Shards of a Broken Crown (45 page)

“What are
you doing?” he asked with a laugh.

Nakor said,
“These fools are determined to destroy this work of art!”

Roo said, “I
think they’ll get it where you want it, but why do you want it
out here?” He made a sweeping motion with his hand, indicating
a vacant field outside the gates of Krondor. A small farm had
occupied this plot of land, but the house had been destroyed and now
only a charred square of foundation stones marked its passing.

“I want
everyone entering the city to see this,” said Nakor as the
workers got the statue upright.

Roo paused.
There was something about the woman’s expression that
captivated the eye. He studied it for a long moment, then said, “It’s
really very lovely, Nakor. Is that your goddess?”

“That’s
the Lady,” said Nakor with a nod.

“But why
not put her in the center of your temple?”

“Because I
don’t yet have a temple,” said Nakor as he motioned for
the workers to return to the wagon. “I have to find a place to
build one.”

Roo laughed.
“Don’t look at me. I already sprang for one warehouse in
Darkmoor. Besides, I don’t own any buildings near Temple
Square.”

A gleam entered
Nakor’s eyes. “Yes! Temple Square. That’s where we
need to build!”

“Builders
I have,” said Roo. Then he fixed Nakor with a narrow gaze. “But
I’m a little short on charity these days.”

“Ah,”
said Nakor with a laugh. “Then you must have money. You’re
only penurious when you have gold. When you’re broke, you’re
very generous.”

Roo laughed.
“You are the most amazing man, Nakor.”

“Yes, I
am,” he agreed. “Now, I have some gold, so you won’t
have to build me a temple, but I would like some, shall we call it
discounts?”

“I’ll
see what I can do.” He looked around so as not to be overheard.
“There is a lot of confusion in the city still. Many landowners
are dead and the crown hasn’t established a policy yet on who
owns what.”

“You mean
Patrick hasn’t seized unclaimed land yet.”

“You catch
on,” said Roo. “Squatters seem to have a certain
advantage if the real owner doesn’t press a claim. I happen to
know that the empty lot on the northwest corner of Temple Square,
over by the Temple of Lims-Kragma, was owned by a former associate of
mine. It was always a difficult piece of land to dispose of, being
located between the Death Goddess’s temple and the Temple of
Guis-wa. Old Crowley tried to sell it to me once, and I declined. As
Crowley is now among those who didn’t survive the war, that
land is unclaimed.” Roo whispered, “He left no survivors.
So it’s you, some other squatter, or the crown who’s
going to get it.”

Nakor grinned.
“Being between the Death Goddess and the Red-Jawed Hunter
doesn’t bother me, so I’m certain it won’t bother
the Lady. I’ll go check it out.”

Roo glanced back
at the statue. “That’s really quite good.”

Nakor laughed.
“The sculptor was inspired.”

“I can
believe it. Who modeled for it?”

“One of my
students. She’s special.”

“I can see
that,” said Roo.

As Nakor climbed
back on his wagon, motioning for the workers to climb into the back,
he said, “Where are you bound?”

“Back to
Ravensburg. I’m rebuilding the Inn of the Pintail for Milo.
With his daughter living in Darkmoor now, he’s going to sell me
half interest.”

“You, an
innkeeper?” asked Nakor with a disbelieving laugh.

“Any
business that can make a profit, Nakor.”

Nakor laughed,
waved, and urged his wagon on into the press of traffic heading into
the city.

Roo climbed
aboard his own wagon and looked again at the statue. He saw there
were people who were stopping to look at it or glancing at it as they
drove past. One woman reached out and touched it reverently, and Roo
admitted to himself that the sculptor must have, indeed, been
inspired.

He flicked the
reins and urged his horses into the traffic on the road, heading
east. Things were still difficult, but since capturing Vasarius, life
had taken a turn for the better.

He had
discovered he really enjoyed his children, and Karli was quite a bit
better company than he imagined when he married her. While no gold
had been forthcoming from the crown since the winter, he knew that
eventually he could use that debt to his own advantage. He needed a
good base of liquid wealth, then he could turn the debt into licenses
and concessions from the crown. Eventually peace between the Kingdom
and Kesh would be achieved, and when that happened the profitable
luxury trade would again be open, and now with Jacob Esterbrook dead,
there would be no stranglehold on trade with the South.

