Sergeant Ruther said without preamble, Theyre down there in the town; moving cautiously from the sound of things, perhaps expecting traps.
Pity we didnt have time to leave some, said Martin.
Theres only so much you can do on short notice, sir. If wed had some means of knowing they were coming before they hit Carse, we might have convinced some of that lot he used his chin to indicate the hundreds now camped in the bailey below, to come in a few days early and let us rig a welcome for the Keshians. But you do what you can, as they say.
Martin could only nod.
Slowly the sounds of men, wagons and horses moving through the town grew louder. Siege engines? asked Martin, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest and stomach.
Take a lot to knock these walls down, sir. Ruther pointed down to the main gate which had been reinforced during the night with a brace-work of heavy timbers.
Well, lets see what theyre bringing in.
Slowly the haze lifted, then suddenly a gust of wind cleared away the morning fog and presented Martin and the other onlookers atop the walls with a clear view of what they faced.
Damn me! the sergeant swore.
Indeed, said Martin softly, not sure he was making sense of what he saw.
A company of soldiers stood arrayed across the entire approach to the town from the castle, just out of arrow flight from any but the stoutest longbow. Martin took in their garb: a traditional Keshian metal helm with a chain metal neck piece hanging behind, a sharply pointed spear tip at the crown (effective at discouraging an enemy from dropping on them from above, he thought); a chain coat and heavy woollen trousers tucked into calf-high boots so that the fabric belled out. A leather vest was drawn over that, cinched at the waist by a heavy leather belt with an iron buckle. The combination of leather over mail would be very effective against arrows, slowing down a broad-head enough that the chain would catch it, earning the target no more than a nasty cut rather than certain death.
Each man carried a scimitar the traditional curved sword and a round buckler. Every fourth man also carried a short bow slung over his shoulder.
I see no siege engines, Martin said.
But look what else they brought.
Behind the line of soldiers a flood of people could be seen coming up from the docks and going into the buildings. Men, women and children, several who seemed to be scuffling over some scavenged item or another, and among them moved what could only be wardens or marshals, breaking up fights and commanding them to go here or there.
A runner came up the steps from below, out of breath. Word from the tower, sir.
What? said Martin, not taking his eyes off the scene below.
A large company has broken off and is taking the north road, but
But what?
They dont look like infantry or cavalry, sir.
Martins curiosity was piqued. What do they look like?
Well, sir, like farmers coming to market, or rather it would if they were going the other way. I mean, it looks like theyre herding cattle and sheep up the road.
Heading to the farms, crofts, and pastures, said the Sergeant. Well, now, isnt that a kiss from granny?
Martin frowned. I dont understand.
Look what theyre bringing up.
What appeared to be a company of engineers was hurrying up the road, while horsemen drove the milling men, women, and children out of the street, making way. They were carrying building materials unlike anything Martin had seen before.
The line of infantry parted, letting the engineers through, and then Martin saw what they were putting together. Its a barricade.
The bastards just walked in and took the town, sir. Now theyre telling us to sit here and rot, or sally forth and drive them to the harbour.
Theyre not going to attack? asked Martin, now completely confused.
Why should they? Theyll just sit and let us starve.
In the distance a great rumbling could be heard. The sergeant turned to the young runner. Joey, back up you go and find out what that is, then come back, straight away, theres a good lad.
The boy ran off and Ruther said, Well, its clear whatever else they have in mind, they mean to stay. They brought a whole damn town with them.
After a few minutes Joey returned. Theyre unloading some big machines by the docks. Kelton says they look like trebuchets.
Kelton was the soldier Ruther had put up in the tower because he had the sharpest eyes in the garrison.
Well, if thats what he says they are, then thats what they are. Maybe theyre not going to try to starve us out after all. But at least theyre in no hurry to attack.
That worried Martin more than anything else. They would have to assume that the moment they were spotted, the call for reinforcements would go out and reinforcements would be on their way. Why werent they in a hurry?
The day wore on and those in the castle watched in fascination. The fortification on the eastern edge of the town was quickly made secure, and at sunset a daunting wall rose up that had been bolstered with sandbags brought up from the shore. Now there was a six-foot breastwork with a firing platform behind, where archers could fire upon anyone venturing from the castle.
