wooden stools were arrayed so as many as a dozen bathers could be attended at any time. With only two attendants, Hal knew that someone on the palace chancellor’s staff always knew how many residents were approaching the baths.

  They sat on stools while the two attendants, boys who appeared to be approaching manhood, set about soaping up the two young nobles. As Hal endured having someone else soap his hair – something he hadn’t had done by anyone since his mother stopped doing it when he was a boy – Ty laughed. ‘In Queg, and the City of Kesh, this task would likely befall a couple of lovely young girls.’

  Hal laughed at that. ‘If that were true here, I’d never get you to the hot room.’

  ‘A time and place for everything, I suppose. You natives of the Isles tend to be a bit proper. You’re almost as conservative as the folk in Roldem.’

  ‘You have Isles parents
,’ observed Hal.

  ‘True, but I was Olasko-born and spent most of my youth there and in Roldem. I also hold titles from both cities.’

  When they were completely covered in soap, they stood for the servants to pour buckets of warm water over their heads. Dripping wet, they made their way to the next room, where a very deep, hot pool waited. They slipped in and Hal could barely avoid gasping from the sudden increase in heat.

  After a moment he could feel his muscles loosen from the vigorous sword play. ‘I could linger here for an hour or two,’ he said.

  Laughing, Ty pulled himself up. ‘Maybe later, but Father is waiting.’

  Hal groaned, but followed his friend to where more servants waited with large fluffy towels, which the two young men wrapped around their waists. They moved through a heavily curtained entrance that led to a short hall with two doors, one on either hand.

  ‘Wet or dry?’ asked Hal.

  ‘Father will be in dry. That way he won’t have to bathe off the sweat.’

  They entered the dry chamber, a spacious room with cedar-wood walls and a large bench. A bin of heated rocks had been placed against one wall. Hot coals could be added from a slot in the wall beneath, so the attendant didn’t have to enter the room.

  Two men waited on the bench, both wearing towels. Next to Tal Hawkins sat Jim Dasher, which surprised Hal not at all. The two older men sat on the higher of the two long benches across the back of the room. Jim held up his hand for silence, then indicated the bench at his feet. Both younger men sat.

  A sudden eruption of steam from the steam box filled the room with moisture and a sibilant hiss. Jim said, ‘One of my men has ensured we are not overheard.’

  Hal and Ty exchanged quick glances, then Hal said, ‘News?’

  ‘Not of the good sort,’ answered Jim Dasher. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and said, ‘You’ve been marked for death.’ He looked at Hal.