“Yes,”
Roo said softly to himself as he drove his wagon back to his boyhood
home. Things were certainly taking a turn for the better.

Jimmy said, “If
it gets much worse, we’re going to lose everything.”

Duke Duko
nodded. “Here we’re locked up at Land’s End.”
He pointed to the map. “It’s as if they don’t want
to take the place, but they’re reluctant to leave.”

They occupied
the largest room of the biggest inn in Port Vykor, a town that didn’t
exist five years before. Upon seeing the settlement, Jimmy was of the
opinion that had the first Prince of Krondor wandered a little
farther south those many years ago, this would be the site for the
capital of the Western Realm, not Krondor.

The harbor was
commodious, opening into a calm bay that was relatively safe for
shipping during the worst weather in the Bitter Sea. The docks could
be extended as needed, for miles if necessary, and a broad highway to
the northeast provided easy access from land. Already traders were
making their way to the military encampment and businesses were
springing up around the wooden stockade erected around the port. In a
dozen years, there would be a city here, thought Jimmy.

He had ridden to
the town as fast as he could drive his horse, and had gotten to Duko
with his dispatches two days prior. He had rested for an entire day,
sleeping most of the time.

Duko had
dispatched more patrols and now messengers were returning with the
latest intelligence.

Jimmy had a very
sore left shoulder, with a huge purple and blue bruise that was now
turning green and yellow as it started to fade. Several small cuts
had been dressed, and while feeling worse for the wear, he was on the
mend and knew that in a few days he’d be fit once more.

He had come to
appreciate the former enemy General.

Lord Duko was a
thoughtful man who, had he been born in the Kingdom to a noble
family, would have risen high, perhaps as high as to the very office
in which a capricious fate had placed him. Somehow that reassured
Jimmy, knowing that a very important position in the Kingdom was
being occupied by a man of talent and intelligence.

Jimmy had not
asked Duko what had been contained in the orders sent by Prince
Patrick. He knew the Duke would inform him of what Jimmy needed to
know, and nothing more.

Duko motioned
Jimmy to another table, one which had been set with food and wine.
“Hungry?”

Jimmy smiled.
“Yes,” he said, rising from his seat at the campaign
table and moving to where the food was.

“I have no
servants,” said Duko. “The ease with which your Keshian
insinuated himself into the palace at Krondor makes me dubious of
anyone here I do not know. I’m afraid that has not endeared me
to those officers who previously held posts here. Those that weren’t
called north, I’ve moved to posts at the harbor or down in
Land’s End.”

Jimmy nodded.
“Not very politic, but very smart.”

The old General
smiled. “Thank you.”

“M’lord,”
said Jimmy, “I am at your disposal. Prince Patrick wishes me to
serve you here in any capacity you see fit as well as serve as a
liaison between Your Grace and the crown.”

“So you’re
to be Patrick’s spy in my court?”

Jimmy laughed.
“Well, you can appreciate his being somewhat dubious and a
little cautious in dealing with as prodigious a former enemy as
yourself, my lord.”

“I
understand, even if I’m not terribly happy.”

“I think
you’ll find me useful, sir. You are going to discover yourself
subject to some scrutiny for the foreseeable future, and not all of
it from the crown; many eastern nobles have sons and brothers whom
they will wish to insert into vacant offices here in the West.
Several will no doubt show up here unannounced. Some will be honest
volunteers, younger brothers or sons looking to gain glory fighting
Kesh, as did their ancestors. Others, however, will be seeking
anything that can be used to discredit you, or another lord who is a
rival to their lord, or simply to find such information to sell to
interested parties. The politics of the eastern court is inherently
lethal and complex. I can be of service in deflecting a great deal of
such nonsense.”

“I believe
you,” said Duko. “I am first a soldier, but you don’t
become one of the top generals in my homeland without some facility
at dealing with princes and rulers. They are in the main more
concerned with their own vanity than in truly finding solutions to
problems, and as often as not I had to guard against those who would
work against my own interests within the court of my employer. We may
not be all that unlike, after all.”

