We need you, said the Isalani.
My King needs me, said Erik.
The world needs you, said Nakor, lowering his voice so that those nearby would not overhear. You are the only man of rank in the Kingdom Pug still trusts.
Erik nodded. I understand why he chose to separate himself from the Crown. He took another drink of wine, and handed the empty cup to his squire. When the lad made to fill it again, Erik waved him away. But did he have to embarrass the royal personage of the Prince of Krondor in doing so? Publicly? In front of the army of Great Kesh?
Old business, Erik.
I wish it were so, said Erik. He lowered his voice further. You will know this if you dont already. Prince Robert has been recalled.
This is bad, said Nakor, nodding.
Weve had three princes in Krondor since I gained rank, and I am only Duke because King Ryan took Lord James with him to Rillanon. My temporary position has lasted nine years, and if I live long enough, will probably last another nine.
Why was Robert recalled?
You have a better chance of uncovering the truth than me, said Erik. After a long moment of silence during which he watched the evening sky darken, the Duke said, Politics. Robert was never a popular man with the Congress of Lords. Lord James is a western noble, which rankles with many of those who wished to be first among the Kings advisors; James is a shrewd man, almost as shrewd as his grandfather. He glanced at Nakor. There was a name to conjure with, Lord James of Krondor.
Nakor grinned. Jimmy was a handful before he became a duke. I know. He glanced up at the soldiers who were now ready, waiting for his signal to begin the climb. Still, we tend to remember the greatness and forget the flaws; and Jimmy made his share of mistakes. If Robert will not serve, then who?
There are other cousins to the King more able He looked at Nakor and his expression was sad. It may come to civil war if the Kings not careful. Hes directly descended from King Borric, but he has no sons of his own, and there are many cousins, most of them with a valid claim to the throne if he does not produce an heir.
Nakor shrugged. Ive lived a long time, Erik. Ive seen kings come and go in different lands. The nation will survive.
But at what price, old friend?
Who is to be the new Prince of Krondor?
That is the question, isnt it? said the Duke, standing up and signalling to his men to make ready. The sky was sufficiently dark: it was time to begin the assault on the keep. Prince Edward is well-liked, intelligent, a good soldier, and someone who could forge consensus in the Congress.
So the King will name someone else, said Nakor with a chuckle as Erik started forward along the draw.
Erik said nothing, but gestured once and two men hurried out from behind rocks below the keep, both with loops of cord around their shoulders. They started to climb the rockface, using only their hands and feet.
Nakor watched closely as the two men disappeared into the gloom above. They moved silently like spiders crawling up a wall. Nakor knew how dangerous it was to make that ascent, but he also knew that it was the only way to get a rope down for the soldiers below.
Turning to Nakor, Erik said, Im thinking Prince Henry will get the nod, for he can be easily enough replaced if Queen Anne bears a boy. If Edward sits in Krondor for any length of time, the King may not be able to replace him with a son in a few years His voice trailed off as he watched the men reach the lip of the pool.
Nakor said, Odd place for a bolt-hole, over a hundred feet above ground, isnt it?
I imagine the Nighthawks did some work around here some years back. My men report tool marks on the rockface. There was probably a path down to the floor of the run that was demolished. He sighed. Its time. Wheres your man?
Nakor nodded behind them. Sleeping, under the wagon.
Get him, then, said Erik von Darkmoor.
Nakor hurried back to the luggage wagon, where the two boys responsible for looking after the stores from the town waited. They spoke in hushed tones, understanding how dangerous this mission was; even so, they were only boys and the waiting was making them restless. Underneath the wagon lay a solitary figure, who roused quickly when Nakor kicked lightly at his boots.
Ralan Bek wiggled out from under the wagon, then unfolded himself to tower over Nakor. The youth was six inches over six feet in height, and he loomed over the diminutive gambler. Nakor knew he was possessed by some aspect of the God of Evil, a tiny sliver as Nakor thought of it; an infinitesimal portion of the god himself, and that made Bek extraordinarily dangerous. The only advantage Nakor possessed was years of experience and what he thought of as his tricks.
Time?
Nakor nodded. Theyll be up there in a moment. You know what to do.
