Kitabı oku: «Krondor: The Betrayal», sayfa 2

One of the three remaining ambushers cried out in shock, his hand going out before him as vacant eyes stared ahead, ‘I’m blind!’ he shouted in panic.

Locklear decided it was Owyn’s useful magic, and thanked the Goddess of Luck the boy had that much talent.

Gorath was engaged with one man while Locklear advanced on the other. Suddenly their garb registered and he said, ‘Quegans!’

The men were wearing short tunics and leggings, and cross-gartered sandals. The man facing Locklear had his head covered with a red bandanna, and over his shoulder hung a baldric from which a cutlass had hung. The cutlass was now carving through the air at Locklear’s head.

He parried and the blow shot fire through his wounded side. Putting aside his pain, Locklear riposted and the pirate fell back. A strangled cry told Locklear the second pirate was down.

The strange missile sensation sped by and the man facing Locklear winced and held his hand up as if shielding his eyes. Locklear didn’t hesitate and ran the man through.

Gorath killed the last man and suddenly it was quiet again in the woods.

Locklear’s side was afire but he didn’t feel any additional damage. He put up his sword and said, ‘Damn me.’

‘Are you hurt?’ asked Owyn.

‘No,’ answered Locklear.

‘Then what is the problem?’ asked Owyn.

Locklear looked around the clearing. ‘These are the problem. Someone has gotten word ahead of us. We can be certain of that.’

‘How?’ asked Gorath.

‘These are Quegan pirates,’ said Locklear. ‘Look at their weapons.’

‘I wouldn’t know a Quegan if I tripped over him,’ said Owyn. ‘I’ll take your word for it, squire.’

‘Do not pirates usually ply their trade at sea?’ asked Gorath.

‘They do,’ said Locklear, ‘unless someone’s paid them to stake out a road and wait for three travellers on foot.’ He knelt next to the man who had died at his feet and said, ‘Look at his hands. Those are the hands of a man used to handling rope. Those Quegan cutlasses are the clincher.’ He examined the man, looking for a pouch or purse, saying, ‘Look for anything that might be a message.’

They did and came away with a little gold and a couple of daggers in addition to the four cutlasses. But no messages or notes, nothing indicating who had hired the pirates. ‘We’re not close enough to Ylith for a band of pirates to have made it this far north undetected in the time since we left Yabon.’

‘Someone must have sent word south when I left the Northlands,’ said Gorath.

‘But how?’ asked Owyn. ‘You’ve told me you only spent a couple of days in Tyr-Sog, and you were riding until yesterday.’

‘That’s an odd question for a student of magic,’ observed Gorath.

Owyn blushed a little. ‘Oh.’

‘You’ve Spellweavers who can do such?’ asked Locklear.

‘Not such as the eledhel – those you call “elves” – call Spellweavers. But we have our practitioners of magic. And there are others of your race who will sell their arts.’

Owyn said, ‘I’ve never witnessed it, but I have heard of a talent called “mind speech” which allows a spell-caster to speak with another. And there’s something known as “dream speech” as well. Either—’

‘Someone really wants you dead, don’t they?’ observed Locklear, interrupting the boy.

‘Delekhan,’ said Gorath. ‘And he was gathering to his side any of my people who showed such talents. I know his goals, but not his plan. And if magic arts are part of it, I fear the results.’

Locklear said, ‘I understand that. I’ve had my share of encounters with people using magic who shouldn’t.’ He glanced at Owyn and said, ‘That blinding trick was quite good, lad.’

Looking embarrassed, Owyn said, ‘I thought it might help. I know a few spells like that, but nothing that would overpower an enemy. Still, I’ll try to help where I can.’

Glancing at Owyn, Locklear said, ‘I know. Let’s get to LaMut.’

LaMut stood astride the road south, requiring anyone travelling from Yabon to Ylith to pass through its gates or endure a long trek to the east through dangerous foothills.

The foulbourgh of the city sprawled in all directions, while the old walls of the city stood behind, nearly useless now, given the ease with which any attacker could mount the buildings next to them and gain the parapet from their roofs.

It was nearly sundown and all three travellers were tired, footsore, and hungry. ‘We can present ourselves to Earl Kasumi tomorrow.’

‘Why not now?’ asked Owyn. ‘I could use a meal and a bed.’

