Shards of a Broken Crown (59 page)

“That
makes more sense,” agreed Nakor. “In any event, we have
this issue to discuss. When we fought the demon, we mistakenly
thought we had defeated the Nameless One’s agents. What we did
was destroy their most current weapons, nothing more.”

Nakor waved out
the window past Miranda. “Out there,” he said, “is
at least one more evil agency doing very bad things, and it is
gathering power.

“That is
who we must defeat.”

Tomas said,
“Subai leads me to think that Elvandar will soon be at risk if
we do not stop this army now.”

Nakor leaped out
of his chair. “No! You are not listening.” He stopped,
then said, “Or I am not saying this right. We are not trying to
save Elvandar, or Krondor, or the Kingdom.” He looked from face
to face. “We are trying to save this world.”

Ryana said,
“Very well, Nakor. You now have my undivided attention. These
petty human wars are nothing to dragonkind, but we share this world
with you. What is the threat to us all?”

“This Mad
God, this Nalar, whose very name is a danger, he is the threat. When
you look at everything that has occurred since the Chaos Wars,
remember this. When you once again forget the very conversation we
have this hour, when your memories are locked away to prevent you
from falling under Nalar’s sway, remember this much: there is
always something deeper behind what you see on the surface.”

“All
right,” said Pug. “So what we see on the surface, the
invasion and the conquest by Fadawah, they hide a deeper truth.”

“Yes,
Fadawah is a dupe. He was before and he is still. He is just the next
to be placed at the head of this murderous army. We must identify
whoever it is that stands behind him, in the shadow. There is
something evil growing in Krondor. It is there against the time
Fadawah’s army arrives. Whoever is behind Fadawah—an
advisor, or servant, or a member of his guard—must be
destroyed. Somewhere is a being who was there when the my old wife,
Jorma, became Lady Clovis, when she was controlling Dhakon, and when
she sat the Emerald Throne. He was there when the demon ruled, and
now when Fadawah is the leader. This creature, man, or spirit, this
thing is the agent of Nalar who is orchestrating the war. It is this
being who seeks no conquest, but rather destruction. This is the
creature who doesn’t wish to see one side or the other win, but
rather seeks to let the suffering linger, let innocents die. This is
the creature we must find.”

Tomas said, “Do
you suspect another Pantathian?”

Nakor said, “I
don’t think so. Maybe, but it may also be a man, or a dark elf,
or any other manner of creature. It may be a spirit in the body of
one such as Fadawah. I just don’t know. But we must seek out
this creature and destroy it.”

Pug said, “This
sounds as if we must fly to the heart of the enemy and confront their
leader.”

Nakor said,
“Yes, and that is dangerous.”

Pug winced in
memory of the trap the demon had laid for him, the one that in his
arrogance he had overlooked, the trap that had almost cost Pug his
life.

“Why don’t
we just. . . I don’t know,” said Miranda, “just
burn everything within a mile of Fadawah’s headquarters? That
should end this creature, shouldn’t it?”

Pug said,
“Probably not. Years ago I faced another of Nalar’s
creatures, a mad magician named Sidi. A few of the older members of
the temples know the story, for we strove to control the Tear of the
Gods.”

Ryana said,
“Tear of the Gods?”

Pug said, “It
is a powerful artifact, used by the Ishapians to channel power from
the controller gods.” He looked at Miranda. “You could
burn this house down around Sidi and he would have been standing
there laughing at you when the ashes cooled.”

“How did
you destroy him?” asked Miranda.

Pug looked at
his wife. “I didn’t.”

Miranda said,
“Are you saying this person controlling Fadawah is this Sidi?”

“It could
be. Or it could be one of Sidi’s servants, or another like
him.”

Nakor said,
“Nalar has many agents. Most do not know they serve the Mad
God. They just do things because they feel the need.”

Tomas said,
“What must we do?”

Pug said, “We
lure this agent of Nalar into showing itself.”

“How?”
asked Miranda.

Pug nodded. “Me.
I have to be bait. Fadawah’s true master must know that at some
point I will act. I have in the past. And we can assume there’s
some sort of surprise waiting for me if I show up.”

