A Crown Imperilled

CHAPTER NINE

Jim leapt over the wall.

Crouching down he waited until he heard the patrolling sentry reach the far end of the wall and begin his trudge back to where the Baron of the Prince’s Court, Envoy Extraordinaire of the Crown, and any other number of titles bestowed on him by the King at his grandfather’s behest, waited like the common thief he was in his other life. He held a dagger close to his chest and prayed he didn’t have to use it. Right now he had more than enough troubles without adding gratuitous bloodshed to his list of malefactions.

Jim tried to make himself as small as possible as he hunkered down behind a bush. He had picked this spot to escape the confines of the palace for three reasons: first, it was one of the two exits that wasn’t being watched by agents of Sir William Alcorn; second, the other escape route was through the harbour and involved a fair bit of swimming and he wasn’t in the mood to get wet; last of all, this was the most direct route into the city. All he had to do was time things so that he could be over the wall as the guard was one step away from turning at the end of his patrol, then dash for the darkness of sheltering doorways.

The problem was when the guard was walking right towards him: Jim’s only cover was two shrubs and a dull grey cloak which he had gathered around him like a tiny tent. If the guard didn’t glance down as he passed the shrubbery, and James didn’t draw attention to himself, he thought he had a fair chance of making it into the city undetected.

If not, a loyal member of the King’s palace guard would be dead for no good reason and Jim’s escape from the palace would be noticed earlier than planned. He really didn’t care much about the latter issue, as he was bound to be missed before noon in any event. He just hated the idea of murdering a career soldier merely because he happened to be given this duty this night by his company sergeant.

The guard passed, and Jim let out his breath slowly in relief, for no needless blood would be shed tonight. He waited, listening as the footfalls moved away, then quietly he stood up, glanced at the retreating back of the sentry, and was away.

A silent sprint took him to a deep doorway in a storefront across the street, and he watched as the bored guardsman turned and started back on his rounds.

When the guard was at the far end of his patrol, Jim darted off in the opposite direction and a moment later, he turned the corner and was off into the darkened streets of Rillanon.

There was the sound of a dull thud of a cleaver slamming into a butcher’s block as a stocky man in a bloodstained apron cut through a haunch of pork. He was heavily muscled under the fat and sported a large gut that belied a turn of speed when it was needed. He had a pair of crystal spectacles pushed up on top of his head, for his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, and he needed keen vision for his accounting. He had paid dearly for them, but they served him well in balancing his ledger.

He nursed a pipe of tabac, the pungent aroma competing with the stench of old blood and ageing meat, and he hummed a nameless tune as he worked. When he had cut a nice dozen chops from the carcass, he picked up the remains and hung it on an iron hook in the corner. ‘Why don’t you come out now? I’m done with the morning’s work.’

Jim stepped out of the shadows and the two men confronted one another. ‘Bill,’ Jim said in neutral tones, as meagre a greeting as he could manage.

‘Saw you slip in and was quite able to split your skull with my cleaver, but when you didn’t move out of the corner, I thought I’d wait a bit to see what you were up to.’ William Cutter, known as Bill the Butcher smiled with a mix of amusement and menace. ‘Lord James, or is it Jim Dasher of Krondor today?’ He paused. ‘QuickJim? Jimmyhand? Jim the Fixer? Or perhaps another monicker with which I’m unfamiliar?’

‘Neither or both, depending on what I leave knowing.’

‘If you leave,’ said Bill. ‘Come, I’m being inhospitable.’ He turned his back and walked through a curtained door towards the front of his shop. The sun was rising and the day’s business would begin soon.

The store front was modest, and the butcher’s counter was low and broad, each section with a small hole to facilitate the draining of blood. The stone floor also had a channel for drainage when it was washed each night, the run-off emptying out into the rear alley, above a sewer culvert. In the corner sat a small table and chair, incongruously bearing some delicate china cups and saucers. ‘I take a minute before the business of the day starts to enjoy a quiet cup. Join me?’ Bill waved a meaty hand in the direction of the table and Jim nodded. A brass pot sat over a small brazier, the water just shy of a rolling boil. With deft fingers, Bill the Butcher prepared tea.

