Raymond E. Feist - Queen of Storms

‘I’m sure it is, but it may prove useful in defending a position.’

‘Might I suggest a wooden frame instead of this metal one? It would lower costs and be quicker to fashion. Good hardwood would be as effective, even with the reduction in weight. Only your strongest men could lug one of these around all day and not be exhausted.’

Balven considered this. ‘Make one and we’ll test it against lances, side by side with this one.’

Declan nodded. ‘If I might ask, sir, where did the baron come up with this idea?’

‘From a book,’ said Balven with a laugh. ‘The baron is the best-read man I’ve ever known. He got that from his father.’

Declan nodded. The one time he had visited the inside of the castle he’d seen it had shelves full of books, more than he had ever imagined existed in the world.

Balven quickly inspected the swords and nodded his approval. He handed a purse to Declan. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘There is one thing, sir,’ said the young smith. He recounted Molly Bowman’s description of the men who had arrived in Beran’s Hill a few days earlier.

When he had finished, Balven looked slightly concerned. ‘You did well to bring us that news, Declan. Armed men, and … and castellans from what you said, disguised as mercenaries …’ He took a deep breath. ‘This is very troubling. Wait here while I bring this to the baron’s attention.’

‘Very well, sir,’ said Declan as Balven turned back towards the doorway into the keep. He hoped this didn’t take too long as he wanted to start back as soon as Hatu returned. If they pushed on with a lightened wagon they could arrive home a few hours after sunset and he’d much rather spend his night in bed with Gwen than under a wagon with Hatu.

After an hour had passed, without Balven’s return or Hatushaly’s, Declan felt a rising sense of resignation that he would be forced to stay the night and depart the following morning, but eventually, the baron’s man appeared and said, ‘You’re free to go, smith. My lord will investigate this matter.’

Balven turned his back before Declan could ask even a single question and left the annoyed young man alone. Declan took a breath and decided it best to ask the closest soldier where he could stable his wagon and find lodgings.

WHEN HATU GOT CLOSE TO the river that cut through the eastern third of the city he found the Inn of the Gulls. He entered and looked around for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom and doing a quick inventory of faces.

His first thought upon taking in these surroundings was that his inn was a palace compared to this one – a waterfront inn with dockworkers, rivermen, whores and no doubt an abundant supply of criminals.

He took another moment and saw a man standing in the corner behind the bar. He waved away an approaching whore, a girl who looked younger than Hava had been before she was sent to the Powdered Women, and she quickly retreated. Hatu made his way to the barman and said, ‘I bring a message for Grandfather.’

‘I’ll give it to him,’ answered the barman. He was a lanky, blond-haired man of middle years, broad-shouldered and with enough marks on his face and neck to label him a brawler.

‘I bring a message for Grandfather,’ repeated Hatu.

The man pulled a large cudgel out from under the bar and said, ‘He’s not here. As I said, give me the message and I’ll see he gets it.’

‘I bring a message for Grandfather,’ Hatu repeated a third time.

Immediately the barman put the cudgel back under the bar and said, ‘Come with me.’

He led Hatu through a door behind the bar, through a filthy kitchen, and down a flight of stairs. The cellar was below the level of the river, Hatu reckoned, seeing how the stones in the wall seeped. A miasma of mould, stale beer, and deceased rodents left unburied almost made him gag, but he fought back the reflex.

They worked their way through a chaos of empty pallets, stacks of barrels, abandoned crates, and half-filled sacks to reach an unblocked section of wall. It was a maze with a purpose, Hatu decided; you would have to know exactly where you were going down here in order to find this space.

They had reached the other side of the storage room, as far from the stairs leading down from the inn above as possible, Hatu judged. The barman pushed on a stone, and a door revealed itself, swinging away easily, wood painted to look like the bricks that surrounded it.

They walked down a sloping, stone-walled tunnel with a ceiling reinforced with supports and beams like those one would find in a mine. Water dripped from the ceiling so it must run under the edge of the river, Hatu calculated. At last they came to a well-lit room.

A man sat at a table looking at what appeared to be a ledger, which he covered with a cloth as soon as he saw the barman with Hatu.

No words were exchanged as the barman turned and began to make his way back. Then ‘Yes?’ said the man at the table. He was well dressed, looking more like a merchant of some importance than a master criminal, which Hatu knew he must be to hold the position of this city’s crew boss.

‘Who is the message for?’ asked the man behind the table.

Hatu said, ‘Master Bodai.’

‘Alone?’

‘No other,’ said Hatu, ‘save Zusara.’

The man stood and removed the covered book and cloth. ‘I am neither’s man. Can you write?’

‘Yes,’ said Hatu.

The man set the ledger down on a shelf, produced clean paper and a pen and glass inkwell, then fetched a stick of sealing wax and a seal. ‘When you’ve finished your message, fold it twice, and seal it with wax. Leave it here on the table; do not carry it up to the taproom. When you have left the inn, I shall return and send it off. I assume there’s some urgency?’

Hatu nodded. ‘Great urgency.’

The man said, ‘I’ll have a man start downriver tonight. We have a fast ship near the mouth of the Narrows and it will be safely aboard by the day after tomorrow. With favourable winds, it should be in the hands of one of the masters within the week.’ He paused, then added, ‘Should a reply come, where will I find you?’

‘Beran’s Hill, at the Inn of the Three Stars. I am the proprietor.’

The man nodded once and turned and walked up the tunnel.

Hatu moved around behind the table and sat down, as the man departed. He paused for a moment to organize his thoughts, then dipped his pen in the inkwell and began to write.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.