Miranda said,
“No! The last time I goaded you into acting prematurely, you
almost got killed. Since then I think I’ve changed my mind
about kicking down doors and walking into rooms. Let’s sneak
around some first.”

Nakor said,
“I’ve snuck around in the enemy’s camp, back when I
went to Novindus with Calis and his friends, and I stood close to the
Emerald Queen. I couldn’t tell who was running things. Pug is
right. We must find a way to force this person or creature or spirit
or whatever it is to reveal itself to us.”

Miranda said,
“No! And I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until
you get it through your head.” She stood up. “I’ve
snuck around behind the lines, too. Let Nakor and me do it one more
time. We can go to where Greylock’s army is, and I know we can
sneak into the camp. Let me get close to Fadawah and see what I can
see. If we can’t find anything, I’ll agree to go in and
let them throw everything at you. But I don’t want to risk it
just yet. All right?” She touched his face.

“Your
temper is going to get you killed,” he warned her.

“I can
keep it under control when I have to.”

Pug looked at
Nakor. “I want you to promise me you’ll tell her when
it’s too dangerous and it’s time to come back here.”
He looked at Miranda. “And I want you to promise you’ll
listen to him, and when he says so, you’ll transport yourself
back to this room.”

They both
agreed. Pug said, “I don’t like this anymore than you
like my idea.” He kissed Miranda and said, “It’s
better if you go now, while it’s still dark over there.”

Miranda held out
her hand. “Nakor, where do we want to go?”

“Last I
heard, Greylock was somewhere south of Quester’s View.”

“I know a
village on the coast. We’ll transport there, then we can fly up
the coast.”

Ryana said, “I’m
going to go sleep. Wake me when you have someone worth fighting.”

Nakor said, “A
moment, please.” Pug and the others felt their memories shut
off again, hiding knowledge of Nalar, and then the mystic barrier was
lowered.

Tomas said,
“Sleep well, friend.” The dragon in human form left the
room.

Miranda took
Nakor’s hand and they vanished from sight, leaving Pug and
Tomas alone.

Tomas removed
his golden helm and placed it on Pug’s desk. “Well, old
friend, there’s not much for us to do but wait.”

Pug said, “I’m
not very hungry, but we should eat.” He rose and led his friend
out of the study, down the hall, and toward the kitchen.

“You
better land soon!” shouted Nakor. “My arms are getting
tired.”

They were flying
to the east of the highway, just above the treetops, with Nakor
dangling from his staff, which Miranda held below her as she flew.
They had appeared at a fishing village near Quester’s View. It
had been deserted. Miranda had picked up Nakor and had flown across
the highway, some distance away from a few campfires, and then had
turned northward. They had flown past the campfires of both sides,
past a large static position that had Nakor puzzled. He knew
something significant had occurred for Greylock to have halted his
northward march.

Miranda came in
for a landing, letting go of Nakor’s staff. He landed with an
audible “oof,” as he struck the ground hard. “Sorry,”
she said as she landed. “My wrists were starting to hurt.”

“When you
said we could fly together, I thought you had a spell that would
carry both of us,” Nakor said as he stood up, brushing himself
off. “I almost hurt myself on my staff.”

“Well, if
you’d left the thing behind like I told you to it wouldn’t
have happened.” She sounded very unsympathetic.

Nakor laughed.
“You will be an excellent mother someday.”

She said, “Not
until Pug and I feel the world is a safer place than it is right
now.”

“Being
alive is being at risk,” said Nakor as he adjusted his garment
and recovered his staff. “Now, let us see if we can sneak into
the enemy camp.”

“How do
you propose to do it?”

“Like I
always do: act like I belong. Just stay close behind me and, please,
one thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t
lose your temper.”

Miranda’s
expression clouded and she said, “I don’t have a temper!”

Nakor grinned.
“There, you’re doing it now.”

“You
insufferable little man!” she said, walking off ahead of him.

“Miranda!”

“What!”
she shouted, looking over her shoulder.

