‘What?’ asked Captain Belford.
‘If you can pick three men to play our parts, and ride conspicuously out the south city gate, we’ll head east and slip over the mountains and head south to Krondor along the east mountain highway, where we won’t be expected.’
‘A ruse?’ asked the captain.
‘One I learned from the Prince,’ said Locklear. ‘He used it to good effect in the Riftwar. If you can lead away those looking for us, long enough for us to reach the far side of the mountains, we should be safe.’
‘I can arrange that.’ He glanced at Owyn and Gorath. ‘I’ve got some men who can pass for you, if we keep the hood up on the one playing your elf friend, here.’ He stood up. ‘Let me arrange to have the evening patrol stop by your lodgings …?’ He looked at them questioningly.
‘The Inn of the Blue Wheel.’
Belford smiled. ‘Sumani’s place. Don’t let his smiling countenance fool you; he’s a tough boot. If you get the time, have him show you some of his fighting tricks. He’ll make time for a few coins. His decision not to stay in service was our loss.’
The captain left and returned a short time later. ‘It’s taken care of. Head back to the city and let anyone who might be following you see you return. Lie low in the inn until tonight and I’ll have three horses waiting for you in the inn’s stable.’ He handed Locklear a piece of parchment. ‘Here’s a pass. If one of our lads on the road to the east stops you, this will set him right.’
Locklear rose. ‘Thank you, captain. You’ve been a great help. If there’s anything I can do for you when you’re next in Krondor, please tell me.’
The old captain smiled. Rubbing his chin once more he said, ‘Well, you could introduce me to that merchant’s young wife I hear got you run up this way in the first place.’
Owyn grinned and Gorath remained impassive as Locklear blushed and grimaced. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ They rose and departed the office.
Owyn said, ‘We walk?’
‘We walk,’ said Locklear as they headed for the main gate of the castle. ‘But at least it’s downhill.’
Gorath said, ‘That is actually more tiring.’
Locklear swore. ‘It was a joke.’
Gorath said, ‘Really?’ His tone was so dry it took a moment for Owyn to realize he was twitting Locklear. Owyn kept his own mirth in check and they started back toward the city.
Locklear slipped through the door into their room. Gorath looked up without alarm, but Owyn jumped off the bed. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Nosing around. Sitting up here might be smarter, but I’ve got this itch to scratch.’
Gorath looked on, but still said nothing.
Owyn said, ‘Itch?’
Locklear smiled. ‘Too many years of keeping the wrong sort of company, I suppose, but the reports of those grey warriors and the theft of some sort of rich item dear to a Tsurani Great One had me thinking. If I stole something on a different world, how would I dispose of it?’
‘Depends on what it is, I guess,’ offered Owyn.
Gorath gave a slight nod, but still said nothing.
‘There would have to be a local contact, someone who knew where one disposes of something of value.’
‘And you expect to discover this person in the midst of the throng of this city and use him to trace this band of thieves?’ asked Gorath.
‘No,’ said Locklear waving away the comment. ‘The captain said the stolen item is a gem, which being from Kelewan isn’t a shock. There isn’t much on that world of value that’s also easy to transport that would fetch a high value here. So my thinking is that the best way to find this missing gem is to learn where it’s most likely to end up.’
‘A fence?’ asked Owyn.
‘No, for if as I suspect the value of the ruby is enough to give a band of desperate men a new start on a strange world, it would have to be the sort of man who has a legitimate enterprise, one likely to mask the movement of this item.’
‘You seem to understand this sort of business better than a noble of your race should,’ observed Gorath.
‘I said I kept the wrong sort of company. After buying a few drinks, I discovered there’s a merchant with less than a stellar reputation who deals in gems, jewellery, and other luxury items. He’s a man named Kiefer Alescook.’
‘Who told you this?’ asked Owyn.
‘Our host, actually,’ said Locklear, motioning it was time for them to depart. They rose and gathered their gear, and moved out down the stairs to the common room. With a wave goodbye to Sumani, they moved through the door. Once outside the inn, Locklear motioned for them to walk around the corner to the stabling yard next to the inn. They moved inside the door and found three men waiting for them, each holding two horses.
One said, ‘Switch cloaks, quickly!’
Each was of a like height with Locklear and his companions and the exchange was made. If the man playing the part of Gorath had any notion of whom he was impersonating, he kept such thoughts to himself, merely handing Gorath a large blue cloak, taking the dark grey one worn by the moredhel. The others switched cloaks and Locklear took the reins of one of the horses.
By the time the three impostors were mounted, the sound of hooves on the stones announced the arrival of the patrol that would head down toward Zu-n this evening. From outside the gate of the stabling yard, a sergeant shouted, ‘We’re here to escort you south, Squire Locklear!’
Locklear took his cue and shouted back, ‘We’re ready!’ He nodded to the three men impersonating them who rode off and joined the van of the column. Locklear waited and after a few minutes said, ‘Owyn, you ride out, turn left and head straight out the gate. Ride a mile, then wait. Gorath and I will be behind you by a few minutes.’
Gorath grunted his approval. ‘So should anyone linger, he won’t see three riders.’
Locklear nodded and Owyn said, ‘Hold this, please.’ He handed his quarterstaff to Locklear, climbed into the saddle, then took the long oaken pole back. With a deft movement, he slung it over his shoulder, through his belt, then twisted it, so it hung across his shoulders and back, not encumbering him or the horse too much.
Gorath easily mounted, though he looked slightly ill at ease.
‘Don’t ride much?’ asked Locklear as Owyn departed.
‘Not really. It’s been a while, thirty or so years.’
‘Not a lot of horses in the Northlands?’
Without bitterness, Gorath said, ‘Not a lot of anything in the Northlands.’
Locklear said, ‘I remember.’
Gorath
