Raymond Feist - Krondor - The Betrayal

The foulbourgh of the city sprawled in all directions, while the old walls of the city stood behind, nearly useless now, given the ease with which any attacker could mount the buildings next to them and gain the parapet from their roofs.

It was nearly sundown and all three travellers were tired, footsore, and hungry. ‘We can present ourselves to Earl Kasumi tomorrow.’

‘Why not now?’ asked Owyn. ‘I could use a meal and a bed.’

‘Because the garrison is up there,’ said Locklear, pointing at a distant fortress high above the city on a hillside, ‘and that would be another two hours’ walk, whereas a cheap inn is but one minute that way.’ He pointed at the gate.

‘Will your countrymen object to my presence?’ asked Gorath.

‘They would if they suspected your nature. If they think you an elf from Elvandar, they may only stare a little. Come on. We’ve looted enough gold for a night of relative comfort, and in the morning we’ll visit the Earl and see if he can get us safely to Krondor.’

They entered the city under the watchful gaze of otherwise bored-looking soldiers. One of them stood out from his companions, being shorter, and much more businesslike in his manner. Locklear smiled and nodded at the guards, but the three travellers didn’t stop or speak. A short distance inside the city gates sat an inn, marked by a wagon wheel painted bright blue. ‘There,’ said Locklear.

They entered the inn, busy, but not crowded, and moved to a table near the far wall. As they sat a stout young serving woman came, took their order for food and ale, and left. As they were waiting, Locklear spied a figure on the other side of the room staring at him.

It took a moment for Locklear to realize the figure wasn’t a man, but a dwarf. The dwarf stood and made his way across the room. He bore a large scar across his face, cutting through his left eye. He stood before them and said, ‘You don’t recognize me, do you, Locky?’

Locklear realized the last time he had seen the dwarf he had not borne the scar he now sported, but at hearing his name from the dwarf’s lips, he said, ‘Dubal! Without the eye-patch, it took me a moment.’

The dwarf moved to sit next to Owyn, across from Gorath. ‘I won this face in battle, from one of his kin—’ he pointed at Gorath ‘—and I’ll be a dragon’s mother before I hide it again.’

‘Dubal found me hiding in a cellar after the Battle of Sethanon,’ said Locklear.

‘Locked in there with a pretty wench, if memory serves.’ The dwarf laughed.

Locklear shrugged. ‘Well, that was by chance.’

Dubal said, ‘Now tell me, what is a seigneur of the Prince’s court doing sitting in LaMut with a moredhel warchief?’ He kept his voice low, but Owyn glanced around to see if anyone had overheard him.

‘You know me?’ asked Gorath.

‘I know your race, for you are the enemy of my blood, and I know your armour for what it is. A human might not notice, but we of the Grey Towers have fought your kind long enough I wouldn’t mistake you for one from Elvandar. It’s only your present company that keeps me from killing you here and now.’

Locklear held up his hand. ‘I would count it a kindness and a personal favour, as would Prince Arutha, should you imagine this person on my left to be an elf.’

‘I think I can manage. But you’ll have to come to the Grey Towers and tell me the story behind this mummery.’

‘If I can, I will,’ said Locklear. ‘Now, what brings you alone to LaMut?’

‘We’ve got problems at our mines and had a collapse. Some of us are stuck on this side of the Grey Towers and I came in to the city to buy some stores. I’ll hire a waggon and head back in the morning. For the time being, I’m content to sit and drink, and jabber with some of these Tsurani here in LaMut. I fought them during the war, and they’ve turned out to be a stalwart enough bunch once you get to know them.’ He pointed to the bar. ‘That tall fellow—’ Locky laughed to hear anyone call a Tsurani ‘tall’ ‘—he’s Sumani, the owner. Has a fair number of tales to spin about his days serving on the Tsurani world, and I’m switched if it doesn’t sound like he’s telling the truth most of the time.’

Locklear laughed. ‘Most Tsurani I know don’t indulge in tall tales, Dubal.’

‘Seems to be so, but you never know. I’ve fought the big bugs, the Cho-ja, but some of those other things he talks about, well, I’m hard-pressed to believe them.’

The serving woman arrived with the food and ale and they fell to. ‘Now,’ said Dubal, ‘can you tell me what brings you here?’

‘No,’ replied Locklear, ‘but we can ask you if you’ve seen any Quegans hanging around?’

‘There was a pack of them through here two days ago, according to the gossip,’ said Dubal. ‘I just arrived and was brokering the material we need. Aren’t Quegans a bit far from home?’

‘You could say that,’ observed Locklear. ‘We ran into some and wondered if they had friends.’

‘Well, according to the gossip, they were all heading north from here, so if you didn’t run into a big bunch, they’ve got friends around.’

Locklear said, ‘That’s as I figured.’

They ate in silence for a while, as Dubal nursed his mug of ale. Then the dwarf said, ‘You wouldn’t have run across one of those Armengar monster hunters coming from the north, have you?’

‘Monster hunter?’ asked Owyn.

Locklear said, ‘Beast Hunter, is what he means. I met one, once.’ He smiled at the memory. They had been travelling with Prince Arutha away from a band of moredhel, and had run into a Beast Hunter from Armengar with his Beast Hound. It had been a trap, but it had saved them from the pursuing moredhel. ‘No, I think those that remain are up in the hills of northern Yabon. Why?’

‘Oh, we’ve got a Brak Nurr loose in the mine and need someone to hunt it down for us. We can either rebuild the mine or hunt the thing, but there aren’t enough of us on this side of the mountain to do both.’

‘What’s a Brak Nurr?’ asked Owyn. ‘I’ve never heard of such a creature.’

‘It’s more a nuisance than a menace,’ said Dubal. ‘It’s a pretty stupid creature, but most of their kind stay in the lower mines and tunnels under the mountain. It’s roughly man-shaped, but looks like a walking pile of rocks. That’s part of its danger, boy,’ Dubal said to Owyn. ‘You can’t see one until you’ve stepped on its toes, as often as not. They’re slow and lumbering, but they’re strong and can crush a man’s skull with a single blow. This one came up because of the rockslide, I think, but whatever the cause, it’s tried to hurt a couple of our lads. We’ve chased it off, but can’t take the time to hunt it down. If you’re up for a bit of fun, I can take you along and if you rid the mines of it, I’ll be happy to see you rewarded.’

‘Reward?’ said Locky. ‘That’s always a good word, but time doesn’t permit. If circumstances bring us to the mines any time soon, we’ll be glad to help, but for the moment, we’re heading south.’

Dubal stood. ‘I understand. Once we get the tunnels finished, we’ll go looking for the beastie. Now, I’m for bed and an early start. It was good seeing you again, squire, even in such company as this,’ he said, indicating Gorath. ‘Good fortune follow you.’

‘And you, Dubal.’

Locklear finished eating and rose to approach the innkeeper.

The innkeeper wore a Kingdom-style tunic and trousers, the latter tucked into high-top calfskin boots. But he wore a fur-lined, woven-wool heavy cloak, though it was thrown back, as if even in this warm inn it was too cold for his liking.

‘Sir?’ asked the innkeeper, his heavy accent making the word sound odd to Locklear.