Shards of a Broken Crown (49 page)

Save those
soldiers guarding prisoners, the entirety of the Kingdom’s Army
of the West stood at attention as the wagon carrying Greylock’s
body rolled south. Men who barely knew the Knight-Marshal of Krondor
stood side by side with men who had served every step of the way with
Owen.

Despite the
previous day’s victory, there was a grim mood in camp, as if
everyone sensed that the easy victories were behind them now, and
that the future held only more loss and suffering.

Drummers beat a
slow tattoo and a single horn blew farewell, and as the wagon passed
each company on parade, they dipped their banners and the men
saluted, fist over heart, head bowed, until the wagon moved on.

When the last
company on parade was left behind, a company of Krondorian lancers,
twenty handpicked men, fell in, ten on each side of the wagon, to
escort the leader of their army back to the capital.

Each company
commander dismissed his men, and Richard, Earl of Makurlic, sounded
an officer’s call. Erik hurried to the command tent, putting
aside his discomfort at seeing someone else sitting in Owen’s
old chair.

Earl Richard was
an old man, grey hair and blue eyes his dominant features. His long
face seemed worn by years of duty, but his voice was strong and
without hesitation when he spoke. “I am appointing Captain von
Darkmoor my second-in-command, gentleman, to keep as much continuity
as possible. For that reason, I’m asking all of you to return
to your previous assignments, and to funnel all communications
through Captain von Darkmoor. I will instruct my son, Lelan, to
assume command of our cavalry units from Makurlic. That will be all.”

The nobles and
other officers departed, and Richard said, “Erik, stay a
moment.”

“Sir?”
asked Erik when they were alone.

“I know
why you chose me, son,” said the old officer. “You’ve
a fair grasp of politics. I appreciate that. What I don’t
appreciate is any thought you might have of using me for your own
gains.”

Erik stiffened.
“Sir, I will follow your orders and offer you the best counsel
of which I am capable. Should you find my service lacking, you may
remove me at your pleasure and I will not voice objection, even to
the Prince.”

“Well
said,” replied the Earl, “but now I need to know your
heart. I’ve seen you lead men in the field, von Darkmoor, and
the reports of your actions last year at Nightmare Ridge do you
credit, but I need to know I can depend on you.”

“My lord,”
said Erik, “I have no ambitions in this. I am a reluctant
Captain, but I serve to my utmost. If you wish to replace me and have
me serve at the van of my men, I will acknowledge your orders and
depart immediately to fulfill whatever mission you name.”

The old man
studied Erik a while longer, then said, “That won’t be
necessary, Erik. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Erik nodded. He
outlined his fears and Greylock’s, that they were being lulled
by a series of modest defenses to have them charge foolishly into
Fadawah’s real southern position. Erik pointed to a stack of
parchments. “Subai’s messages are there, sir, and I
suggest you read them.” Erik pointed to the map on the table
before Earl Richard. “We’re here, and about here”—his
finger jumped up the map about sixty miles—”we should hit
the first serious defensive position. If what Subai writes is
accurate, it’s going to be hell to pay getting to Ylith.”

“I assume
you’ve considered all the alternatives, landing on Free Cities
soil and attacking from the west, attempting to land outside the
harbor, and the rest?”

Erik nodded.

“I’ll
want you to cover those discarded options for me later, just in case
I might think of something you and Owen missed, but I’m certain
you didn’t miss anything. Assuming that’s true, what do
we do next?”

Erik said, “I
want to take a patrol and go north, and see how far I can get before
things get nasty. I want to see what Subai saw, my lord.”

Richard, Earl of
Makurlic, said nothing for a long moment, his mind weighing options,
then he said, “I sent a letter to Prince Patrick, asking him to
relieve me of this command, but until he does, I suppose I should act
like a commander.

“Here’s
what you do. Send those Hadati hillmen ahead up the right flank. They
can move through the hills better than anyone we have. Have them
leave at once. Then send a company of your Crimson Eagles up the left
flank, along the coast but out of sight.

“Then at
first light tomorrow, I want you and my son to lead a patrol of
cavalry up the highway. Be as loud and careless as you wish.”

