Krondor the Assassins (29 page)

James peered around the corner and saw the sleeping cook roll over, snoring. Two boys lay a few yards away, dressed in rags. Probably they were slaves purchased in Durbin or stolen from a caravan in the desert. James saw a large waterskin hanging from a peg on the wall nearest what was obviously a well—259

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a circular brick structure four feet high and an equal size in diameter. It made sense that a garrison of this size would have its own well. Looking up, James saw a hole over the well, and realized that this must be the old shaft up to the central keep courtyard.

James amended his plan. He hadn’t known about the shaft, and that might make things easier for him. He hurried silently to the well and, jumping up onto its edge, leaned over and put his hand on the opposite wall. He looked up. A hundred feet above was a tiny circle of light. The well still opened to the plateau above!

The ancient well superstructure had been torn down, with the rest of the fortress, but no one had filled in the shaft.

Glancing down, James saw a hook with a rope around it, which descended into darkness.

James took the waterskin. It was full. He saw a pile of empty skins lying next to the well. He hung one of them where the full one had been. One of the boys would likely receive a beating for not having filled it, but that wouldn’t matter much longer.

In a day or two the boys would either be dead or free.

James moved silently through the kitchen, lifting bread, cheese and dried fruit. He hurried off, and once he was a short distance down the tunnel, he put everything on the floor. He hurried back to the kitchen and stood again on the edge of the well.

He climbed up onto the waist-high wall, then flexed his knees and leapt into the overhanging shaft, slapping his hands hard against the walls. It was a tight fit and he had to struggle not to slip into the well below as he drew his knees up quickly and jammed himself into the narrow shaft. He wiggled upward, 260

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knees and elbows getting rubbed bloody, and dislodged a heroic amount of dirt along the way. The cook would have to be blind not to see it around the well.

He let himself down as best he could and then let go.

He fell toward the well below. As he passed the top of the well, he seized the edge. The noise was, in his ears, considerable, but the cook snored on. The jerk on his shoulders felt as if his arms were being yanked from their shoulder-sockets, but he endured the pain and shock. He remembered the last time he had tried something like this, and realized it had been the first time he had faced a Nighthawk, on the rooftops of Krondor the night he had saved Prince Arutha from the assassin’s crossbow. Somehow the experience didn’t get better with time.

James took a deep breath, then pulled himself out of the well. He avoided dislodging any of the dust he had so gener-ously deposited around the well mouth. He jumped silently beyond the dust, then turned and inspected the mess. He could clearly see where his hands had gripped the top of the bricks.

He quickly spread the dust around, hoping no one would take a close look at those spots.

Wasting no more time, he hurried out of the kitchen, retrieved the food and water, and hurried back to where the others waited. Along the way he rubbed each shoulder and decided to avoid trying that trick again.

As they ate, James said, ‘‘One of two things will happen first.

Either the cook will notice the mess around the well, or the guards will check on you before the sacrifice and the alarm will sound. I’m hoping for the first.’’

‘‘Why?’’ asked William as he finished his portion of bread.

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Treggar said, ‘‘Because if they find him missing first, then they’re going to search every room in the place, or at least until they see the mess in the kitchen. If they see the mess first, they’ll investigate, find the prisoner missing, and head outside straight away, thinking he shimmied up the old well.’’

Edwin said, ‘‘So then, how do we get out?’’

James said, ‘‘We don’t. You do. Arutha is coming this way with two hundred men-at-arms. But there are at least three hundred here, waiting for him to show up. Someone’s got to warn him and you stand the best chance once you’re free of this fortress.’’

‘‘How do you plan on getting him out?’’ asked Treggar.

‘‘Through the eastern gate,’’ said James. He reached into a bundle he had carried in with the food and took out a black tunic. ‘‘Try this on.’’ He then produced pants and a black head-cover. ‘‘Just another Izmali fanatic out looking for the escaped prisoner.’’

‘‘What are you going to do after I’m gone?’’ asked Edwin.

James said, ‘‘Someone’s got to be here to open the gate for Arutha. If there are three of us here, that’s three times the chance of someone surviving long enough to do it.’’