‘Because the garrison is up there,’ said Locklear, pointing at a distant fortress high above the city on a hillside, ‘and that would be another two hours’ walk, whereas a cheap inn is but one minute that way.’ He pointed at the gate.

‘Will your countrymen object to my presence?’ asked Gorath.

‘They would if they suspected your nature. If they think you an elf from Elvandar, they may only stare a little. Come on. We’ve looted enough gold for a night of relative comfort, and in the morning we’ll visit the Earl and see if he can get us safely to Krondor.’

They entered the city under the watchful gaze of otherwise bored-looking soldiers. One of them stood out from his companions, being shorter, and much more businesslike in his manner. Locklear smiled and nodded at the guards, but the three travellers didn’t stop or speak. A short distance inside the city gates sat an inn, marked by a wagon wheel painted bright blue. ‘There,’ said Locklear.

They entered the inn, busy, but not crowded, and moved to a table near the far wall. As they sat a stout young serving woman came, took their order for food and ale, and left. As they were waiting, Locklear spied a figure on the other side of the room staring at him.

It took a moment for Locklear to realize the figure wasn’t a man, but a dwarf. The dwarf stood and made his way across the room. He bore a large scar across his face, cutting through his left eye. He stood before them and said, ‘You don’t recognize me, do you, Locky?’

Locklear realized the last time he had seen the dwarf he had not borne the scar he now sported, but at hearing his name from the dwarf’s lips, he said, ‘Dubal! Without the eye-patch, it took me a moment.’

The dwarf moved to sit next to Owyn, across from Gorath. ‘I won this face in battle, from one of his kin—’ he pointed at Gorath ‘—and I’ll be a dragon’s mother before I hide it again.’

‘Dubal found me hiding in a cellar after the Battle of Sethanon,’ said Locklear.

‘Locked in there with a pretty wench, if memory serves.’ The dwarf laughed.

Locklear shrugged. ‘Well, that was by chance.’

Dubal said, ‘Now tell me, what is a seigneur of the Prince’s court doing sitting in LaMut with a moredhel warchief?’ He kept his voice low, but Owyn glanced around to see if anyone had overheard him.

‘You know me?’ asked Gorath.

‘I know your race, for you are the enemy of my blood, and I know your armour for what it is. A human might not notice, but we of the Grey Towers have fought your kind long enough I wouldn’t mistake you for one from Elvandar. It’s only your present company that keeps me from killing you here and now.’

Locklear held up his hand. ‘I would count it a kindness and a personal favour, as would Prince Arutha, should you imagine this person on my left to be an elf.’

‘I think I can manage. But you’ll have to come to the Grey Towers and tell me the story behind this mummery.’

‘If I can, I will,’ said Locklear. ‘Now, what brings you alone to LaMut?’

‘We’ve got problems at our mines and had a collapse. Some of us are stuck on this side of the Grey Towers and I came in to the city to buy some stores. I’ll hire a waggon and head back in the morning. For the time being, I’m content to sit and drink, and jabber with some of these Tsurani here in LaMut. I fought them during the war, and they’ve turned out to be a stalwart enough bunch once you get to know them.’ He pointed to the bar. ‘That tall fellow—’ Locky laughed to hear anyone call a Tsurani ‘tall’ ‘—he’s Sumani, the owner. Has a fair number of tales to spin about his days serving on the Tsurani world, and I’m switched if it doesn’t sound like he’s telling the truth most of the time.’

Locklear laughed. ‘Most Tsurani I know don’t indulge in tall tales, Dubal.’

‘Seems to be so, but you never know. I’ve fought the big bugs, the Cho-ja, but some of those other things he talks about, well, I’m hard-pressed to believe them.’

The serving woman arrived with the food and ale and they fell to. ‘Now,’ said Dubal, ‘can you tell me what brings you here?’

‘No,’ replied Locklear, ‘but we can ask you if you’ve seen any Quegans hanging around?’

‘There was a pack of them through here two days ago, according to the gossip,’ said Dubal. ‘I just arrived and was brokering the material we need. Aren’t Quegans a bit far from home?’

‘You could say that,’ observed Locklear. ‘We ran into some and wondered if they had friends.’

‘Well, according to the gossip, they were all heading north from here, so if you didn’t run into a big bunch, they’ve got friends around.’

Locklear said, ‘That’s as I figured.’

