catch up.’
Nodding as he turned his horse, James said, ‘You’re right. Good day, my lord duke.’
‘Good day, squire.’
James put heels to his horse’s sides and the animal cantered after Arutha and Locklear. He overtook Locklear as Arutha moved to confer with Knight-Marshal Gardan about the ongoing dispersal of the army.
As James rode up next to him, Locklear asked, ‘What was that about?’
‘Just a question for Duke Pug.’
Locklear yawned and said, ‘I could sleep for a week.’
Arutha overhead the remark as he rejoined them and said, ‘You can rest for a full night in Krondor when we get back, squire. Then you leave for the north.’
‘North, sire?’
‘You came back from Tyr-Sog without leave, although I grant your reasons were good ones. Now the risk has subsided, you must return to Baron Moyiet’s court and fulfill the terms of your service there.’
Locklear closed his eyes as if in pain. Then he opened them and said, ‘I thought …’
‘… you’d wormed your way out of that banishment,’ supplied James under his breath.
Arutha, taking pity on the exhausted youth, said, ‘Serve Moyiet well, and I may order you back to Krondor early. If you stay out of trouble.’
Locklear nodded without comment, as Arutha put heels to his horse and rode ahead.
James said, ‘Well, you can sleep in a warm bed in the palace for a night before you leave.’
‘What about you?’ asked Locklear. ‘Don’t you have some unfinished business in Krondor?’
James closed his eyes for a moment as if thinking made him tired, then said, ‘Yes, there’s a bit of trouble with the Guild of Thieves. But nothing for you to be bothered with. Nothing I can’t handle by myself.’
Locklear snorted and said nothing. He was too tired to think of a jibe.
James said, ‘Yes, after this nasty business with the Tsurani and moredhel, my business with the thieves in Krondor will seem dull by comparison.’
Locklear looked at his friend and saw that James’s mind was already turning to whatever problems were caused by the Mockers – the Guild of Thieves. And with a chilling certainty, Locklear knew that his friend was making light of something serious, for James had the death mark on him for leaving the Guild to serve the Prince.
And, he sensed, there was something more. Then Locklear realized, with James, there was always something more.
THE SOUNDS OF PURSUIT ECHOED THROUGH THE DARK TUNNELS.
Limm was nearly out of breath from attempting to evade those determined to kill him. The young thief prayed to Ban-ath, God of Thieves, that those who followed were not as knowledgeable about the sewers of Krondor as he was. He knew he could not outrun them or fight them; his only hope was to outwit them.
The boy knew that panic was the enemy, and he struggled against the terrible fear that threatened to reduce him to a frightened child, clinging to anything that might provide warm comfort while he huddled in the shadows, waiting for the men who would kill him. He paused for a moment at an intersection of two large channels and then took off to the left, feeling his way through the gloom of the deep sewers, his only illumination a small, shuttered lantern. He kept the sliding window closed to the narrowest setting, for he needed only the slightest light to know which way to go. There were sections of the sewer in which light filtered down from above, through culverts, gratings, broken street stones, and other interstices. A little light went a long way to guide him through the stinking byways under the city. But there were also areas of total darkness, where he would be as blind as one born without eyes.
He reached a narrowing of the sewer, where the circumference of the circular tunnel grew smaller, serving to slow the flow of sewage through this area. Limm thought of it as a ‘dam’, of sorts. He ducked to avoid hitting his head on the smaller opening, his bare feet splashing through the filthy water which collected at the end of the larger sewer until the level rose up enough to funnel down the rough and rusty narrow pipe.
Spreading his legs, Limm moved in a rocking motion, his feet high up on the side of the circular passage, for he knew that in less than ten feet a nasty outfall sent waste to a huge channel twenty feet below. Hard calluses kept the jagged build-up of sediment on the stonework from slicing open his soles. The boy shuttered the lantern as he intersected a tunnel with long lines of sight; he knew exactly where he was and was fearful of even the smallest light being seen by his pursuers. He moved by touch around a corner and entered the next passage. It was hundreds of feet long, and even the faintest spark would be visible from one end to the other.
Hurrying as best he could in this awkward fashion, he felt the tug of air as the water fell below him from a hole in the pipe he was in, splashing noisily. Several other nearby outfalls also emptied in this area, known as ‘the Well’ to the local thieves. The sound of all the splashing water echoed in the small pipe, making its exact source difficult to locate, so he proceeded slowly. This was a place in which a six-inch misjudgment could send him falling to his death.
Reaching a point another ten feet further, Limm encountered a grate, almost bumping into it, so focused was he on the sound of those who came behind. He crouched, making himself as small a target as possible, in case a mirrored light was shone into the tunnel.
Within moments he heard voices, at first only the sound of indistinguishable words. Then he heard a man say, ‘—can’t have gone too far. He’s just a kid.’
‘He’s seen us,’ said the leader, and the boy knew full well who the speaker was. He had the image of that man and those who served him etched in his memory, though he had only glimpsed them for a few seconds before turning and fleeing. He didn’t know the man’s name, but he knew his nature. The boy had lived among such men all his life, though he had known only a few who might be this dangerous.
Limm had no illusions about his own abilities; he knew he could never confront such men. He was often full of bravado, but it was a false courage designed to convince those who were stronger that he was just a little more trouble to dispose of than he was in actuality. His willingness to look death in the eye had saved the boy’s neck on more than one occasion; but he was also nobody’s fool: Limm knew that these men wouldn’t give him the time to even try a bluff. They would kill him without hesitation, because he could link them to a horrible crime.
Looking around, the young fugitive saw a trickle of water coming from above. Risking detection, he briefly shone the barest light he could manage above him. The top of the grating didn’t reach the roof of the tunnel, and just the other side of the grate was a passageway running upward.
Without hesitation the youth climbed up on the grate and pushed his free arm through, experience showing him how likely it was that he might pass through such a tiny passage. Praying to Ban-ath that he hadn’t
