That was what he was concerned about. The four assassins had not only known him, one knew him well: Amed Dabu Asam, who until he had tried to kill Jim had been his most trusted agent in the region.
They had come mere hours after Destan had conveyed Jim to Kaseems safe house, and it was by the barest chance they had been alerted to someone being just outside the door, a bare creak of wood where someone misstepped ever so slightly, a creak that had meant the difference between life and death as Jim, Destan and Kaseem had all been crouched in a secret room with weapons ready where a moment before they would have been taken unawares.
The revelation that Amed was no longer to be trusted had cast an even darker shadow over the events unfolding around them. Jim had sighed. If Amed is a traitor, there is no one in my organization I can fully trust.
Kaseem had answered, I know the feeling. Some of the men who tried to kill me had served my father before me.
The two leaders of the rival intelligence services had vowed to return to their respective capital cities to ferret out the traitors. Both had also vowed that all activity previously directed at one another would be put aside until the real architect of this mad war and multiple betrayals had been uncovered.
Kaseem needed to reach his peoples camp and appear to be digging in for a long siege: he had a cousin who looked remarkably like him, and with a few minor alterations to his appearance, any spies or traitors who might be nearby would glimpse the fugitive prince of the desert. While his cousin kept his eyes focused on the desert, Kaseem would slip away in disguise to the City of Kesh looking nothing like himself.
As for Jim, he had to reach Sorcerers Isle and speak with Pug.
He reached the docks without incident and hesitated for a moment. There were at least two hundred boats and ships at the quays or at anchor in the harbour, a higher number than was usual for this port, but given the circumstances in the Bitter Sea these days, Jim assumed some of them were there because their owners had no desire to sail waters crowded with three hostile navies.
Since little cargo was coming ashore or being ferried out to a waiting ship, the dock was crowded with stevedores looking for work. As he walked past, a few looked at him expectantly, thinking Jim was perhaps a ship owner or agent.
He glanced about and then saw a band of street boys congregating around a vendors fruit cart near one of the major streets that intersected with the docks, no doubt waiting for their opportunity to purloin a rich pear or savoury plum when the seller wasnt looking. Scant chance of that as the man had one eye fixed on the ragged crew while he shouted the quality of his wares to all and sundry.
Jim discreetly held up a copper coin until one of the boys took notice. He glanced to see if any of his compatriots had noticed and seeing they hadnt, he scampered over to stand in front of Jim, just far enough away that he could leap out of arms reach if Jim attempted to harm him. But all Jim said was, Mialaba?
The boy pointed silently to the end of the dock and Jim flipped the coin to him and moved quickly away. The far end of the harbour was occupied by boats of various sizes, but no cargo vessels. All appeared to be short-haulers. Ferries, and shallow launches waited to take cargo and passengers out to ships at anchor, while a few fishing vessels in from nearby villages were unloading the previous days catch.
Jim moved with urgency, but not so quickly as to call attention to himself. He was experiencing what he called his bump of trouble, a name inherited from his ancestor, the first Jimmy: a sense of impending danger. It had been annoying him the entire time he had been in this city.
As he worked his way down the dock he saw at last a small two-masted lugger. A sailor was repairing ropes on the bow and Jim called up, Mialaba?
Yes, said the sailor barely looking up.
Nefu?
The man stood up and moved to the back of the boat, then returned a moment later with a second man, who said, You looking for me?
If your name is Nefu.
It is. He was a barrel-chested man of at least fifty summers, with a balding head surrounded by a fringe of hair so white James assumed he must have been fair-haired when he was younger, red or blond. His skin was weather-beaten and worn, and he looked as if he should be holding down a chair in the corner of some dockside alehouse. But his eyes were like blue daggers as they looked at Jim, and Jim had no doubt those old arms and legs were coils of power from years of hard work and, if he worked for Kaseem, no doubt years of hard fighting.
We have a mutual friend. He said to seek you out.
Who would that be? asked Nefu as his deckhand tried to look as if he wasnt listening to every word.
Destan.
