Krondor the Betrayal (14 page)

Gorath said, ‘‘I expected an escort of at least a full company against attack on the road to Romney.’’

James smiled, and said, ‘‘Too much noise and bother.’’ He reached into his tunic and pulled out an odd-looking device, an orb with tiny levers on it that could be adjusted by one’s thumb. ‘‘And we’re not riding.’’

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‘‘How are we getting there?’’ came a voice from behind James.

James turned to find Owyn standing behind him.

‘‘
We
are not going. Gorath and I are. You are staying here or heading home to Timons, as pleases you.’’

‘‘I can’t stay here,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘I’ve got nothing to do, and I’m not in the Prince’s service. And I can’t go back to Timons.

What if I’m captured along the way and made to talk?’’

James smiled. ‘‘What do you know?’’

‘‘I know you’re bound for Romney,’’ said Owyn.

‘‘How do you know that?’’

‘‘I know how to read a map, and I overheard enough between Gorath and Locklear to know that’s where I’d be heading next.’’

Owyn hurried on in his pleading, ‘‘Besides, I’m from the East and know my way around back there. I’ve got cousins in Ran, Cavell, and Dolth and have visited Silden and Romney.’’

James shook his head, as if remembering something, and said, ‘‘Never mind. I seem to recall that Locklear and I made a similar brief to someone who didn’t want us along, as well, many years ago. Very well, you can come. It’s better to have you underfoot than out of sight and dead, I guess.’’

James led them to an empty room in another part of the castle, where weapons and travel items were piled. Gorath picked up one sword, and said, ‘‘A lamprey!’’

‘‘That’s a bloodsucker, all right,’’ said James, ‘‘but why do you call it that?’’

‘‘A name, that’s all,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘My people did not always live in the mountains, human. Once we abided on the shores of the Bitter Sea.’’ He admired the curve of the blade and weighed the heft of the hilt in his hand. He put the sword back in its scabbard, and said, ‘‘I will not ask how you came to possess a blade fashioned by my people.’’

James said, ‘‘As you might expect.’’ He pointed to two backpacks. ‘‘Food and other stores, for we may have to do some traveling, but for the most part I hope we’re able to conduct our business quickly and be out of Romney.’’

‘‘Where’s Locky?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘He leaves in an hour on another mission for the Prince. I 92

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will meet with him after we’re done in Romney. This isn’t the only iron in the fire, so to speak, though it may be the most important.’’

They picked up their belongings, and Owyn asked, ‘‘Now what?’’

Again James produced the orb, and said, ‘‘Stand close by.

Gorath, place your hand on my shoulder, and Owyn, yours on his.’’ James put his left hand on Owyn’s shoulder, and with the right, activated the orb.

There was a buzz in the air, and the room around them seemed to shimmer. Suddenly they were in a different room.

‘‘Where are we?’’ asked Gorath.

‘‘Malac’s Cross.’’ James crossed to open the door and peered out. ‘‘We are in a building owned by friends of the Prince’s, and I had best lead, else you may find your head split before you can identify yourself.’’

They were on the second floor of a building. As they descended the stairs, a monk in plain grey robes turned a corner and stared openmouthed at them. ‘‘Ah—’’ he began.

James held up his hand. ‘‘Tell Abbot Graves we’re here, brother.’’

The monk turned and hurried off to do as he was bid. James led them into what had obviously once been the common room of an inn. A large man with a short, grey-shot beard hurried over, and said, ‘‘Jimmy, you scoundrel! What is all this?’’ He indicated Gorath and Owyn.

‘‘Hello, Ethan. A person of some consequence desires to see us quickly on our way to the East, and back again. Using that Tsurani device was our fastest start.’’

‘‘So you come from Krondor?’’

James nodded yes. ‘‘Have you horses we might borrow?’’

‘‘No, but I’ll send a brother over to Yancy’s stable and get three. Care to tell me what this is about?’’

‘‘No,’’ said James. ‘‘Trust me.’’

The man named Ethan Graves said, ‘‘We go back a long way together, lad, to darker days when I was another man.

But while I hold your master in high regard, my loyalty now lies exclusively with the temple. If this is some matter of concern to the Temple of Ishap, you should tell me.’’

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James shrugged. ‘‘If I can, I will, but at this point all I have is conjecture and speculation. Still, let me say that it’s time to be wary.’’

Graves laughed. ‘‘We are always wary. Why else buy this inn and turn it into an abbey on the fly?’’

