over there.’ He waved in the general direction of the old castle overlooking the city. ‘And then we can go up, and back down to the city.’
‘That’s a long walk,’ said Miranda.
‘Or we can go sit over there in that copse of trees and wait for the Keshians to leave, then walk back down to the city, that way,’ said the grinning little man, pointing over his shoulder to the city.
‘Better idea,’ said Miranda. Looking at the magician she had captured she said, ‘I can rip your head from your shoulders before you can conjure, and that is no idle boast. So, behave yourself and you may survive to apologize to Pug for taking sides in this war and betraying the Conclave. He may let you live.’
The magician said nothing, but his expression reassured Miranda and Nakor he was unlikely to try to escape or otherwise cause grief, and the three started walking over to a stand of trees where they could rest until the Keshian army had withdrawn. Even by the time they reached the trees, the sounds of battle and the roars of the water demon were diminishing.
Miranda said to Nakor, ‘Keep an eye on things until we have a clear path back to the city. And please resist the temptation to do something amusing.’
Nakor nodded, attempting to look serious but failing. ‘I’ll try.’
To the magician named Akesh, she said, ‘Sit and rest. We will likely be here for a while, and while we’re here, you can begin by telling me how you came to be serving as a Keshian lap-dog when you took an oath at the Academy to stay apart from conflicts between nations as well as your oath to the Conclave.’
The magician looked at Miranda sullenly. He might not know what she was capable of in this form, but he knew her from her human incarnation; and after Pug and their son, Magnus, she might very well be the most powerful magician in the world. And Nakor, despite his reputation as something of a joker and card cheat, was also counted a very dangerous opponent.
Akesh took a deep breath, then began to speak.
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.’
‘
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.’