Cant say as I recognize that name. Nefus hand drifted towards his belt, in which Jim had no doubt rested at least one dagger.
Kaseem, said Jim in a lower voice.
Better come aboard, then. Nefus hand moved away from his belt.
Once Jim was aboard, Nefu led him to a companionway in the rear of the boat, one that led down into a mid-deck. Jim had been on luggers like this and knew this was the crews quarters, for at least a dozen men if it was a long voyage, fewer if they were hugging the coast and putting in at night. To the rear would be quarters for the captain and one mate, perhaps. There was no galley on a boat this size; all cooking would be done on deck on a brazier, which meant that in foul weather the crew went hungry.
Jim followed Nefu into his quarters, which were barely more than a bed over pull-out drawers, and a single fold-down table for charts and maps. A single lantern hung from a chain above the desk and a chest nestled in the corner for whatever the captain couldnt cram into the two drawers below his bunk.
Sitting in the only seat, a three-legged stool that was just an inch too short for the table, Nefu said, Now, what can I do for you?
Jim thought about what he should say, and decided truth was absolutely required, but how much wasnt clear. At last he said, Kaseem sent me here, with Destan as my guide. We were pursued and he said if he did not return by sunrise I was to make my way here and ask for you.
Nefu was silent for a moment, then said, Who pursued you?
I do not know, Jim answered slowly, looking the old sea captain in the eyes.
After another moment of silence, the captain said, But you have an idea.
Yes, said Jim. I may be mad, but I think they were part of a group not seen for years. Nighthawks.
The captain let out a long sigh. Where to?
I need to get to Sorcerers Isle.
Impossible. The Quegans are patrolling between their miserable island and Lands End, and Keshian warships patrol the coast from here to Lands End. The Kingdom navy is bottled up there, but they send fast raiders out now and again to punish Kesh for her aggression.
News? asked Jim.
Little, but rumours bloom like flowers in the desert after rain. The captain stood up. If we are to time the run to Sorcerers Isle, we must leave now.
I thought you said it was impossible.
Nefu smiled and suddenly years fell away from him. There was a glint in his eye. I said it was impossible. I didnt say I couldnt do it. Wait here. He turned and left.
I thought you said it was impossible.
Nefu smiled and suddenly years fell away from him. There was a glint in his eye. I said it was impossible. I didnt say I couldnt do it. Wait here. He turned and left.
For the first time in weeks, Jim found himself laughing. If Kaseem hadnt already taken this smuggler into his service, hed recruit him for his own Mockers.
Assuming of course there was still a Guild of Thieves by the time he returned to Krondor.
Assuming there was even a Krondor to return to.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Discovery
CHILD ATTACKED.
The three demons she ambushed turned and presented an impressive array of fangs and claws, and one began to incant a spell. A magic-user! She modified her attack and ripped his throat out before he could continue his magic and he fell to the rocks, gurgling his cry of pain.
The other two would have overmatched her, but she now had allies and they came swarming over the rocks behind the two remaining demons and, despite being smaller, overwhelmed them quickly.
Eat, she said to her small band. But that one is mine, she added, indicating the magic-user, and beckoned for Belog to join her. She desired magic and without a teacher, eating magic-users was her only means of acquiring that ability. Her skills were rudimentary, primitive even. She could channel a push of energy which might topple a small opponent, or cast a small flame, but that was all.
For an unknowable period of time she had been leading this band of demons across a rugged landscape, through volcano-strewn broken lands of basalt and red rock. The sky was dark grey at noon and the sun seemed to be in an odd orbit, never quite sinking below the horizon. Belog said that meant they were reaching a nexus, one of the six poles in their realm: the East Pole. The Darkness seemed to have converged on the Heart Nexus, where the East, West, North, South, Top, and Bottom Poles intersected. Energies cascaded unexpectedly along the surfaces of the clouds above them and the air stank of ash and bitter minerals as fiery mountains spewed clouds of dark smoke and cinders up into the canopy of grey and black.
