RAYMOND E. FEIST
&
STEVE STIRLING
Jimmy the Hand
Copyright
Voyager An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 7785 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpervoyagerbooks.com
Published by Voyager 2003
First published in Great Britain by Voyager 2003
Copyright ©Raymond E. Feist & Steve Stirling 2003
The Authors assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.
Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2012 ISBN 9780007370238
Version: 2014-07-31
To my readers:
Without your enthusiasm Id be selling cars for a living.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Raymond E. Feist
To Jan and to Ray, Will, and Joel: the only guys who could have brought this off.
S.M. Stirling
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Chapter One: Escape
Chapter Two: Crackdown
Chapter Three: Aftermath
Chapter Four: Plotting
Chapter Five: Rescue
Chapter Six: Journey
Chapter Seven: Tragedy
Chapter Eight: Family
Chapter Nine: Encounter
Chapter Ten: The Baron
Chapter Eleven: Discovery
Chapter Twelve: Escape
Chapter Thirteen: Hiding
Chapter Fourteen: Abduction
Chapter Fifteen: Discovery
Chapter Sixteen: Developments
Chapter Seventeen: Plan
Chapter Eighteen: Magic
Epilogue: Krondor
Afterword
Acknowledgements
About the Author
By The Same Author
About the Publisher
Map
Chapter One Escape
Men cursed as they grappled.
Jimmy the Hand slipped eellike between knots of fighting men on the darkened quayside. Steel glittered in torch- and lantern-light, shining in ruddy-red arcs as horsemen slashed at the elusive Mockers who strove to hold them back. Only seconds more were needed for Prince Arutha and Princess Anita to make their escape, and the fight had reached the frenzied violence of desperation. Screams of rage and pain split the night, accompanied by the iron hammering of shod hooves throwing up sparks as they smashed down on stone, to the counterpoint of the clangour of steel on steel.
Bravos and street-toughs struggled against trained soldiers, but the soldiers horses slipped and slithered on the slick boards and stones of the docks and the flickering light was even more uncertain than the footing. Knives stabbed upward and horses shied as hands gripped booted feet and heaved Bas-Tyran menat-arms out of the saddle. The harsh iron-and-salt smell of blood was strong even against the garbage stink of the harbour, and a horse screamed piteously as it collapsed, hamstrung. The riders leg was caught in the stirrup, crushed beneath his mount, and he screamed as the horse thrashed, then fell silent as ragged figures swarmed over him.
Jimmy fell flat under the slash of a sword, rolled unscathed between the flailing hooves of a war-horse scrabbling to find better footing, tripped one of the men-at-arms who was fighting dismounted against three Mockers, then dashed down the length of the dock, his feet light on the boards.
At the end of the quay he threw himself flat on the rough splintery wood to hail the longboat below:
Farewell! he called to the Princess Anita.
She turned toward his voice, her lovely face little more than a pale blur in the pre-dawn light. But he knew that her sea-green eyes would be wide with astonishment.
Im glad I came to say goodbye, he thought, an unfamiliar sensation squeezing at his chest below the breastbone. Its worth a little risk to life and limb.
Im glad I came to say goodbye, he thought, an unfamiliar sensation squeezing at his chest below the breastbone. Its worth a little risk to life and limb.
He grinned at her, but nervously; the fight with Jocko Radburns men was heating up and his back felt very exposed. It wouldnt be long before the Mockers broke and ran; standup fights werent their style.
Another, taller figure stood in the longboat. Here, Prince Arutha called. Use it in good health!
A rapier in its scabbard flew up to his hand. He snatched it out of the air and rolled over, just in time to avoid a kick from one of Radburns bully-boys. Jimmy rolled again as the man pursued him, heavy-booted foot raised to stamp on him like an insect. Letting the sword go he reached up and grabbed toe and heel with crossed hands, giving it a vicious twist that set the bully roaring and twisting to keep it from being broken. That put him off-balance, and a kick placed with vicious precision toppled him screaming into the water. His gear dragged him under before the echoes of his scream could die.
Time to go! Jimmy panted.
Rolling up to his feet, Jimmy yanked the rapier from its scabbard and looked about for a worthy target preferably one blocking the best escape route. Below, he could just make out the rhythmic splashing of the oars counterpoint the chaos of the battle all around him. Farewell, he said again in his heart. Then, as a pile of baled cloth blazed up: Ooops!
Lanterns began to appear on the boats around them, and watchmen from the surrounding warehouses came running, while from all around men called out: What passes? and Who goes there? And a growing shout: Fire! Fire!
A man in the black and gold of Bas-Tyra snatched a lantern from one of the watchmen and marched toward the end of the dock, giving Jimmy an idea of whom to attack. The soldier grinned at the sight of the thin, ragged boy before him.
