Malar knelt, and when Jimmy put his left boot on the servants shoulders, Malar stood, grabbing Jimmys ankles to support him as he was lifted to a point just below the light. Jimmy fought for balance a moment, but Malar kept his motion steady, and Jimmy kept his position as he grabbed a support in the floor above him to keep from falling.
Great! said Jimmy. Its a cellar door, off its hinges. Jimmy got his fingers in the crack and pushed. I cant get any leverage. He said, Let go, and as Malar complied, Jimmy jumped down to stand before his servant. No way to get it open.
Are there no stairs in this accursed dungeon?
Jimmy chuckled. Hardly a dungeon; a maze, no doubt. But youre right and Im an idiot. He sighed theatrically. There are several places with stone steps up to basements. He looked around in the gloom, barely illuminated by the faint flickering of his torch. If Im not mistaken, one isnt too far from here. Pray to whatever gods you worship that the top of the steps is unblocked.
Malar muttered an almost silent benediction and followed behind Jimmy.
Dash heard something ahead of him in the dark and whispered, Dont move!
The men behind him stopped their forward motion as sounds around them echoed. What is began Talwin.
He never finished as Reese struck him from behind, knocking him from his feet. Here! he shouted.
Suddenly men were swarming in the dark and lanterns uncovered, blinding Dash momentarily. He blinked trying to see beyond the brilliant lights, but could only see dark shapes hurrying toward him. Thinking of nothing else to do, he leaped forward, trying to dodge between two of the shapes. One man lunged at him, missing, while the other was slow in turning, with Dash past him before he could be intercepted.
Dash slogged as quickly through the knee-deep water as he could, and behind a pair of lanterns he saw movement. Dodging to his right, he rushed to another potential exit as arms grabbed him from behind, dragging him down into the water.
Dash turned, kicking hard, and felt his foot strike the mans leg. Dash scuttled backwards in the water, and another man seized him. A voice in the gloom said, Theyre making too much noise! Shut them up!
Dash felt pain for a brief moment as someone struck him hard behind the ear with a billy club, then he sank into unconsciousness.
Jimmy pushed the trap up and with relief he found that it moved. He glanced around under the slight opening he created, and seeing no movement, he heaved. The large wooden trap swung over, to crash noisily against the floor behind him. He hurried up into the dark room as a cloud of soot exploded into the air from the trap.
Malar sneezed as he came up. The room was the back storage area of a tannery near the river to the north of the city, and it had taken Jimmy most of the day and into the evening to discover it.
The roof of the building was gone, probably accounting for its being abandoned, as the nights would still be cold. Jimmy looked around and saw lights in a few buildings nearby, but nothing close by. Malar could be seen in the faint light inside the building. If Im as dirty as you, wed better stay out of sight.
Good advice, young sir, agreed the servant. You are dirtier than a coal seller. One glance at us, and any fool could tell we had been somewhere we should not be.
A sound caused Jimmy to hold up his hand. What
At once he pulled his sword, as men came swarming into the room, over the burned-out wall and through the single door. Only a fool would fight, as more than a dozen swords were leveled in their direction. Jimmy made a clear gesture of letting the sword fall from his hand as he stepped back.
Hands roughly grabbed him and tied his arms behind, while two men did the same to Malar. They all wore rough fighting garb, leather, and gambesons, but no metal armor, which would make noise and warn away someone coming up through the trapdoor.
With a heavy accent, a man came to stand before the two and said, Watch a rat hole long enough, and a rat peers out, eh? Glancing at Malar, he said, Or two. To the men he said, Bring them along, and Jimmy and Malar were hustled out the door and down the street.
Dash waited in silence. He had recovered his wits as he was taken to what he presumed had once been an underground storage shed. There was no light. He had explored his environment by touch and on a couple of occasions wished he hadnt.
It was a roughly twelve-by-twelve-foot room, with a single door barred from the other side. He felt up and down both edges, but all hinges and locks were on the other side. He was inside until someone released him. From the stench, several rodents had recently died in the room. Had he eaten in the last two days, he probably would have added to the mess, but his captors would have to be satisfied with subjecting him to a fit of the dry heaves.