Bek nodded. He reached down and picked up his hat, a hat he had claimed as a prize from a man he had killed before Nakors eyes, and he wore it like a badge of honour. The broad-brimmed black felt hat, with its single long eagles feather hanging down from the hatband, gave the youth an almost rakish air, but Nakor knew that beneath the young mans convivial exterior seethed a potential for harm, as well as preternatural strength and speed.
Bek trotted over to the face of the cliff, and waited. A coil of line was dropped quietly from above, followed a moment later by another. Soldiers quickly tied heavier rope to the lines, and this was pulled up. When the first rope was made secure, Ralan Bek unbuckled his scabbard belt and tied it over one shoulder, so that his sword now rested on his back. With powerful ease he pulled himself up the rope, feet firmly on the rockface, as if he had been climbing this way all his life. Other soldiers followed, but Beks speed up the rope was unmatchable.
Erik watched him ascend into the darkness. Why are you so insistent he goes first, Nakor?
He may not be invulnerable, Erik, but hes a lot harder to kill than any of your men. Magnus will look out for those guarding the main entrance to the keep, but if theres magic on this back door, Bek has the best chance of survival.
Time was I would be the first one up the rope.
Nakor gripped his friends arm. Im glad to see youve got smarter over the years, Erik.
I notice youre not volunteering to be up there, either.
Nakor just grinned.
Bek waited, running his fingers over the doors outline. It was a rock, like the others, and in the darkness he couldnt see the crack his fingertips told him marked the edge of the entrance to the bolt-hole. He let his senses drift, for he had discovered early in life that sometimes he could anticipate things an attack, an unexpected turn of the trail, the mood of a horse, or the fall of the dice. He thought of it as his lucky feeling.
Yes, he thought. There was something just beyond this door, something very interesting. Ralan Bek did not know what fear was. As Nakor had suggested to him, there was something very different, even alien, about the young man from Novindus. Glancing down to where the little man waited with the old soldier, he found he could barely make them out in the dark. Lantern, he whispered, and a soldier behind him handed him a specially constructed, small, shuttered lantern. He pointed it at Nakor and Erik and opened it and shut it again quickly. That was the agreed-upon signal to proceed cautiously.
Not that Ralan truly understand caution. It was as alien to his thoughts as fear. He tried to understand a lot of things Nakor talked to him about, but sometimes he just nodded and pretended to understand the strange little man in order to keep him from repeating himself endlessly.
Ralan continued to run his fingers along the seam until he determined that the door was designed to be opened only from the inside. He shrugged. Bar, he demanded, and a soldier stepped past him and inserted the crowbar where he pointed. The soldier struggled for a moment, until Bek said, Let me.
With preternatural power, he forced open a crack, and the door swung suddenly wide with a protesting sound of twisting metal as an iron bar was ripped from its restraining mechanism. With a loud clank it hit the stones and instantly Bek had his sword out and was through the opening. Unconcerned about the noise, Bek turned towards the soldiers and held up a restraining hand. Wait! he said in low tones, and then he entered.
The soldiers knew their orders. Bek would enter first and they would only follow when he gave the order or ten minutes after, whichever came first. One soldier turned over an hourglass bearing markings, red lines drawn to indicate demarcations of ten minutes. Eriks hand-picked men hunkered down before the entrance, along the edge of the pool, listening to the sound of the waterfall in the darkness.
Bek moved cautiously, ignoring his lack of sight. He stepped lightly as he progressed, not putting his full weight down until he knew he wasnt stepping into a pit, or triggering some sort of trap. He knew he could take a lot of damage hed been wounded several times in his short life but he had no more appetite for injury than the next man. Besides, if what Nakor said was true, there should be some fun ahead.
Thinking of the little man caused Bek to pause a moment. Bek didnt like him; but then again Bek didnt like anyone; he didnt dislike anyone either. His feelings towards other people were fairly predictable: they were either allies or opponents or they were inconsequential, like a horse or some other animal, sometimes useful, but mostly not worth the attention. But the little man stirred some strange feelings in Bek, feelings he couldnt put a name to. He didnt know if it was familiarity, or enjoyment or what. His pleasures tended to the intense: watching men bleed and scream, or rough coupling with women. He knew he liked fighting. The crashing of steel, the clamour of voices, blood and death. He liked watching things die, he had decided some time before. It fascinated him to see that one moment an animal or a man might be alive, aware, moving, and the next it was lying there, just so much meat. Not even useful meat if it was a man.