They ate in silence for a while, as Dubal nursed his mug of ale. Then the dwarf said, ‘You wouldn’t have run across one of those Armengar monster hunters coming from the north, have you?’

‘Monster hunter?’ asked Owyn.

Locklear said, ‘Beast Hunter, is what he means. I met one, once.’ He smiled at the memory. They had been travelling with Prince Arutha away from a band of moredhel, and had run into a Beast Hunter from Armengar with his Beast Hound. It had been a trap, but it had saved them from the pursuing moredhel. ‘No, I think those that remain are up in the hills of northern Yabon. Why?’

‘Oh, we’ve got a Brak Nurr loose in the mine and need someone to hunt it down for us. We can either rebuild the mine or hunt the thing, but there aren’t enough of us on this side of the mountain to do both.’

‘What’s a Brak Nurr?’ asked Owyn. ‘I’ve never heard of such a creature.’

‘It’s more a nuisance than a menace,’ said Dubal. ‘It’s a pretty stupid creature, but most of their kind stay in the lower mines and tunnels under the mountain. It’s roughly man-shaped, but looks like a walking pile of rocks. That’s part of its danger, boy,’ Dubal said to Owyn. ‘You can’t see one until you’ve stepped on its toes, as often as not. They’re slow and lumbering, but they’re strong and can crush a man’s skull with a single blow. This one came up because of the rockslide, I think, but whatever the cause, it’s tried to hurt a couple of our lads. We’ve chased it off, but can’t take the time to hunt it down. If you’re up for a bit of fun, I can take you along and if you rid the mines of it, I’ll be happy to see you rewarded.’

‘Reward?’ said Locky. ‘That’s always a good word, but time doesn’t permit. If circumstances bring us to the mines any time soon, we’ll be glad to help, but for the moment, we’re heading south.’

Dubal stood. ‘I understand. Once we get the tunnels finished, we’ll go looking for the beastie. Now, I’m for bed and an early start. It was good seeing you again, squire, even in such company as this,’ he said, indicating Gorath. ‘Good fortune follow you.’

‘And you, Dubal.’

Locklear finished eating and rose to approach the innkeeper.

The innkeeper wore a Kingdom-style tunic and trousers, the latter tucked into high-top calfskin boots. But he wore a fur-lined, woven-wool heavy cloak, though it was thrown back, as if even in this warm inn it was too cold for his liking.

‘Sir?’ asked the innkeeper, his heavy accent making the word sound odd to Locklear.

‘Honours to your house,’ said Locklear in Tsurani.

The man smiled and said something in return. Locklear smiled and shrugged. ‘Sorry, that was all the Tsurani I know.’

The man’s smile broadened. ‘More than most,’ he said. ‘You’re not from LaMut,’ he observed.

‘True. I learned a little of your native tongue at Sethanon.’

‘Ah,’ said the innkeeper, nodding in understanding. Few who were at Sethanon spoke of what had occurred there, mostly because few understood it. At the height of the battle a great upheaval had driven both armies, invaders and defenders, fleeing from the city. A green light from the heavens and the appearance of something in the sky, followed by the destruction of the centre of the city, had rendered most men stunned, and a few deaf, after the battle. No one was certain what had happened, though most conceded a great magic had been unleashed. Most speculated the magician Pug, a friend of the Prince, had a hand in it, but no one seemed to know for certain.

Locklear had missed most of the end of the battle, being hidden in a cellar in the city, but he had heard enough accounts from other eyewitnesses to have formed a pretty clear picture in his own mind. And there was a special bond among those who had survived the Battle of Sethanon, irrespective of their place of birth, for it had been Tsurani, Kingdom, and even Keshian soldiers, who had driven the moredhel and their goblin allies back into the Northlands.

‘What I said,’ explained the innkeeper, ‘was “Honour to your houses, and be welcome to the Blue Wheel Inn”.’

‘Blue Wheel? That’s one of your Tsurani political parties, isn’t it?’

The innkeeper’s broad face split into a smile, revealing even white teeth. His dark eyes seemed to glint in the lanternlight. ‘You do know of us!’ He extended his hand, Kingdom fashion, and said, ‘I am Sumani. If there is anything that my servants or I may do, you need only ask.’

Locklear shook the innkeeper’s hand and said, ‘A room for the night after we finish our meal would serve. We have business in the castle tomorrow at dawn.’