Child had begun to gather followers over the last month, allowing those she felt unable to contribute to be devoured by the others. She was even generous in her allocation of who ate first, waiting until the end to claim her portion. She was still struggling to define herself, but at some point she had become aware of the concepts of generosity and gratitude. Being generous could engender thanks, or project weakness, depending on the context. Gratitude could generate true allegiance, or feigned loyalty disguising betrayal. She was struggling to find the nuances of these differences.
She was becoming more subtle, and Belog was becoming more fascinated. It was clear to him that she was unique among the People. She was something unpredictable. It was hard to know whether she was his greatest discovery or his most dangerous.
She glanced around as they ate. I find this place unpleasant. I preferred the last place we rested.
He tilted his head slightly in a gesture she had come to understand meant he was pondering what she had said and was framing a reply. He scratched at his cheek absently with a sharp, gleaming talon and said, Really? The energy planes are far more dangerous in these volcanic tablelands. The vortex rifts and void windows can destroy with a touch or snatch you out of this reality and transport you to another. He made a claws snapping gesture for emphasis.
She shrugged. I dont know why, but it pleased me to look at the cascading lights in the night and see the shimmering silver lights during the day. It gave me a similar feeling to when I eat something particularly tasty or look at certain males. As she said this, she cast a glance at one of the young male demons who had been spared because he was on his way to becoming a daunting fighter. Muscular arms hung from a massive upper torso, yet his waist was still small and his legs were slender. Were they still living in the city of Dastaas, he would have long since been killed and consumed or recruited as a soldier in one Demon Lords faction or another, perhaps even marked to become a City Guardian or palace guard.
Belog observed Child watch the male and sighed silently. She would choose to mate soon and that could create difficulties. The nature of the People was that procreation was an adjunct to the spawning pits, where life in the realm originated and where demonkind arose. It was from the pits that a demon re-emerged after death, with some or all memories intact depending on the circumstances of death. Violent deaths, which were in the majority, often robbed the demon of some memory. But birth was another aspect of creation, and it was relatively infrequent. Demons had mated for pleasure as long as they had been in existence, but the societies in which they lived were never stable enough for young to be successfully produced in any significant number. Rarely did a pregnant female survive, and when a child was born, it was often devoured, often by its own mother in retribution for the pain and inconvenience of child-bearing. A few mothers chose to nurture their child, perhaps thinking to create their first vassal, but it rarely ended well. Adolescent demons were always fractious and rarely around for long; those that survived to adulthood tended to the cunning or powerful, and picked their conflicts wisely.
The rise of the kings had changed things, in the First Kingdoms and now the Second Kingdoms, and Dahun had been foremost in reforming and remaking his people; the spawning pits still existed how could they not? But families, a new and alien concept, were mandated and pairs were appointed to breed, Childs mother and father among them.
No one could claim to understand why Lord Dahun had done this, but none would openly question him. It was supposed by the Archivists that at some point he would instruct them on what was to come next in the forced evolution of the People, but the arrival of the Darkness had thrown all into chaos.
When Dahun vanished, society had not just reverted to its former state: it had disintegrated. Those left surviving the anarchy that once was Dahuns Kingdom would be little better than the Mad Ones, let alone the Savages in whose lands they now trespassed. Belog was forced to admit that if it wasnt for the strength of Childs will and personality, this little band would not exist, and he would most certainly already be dead.
He watched as Child finished devouring the brain of the magic-user and applied herself to his torso while keeping her gaze upon the young male. Finally she said, I like his look.
Beauty, said Belog. You have come to appreciate the enjoyment that is derived from perceiving things that are pleasing to look at, irrespective of their usefulness or danger. You feel better just looking at the energy plains or the setting sun, or that young male.
Yes, I do, she said. Tell me more about beauty, she instructed, and he did.
They left the volcanic plateau and found themselves entering a realm of thick bramble, black with huge thorns, shot through with meandering pathways that might lead somewhere. Where are we? Child asked Belog.
I am uncertain, he replied. I believe we are in the region known as the Blasted Plain, a harsh land before we reach the heart of Maargs kingdom.