Nakor hurried to
catch up, and said, “For a woman of your experience, you can be
very childish.”

Miranda seemed
on the verge of saying something. She stood still for a moment, then
finally said, “You don’t know me, Nakor. You may have
been my mother’s first husband, but you know nothing of me. You
don’t know what my childhood was like. You don’t know
what it was to be raised by imperial agents. If I’m childish,
it may be because I had no childhood.”

“Whatever
the reasons, please try to keep from getting us killed,” said
Nakor as he walked by her. Softly he said, “And for a woman
your age, you are very concerned about things that happened a very
long time ago.”

She hurried to
stay up with him. “What?”

Nakor turned to
face her, and for the first time since she had met him, there was not
one shred of humor in the man’s expression. He gazed at her
with an expression that could only be called intimidating. And for a
moment, she glimpsed the power he had within him. Softly he said,
“The past can be a terrible weight bound to you by an
unbreakable chain. You can drag it with you, forever looking over
your shoulder at what holds you back. Or you can let it go and move
forward. It’s your choice. For those who live centuries, it’s
a very important choice.”

He turned and
walked away from her.

Miranda stood a
moment, then caught up with him again. This time she said nothing.

They worked
their way down through trees on the western face of the Calastius
Mountains. They had passed the battlelines several miles to the
south, where Greylock’s army had established a fixed front.
Nakor said, “Something strange has happened. Greylock is dug in
down south, at least that’s what it looked like from up
there”—he pointed skyward—”as you sped along.
It looks like he’s digging in, perhaps against a
counterattack.”

Miranda said, “I
don’t know. Maybe they’re going to wait for supplies sent
up to that fishing village where we landed.”

“Maybe,
but I don’t think so.” From the battlefield the stench of
the dead filled the night air. Thousands of bodies littered the
field. “This is very bad. To leave the dead unburied is an evil
thing.”

North of the
battlefield a structure was being built. It appeared to be a fortress
of some type, but as they neared it, they could see it was actually a
series of large buildings linked together by huge wooden fences a
uniform twenty feet high. Men were camped around fires scattered
around the periphery. “Look,” said Nakor, “they
don’t camp too close.”

“What is
it?” asked Miranda as they came near the edge of the sheltering
trees.

“Something
very bad I think. A temple, maybe.”

“Temple to
what?”

“Let’s
go find out.” He glanced around. “Over there.”

He led her
through the trees to a place close to a collection of tents of all
sizes and colors. They scurried through the heavy boles until they
found a gap between two campfires, where they could slip in without
attracting undue attention.

They passed by
unchallenged. Nakor led Miranda past a series of campsites, where
they were just two people among several walking about on some errand
or another. But as they passed a large camp, a man walked toward
them. His head was shaved, save for a single fall of hair, tied up to
cascade behind him. The hair looked to be cinched by a ring of bone.
He wore deep scars on each cheek. He was bare chested and wore a vest
of what appeared to be human skin. His trousers were dyed leather and
Nakor didn’t inspect them too closely. He was massively muscled
and carried a huge curved blade known as a flasher. It was a
two-handed weapon, but he looked capable of wielding it with one
hand.

He walked up,
weaving slightly, to Miranda, and looked her over in a very frank
fashion, then turned to Nakor and said, with a drunken slur, “You
sell her to me.”

Nakor grinned.
“No, I can’t.”

The man’s
eyes grew wide and he looked as if he was about to erupt into a rage
as he said, “No? You say no to Fustafa!”

Nakor pointed at
the building and said, “She goes there.”

Instantly the
man’s expression changed, and he looked at Nakor and backed
away. “I don’t ask,” he said, hurrying away.

“What was
that?” asked Miranda.

“I don’t
know,” said Nakor. He looked at the building, less than a
hundred yards away. “But I think it means we need to be careful
in there.”

“We’re
going to walk in?” asked Miranda.

“You have
a better idea?” replied Nakor, walking toward the building.

“No,”
said Miranda, hurrying after him again.

They both felt a
strange energy as they neared it. As they got closer, it grew
stronger. Miranda said, “That makes me feel like I need to take
a bath.”