Erik nodded.
“That should flush out anyone looking to lay an ambush.”

“If the
Gods were kinder, you’d all ride into Ylith at the same time
and hoist an ale. The Gods, however, have been short on kindness
toward the Kingdom of late.” He looked up and saw Erik still
standing there. “Well, go, dismissed, whatever it is I’m
supposed to say.”

Erik grinned at
the old man. “Yes, sir,” he said with a salute, and he
was off.

Talwin signaled
from outside the building and Dash waved a reply through the open
front door. He then motioned with his hand indicating Talwin and the
men next to him should circle around the next block of buildings and
come up behind the men they stalked. Their targets, four men who had
been waiting for a fifth for the last half hour, were gathered
together in a workyard behind an abandoned shop in the poor quarter.
Talwin vanished into the night with his men.

It had taken
Dash, with the help of the Mockers, a week to discover this meeting
place. Talwin had identified three men who were very likely to be
Keshian agents, and the fourth was either another agent or their
employee. Dash had overheard enough snippets of conversation to know
they were getting restless waiting for someone and would soon leave
if that person didn’t show up.

Dash wanted
Talwin and the two constables with him ready to come in from the
other side of the yard, through a broken-down fence next to an alley.
Dash and his men were in an old shop, hiding by hanging above the
main floor in the rafters. A glance into the murk of the shop’s
ceiling showed his three men crouched uncomfortably on the roof beam.
He’d better get them down soon, he thought, or they’d be
too stiff to move.

Dash motioned
and the three men hung from their fingers, then dropped quietly to
the floor. Dash crouched low so as not to alert the men out back, as
he was closest to the open door.

“He’s
not coming,” said one of the four men, a muscular man dressed
like a common laborer. “We should split up and meet somewhere
else tomorrow.”

“Maybe
they got him,” a second man said; he was diin and
dangerous-looking, and bore a sword and dagger at his belt.

“Who?”
asked the first man.

“Who do
you think?” offered the first man. “The Prince’s
men.”

“They’d
have to be quicker than they’ve been so far,” came the
voice of a man ducking into view from the next building. “You
almost got nicked,” he said.

“What do
you mean?” asked the first man.

“I saw
constables hurrying away from just in front of this building. They
looked like they was looking through the door. They must have just
missed you all.”

Dash decided it
was time. He pulled his sword and ran from his hiding place, his
three constables behind him. The first man turned and fled, running
right into Talwin as he climbed through a large hole in the fence.
“Put down your weapons!” Dash commanded.

Four of the men
put down weapons, but the one slender man, the one Dash had judged
dangerous, pulled his. “Run!” he shouted to his
companions, and as if to buy them time, he launched a two-weapon
attack on Dash.

Dash had
practiced against this style of righting before, but diis man was
very good at it. One of his constables tried to come to his aid but
only managed to almost get Dash killed. “Back off!” Dash
commanded after he slipped aside of a dirust, while his constable
moved away.

Talwin walked up
behind the slender man and slammed him in the back of the head with
the hilt of his sword. Dash, frustrated at the long wait, turned to
his constable and shouted, “That’s how you do it! You hit
them from behind! You don’t leap in and almost get someone
killed! Got it?”

The constable
nodded, looking embarrassed, and Dash turned to inspect the other
prisoners. The fifth man, the one who arrived last, looked familiar
to Dash. Dash studied him for a moment, then his eyes widened. “I
know you! You’re a clerk from the palace!” The man said
nothing, looking terrified.

Talwin said,
“Let’s get this bunch to the palace for some questioning
. . . if you agree, Sheriff.”

“Good
idea, Deputy,” said Dash.

The other
members of die constabulary knew something odd was going on with
Talwin, but no one had voiced any concerns, or at least not within
Dash’s hearing. Dash, Talwin, and the other five constables
ordered two of the prisoners to pick up their unconscious comrade and
started them on their way to the palace.

“They’re
not Keshian,” said Talwin as he closed the door behind them.

“Then who
are they working for?” asked Dash.