They sat down and Bill poured two cups. ‘I take my tea black, so I’m sorry I have no lemon or milk. I’ve some sugar in the back.’

‘Black is fine,’ said Jim.

‘Now, whoever you are at this moment, what brings you to my humble shop and why should I let you leave alive?’

Jim weighed his words. The man opposite him was the head of the biggest underground crime gang in Rillanon. Less organized than the Mockers of Krondor, the Sewer Rats were the largest gang in the city, the centre of a loose association of many gangs: the Dock Stalkers, the North Street Rangers, the Jiggle Purse Bunch, the Greenhill Boys, the Starving Dogs, and a dozen others. To keep mayhem between gangs under control, the Council had been formed and today it was controlled by one man, William ‘Bill the Butcher’ Cutter. More men were subject to him for their lives than any single noble in the east.

‘I need your help,’ Jim said at last.

A harsh barking laugh was followed by silence, then a sip of tea. Putting down his cup, Bill said, ‘You have rocks on you, I’ll give you that. Stones the size of boulders, Jim. I’ve planted brothers and paid widows because of you more than any man in Rillanon, and you’re hardly here for more than one day in twenty. So why should I let you leave here alive, let alone help you?’

‘Imagine the Kingdom ruled by Sir William Alcorn.’

Bill slung his arm across the back of his chair as he leaned into the wall. His eyes turned away from Jim and he looked out the window as he thought. Finally he said, ‘That’s a compelling argument. A strange coincidence of events, Jim, has conspired to keep you alive. For the time being, at least. Tell me more.’

‘Coincidence?’

‘After you tell me what brought you here.’

Jim outlined the general deterioration of his network and the betrayal of key agents, without providing information that might prove useful to Bill in his role as ruler of the Council. When he was finished, Bill said nothing for a minute. Then he asked, ‘Both Mockers and royal agents?’

Jim sat back and considered. Then he said, ‘The only Mockers who were turned were also royal agents.’

Again Bill was silent for a while. ‘So, your trouble is all within the straight world, not on your dodgy path.’

‘Apparently.’

‘So you have few, if any, here in Rillanon you can trust?’

‘Also apparently.’

Bill Cutter shifted his weight, leaned forward, and whispered in mock confidentiality, ‘So you’re forced to come begging for favours from ol’ Bill the Butcher?’

‘Something like that, though not really favours, but rather coming to an understanding.’

‘Ah,’ responded Bill slowly. ‘Understanding.’ He almost massaged the word as he spoke it. ‘I do enjoy a good one. What do you have in mind?’

Jim considered how best to make his point. ‘Your buried brothers and grieving widows, we can cut down on that a great deal.’

‘You’ll call off the Crushers?’

‘To a point. You limit your happy gang of cutthroats to stealing, larceny, and selling stolen property, and cut back on the violence and bodies floating in the bay, we may be able to look the other way from time to time and not be so swift to pursue.’

‘Tempting,’ said Bill with a nod. ‘And in exchange for reaching this understanding?’

‘As you’ve observed, there are people within my straight organization who have betrayed me. You are the eyes and ears of the criminal underground in Rillanon. You have contacts in Kesh and Roldem I lack. My contacts in Kesh are compromised, and my-,’ he thought about Franciezka and felt an unexpected pang, wondering for a brief second how she fared, ‘-associates in Roldem are also at risk. From what small intelligence I have gained, the crime associations in both Kesh and Rillanon have so far been ignored by whoever is raising hob with each nation.’

Bill sighed and leaned back against his chair once more. ‘Ah, then, there’s the heart of it. I want more.’

‘What?’

‘I want the Mockers.’

Jim was speechless for a moment, his mind racing. The original Upright Man had been an evil bastard named Don the Chandler, a dockside merchant in Krondor who had used brutality and guile to create the illusion of the powerful, mythic and shadowy personage who controlled all crime in Krondor. He also was Jim’s three times great-grandfather: the legendary Jimmy the Hand had been one of his bastard sons. So in a way, the Mockers had been in Jim’s family for five generations in one form or another. ‘Who will you send to run it?’ asked Jim at last.