‘‘Have you even seen the gate?’’ asked Treggar.

‘‘From across the hall, while I was hiding in a hayloft.’’

‘‘And?’’

‘‘Two large wooden doors, iron-banded, opening inward.

Broad enough to ride out two abreast.’’

‘‘How do we keep it open?’’ asked William.

‘‘We don’t,’’ said James. ‘‘We keep it closed, until we want it open.’’

‘‘I don’t understand,’’ admitted Treggar.

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James said, ‘‘How many men would you send after the Pathfinder, captain?’’

‘‘Every man I could spare. They caught the Pathfinders because they were heading toward this location. On the loose out there, trying to hide, that’s a different story.’’

Edwin said, ‘‘If I can escape and put a mile between me and my pursuers, they’ll never find me.’’

‘‘What now?’’ asked William.

‘‘We wait,’’ said James.

They didn’t have to wait for long. Within an hour the murmur of activity could be heard. James said, ‘‘Wait here,’’ and went to investigate.

He came back shortly and said, ‘‘It’s a hornets’ nest out there. The cook must have awakened to find the mess I left, and they think Edwin’s climbed up to the surface.’’ To William and Treggar he said, ‘‘You wait. If I’m not back in an hour, assume I’m dead and do what you think is best.’’ To Edwin, he said, ‘‘Come with me.’’

Left alone in the dark again, William said, ‘‘Captain?’’

‘‘Yes?’’

‘‘Does it bother you to take orders from a squire?’’

Treggar laughed. ‘‘If you’d asked me a week ago, I’d have said I never would. But James is not like any other squire I’ve met.’’ Then his voice dropped and he said, ‘‘Besides, he’s got the Prince’s authority, and I would never argue with that. Does it bother you?’’

‘‘Sometimes,’’ William admitted. ‘‘But that’s mostly because he’s so damn cocksure.’’

Again Treggar laughed. ‘‘That he is.’’ After a moment, he continued, ‘‘But being cocksure, or at least looking that way, 263

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isn’t a bad thing in a leader. Always remember that. When you’re a general or duke, and your men are looking at you, make sure they see a man who’s certain of what he’s doing.

That counts for a lot.’’

‘‘I’ll remember that.’’

They fell into silence as the sounds of alarm spread throughout the fortification.

James and Edwin moved cautiously. The noise of running men had died down. James had exhausted unused routes, and now they were working their way through a series of former storage rooms that were being used by the assassins. Two rooms and a connecting hall remained between their present location and the stabling area and the east gate.

Edwin clutched a short sword James had liberated in the previous room. He wore the stolen robes and looked like an Izmali assassin.

Movement ahead caused James to halt. He didn’t have to tell the Pathfinder to do likewise.
He might not be a thief,
James thought,
but he knows how to move with stealth.

Two men were coming toward them. James quickly pushed Edwin in front of him, and tried to keep close to the wall, so at first glance the assassins might judge them two more of their own number.

The ruse worked for a moment, but as they got close, one of the men’s eyes widened. That was all the alarm Edwin needed, and he took two quick steps and threw himself at the first man.

The second man was drawing his sword when James’s dagger took him in the chest. Edwin sat atop the first assassin, and quickly cut his throat.

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‘‘We’ve got to move these bodies out of the way,’’ said Edwin.

‘‘Over in that room,’’ said James, dragging one by the arms.

Inside the room they found an empty weapons trunk, and put the bodies inside.

They took one quick look to make sure they hadn’t been spotted, then hurried to the stabling area.

When they got there, they found it still in a state of frenzy, though it was clear the last squads of riders were being dispatched. All but half a dozen of the forty stalls were empty and the two large corrals were vacant. James whispered,

‘‘They’ve got nearly a hundred riders out looking for you.’’

‘‘Good,’’ whispered Edwin. ‘‘That much confusion will make tracking easy.’’

A band of men stood in the center of the large underground stable, conferring. They wore dark robes, but they looked more like the ritual robes of priests than the assassins’ garb worn by the others.