‘‘Are things . . . well?’’

Graves said, ‘‘Go see yourself. You know the spot.’’

‘‘Will you have horses ready when we return?’’

‘‘And whatever else you need.’’

‘‘Just horses. We have our necessaries in hand.’’ He indicated the packs they carried.

He removed his pack, and said to the others, ‘‘Come with me. We’ll be back for these in an hour.’’

They left the inn, and Owyn looked over his shoulder. It was a modest building, two stories tall, with a stabling yard, a pair of outbuildings near the barn, and a storage shed. It sat on the outskirts of a modest-looking town, which stretched off to the east. Monks of Ishap were hard at work replacing the wooden fence around the end of the property with stone.

‘‘What is all this?’’ asked Gorath, as they walked southward, down a path through some woodlands.

‘‘An abandoned inn, which has been taken over by the Temple of Ishap. They are converting it to an abbey.’’

‘‘To what ends?’’ asked Gorath.

‘‘There’s something not too far from here they wish to keep an eye on.’’

‘‘Which is?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘Something neither of you needs to know about.’’

They walked for about ten minutes, James leading them along a path through the woods. They reached a clearing, and Gorath halted, momentarily startled by what he saw. Rising up before them was a statue, perfect in detail, of a recumbent dragon, its head upon the ground, its wings unfolding as if it was just about to rise up.

‘‘What is this?’’ asked the dark elf. He walked around it, inspecting it closely.

‘‘This is the Oracle of Aal,’’ said James. He indicated a votive offering plate on the ground before the dragon.

Owyn said, ‘‘I thought it but a legend.’’

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‘‘Like many legends, one based in truth,’’ said James. He motioned to the plate. ‘‘Toss in a coin and touch the dragon.’’

Owyn fished out a silver coin from his pouch and tossed it into the plate. A moment before it touched the surface of the plate, the coin vanished. Owyn reached out and touched the dragon . . .

And was someplace else. It was a large chamber; immense was more accurate, thought Owyn. Air moved in the chamber with the stately leisure of ages, and before Owyn reared up a dragon of gigantic proportions, the head resting upon the ground larger than the largest wagon Owyn had ever seen. The creature’s body was resplendent in gems of all hues: diamonds predominated, but emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and opals formed patterns that swirled on the dragon’s back, and made her look as though she wore a shimmering rainbow. It was hard to look away.

‘‘I’m asleep?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘In a fashion. But quickly, you tread a dangerous path. What would you ask of the Oracle of Aal?’’

‘‘I find myself caught up in something I don’t understand, yet I feel compelled to continue with my companions. Is this wise?’’

‘‘At journey’s end you shall not be as you are now, nor may you ever return the way you have come. The days ahead of you are filled with hardship, and many times to come you will think yourself less significant than you truly are.’’

‘‘Can I trust the moredhel, Gorath?’’

‘‘He is more than even he knows himself to be. Trust him, though he will not always trust himself. He will become a great champion, even to those who curse his name and will never know of his greatness.’’

Suddenly Owyn felt his knees go weak and he faltered.

Strong hands grabbed him, holding him upright. He blinked and was again standing before the statue. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘Are you all right?’’ asked Gorath. ‘‘You touched the statue and seemed to falter.’’

‘‘I was someplace else,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘How long was I gone?’’

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‘‘Gone?’’ said Gorath. ‘‘You weren’t gone. You but touched the statue and staggered slightly, then I grabbed your arm.’’

‘‘It seemed longer,’’ said Owyn.

‘‘It happens that way, sometimes,’’ said James, touching the stone. He withdrew his hand a moment later. ‘‘Who gets to speak to the Oracle is the Oracle’s choice. What did she say to you?’’

Owyn glanced at Gorath and James. ‘‘Only that I must trust . . . you both.’’

‘‘Did the Oracle say anything useful?’’ asked James, gripping Owyn by the arm.

‘‘Only that the days ahead are filled with hardship.’’

Gorath snorted in contempt. ‘‘As if we need an oracle to tell us that.’’

James said, ‘‘Let’s get back to the abbey and see if our horses are ready. We still have a fair ride ahead.’’

‘‘Where are we bound? Salador?’’ asked Owyn.

‘‘No, the high road to Silden. It’s less traveled and more dangerous for that, but anyone looking for us is still hanging about outside Krondor, I wager, waiting for us to stick our heads out of the palace. With luck, we will be on the road to Romney before our enemies finally learn we are no longer in the palace.’’