Bill gave out with a barking laugh. ‘And I should share that with you because …?’

‘Because it’s a condition of the negotiation.’

‘I have a son, one among many, but one who is especially gifted and bright and he’s a little too anxious for me to visit Lims-Kragma’s Hall so he can take over the Council. If I send him to Krondor …’ He shrugged.

‘You double your criminal empire and remove your most dangerous threat in a single moment.’

‘It’s a difficult situation,’ said Bill. ‘One of the reasons he’s such a threat is I’m fond of the lad and he knows it. Moreover, he also knows his mother would be beside herself if I cut his throat-,’ he shook his head ruefully, ‘-and she can be a force to be reckoned with.’

Jim laughed, then said, ‘Done.’

Bill looked surprised. After a moment, he said, ‘Done?’

‘If we survive this coming war, I am retired, Bill. I’m done with murder and intrigue and betrayal. I would need to install another as Upright Man, so why not your boy?’ He almost laughed. ‘Though I will put conditions on him; how the Mockers survive in on a high level of trust within those who call Mother’s home. I will not have that betrayed.’

‘Well, and done!’ said Bill slapping his hand on the table. He extended it, and Jim shook it in one sharp gesture. ‘Now,’ said the butcher, ‘on the subject of betrayal …’

‘Yes?’

‘I have heard things from both Kesh and Roldem. The Ragged Brotherhood in Kesh is keeping watch on all that occurs within the Upper City and are closely following the ins and outs of Trueblood politics. Likewise, the Shadows in Roldem are painfully aware of the changes there, as the embargo from Kesh has dried up a great deal of their business, though we do manage to keep a certain level of commerce active: Kesh’s fleet is not incorruptible and smugglers are not a priority for them.’

‘So what do you know?’

‘Know? Not much, but I suspect a great deal. To the point, this war makes no sense on any level I can imagine. I am no historian or scholar, nor am I a true master of commerce. But in our line of work you do learn a thing or two along the way. War is about two things,’ said Bill, extending two fingers and tapping the first. ‘It’s about miserable failure in diplomacy, admitting you couldn’t get what you wanted by arguing or persuasion, pleading or threatening.’ He tapped the second finger. ‘And it’s about profit. New land, booty, creating vassal states or any number of things that look like a profit to the winner. Even if conquest is not the reason, beating up your neighbour, winning, demanding ridiculous reparation, then going home, is profitable.’

‘But there’s a third reason?’

Bill grinned. ‘You’re anticipating me. Yes, the one reason no one cares to consider is madness. Some insane ruler or mad prophet or high priest hears a voice in his head and off march the armies.’

‘So, which is this?’

‘There’s the thing,’ said Bill, almost too delighted to speak.

Just then the door opened and a small man carrying a sack began to step over the threshold.

‘Get the hell out!’ bellowed Bill Cutter in a voice to tear the bricks off the wall. ‘We’re not open yet!’

The man leapt back, slamming the shop door so that the windows rattled.

Turning back to Jim, Bill said, ‘Best hurry. I’m late to open. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the thing is, this war meets none of the three reasons we enumerated. There was no failed diplomacy. Correct?’

‘Kesh made no claims in the west beyond their usual rants about the Vale of Dreams,’ agreed Jim.

‘And from what we can see, they appear to be hurtling towards bankrupting the imperial treasury to claim lands in the west that will not provide enough revenue to recoup in the next decade. More, the excuse they need to relocate recalcitrant vassal tribes from the Confederacy to take pressure off the Empire is patently false.’ He held up an index figure for emphasis. ‘For centuries Kesh has kept the Confederacy bottled up below the Girdle and watched with cold amusement as the nations of the Confederacy slaughtered one another for whatever reasons they dreamed up, enduring the occasional rebellion as a consequence, but that is merely the cost of doing business.