Brought me a new sword, have you? he said. Looks like a good one. Too good for gutter-scum whose whiskers havent yet seen a razor. My thanks.
He swung a backhand cut at Jimmy, a lazy stroke with more strength than style. No doubt he imagined that he could easily smash the rapier from the young thiefs hand and then hack him down.
The finely-made blade was alive in Jimmys hand; heavy, but perfectly balanced, limber as a striking snake. It flashed up almost of itself and turned the clumsy stroke away with a long scringgg of metal on metal. The guardsman grunted in astonishment as the redirected force of his own stroke spun him around, then shouted in pain as Jimmy danced nimbly aside and slashed at him.
More by luck than skill, the sharp steel caught the guardsman on the wrist, parting the tough leather of his gauntlet and cutting a shallow groove in the flesh beneath. With a gasp, the man shook his wrist and took a step back, disbelief visible on his coarse features even in the darkness.
Jimmy laughed in delighted surprise. Clearly not everyone had Aruthas skill with the blade. The hours hed spent training with the Prince while waiting for Trevor Hulls smugglers to find a ship for Arutha and that old pirate, Amos Trask, to steal for their escape had paid off. Jimmy felt as if the soldier moved at half Prince Aruthas speed. He laughed again.
That laugh galvanized the soldier into action and he struck out at the young thief with blow after powerful blow.
Like a peasant threshing grain, Jimmy thought he had little experience of matters rural, but a deep contempt for rubes.
The blows were hard and fast, but each was a copy of the one before. Instinct led him to raise the rapier, and the cuts flowed off steel blade and intricate swept guard; he had to put his left palm on his right wrist more than once, lest sheer force knock the weapon out of his hand. But he knew he was moments away from dodging to his left, thrusting hard and taking the soldier in the stomach. Arutha had always cautioned patience in judging an opponent.
An instant later Jimmys back met the side of a bale; glancing to either side he realized hed been neatly trapped in a short, dead-end passage of piled cargo. The man before him grinned and made teasing thrusts with his sword.
Caught like the little sewer rat you are, he growled.
The man raised his sword and Jimmy readied himself to execute his move, confident he would be through with the soldier in another moment. Then, suddenly, a pair of grappling bodies hurtled by, each man with a hand on the wrist of the others knife-hand, stamping and cursing as they whirled in a circle like a fast and deadly country dance. They tumbled into the Bas-Tyran man-at-arms, throwing him forward with a cry of surprise. Jimmy didnt hesitate. He felt a mild instant of regret that he couldnt execute his fancy passing thrust, but he couldnt ignore such an easily acquired target. Jimmy stabbed out, and felt the needle point of the rapier sink through muscle and jar on bone, the strange sensation flowing up through the steel and hilt to shiver in his shoulder and lower back.
The man dropped his lantern with a cry that turned into a screamed curse as the glass shattered. The splattered oil blazed high, driving the wounded soldier back. He dropped his weapon and began to beat at spots of flame on his clothes, while Jimmy climbed the pile of bales like a monkey.
You should know better than to corner a rat! he called over his shoulder as he bounded down the back of the pile and struck the ground running.
He heard someone whistle the code to withdraw and saw Mockers streaming into alleys and side-streets like wisps of fog scattering before a high wind. Jimmy raced to join them, but before he ducked into an alley he turned to look out into the bay. Trevor Hull and his smugglers were diving into the water, some swimming under the docks while others made for longboats standing by in the water. Beyond them, Jimmy could make out the form of the Sea Swift turning toward the broken blockade line, canvas fluttering free and catching the light like ghost-clouds in the dark; he raised his arm to wave. He knew it was useless; the Princess would have been hurried below to safety as soon as shed been brought aboard. But he could no more have resisted that wave than he could have not spoken that one last word to her.
The young thief turned and ran down the alley, as light on his feet as a cat and almost as keenly aware of his surroundings. He might not be a great swordsman yet but fleeing through the darkened alleys of Krondor was a skill hed mastered thoroughly long before he reached the ripe old age of thirteen.
As he dodged through the byways of the city, his thoughts turned to the time he had spent with the Princess and Prince during the last few weeks. The Princess Anita was what girls were supposed to be and in his experience never were. For a boy raised in the company of whores, barmaids and pickpockets, she was something rare, something fine, a minstrels tale come to breathing life. When he was near her he wanted to be better than he was.
Its well shes gone, then, he thought. A lad in his position couldnt afford such noble notions.
Besides, he thought with a wry grin, she would one day marry Prince Arutha even though he didnt know it yet so Jimmy had no business having such feelings for her. Not that having no business doing things had ever stopped him.
I suppose if she has to marry, and princesses do, hes the one Id want her to.