“Well,
anyone who looks at the history of the Kingdom, Your Grace, and
thinks that for every victor there wasn’t a vanquished, or that
all the lands of die West embraced the Kingdom with open arms, is a
fool. It was the King’s scribes who wrote history, and should
you wish a slightly different perspective of our annexation of the
West, I could recommend one or two histories published in the Free
Cities that don’t cast too kind a light on our rulers.”

“History
is written by victors,” said Duko. “But I have little use
for history. It is the future with which I am concerned.”

“Probably
a wise attitude given the present circumstances.”

“Right now
I am very concerned about that Keshian officer and what his escape
may portend.”

Jimmy nodded.
“Malar was showing him the documents when we found them. He may
have just been beginning to explain the significance of your orders.
If it’s nothing more than ‘Krondor is vulnerable,’
and the Keshians think we’ll reinforce due to the discovery of
the spy, we may avoid any problems up there. If he has any of the
details of those messages memorized, he’ll be able to tell his
masters we can’t reinforce Krondor.”

Duko said, “If
I could chase the Keshians out of Land’s End, that would help.”

Jimmy said,
“Yes, it would, but without additional soldiers I can’t
see how you can accomplish that. Enduring a siege is one thing, but
mounting an effective counteroffensive . . . ?” He shrugged.

“With all
that desert at their rear, I’m impressed how well the Keshians
are resupplying the army facing Land’s End,” admitted
Duko. “If we could get part of the fleet down to intercept
their shipping out of Durbin, we might shake them loose, but short of
that I have no idea how we’re going to dig them out. I’ve
asked the Prince for permission to dispatch Reeves and a squadron to
raid off of Durban . . .” He shrugged. “The Prince seems
reluctant.”

“Compared
to previous wars with Kesh, this is still a ‘misunderstanding.’
Patrick is understandably reluctant to expand it,” Jimmy said.
“I’m fresh out of ideas, my lord.” He stood. “If
you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to take a walk and
clear my head a bit. Otherwise, I might find myself asleep at your
table.”

“Sleep
heals,” said Duko. “If you feel the need of a nap, you’ll
not hear me say no. I’ve seen those marks the Keshian left on
you.”

“If I
still feel the need after my walk, my lord, I’ll sleep a bit
before supper.”

Duko waved his
permission to withdraw, and Jimmy left. The inn converted to
headquarters was busy, with many clerks supporting the demands of a
headquarters command. Jimmy was amused at how the clerks and
functionaries were rapidly overwhelming the far more casual approach
traditional to the mercenaries from across the sea. At most a Captain
from Novindus had to worry about organization and logistics on the
same level as a baron, a few hundred men at most. A general such as
Duko rarely had more than a few thousand men under his command. Now,
suddenly, these disorganized swords-for-hire were being forced into
acting like a tradition-bound, massively organized army. Jimmy
suspected more than one clerk would earn a black eye or broken head
from a frustrated soldier from Novindus before this campaign was
through.

If this campaign
was ever through, thought Jimmy as he left the building to get a good
look at Port Vykor.

The crack of
whips echoed through the evening air. Subai recognized the sound,
even at a distance. He had heard it often enough as a child, living
in the hills outside of Durbin.

His grandfather
had been a member of the nearly legendary Imperial Keshian Guides,
the finest scouts and trackers in the Empire. He had taught his
grandson every trick and skill he could, and when the slavers raided
the villages for boys and girls to take to the slave blocks, Subai
had used those skills to hide.

Then one time,
after a raid, he had returned to find his entire family dead, his
father and grandfather’s bodies hacked to pieces, his mother
and sister missing. Only eleven years of age, he had taken his few
possessions and set out after the men who had done this.

By the time he
had reached the Durbin docks, Subai had killed three men. He had
never found those who had taken his mother and sister, and Durbin
was, if anything, more lethal an environment than the hills nearby.
He stowed away on a ship bound for Krondor, and had stayed hidden for
the entire voyage.