The stocky ex-fighter nodded. ‘You’re in luck, my friend. Last night I would have had to express my regrets and endure the shame of being unable to fulfil your request. We were full, but this morning a large party departed and we have rooms.’ He reached under the bar and produced a heavy iron key. ‘On my home world this would have been worth a man’s life; here it is but a tool.’

Locklear nodded, understanding the scarcity of metals on Kelewan. He took the key. ‘Large party?’

‘Yes,’ said Sumani. ‘Foreigners. Quegans, I believe. Their speech was strange to my ear.’

Locklear looked around the obviously prosperous inn. ‘How did a Tsurani soldier end up running an inn in LaMut?’

‘After the war, Earl Kasumi gave those of us who had been trapped on this side of the rift the opportunity to live as Kingdom citizens. When the rift was reopened, he gave those of us here in LaMut the choice of leaving service and returning to the Shinzawai estates on Kelewan. Most stayed, though some left service and returned to serve again with Kasumi’s father, Lord Kamatsu. A few of us, however, retired here in LaMut. I had no living family back home.’ He glanced around. ‘And to tell the truth, I live better here than I would have back home. There, I might have become a farmer, or a labourer on the Shinzawai estates.’ He pointed through the open door to the kitchen to where a tall, stout woman was hard at work preparing food. ‘Here, I have a Kingdom wife. We have two children. Life is good. And I am part of the city’s militia, so I still train with my sword. The gods of both worlds smile on me and I prosper. I find business to be as challenging as warfare.’

Locklear smiled. ‘I have no head for business, though I have been told it often is like warfare. What gossip?’

The old former fighter said, ‘Much. Many travellers in LaMut over the last month. Much speculation. A large party of Great Ones came through here last week. And it is rumoured some brigands from my home world, grey warriors, have also been seen near the city.’

‘Grey warriors?’ asked Locklear. ‘Houseless men? What would they be doing here in LaMut?’

Sumani shrugged. ‘It may be those without honour have heard that here a man may rise by his own wits and talents, and not be bound by his rank at birth. Or it may be they are seeking riches in this land. With a grey warrior, who can say?’ A frown crossed Sumani’s face.

‘What?’ asked Locklear.

‘Just this one thing: the rift is controlled by those who serve the Great Ones on Kelewan, and Kingdom soldiers guard the gate on this side. To pass through, these grey warriors would have to have documents, or allies among those guarding the rift gate.’

‘Bribes?’ asked Locklear.

‘Here, perhaps. I’ve found in the Kingdom the concept of honour is different than at home. But betrayal from the servants of the Great Ones?’ He shook his head. ‘That is impossible.’

‘Thanks,’ said Locklear, smelling a puzzle. ‘I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.’

The Tsurani laughed. ‘That is a funny thing to say,’ he observed. ‘Let me know if I may be of any further service.’

Locklear nodded. He took a lantern from the innkeeper and returned to the table. Gorath and Owyn rose, and Locklear led his companions up the stairs to a simple room with four beds. He motioned for Owyn to help him move one of the beds across the door, barring it against a sudden attack, then he moved another directly below the window. ‘Owyn,’ he said, pointing to the bed under the window, ‘you sleep there.’

‘Why?’ asked the young man from Timons. ‘It’s draughty under there.’

Gorath looked on with a slight turn to his lip, as if amused, as Locklear answered, ‘Because if anyone climbs in through the window, they’ll step on you and your shouts will alert us.’

Grumbling, Owyn wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and lay down. Locklear indicated one of the beds to Gorath, who lay upon it without comment. Locklear sat on his bed and blew out the flame in the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. Voices from the common room below carried upstairs, and Locklear let his mind wander. The presence of foreigners and the attack by the Quegans worried him, and the rumour of Tsurani grey warriors in the area caused him additional concern, but fatigue and his injury caused him to quickly fall asleep.

• CHAPTER TWO •
Deception

THE SOLDIER WAVED THEM IN.

‘You may enter,’ he informed Locklear.

Locklear led his companions into the guardroom of the castle.

They had approached the castle on foot, after an early-morning climb up a long, winding road from the city. He was doubly glad they had chosen to spend the night in the city. His ribs still hurt, but after a night’s sleep in a relatively warm bed and two meals he was feeling twice as fit as he had the day before.

The captain of the castle guard looked up as they entered and said, ‘Squire Locklear, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Captain Belford,’ said Locklear, accepting the captain’s hand. ‘We met when I passed through on my way north a few months back.’