‘At times I am convinced that had the Empire had the resources, they would have built a big bleeding gate between the Belt and the Clasp, and thrown away the key. Now suddenly they start a war with their most powerful opponent in the world, to seize almost worthless lands in Crydee and Yabon just so they can move some rebellious tribesmen halfway around the world … for what? To make the Truebloods in the Upper City of Kesh feel good about their humanitarian impulses and their love of less fortunate subjects? Hardly.’

Jim nodded, uncertain where all this was going.

‘So, let us for a moment consider the two northern kingdoms. Roldem buttons up their little island and tucks in their fleet. First they try to play honest broker, but quickly they’re scolding both sides, threatening to go one way then another, ally with the Kingdom should Kesh initiate hostilities, yet give no assurances to the Kingdom they will aide them, even though Kesh could overmatch either fleet, but not both. Should Roldem declare for the Kingdom and sail, the Keshians in the Sea of Kingdoms would be quickly driven back to their ports and then the Kingdom has leverage to convince Kesh to withdraw from the west. So, why doesn’t Roldem declare?’ Leaning forward, Bill said, ‘Because-’

The door opened and before Jim could see anyone through it, Bill bellowed, ‘We’re closed!’ and it snapped quickly shut.

‘Where was I? Ah, yes. Because Roldem seems intent on using the war as a massive distraction for the benefit of its citizenry while a gentleman named Lord John Worthington attempts a rather neat little coup d’etat. From what I hear, princes and princesses are in hiding, there’s secret police everywhere, and the King and Queen are comfortably at rest in a wing of their palace where all their servants wear weapons and ignore royal commands. Word is Lord John means to marry off his eldest to the Princess Stephane, which would give him a very real presence in the royal household. Which brings us to the Kingdom.’

Jim nodded. ‘The war is being conducted not to lose, as opposed to trying to win.’

‘And even there it’s being waged badly. So badly we have reports of Ceresian corsairs sailing from whatever misbegotten pest hole they call home to raid along the coastal waters from Ran to Watcher’s Point. Word is they sacked Prandur’s Gate with impunity while the Lords of the Border sat and did nothing. They sail right past Kesh’s pickets and are ignored.’

Jim sat back. ‘That I did not know. That could bring the Eastern Kingdoms into the fray. If they think Kesh is allowing the Ceresians to raid their ports …’

‘Well, you just got back to town and from what my people tell me you had a long ride halfway to Rodez for no good reason.’

‘What do you know of Rodez?’

‘The command there is intact as of two weeks ago. They sortie against any ships that come too close, pirate or Keshian, and prevent further encroachment into Kingdom waters. But there’s a line in the water, apparently, from Ran to the northernmost peak of the Quor, through the Straits of Ilthros, beyond which no Kingdom authority exists. Makes it ripe for the Eastern Kingdoms to settle old grudges, so expect that soon.’

Jim said, ‘What’s your conclusion?’

‘That no one is fighting to win. They’re just fighting.’

‘To what end?’

‘That, my new ally, is the heart of the matter. Who wins a war that no one wants to win?’

Jim was silent then said, ‘Someone who wants the war to continue.’

‘Very good. Now, who might that be?’

Jim’s mind was racing and already a pattern was beginning to emerge. ‘I think I might know, but I’m not yet certain.’

‘Then you best hop on that question.’

Jim looked at Bill and saw that he was grinning. ‘Tell me of Kesh. Who is truly in command?’

Bill’s expression became more considered. ‘A minor nephew to the Emperor. The Truebloods breed like rabbits so there’s no shortage of opportunities for nepotism in the Upper City. This magistrate is called Prince Harfum, but he has cleverly managed to install his own people in every key position. So while the Gallery of Lords and Masters thunders in debate, the bureaucracy quietly goes about the business of running everything in Kesh.’

Jim held up his hand, showing three fingers. ‘Prince Harfum, Lord John Worthington, and Sir William Alcorn.’