Owyn nodded, and as they began their return to the innturned-abbey, he cast a backward glance over his shoulder toward the clearing in which the dragon statue rested. There was something he had sensed in his dream state, something he had not spoken of: the Oracle was afraid.

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•

T HE ABBOT WAVED A GREETING.

They climbed the trail from the dragon statue to the converted inn, and found Abbot Graves waiting for them.

‘‘You’d better get into town before you leave, James,’’ he said.

‘‘Why?’’ asked James, looking for signs of trouble in the Abbot’s manner.

‘‘About five minutes after you vanished down that trail, a column of riders came past here, heading into the city.’’

James squinted toward town, as if trying to see the riders.

‘‘Something was notable about them, else you wouldn’t be remarking on them. What?’’

‘‘They wore the King’s colors. And unless I don’t remember my days as a thief in Krondor, old Guy du Bas-Tyra himself rode at their head.’’

‘‘That’s something we need to see then,’’ said James. He motioned for Gorath and Owyn to follow him and started walking toward town. ‘‘We’ll be back in a while, Graves.’’

The Abbot waved good-bye and turned back into the building.

They hurried into the town, heading down the main boulevard, and reached the town square. There a full squad of riders were dismounting and tending to their horses before an inn with a chess piece—a white queen—on its sign. The soldiers were all attired in the livery of the Royal House, black trousers and boots, grey tunics, over which each wore a scarlet tabard with a white circle, upon which rose up a scarlet lion rampant,
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crowned in gold, holding a sword—it was the King’s coat of arms. A line of purple around the edge of the circle and upon the cuffs of the tunic showed these were palace guards, those whose first duty was to the Royal Family. Two guards stood at the door, and one said, ‘‘Easy now, friend. The Duke of Rillanon is taking his ease in the commons, and no one goes in until he’s left or without the Duke’s say-so.’’

‘‘Then get yourself inside, soldier, and tell him Seigneur James of Krondor is here, on the Prince’s business.’’

The soldier gave James and his companions an appraising look, but obviously felt it was going to be resolved at the Duke’s hands in a moment, so he went inside.

A moment later a large man, his grey hair flowing to his shoulders and a black patch over his left eye, appeared before them. He stood with his hand upon the door a moment, then waved them inside.

Inside the common room, James and the others could see the soldiers of the King’s Royal Guard were efficiently checking out the surroundings.

Guy du Bas-Tyra, Duke of Rillanon and First Counselor to the King of Isles, waved them to a table, where he sat down heavily. ‘‘Get me something to drink!’’ he shouted, and a soldier detailed to be his orderly hurried to where an intimidated-looking barman waited. The man almost hurt himself on the edge of the bar trying to bring out a tray of pewter jacks. He quickly filled them and ran with them to the Duke. He placed the first one before Bas-Tyra and then served the others at the table. He said, ‘‘Would m’lord care for something to eat?’’

‘‘Later,’’ said Guy, slowly removing his heavy gloves.

‘‘Something hot for me and my men. Cook up a side of beef.’’

The innkeeper bowed and backed away, knocking over a chair at the next table, which he quickly righted. Guy looked at James and nodded.

James’s brow furrowed, but he returned the nod. Duke Guy said, ‘‘So, Arutha is sending you east to snoop around?’’

James said, ‘‘That’s one way of putting it, Your Grace.’’

Guy pointed to Gorath. ‘‘Now, explain to me why I shouldn’t cut his heart out and hang you for being a black-hearted rogue and traitor to the Crown?’’

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Gorath’s hand tightened slightly on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t move. Owyn’s face drained of color, but he saw James smile.

‘‘Because it would irritate Arutha?’’

Guy laughed. ‘‘You haven’t lost any of that mouth, have you, Jimmy?’’

The young man said, ‘‘I probably never will. We’ve been through too much for you to seriously wonder about where my loyalties lie, so I judged you were taking out your bad temper on me because you couldn’t take it out on Arutha.

Why’s he got you so peeved?’’

The Duke of Rillanon, most powerful noble in the Kingdom after the Royal Family, leaned back in his plain wooden chair and made an all-encompassing gesture around him. ‘‘This. Because I’m here in a town whose only excuse for existing is its location between Krondor and Salador, and because Lyam is concerned about reports that have been coming to the court of renegade moredhel’’—he locked his one good eye on Gorath—