They were in
Dash’s room, unused since he had been given the office of
Sheriff. “I think they’re working for the Keshians, but
they may not know that.”

Dash had
appropriated five rooms in the palace in which each of the prisoners
was isolated. He didn’t want them talking to one another before
questioning each in turn. Talwin had briefly spoken to each man,
before beginning intensive questioning. He said, “We’ve
got one interesting case, Pickney, a clerk from the Prince’s
office. The rest of them are . . . odd. One vagabond swordsman, one
baker, a stablehand, and a journeyman mason.”

Dash said,
“Hardly the lot I’d pick for conspiracy.”

Talwin said, “I
think they’re dupes. Not one of them has the wits of a bug.
Pickney worries me.”

“I’d
worry a little about that swordsman—”

“Desgarden,”
supplied Talwin, “is the happy blade who tried to kill you.”

“Desgarden,”
repeated Dash. “He was willing to try to fight his way out
rather than be captured.”

“Either he
has an inflated sense of his own ability with a sword, or he’s
just as stupid as I think he is.”

“Stupid he
may be,” said Dash, “but unlike the other three, he’s
not what I would consider a ‘stand-up’ citizen. He has
the look of someone who knows his way around the back alleys and
sewers. He may be part of those who are causing some troubles in the
Poor Quarter.”

Talwin nodded.
“Well, let me squeeze them and see what I can find out.”

Dash said,
“Good. I think I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight.
It’s been a month.”

Talwin said, “By
the way, I should be leaving your service at the end of the week.”

“Oh?”
said Dash, with a slight smile. “Have I been that difficult an
employer?”

“Duke
Rufio arrives.”

“It’s
been confirmed he’s to be Duke of Krondor?”

“Not
publicly,” said Talwin. “You didn’t hear that from
me.”

Dash waved away
the man, who closed the door while Dash took off his boots. He lay
back on his own bed and marveled at how soft his heavy down mattress
was compared to that straw thing in the back of the jail.

He was wondering
if he should take this one back with him when he fell asleep.

He came awake
suddenly when someone pounded on his door.

“What?”
he said sleepily, opening his door.

Talwin said, “We
need to talk.”

Dash waved him
inside. “How long was I asleep?”

“A few
hours.”

“It wasn’t
long enough,” said Dash.

“We have a
grave problem.”

“What?”
asked Dash, coming awake.

“Those
five are dupes, as I suspected, but they were working for someone
inside the palace, and from what I can tell, he’s an agent for
Kesh.”

“Inside
the palace?”

Talwin nodded.
“The clerk believes him to be someone connected with a business
concern—he thinks it might be your old employer, Rupert A
very.”

“Hardly,”
said Dash. “Whatever Roo needs to know, he simply asks. The
crown owes him so much gold, we usually tell him.”

“I know.
He’s well connected with you, von Darkmoor, and others. But
that’s what Pickney believed. Desgarden on the other hand,
thinks he’s working for a band of smugglers from Durbin.”

“Cut to
it, what’s going on?”

“These
five, and others I’ll warrant, were gathering information on
the deployment of resources, soldiers, the condition of defenses,
every potentially valuable bit of information an enemy might want.
They were feeding it to someone here in the palace.”

“Now I’m
confused. I could see someone in the palace feeding the information
to someone outside, but from outside in?”

“That’s
what had me puzzled for a bit, but the fact is, the person inside the
castle they were reporting to wasn’t part of Patrick’s
staff.”

“Who was
it?”

Talwin said, “A
man who was working here when Patrick arrived, but who stayed on when
Duko left. A man who seemed to be everywhere when someone needed help
with documents or messages. A man named Malar Enares.”

Dash said,
“Gods! He’s that servant we met out in the woods last
winter. He claimed to be from the vale.”

Talwin shook his
head. “If we had access to your grandfather’s documents,
I bet we’d find his name amongst those on a list of agents of
Great Kesh.”

Suddenly Dash
was concerned about his brother. “I need to see if there are
any messages in from Duko down at Port Vykor in the last few days.”

“Enares
left with your brother, right?”