Bill nodded. ‘Three men with little history or power who’ve insinuated themselves in positions of critical influence and who, amongst the three of them, have managed to plunge half the world into a war no one wants to win.’ He pointed a finger at Jim. ‘Find out what they have in common, or who they work for, and there’s your unknown player.’

Jim took a slow deep breath. ‘There’s little I can do now.’

‘Oh, you’re a resourceful lad,’ scoffed Bill. ‘You have assets you haven’t deployed yet, I’m certain. But the Council will be alert and should anything of value come to our notice, we shall inform you as quickly as we can.’

Jim was silent.

‘Now, to the business of my son.’

‘I’ll pen a missive to my senior man in the Mockers. Your son will have to present himself as an apprentice or the rest of the Mockers will grow suspicious. There are only ten people in the world who know the true identity of the Upright Man, and you are only the second who knows who isn’t my employee or an ally.’

‘And the other?’

Jim just smiled, choosing not to reveal the name Lady Franciezka Sorboz.

Bill said, ‘Very well then, be discreet. And I will instruct my son to do the same.’

‘What is your son’s name?’

Again a barking laugh, and Bill said, ‘There’s the black irony of it. His mother named him James.’

Jim laughed. ‘There is a bit of irony, isn’t there?’

‘Be off. I have a business to run and should I need to reach you, my lads will find you quickly enough if you’re on the island. If you go to the mainland, seek out a tavern in either Bas-Tyra or Euper, by the name of the Black Ram in both cities. Just hand a silver real to any barman and say, “To settle a bad debt,” and within minutes someone will take you aside and start the chain of getting a message back to me or delivering one I’ve left for you.’

Jim stood. ‘Thank you, Bill.’

Bill slapped the table as he rose and said, ‘Well and done, Lord James. I never thought I’d say this, but being with you today has been a pleasure.’

Jim found himself smiling. ‘Oddly enough, I’m forced to agree.’

He quickly left the shop and slipped into the morning’s traffic. He was about to employ one of those unused assets Bill had mentioned and he had much ahead of him. The mysteries he had begun to unravel were hinting at dangers he dreaded discovering were true. Still, he felt somehow relieved and his burdened lightened, and he realized that giving up control of the Mockers was the most welcome thing he had encountered in a very long time.

Within another minute, Jim was lost in the crowd of the city.

Hal signalled for quiet and everyone stopped speaking and listened. For the better part of two days they had been eluding bands of pirates, bandits, and local gangs. The entire region was in chaos and whatever law that had existed before the war was now gone.

The four of them sat huddled under an overhang while a torrential summer storm slammed the coast of the Kingdom. Ty was the most familiar with this region and guessed it would blow through in less than a day, perhaps in a few hours. But it was punishingly wet, like standing in a waterfall at times as water cascaded from branch to branch, finally to unleash sheets of water at random moments. Moreover, the wind brought a quick chill. As there was no dry place to attempt to build a fire, they crowded together for warmth.

The rain brought one blessing: it muddied their trail and conspired to keep them hidden from searchers.

They had come ashore just minutes before the pirates and had climbed narrow pathway up the twenty-foot escarpment. While not too high, the bluffs were difficult to climb and the pirates almost overtook them as a result. A few well-pitched rocks by Hal and Ty slowed them down for a few moments while the two young women reached the tree line and then the two noble sons sprinted after them.

Once in the woods, Ty showed an almost supernatural ability to pick a course through the thick trees, enough to impress Hal who had grown up running through forests all his life. Ty had learned a great deal of Orosini lore from his father, one of the last of his mountain tribal people. Talwin Hawkins, once called Talon of the Silver Hawk, had spent a year and many resources helping those few survivors rebuild their traditions. A single Orosini village now lived once more in the mountains to the north-east of where Ty and the others waited, and perhaps some day the Orosini would reclaim their ancient lands.

The pirates were uncompromising in their determination to overtake the fugitives. For reasons Hal and the others could only guess at, they had not given up the chase after the first few hours, as had been hoped, but simply kept at it. Hal didn’t know if it was by some magic or intelligence, or simply on a whim that they had decided the four in the boat were worth the effort of apprehending. Stephane was highly recognizable to anyone familiar with Roldem, so perhaps a sailor had spied her white-blonde hair and striking beauty from a distance. Perhaps they had simply assumed these were fugitives from Roldem who might bring a handsome ransom if caught. But for whatever reason, they just kept coming.