After several painful minutes of gagging, he had managed to overcome the impulse. Now, about two hours later, he judged, he barely noticed the odor unless he thought about it.
Mostly he was attempting to chart his best possible course. That he was in this dark room rather than being hauled before one of General Dukos officers suggested to Dash that he was a prisoner of someone besides the invaders. The first possibility to occur to him was that he had been captured by Kingdom soldiers hiding from the invaders. If so, he could quickly identify himself and recruit them.
More likely, he was in the clutches of outlaws, and in that case, he would have to bargain. His companions were missing, probably locked away in a similar room somewhere nearby.
Suddenly light shone around the edges of the door and he could hear footfalls approaching. As bright as the light seemed through the cracks, when the door was opened, it blinded him. A voice from without said, You awake?
Yes, said Dash, finding his voice was harsh from dryness. Any chance of water?
Lets see if we let you live, first, came the gruff answer.
A pair of hands reached in and yanked Dash to his feet, and he was pulled into a larger room. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the lantern, he glanced around the room. It was indeed the basement of a burned-out inn or hotel, and he had been locked in a storage closet. There were ample signs of life in the building, for crates and bales of goods were stacked around the room.
A half dozen men surrounded him, none with weapons evident. It was obvious they felt confident enough that they could keep him from escaping. As he blinked against the light from the lantern, he noticed that one man did hold a large billy, and he was sure he would use it if Dash made any sign of attempting to flee.
What now? said Dash.
Come along, said the man with a lumpy visage.
Dash said nothing and followed, walking behind two men, with two more guarding the rear. The last man stayed in the storage room, for what reason Dash could only imagine.
Dash was led down a long dark tunnel, one with a lantern at each end, featureless and damp. He listened, but only heard the sound of boot leather and nails on stone. If they were close to the city streets above, those streets were deserted.
The man in front pushed open a door, allowing the others to enter a very large room. It had a dozen torches guttering in sconces. A wooden table, not too badly charred, had been hauled down from the destroyed tavern above-ground and now served as the site of what Dash took to be some sort of court or tribunal.
At the head of the long table sat an old man. He looked deformed, or crippled, as he hunched over with left shoulder lower than the right, his left arm in a sling. Around his head he wore a scarf, covering his left eye. Below it, Dash saw the mans face was scarred, badly burned. A young woman stood to his right. Dash looked at her closely. Under other circumstances she would have warranted a second glance, as she was tall, slender, and under the soot and mud, still attractive, with dark hair and eyes. But in these circumstances, what commanded Dashs attention was her fashion dressed like a man and armed to the teeth; he saw a sword, daggers in belt and boots, and he was certain she had more weapons secreted on her, such being the practice of thieves. She wore a dirty white shirt, now almost charcoal color, a leather vest, mens riding breeches, and a red scarf tied around her head. Dark hair fell from under the scarf, and down her back.
With a surprisingly deep voice, she said, You stand accused.
Dash summoned as much confidence as he could manage in such circumstances and said, No doubt.
The lumpy-faced man said, Before youre convicted, have you anything to say in your defense?
Dash shrugged. Would it do any good?
The old man chuckled and the man who had first apprehended Dash glanced his way. Probably not, he said, but it wont hurt.
May I first inquire of what crime Im being accused?
The lumpy-faced man again glanced at the old man, who waved a curt gesture of permission. You stand accused of trespass. You were found someplace you were not given permission to pass.
Dash blew out a long breath. So thats it, then. Mockers.
The young woman glanced at the old man, who motioned with his good hand for her to come close. He whispered in her ear, and she said, Why do you think us thieves, Puppy?
Because smugglers would have cut my throat and been on their way, and Dukos guards would have had me under questioning up there. He pointed upward. Youve separated me from my companions, which means youre trying to find conflicts in our stories, and one of my companions brought you down on us; Reese seems more likely to be a thief than anything else I can imagine. Glancing around the room, he said, So this is whats left of Mothers?
The old man said something, and the woman said, What do you know of Mothers? Youre not one of us.