If we had sortied this morning Martin clenched his fists, the frustration of not knowing what the enemys next move would be taking its toll.
We would have run into who knows what, sir, finished the sergeant. We can only see that lot. Who knows how many more soldiers they have unloaded down by the docks, or still waiting aboard ship? They dont seem worried about us.
Which is why I am concerned, countered Martin. Its as if
Sir! came the shout. A white flag!
Martin looked in the indicated direction and saw what must be a Keshian officer approaching under a flag of truce. He came up to the gate and looked up at the faces there. I seek parley! he shouted. Who is in charge here?
I am! Martin shouted back. I am Martin conDoin He hesitated, then added, Prince Martin of Crydee. He was entitled to the honorific, though no one in his family had used it since Prince Arutha had left Crydee to take up the office of Prince of Krondor. His brother, Martins namesake, had insisted only the title of duke be conferred upon him, a tradition followed for three generations after.
Greetings, Highness, replied the officer. I am Hartun Gorves, Captain of the Fourth Legion, Third Regiment, servant of His Most Honoured Majesty, the Emperor of Great Kesh, blessings be upon him. My lord and master bids you depart this land, peacefully, and safe conduct to the East will be guaranteed. He reminds you these lands are Keshian, ancient Bosania, taken from the Empire most violently and without cause by your ancestor.
He bids you depart and swears that he will treat harshly any of his servants who would trouble you. Take with you your possessions and goods, livestock and chattels, but begone at once, otherwise I am instructed to deal with you in the most severe manner.
Martin stood uncertain for a long moment. Of all the things he had expected to hear, the simple demand that he and everyone in the duchy pick up and move wasnt one of them. That Kesh meant to occupy this land was now beyond doubt: this was no simple raiding expedition, for booty or political gain; they sought to reclaim land that had not been part of the Empire in over two centuries, yet were treating the Kingdoms expansion as if it had occurred but a few weeks prior.
He bids you depart and swears that he will treat harshly any of his servants who would trouble you. Take with you your possessions and goods, livestock and chattels, but begone at once, otherwise I am instructed to deal with you in the most severe manner.
Martin stood uncertain for a long moment. Of all the things he had expected to hear, the simple demand that he and everyone in the duchy pick up and move wasnt one of them. That Kesh meant to occupy this land was now beyond doubt: this was no simple raiding expedition, for booty or political gain; they sought to reclaim land that had not been part of the Empire in over two centuries, yet were treating the Kingdoms expansion as if it had occurred but a few weeks prior.
At last Martin said, Youre joking.
The officer bowed. Most assuredly not, fair prince. I and two of my officers would be willing hostages in your travels. Once you reach the borders of the land called Yabon, we will leave your company, and you may deal with the garrison there.
Garrison? shouted Ruther. What does that mean?
By the time you reach Yabon, it will once again be Keshian, as will the so-called Free Cities and that abomination known as Queg. The garrison at Yabon will escort you to the border at Questors View and then on to Krondor. From there you will be free to continue on to the borders of the Kingdom and cross without harassment.
Borders of the Kingdom! echoed the sergeant furiously. Martin put his hand on his arm and the old soldier fell silent.
And where is this border? asked Martin.
Darkmoor. That was your traditional frontier and that is where it is again, for all lands west of there are now Keshian. Once you reach Darkmoor, you will once more be on Kingdom soil. The Empire is reclaiming its realm, from Crydee to Krondor, Yabon and LaMut. Even as we speak the armies of Great Kesh are marching and our navies are sweeping through the Bitter Sea. You are now trespassing on Keshian soil, my prince, declared Captain Gorves. You have two days to make ready for your departure or I shall bring horrors upon you and your people that no man should have to contemplate. It is a simple choice; leave or die.
With that he turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Martin unable to speak.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Escape
JIM DASHER RAN.