The previous night, the four of them had found a naturally-formed rock outcropping around which Ty had fashioned a rough shelter. It had proven adequate enough they had managed to sleep a while, the two young men splitting the watch. Early in the morning they had found the King’s Highway, but following it had almost ended in disaster.

A band of mercenaries or bandits had ridden unexpectedly over a rise, and they had managed to get off into the undergrowth before being discovered. For the rest of the morning they had moved parallel to the road, but keeping off the road for fear of sudden discovery.

Every so often Hal would fall back to see if they were still being followed, only to discover that the same band that had come off the beach was still doggedly in pursuit.

When the rains came they sought out shelter and found the overhang and waited for the misery to abate. They said little, whispering to avoid being overheard, taking what comfort they could salvage from their closeness and the hope of eventual arrival at a haven. From what little they could see, the coast seemed subject to all manner of predation, and ravagers seemed to roam free. Hal had decided their best course was westward, for though they might have to circle and skirt raiders along the coast, inland they could forage and hunt, and eventually as they moved deeper into the Kingdom, they were certain to find royal forces to protect them.

Ty said, ‘I think I’m going to take a quick look around and see if those pirates are still after us.’

‘Be careful,’ said Stephane as she huddled between Hal and Gabriella.

He waved casually and vanished into the darkening forest.

‘What time do you think it is?’ asked the Princess a moment later.

Hal said, ‘Difficult to tell, but I think it’s almost midday.’

Gabriella nodded. ‘My best guess as well.’

‘What’s Crydee like?’ asked the Princess.

Hal considered for a moment, then said, ‘Not too unlike here. A little cooler I would expect. We’re a bit farther north than this coast, and you’ve got all that warm current coming up from Kesh here. It’s why all the islands in the Sea of Kingdoms are so lush. Where I’m from it’s a bit more rugged.

‘But it’s home.’ He got a faraway look and said, ‘The sunsets are magnificent, as you look out straight to the west from the top of the keep. It’s best in the summer when the days are long and you can sip wine or drink beer as you watch after supper. The evenings are soft and gentle.’ Then he laughed. ‘Unless you get one of these,’ he said, indicating the rain. ‘We have a fair share of summer squalls there, too.’

‘I’d like to see Crydee,’ she said. ‘Other places, too.’

‘Maybe some day you will, Highness,’ said Hal, instinctively moving just a bit closer.

Rather than pull away, she snuggled against him. ‘I doubt it. Princesses don’t travel, except if they’re meeting kings or princes, if possible marriages are being arranged, and I don’t think any member of the Royal Family in Roldem has ever seen Krondor, let alone the Far Coast. Oh, we’ve read about it, because, well it’s your history in the Isles, and Roldem and the Isles are brother nations, I’ve been taught since I was a baby.’

‘I believe we’ve had a war or two along the way,’ said Hal lightly, ‘but otherwise, yes, we are close.’ He looked down at her in the grey light and with her hair matted against her head and her nose slightly red from the cold weather, she still looked beautiful to him.

He stopped staring when he felt Gabriella’s eyes on him. Pushing away the feelings that were starting to form in his chest, he let out a long, silent sigh.

‘I wish it would stop raining,’ said the Princess softly.

‘It will soon,’ he promised.

A few minutes later, Ty came hurrying back and ducked under the overhanging rocks to kneel next to Gabriella. ‘They’re still following us. They’re hunkered down less than a mile back. I almost walked into them, as they’re under an overhang like this one. They’re not being very quiet about their complaints, so I heard them before blundering in.’

Hal said, ‘Then we should get moving. We’re hardly any drier for staying here, the wind is lowering, and if we put more distance between us, perhaps the rain will wash away our tracks.’

Ty glanced at the young women. Gabriella just nodded once with emphasis and the Princess said, ‘I’m ready.’