‘I remember,’ said the captain with a half-hidden grin. Locklear knew the captain must have heard the rumour of the reason for his banishment to the north. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’d like to see the Earl, if he has the time.’

‘I’m sure he’d love to see you again, sir, but the Earl’s not here,’ said the seasoned old fighter. ‘He’s off on some errand with a troop of men – all Tsurani-bred – leaving me here to take care of things.’

‘The Countess?’ asked Locklear, inquiring after Kasumi’s wife.

‘Down in the city, actually. Shopping and visiting with her family.’ Earl Kasumi had married the daughter of one of LaMut’s more prosperous merchants. ‘If you need something official, you can wait until one of them gets back or ask me, squire. As long as you don’t need an armed escort somewhere.’

Locklear grimaced. ‘I had been thinking about asking for some men to accompany us down to Ylith.’

‘Wish I could oblige, squire, and if you’ve the Prince’s warrant with you, I’d scrape together a dozen swords for you, but as it is, the Earl’s off training recruits, I’ve got my usual patrols along the frontier, and the rest of the lads are out looking for a bunch of Tsurani renegades.’

Owyn said, ‘Renegades?’ Locklear had mentioned nothing of the Tsurani grey warriors to his companions.

‘I heard some rumours,’ was all Locklear said.

The captain motioned for the three of them to sit. Owyn was left standing when Gorath and Locklear took the only two free chairs in the office. ‘I wish it was only rumours,’ said Belford. ‘You know that Tsurani magician, Makala?’

‘By reputation only,’ said Locklear. ‘He was due to arrive in Krondor a few weeks after I departed some months ago. The other Tsurani Great Ones spoke of him, but as they weren’t the most sociable bunch, I only gathered a few things about him. He’s very influential in their Assembly of Magicians, is keen to foster trade and what I believe the Prince is calling “cultural exchanges” between the Empire of Tsuranuanni and the Kingdom, and he was personally coming for a visit.’

‘Well, he did that,’ said the captain. ‘He arrived here a few days ago and called on the Earl. Every Tsurani of any rank does that, as the Earl’s father is very important on the Tsurani home world. So it’s a duty thing.’ The old captain rubbed his beard-stubbled chin with a gloved hand. ‘The Tsurani are very deep into “duty”, I have learned in my time with the Earl. Anyway, they were here for a couple of days, Makala, some other Black Robes, and honour guards and bearers and the bunch, and it seems some of the bearers weren’t really bearers, but were some kind of dishonoured warriors from the Empire.’

‘Grey warriors,’ said Locklear. ‘I heard.’ That would explain how the grey warriors got through the rift, thought Locklear, disguised as bearers.

‘That’s who my lads are looking for. Rumour is they fled east. If they get over the mountains and into the Dimwood, we’ll never find them.’

‘Why the fuss?’ asked Owyn. ‘Are they slaves or indentured?’

‘Squire?’ said the captain pointedly.

‘He’s the son of the Baron of Timons,’ explained Locklear.

‘Well, young sir,’ said the captain, ‘these men are something like outlaws on their own world, which by itself isn’t enough to have me chasing after them, but here they stole something of value to this Makala – a ruby of some rarity, I gather – and he’s making enough of a fuss about it that you’d think the gods themselves lent it to him and he’s got to take it back in a week. So the Earl, some because he’s polite, and some because he’s Tsurani and used to jumping whenever one of those Black Robes barks, he’s got us combing the hills looking for those bastards.’

Locklear smiled at Owyn, as if asking if that was explanation enough. The captain looked at Gorath, as if expecting him to say something. Gorath remained silent. Locklear didn’t know if the captain recognized the moredhel for what he was or thought him an elf, and didn’t see the need to explain things to him. The captain said, ‘What would you need an escort for, if I may make so bold as to ask?’

‘We’ve had some problems,’ said Locklear. ‘Someone’s hired Quegan swords to keep us from reaching Krondor.’

The captain stroked his chin again and remained silent a long moment as he thought. ‘Here’s one thing I can do,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to run a patrol out to the border with the Free Cities. I can have you travel with it until it turns westward, almost half-way between LaMut and Zu-n. That’ll get you part of the way in safety.’

Locklear was silent a moment, then said, ‘I have a better idea.’

‘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.’