My grandfather, said Dash, knowing that at this point he had nothing to lose and everything to gain with the truth.
What about him? Who is your grandfather?
Was, said Dash. My grandfather was Jimmy the Hand.
Several people spoke at once, and the old man signaled for silence. The young woman leaned over and then repeated his words. Your name?
Dashel Jamison. My father is Arutha, Duke of Krondor.
Without waiting, the girl said, So youve come spying for the King.
Dash attempted a grin. Well, the Prince, actually. But yes, Im here to scout out Dukos defenses, so that Patrick can retake Krondor.
The old man waved a badly burned hand and spoke to the woman, who said, Come closer, Puppy.
Dash did as he was told and came to stand before the old man and the young woman. The old mans one good eye studied Dashs face for a long moment as the woman held a lantern close to it, so every detail could be seen.
Finally, the old man spoke loud enough for all to hear. Leave us. His voice sounded close to ruined, dry gravel being scraped, a strangled sound.
Everyone but the woman did, instantly and without hesitation, and the old man said, Well, then. It is a small world, boy.
Dash leaned over to study the burned features before him and he said, Do I know you, sir?
No, said the old man slowly, as if every word hurt. But I know you by name and lineage, Dashel, son of Arutha.
Am I to know your name, sir?
The woman glanced at the old man, but his one good eye stayed fastened upon Dash. Im your great-uncle, boy, thats who I am. Im the Upright Man.
Chapter Five Confrontations
ARUTHA FROWNED.
Pug stood at the door studying the Duke of Krondor a moment, before he said softly, May I speak with you a moment?
Arutha glanced upward and waved him in. Grandfather. Please.
You appear distracted, said Pug, sitting in a chair across a large oak table Arutha used for work.
I was.
Jimmy and Dash?
Arutha nodded as he looked out a window at the warm spring afternoon. His eyes narrowed. They were deep sunk and had dark bags underneath, revealing the lack of sleep that had plagued him since sending his sons into harms way. There was grey in Aruthas hair; Pug hadnt seen so much just a month before.
Arutha looked at Pug and said, You needed to see me?
We have a problem.
Arutha nodded. We have many. Which particular one are we discussing?
Patrick.
Arutha stood and moved around the table to the door and glanced through. A pair of clerks outside were hunched over documents, reviewing reports and requests for supplies, lost in their work.
Arutha closed the door. He returned to his seat and said, What do you propose?
I propose you send a message to the King.
And? Arutha looked directly into the magicians eyes.
I think we need another commander in the West.
Arutha sighed, and in that moment Pug could hear the fatigue, stress, worry, and doubt in the man, expressed in as eloquent a fashion as if an orator had spoken for an hour. Pug instantly knew the outcome of this discussion before Arutha said another word. Yet he allowed the Duke to continue. History teaches us that we often do not get the best men for a particular job. It also teaches us that if the rest of us do ours, well somehow manage.
Pug leaned forward and said, We are this close he held forefinger and thumb apart a scant portion of an inch to war with Great Kesh. Dont you think it proper to finish the one we have before we start another?
What I think is immaterial, said Arutha. I counsel the Prince, but its his realm. Im only allowed to manage it for him.
Pug remained silent and stared at Arutha a long moment.
Suddenly Arutha allowed his temper to get the better of him, slamming his hand down on the table. I am not my father, damn it!
Pug remained silent for another moment, then said, I never said you were or that you should be.
No, but you were thinking, How would James have dealt with this?
Pug said, It was your mother that read minds, Arutha, not I.
Arutha leaned forward. Youre my grandfather, yet I hardly know you. He glanced upward toward the ceiling, as if collecting his thoughts, then said, And that means you hardly know me.
You were raised on the other side of the Kingdom, Arutha. We saw each other from time to time
Arutha said, Its difficult growing up surrounded on all sides by legends. Did you know that?
Pug shrugged. I am not sure.
Arutha said, My father was Jimmy the Hand, the thief who became the most powerful noble in the Kingdom. I was named for the man who is almost unarguably the most brilliant ruler the Western Realm has known.