Finally the priest turned and moved toward an exit in the western wall of the stable.

When they had vanished, the stable was almost empty save for a pair of guards at the gate and a couple of men still saddling horses. James suspected they would be used as gallopers, to recall those out on the search should the fugitive be caught.

James motioned toward the two men readying their horses.

Then he and Edwin moved in stages, from stall to stall, hugging the shadows, toward the unsuspecting men.

When they got next to the two stalls where the riders were preparing their mounts, James signaled and Edwin moved out, passing the first rider, who glanced up for a moment, then seeing one of his fellow assassins passing, returned his attention 265

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to tightening the girth on his saddle. He looked up when an unexpected movement caught his eye and he saw the newly-arrived assassin had stepped behind the rider in the next stall and now that rider was slumping to the ground.

He never knew James was behind him until a dagger struck deep in to his lower back.

James nodded and both men led the horses out of the stalls, mounted, and started riding toward the guards.

One guard looked at them and it took him a moment to realize one of the riders wasn’t wearing black garb. He shouted, and his companion looked over, unaware of what had triggered his comrade’s warning.

Edwin leapt out of the saddle, taking the first guard down to the stone floor. The second guard pulled out a curved scimitar as James threw his dagger. The man ducked to one side and instead of a killing blow, the blade glanced off the man’s shoulder.

‘‘Damn,’’ said James, leaping from the saddle and drawing his blade. ‘‘I hate it when they don’t stand still.’’

Edwin wrestled with his opponent and got his own sword across the man’s throat. With a sudden downward jerk, he crushed the man’s windpipe.

James almost walked into the point of the scimitar, dancing backward from an unexpected thrust. ‘‘Now I’m really mad!’’ he shouted, smashing the blade aside with a violent blow, then slashing sideways toward the man’s neck.

The man pulled back, blinking in shock at the speed of the move, the point of James’s sword narrowly missing his throat.

He leapt backward two steps, then crouched, sword at the ready. James marched forward, swinging his sword in the opposite direction. The man lunged, and James hesitated, letting the 266

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sword-blow pass. As the man fell back, James pressed again, at the same pace as before.

Three more times the man swung, James hesitated, then pressed forward. The fourth time, as the assassin began his swing, James suddenly stepped forward and impaled him with the point of his sword.

Looking toward Edwin, James said, ‘‘Never fall into a rhythm. It’ll get you killed.’’

The Pathfinder nodded once, and silently leapt on the back of the closest horse. With a slight wave of one hand for a goodbye, he kicked hard at the horse’s flanks. The horse was two steps off into a gallop.

James hurried to close the gates before anyone appeared.

He muscled the two bars into place, a feat that drenched him in perspiration.

He dragged the two bodies into the nearest stalls and covered them with hay, then did the same with the first two assassins they’d killed.

Abandoning stealth for speed, he ran from the stabling area and into the two rooms that led him toward the abandoned portion of the fortress.

He was nearly out of breath by the time he reached William and Treggar. He sat down and lit his last taper. Between gasps, he said, ‘‘Edwin’s away. With luck, Arutha will know what’s happening and where we are within a day.’’

‘‘With luck,’’ said the captain.

‘‘What do we do now?’’ asked William.

James caught his breath, then he asked, ‘‘Have you eaten?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ said Treggar. ‘‘We finished off our portions. We left a bit for you. Just in case.’’

‘‘Thanks, but I’ll eat later, if I can.’’ He looked at his two 267

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companions. ‘‘Arutha has two hundred men with him. If he comes straight here, he may find some of the searchers still out looking for Edwin.

‘‘I’ve killed my share of Nighthawks. In an open fight they’re just like other men. Their strength is reputation, stealth, surprise, and fear. If Arutha catches any number of them outside, he’ll crush them.’’

‘‘What about those still here?’’

James said, ‘‘If he finds this place, and arrives at the eastern gate, he’s going to find himself looking at a bare stone wall with two large wooden doors in it. There are loopholes dug through the wall above the door so he’s going to lose men breaking in the door. Once the door is down, he’ll be facing superior numbers in room-to-room action.’’