They moved off and headed west.

Princess Stephane stumbled and Hal barely got his hand out in time to keep her from falling into the soggy, muddy mess of leaves, twigs, and water they struggled through. Ty had been reading the land as they went, trying to find the best course that would also have the best chance of throwing off their pursuers. The rain had fallen off to a constant mist, enough to keep everything wet, but not so much that they could count on the pirates staying put.

They travelled uphill from the King’s Highway but out of sight of any casual passer-by. The footing was treacherous and they moved slower than any of them liked, trying to avoid a nasty tumble down the hillside.

Mud was tricky, for it could either quickly be washed away, hiding tracks, or it could hold as small pools for a long time providing easy to read tracks. Moreover, it could yank a boot off a foot covered in wet stockings. The sandy soil on the hillside was better while it was raining as it quickly eroded any signs of passage, but now that the rain was slackening, that was less likely. So rocks were best of all, for any mud they tracked on them was quickly washed away in the still sheeting run-off.

So against every instinct they followed difficult terrain rather than keeping to the easy, more open passages in the woods. Hal kept looking back while Ty picked out the trail, Gabriella and Stephane between them.

Ty said, ‘Quiet! I hear something.’

Everyone stopped moving and listened, and a moment later the others could hear movement behind and downhill from them. ‘Behind the trees!’ whispered Hal, pointing to a thick stand of beech trees a few yards ahead. Their branches were hanging low, with water still dripping off them, and it was the best cover they could manage.

They ducked behind the slender boles and crouched, gathering their dark cloaks around them, hoping that the shadow and mist would hide them. Within a minute they could see men moving on a parallel course to their own, but perhaps ten or fifteen yards farther downhill. Through the trees they could make out a man in a russet long-sleeved shirt and black vest, and see the exasperation on his face as he shouted at another man, ‘You said they were coming this way!’

There were eight pirates, and they were wet, miserable, obviously cold from the wind, and no doubt as hungry as the fugitives, but they were bearing up with considerably less grace. The leader stopped and looked around, glancing directly at their hiding position, but their mud-spattered travel cloaks and the gloom conspired to keep them almost invisible.

‘Damn it!’ the man in the black vest shouted. ‘If we come back without her, it’ll be our necks in a noose, and that’s if we’re lucky!’ He turned and jabbed a finger into the chest of another man. ‘You’re supposed to be our best tracker. Why can’t we find them?’

Frustration was fraying tempers and the other man yelled back, ‘Because whoever’s with her knows his way about these woods, Marstan. He’s clambered over every bloody boulder, walked up sand washes, waded down pebble bed creeks, used every trick there is.’ His bald head sheeted water as he hunched his broad shoulders. ‘But I’ll wager my share of the booty that they’re close enough to hit with a rock.’

The man named Marstan turned full circle, ‘But which way?’

‘This rain, I’m saying back downhill,’ said the tracker. ‘More mess washing down these hills and the ground’s full on as wet as can be; leeches the sand out in place, leaving cracks in the soil; big hunks of it can come crashing down without warning.’ He glanced around and moved his hand in a circle. ‘Lots of years the King spends his taxes clearing all the road below ’cause half these bloody hills come washing down every third or fourth rainy season.’ He pointed directly up at the four crouching hiders. ‘Wouldn’t want to be up there on top of all that ground if it suddenly comes sliding down. Besides, they’ve been staying close enough to the road to see where they’re going.’ He turned and pointed downhill slightly. ‘They’re probably heading that way. Only five more miles to the garrison at Farborough, so they may feel safe enough even to be back on the road.’

The man called Marstan nodded once and moved in the indicated direction and the others quickly followed.

Ty waited until they were gone then said, ‘Glad I picked up and not downhill.’

‘Where do we go?’

Ty smiled. ‘We follow them. The one place they won’t be looking for us is behind them.’

‘Is that wise?’ asked the Princess.

‘Not very, but it’s less risky if we know where they are. Less chance we’ll blunder into them or give ourselves away by accident. Just be as quiet as you can and ready to run if I tell you.’

