Raymond Feist - Krondor - Tear of the Gods

‘Gods,’ said James. ‘He’s fired the orphanage.’

From the main door four women and a man were ushering out children, many of whom looked stunned and disoriented, coughing from the heavy smoke. James ran to the door.

The man turned, saw William’s garb and shouted, ‘Someone’s burned the orphanage! They threw a bomb through that window.’ He pointed with a shaking finger. ‘Flames erupted and we barely got out alive.’

Jazhara said, ‘Are all the children out?’

A scream from upstairs answered her.

The man coughed and said, ‘I tried to go upstairs, but the fire near the stairs is too intense.’

‘How many are up there?’ asked William.

‘Three,’ said one of the women, who was crying. ‘I called the children for supper, but they were taking their time coming down …’

‘I may be able to help,’ said Jazhara.

‘How?’ asked James.

‘I have a spell which will protect you from the heat unless you touch the flame itself. But it lasts only a short time.’

The man said, ‘Then weave it quickly, woman. Their lives are at stake.’

William started to strip off his armour, but James said, ‘No, I’m faster than you.’ He also had no armour to doff. He handed his sword to William and said, ‘Ready.’

Jazhara said, ‘The spell will protect you from the heat, but you must be careful not to breathe the smoke too deeply as it will kill as fast as a flame.’ She pulled a handkerchief from the hands of one of the nearby women and handed it to James. ‘Hold this over your mouth and nose.’

She closed her eyes, putting her right hand on James’s arm and the back of her left hand to her forehead. She made a short incantation and finally said, ‘There. It is done. Now hurry, for it will last but a short time’

James said, ‘I didn’t feel anything.’

‘It’s done,’ she repeated.

‘I usually feel magic when it’s—’

‘Go!’ she said, pushing him towards the door. ‘Time is short!’

‘But—’

‘Go!’ she repeated with a strong push.

James tumbled head-first through the door, and ducked at the sight of flames licking the ceiling above. To his surprise, he felt no heat.

The smoke, however, caused his eyes to water and he blinked furiously to clear them. He wished he had thought to wet the cloth he held over his nose and mouth. He made for a stairway, following a serpentine route around flaming tables and burning tapestries.

He quickly reached the top of the stairs and did not have to ask if the children were still alive. Three tiny voices split the air with their screams and coughs. James shouted, ‘Stay where you are, children! I’m coming to get you!’

He hurried towards the shouts at the other end of the room, a barracks of sorts where the children obviously slept. Bedding was smouldering and flames climbed the walls, but he found a straight path to the children.

Two boys and a girl huddled in the corner, terrified to the point of immobility. James quickly decided that trying to guide them through the flames was pointless. The older of the two boys appeared to be about seven or eight years of age. The other boy and girl he guessed as being closer to four.

He knelt and said, ‘Come here.’

The children stood up and he gathered the two smaller children up, one under each arm, then said to the older boy, ‘Climb on my back!’

The boy did, clamping his arm over James’s throat. James put down the other two children, almost gagging. ‘Not so hard!’ he said, prying the boy’s arm from across his windpipe. ‘Here,’ he said, placing the boy’s arms across his chest. ‘Like this!’

Then he scooped up the other children and hurried back to the stairs. He moved quickly down the steps and saw the flames had closed around the landing. ‘Damn!’ he muttered.

There was nothing for it but to run. He leapt as far as he could through the flames and instantly understood Jazhara’s warning. The heat itself hadn’t been noticeable, but the second the flames touched him he could certainly feel it. ‘Oooh!’ he shouted, as he landed in a relatively clear patch of wooden floor, while the planks on all sides smouldered and burned.

The roof above was making alarming sounds, creaks and groans, that told James the support timbers were weakening. Soon the upper floor would collapse on him and the children if he didn’t move. The smoke was making the children cough and James’s eyes were tearing to the point of being unable to see through the smoke. Taking in a lungful that caused him to cough, he shouted, ‘Jazhara! William!’

William’s booming voice answered from slightly to his left. ‘This way!’

James didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward, trying as well as he could to avoid the flames, but by the time he came spilling out the door with a child under each arm and one across his back, he was burned on both legs and arms. The children were crying from their burns, but they were alive. He collapsed onto the cobblestones, coughing.

Two women took charge of the burned and frightened children, while Jazhara knelt and examined James’s burns. ‘Not serious,’ she judged.

James looked at her through watering eyes and said, ‘Easy for you to say. They hurt like the blazes!’

Jazhara took a small jar out of her belt pouch and said, ‘This will make them stop hurting until we can get you to a healer or priest.’

She applied a salve gently to the burns and, true to her words, the pain vanished. James said, ‘What is that?’

‘It is made from a desert plant found in the Jal-Pur. My people use this salve on burns and cuts. It will keep wounds from festering for a while, enabling them to heal.’

James stood up and looked towards the gate. ‘He’s got away?’

William said, ‘I expect so. Look.’ He pointed to the other side of the street where members of the city watch were moving citizens back from the fire so that a chain of men with buckets could start wetting down the nearby buildings. It was clear that the orphanage was doomed, but the rest of the quarter might be saved. William sounded defeated. ‘Those men are from the gate watch, so I suspect the murderer got out of the city just by walking through.’

Jazhara said, ‘What sort of monster would set fire to an orphanage to create a diversion?’

James said, ‘The same sort who would break into a jail at sunset.’ He coughed one more time, then said, ‘Let’s go back and see if we can find out who he was after.’ He started walking back towards the jail.

Soldiers from the palace had arrived to augment the surviving city guards at the jail. James had just learned that Sheriff Wilfred Means and all but six of his men had been killed. The sheriff’s son, Jonathan, stood in the main room surveying the damage. James had recently recruited the young man to work secretly for him in the Prince’s burgeoning intelligence network. The squire put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and said, ‘I’m sorry for your loss. Your father and I were never what could be called friends, but I respected him as an honest man who was unstinting in his loyalty and duty.’

Jonathan looked pale and could only nod. Finally he controlled his emotions and said, ‘Thank you.’

James nodded. ‘For the time being, you and the other deputies report to Captain Garruth. Arutha will need time to name a new sheriff and you’ll be undermanned for a while.’

Jonathan said, ‘I need to go home if that’s all right. I must tell my mother.’

James said, ‘Yes, of course. Go to your mother,’ and sent the young man on his way. Jonathan was an able man, despite his youth, but he doubted Arutha would willingly elevate him to his father’s office. Besides, having Jonathan tied to a desk wouldn’t help James’s plans. He put aside those thoughts and went looking for Garruth.