Four armed men were following him and his guide, and he knew that if they were overtaken, he was certainly a dead man. Whoever was hunting him had proved to be relentless. They were dashing through the alleys and streets of Ranom, a miserable little trading port at the foot of the Trollhome Mountains in Western Kesh. The plan had been to get to a ship waiting in the harbour, and then sail to Durbin, as close to the border as a Keshian freighter could travel. Getting from Durbin to the Kingdoms closest city, Lands End, was Jims problem. Jim silently cursed Kaseems agent aboard the ship where he was captured; instead of merely removing the Tsurani transportation orb that Jim had hidden, he had prodded it with a dagger point, thinking it some sort of tiny multi-levered-lock box and his meddling had rendered it inoperable. Now the only way back to behind the Kingdoms lines was by his own wits.
His guide made a motion with his head, indicating a turn to the left, and they both darted down an alleyway. The guide suddenly leapt for a low overhanging roof and by the time Jim could follow his lead, was hanging from roof beams in deep shadows under the roofs eaves, just a foot above a tall mans head. Jim knew exactly what was being said without words. They couldnt outrun the assassins, so their only choice was to get behind them.
A moment later the four men came down the street, and not for the first time Jim was disturbed by how silently they moved. These were men who resembled the legendary Nighthawks, a cult of demon-worshipping assassins detailed in memoirs by his great-great grandfather, James, the first Jamison, the legendary Jimmy the Hand of the Mockers.
There was a rueful sense of fate that visited Jim as he clung precariously to the eaves, waiting for his pursuers to run underneath him.
As a boy his father, the second James, had raised him to be a servant of the Crown, as he was, but his Uncle Dasher, after whom he was also named, and Great Uncle Dashel, used to regale the young Jim with stories of his namesake, the first James. As a child Jim had insisted for a time on being called Jimmyhand, and the moniker had stuck. More than once he had employed it to good use, in his guise as Jim Dasher, simple thief and pickpocket in the Mockers. But more than once he had also decided that somewhere along the way he had got caught up in his own myth, and that without realizing it, he was competing with the ghost of a dead forebear. But, good gods, Nighthawks?
If they were indeed a resurgence of that long-believed-dead clan of murderers, things were even more dire than he thought. It was believed the Nighthawks had finally been obliterated by Eric von Darkmoors special attack unit, The Princes Own, in the long-abandoned Cavell Keep, some ten years ago. Silently, Jim thought of them as cockroaches: you thought youd killed them all, but they kept showing up.
The same thought had passed through his mind after seeing the Pantathian Serpent Priest in that longboat. Every report he had read indicated they had been obliterated years ago and the birthing crèche in their underground lair in Novindus destroyed. Another nest of cockroaches, apparently.
The pursuers ran quietly underneath, and Jim held his breath, praying they would not notice they were passing scant inches below their quarry, or they would be able simply to impale him and his companion as easily as spearing fruit on a tree branch with a pointed stick. Jim felt more than heard his companion let himself lightly down to the ground. Jim followed, his shoulders and hips burning from the exertion of holding himself in place. I am getting too old for this nonsense, he thought. His father and grandfather were both putting pressure on him to marry and start a more mundane life in the Kings service and he was getting to be convinced that was a really fine idea. Not for the first time he considered asking Franciezka to quit her post with the Crown of Roldem and run off to some tiny island where they could eat, sleep, and make love.
The guide motioned and Jim followed, running silently through the dark streets of the city. Ducking through a maze of alleys, they reached an unmarked door, and the guide opened it.
Jim followed him inside without hesitation and closed the door behind him. We shall be safe here, said the guide.
Not for long.
Yes, they will double back, but unless they can track by magic, theyll have a hundred doors to investigate. He caught his breath and added, The sun will rise in an hour. We can attempt to get down to the docks in the throng going to work. Rest now. I will go and seek help to get you out of the port. If I am not back by dawn, it means I have been captured or am dead; make your way to the docks as best you can and seek out a boat called the Mialaba, the name of a woman from the captains homeland. He is a man named Nefu. He can be trusted. Tell him you need to find a ship for Durbin and he will get you safely there. Latch the door behind me.
Jim waved a tired hand, indicating that he understood, and the guide slipped out of the door. Jim latched it and sat down heavily on a large, tied bundle of cloth.