Lady Gabriella and Hal nodded.

‘Good,’ said Ty. ‘Let’s go.’

Into the now-driving rain they moved, following the pirates who were seeking them.

The afternoon wore on. Ty stayed as close as he could to the pirates, keeping the back of the last pair trudging through the mud in sight, and the others lingered far behind the young noble from Opardum. He felt confident of being able to avoid detection should the pirates double back to check if they were followed or otherwise proved problematic for the fugitives from Roldem. He held up his hand and turned behind a bole, and Hal moved in the same direction, the two young women a moment behind.

One of the pirates had glanced over his shoulder and now stood motionless as if he had seen something. He was on the verge of speaking when a shout from ahead caused him to turn. Hal could barely make him out but had no doubt he was pulling his sword and running forward. Turning to the women he said, ‘Stay here and don’t move.’ He nodded to Gabriella to emphasize she was responsible now for the Princess’s safety, then hurried to where Ty waited. By the time he reached him the sounds of combat were unmistakable. The two young men moved as quickly as the terrain allowed, and came to a small rise where they both fell to the ground, ignoring the mud, and crawled forward to observe the conflict.

A dozen horsemen in the royal tabard of the Kingdom, wearing badges familiar to Hal, were cutting through the pirates like a scythe through wheat. The pirate leader, Marstan, was face down in the mud, his blood pooling around him, while five others also were dead or dying on the ground. The last two pirates were attempting to run downhill, never a good idea with horses in pursuit, and died before they got out of sight.

Ty grinned and was about to say something when Hal put his hand over his mouth. He pulled himself close so that Ty’s ear was less than an inch from his lips and whispered, ‘Boots.’

Ty looked and his eyes widened in understanding. The riders were dressed as Kingdom light cavalry, but sported a wide variety of boots, some not even proper riding boots. The riders who had cut down the last pirates returned and as they reined in, the entire unit showed no sign of military discipline. One man said, ‘Well, you know the orders. If that idiot Marstan didn’t have her, she’s somewhere up in those woods.’

‘You sure, Gravan? Maybe they headed back towards the Eastern Kingdoms.’

‘You get paid to kill, not think, Colver. If what I was told is right, she’s with two pups from the Kingdom — one’s some duke’s kid — and a bodyguard. Don’t take that one lightly. She’s a woman, but she’s a killer.’ He stood up in his stirrups and looked around into the trees. ‘If we’re going to search, we need better weather.’ He pointed to the bodies on the road. ‘Let’s clear away the trash and pull back a way. If they think it’s clear ahead to Farborough, they may just come wandering in without any help.’ He sat back down and said, ‘I’m going back to report. Finish up here and take a quick look, but I’ll be surprised if you find anything. Get back and I’ll start organizing a proper search.’

The lead rider put his heels to his horse and set off down the road while the other eleven men dismounted, three taking reins, and leading the horses away, while the others began gathering the dead. As they started carrying the first two downhill, it was clear the closest thing to a proper pyre they’d come across was a sailor’s burial at sea, or being tossed off a cliff into the surf.

Ty signalled and led Hal back to where the two women waited. ‘Someone’s taken Farborough,’ said Hal.

‘What do you mean?’ asked the Princess.

‘The pirates are dead, killed by horsemen wearing Kingdom garb, but it’s all a sham. They talked, they’re all in it together; maybe the riders were pirates, too. They killed Marstan and his men for failing to find you.’

‘They have different boots on,’ said Ty.

‘Boots? I don’t understand,’ said Stephane.

‘They got the uniforms off of dead Kingdom soldiers, no doubt,’ said Ty.

‘No,’ said Hal. ‘If they were stripping corpses those tabards would be bloody. And they would have taken boots.’

‘Fair point,’ conceded Ty.

‘No, someone supplied them those uniforms, but couldn’t supply boots.’

‘If we can’t go to the town of Farborough,’ asked the Princess, ‘where do we go?’

Hal looked at Ty who said, ‘I have no idea.’