Bek expected to kill some very dangerous men, and looked forward to it.
A faint sound from ahead caused him to forget Nakor and his confusion over things the odd gambler said all the time. Someone was moving at the far end of a tunnel and Beks entire body quivered with anticipation.
He was supposed to go back, but he had lost track of time how long was ten minutes, anyway? The other soldiers would come in after him, and besides, Bek was anxious to be about some slaughter. It had been a very long time since hed enjoyed a good fight. Nakor had done something to him, and often his head hurt when he tried to think about things. But Nakor had said it was all right for him to kill anyone who was hiding up in this old keep, except for more of the old soldiers fighters who might be coming in from the other side.
Ralan Bek found his head swimming, so with a grunt he shoved aside all thoughts except finding the author of the noise he had heard in the darkness. He picked up his pace, and almost fell face forward into an open pit. Only his lucky feeling caused him to pull back at the last instant.
He took out a small cylinder Nakor had given him, and pulled off the top. Inside was a bundle of sticks, one of which he pulled out. He recapped the cylinder and put it back in his tunic, then waved the stick rapidly in the air, and after a few seconds a tiny flame erupted from the end. As Nakor had promised him, after the total darkness of the tunnels, hed be surprised at the amount of light the small burning stick could provide.
Bek looked down at a pit that yawned at his feet, and couldnt see the bottom. He was glad he hadnt fallen, not because he feared injury, but because he would have had to wait at the bottom until the old soldiers fighters caught up with him. He didnt know if theyd even notice until one of them fell in and he didnt relish the notion of one of them landing on top of him; and he didnt know if theyd bring enough rope to haul him out.
He took two steps back then with a powerful stride launched himself above the pit and landed easily on the other side, a dozen feet away from his take-off. He dropped the flaming stick to the floor, grinding it under his boot heel.
He paused to see if anyone might have heard his landing, and when he was certain he had gone unnoticed, he continued down the hall. For an instant he wondered if he should have left something to warn the soldiers behind him of the pit. Then he wondered where that thought had come from; why should he worry if one of the old soldiers men fell into the pit? This was too difficult to consider now: it was something Nakor would understand. He had no time to dwell on it.
Ahead he could hear faint voices, and he knew mayhem awaited.
Magnus studied the sky and judged that it was time to move, so he signalled to two guards to accompany him up the long entryway to the ancient keep. The road appeared to have not been in use for years, but Magnus had secretly inspected it at dawn and saw by tiny signs that the disuse had been artfully forged. Someone had been using this road recently, but endeavouring to keep that fact a secret. That as much as anything convinced him that his fathers faith in Joval Delan, the hired mind-reader, had not been misplaced. Some local bandit, smuggler, or gang of errant youths would not have the means or inclination to do so thorough a job.
The soldiers had been creeping up the draw known as Cavell Run, which was the only obvious approach to the ancient keep. Magnus was not the student of things military his father and brother were, but even he could imagine what a lethal prospect attempting to storm this keep would present. Only the rumours of demonic possession and a curse, followed by nearly a century of peace in the region would have kept such an obvious military asset unused.
Still, he had other concerns, the first of which was to ensure that the men with him went undiscovered for as long as possible. Magnus was still young compared to most powerful practitioners of magic, and he had inherited certain abilities from his parents. His mother had always possessed a finer instinct for detecting the presence of magic than his father, though Pug was better able to determine the nature of a spell or device once it was uncovered. Magnus had the happy fortune to have inherited both abilities. And so he sensed and understood at least four magical traps located between the floor of the Run and the ancient gate at the top of the ramp.
With the deft moves of a master of his craft, Magnus countered each spell quickly, allowing the soldiers from Eriks command to approach on silent feet. If there was a lookout above he would have been hard pressed to notice the darting grey figures hunched over, moving along the edges of the roadway in the nights gloom. Small moon didnt rise for another hour and its light was faint even on clear nights. Tonight was overcast.