Raymond Feist - Rage of a Demon King

‘Giant birds of prey, harnessed and ridden like ponies.’

‘Someone’s riding on them?’ asked Roo in disbelief, as the ship was hauled into the quay by dock workers catching ropes tossed to them by deckhands.

‘Little people,’ said Jimmy. ‘Men who have been chosen for generations for their tiny size.’

Dash said, ‘Legend has it that a Dragon Lord flew them as birds of prey, as you or I might fly a falcon, ages ago. These are the descendants of those birds.’

Roo said, ‘You could do a lot with a flock of those in battle.’

‘Not really,’ suggested Jimmy. ‘They can’t carry much and they tire easily.’

‘You suddenly know a great deal about them,’ suggested Roo.

‘Rumors, nothing more,’ said Jimmy with a grin.

‘Or reports on your grandfather’s desk?’ suggested Roo.

Dash said, ‘Look at the reception committee.’

Jimmy said, ‘Whatever you wrote, Mr Avery, it seems to have done the trick.’

Roo said, ‘I merely informed Lord Vasarius I had something of value that belonged to him, and wished to give it back.’

The gangway was rolled out, and as Roo made to leave, the ship’s Captain put a restraining hand on his chest. ‘Better to do this by custom, Mr Avery, sir.’

The Captain called ashore. ‘Mr Avery and party from Krondor. Have they leave to come ashore?’

A large delegation of Quegans stood waiting, surrounding a man in a litter, carried by a dozen muscular slaves. Each wore a robe with a fancy drape that hung over one shoulder, what Roo had been told was called a toga. In the cold months, the locals wore wool tunic and trousers, but in the hot months of spring, summer, and early fall, this light cotton garb was the preferred dress of the wealthy. One of the men said in the King’s Tongue, ‘Please come ashore as our guest, Mr Avery and party.’

The Captain said, ‘Who speaks?’

‘Alfonso Velari.’

The Captain removed his hand from Roo’s chest. ‘You are now invited to set foot on Quegan soil, Mr Avery. You’re a free man until that Velari fellow withdraws his protection. By custom he’s supposed to let you know a day in advance. We’ll be waiting here, ready to up anchor and set sail at a moment’s notice.’

Roo regarded the man, one of his many ship’s masters, named Bridges, and said, ‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘We’re at your disposal, sir.’

As he stepped on the gangway, Roo overheard Dash mumble to Jimmy, ‘Of course he’s at Roo’s disposal. Roo owns the ship!’

Jimmy laughed softly, and the brothers fell silent.

Roo walked down the gangway and stopped before Velari. He was a short man of middle years, with hair cut close to his head and oiled. Roo was reminded of Tim Jacoby, for he also had sported a Quegan style of hair. ‘Mr Avery?’ asked the Quegan.

‘At your service, sir.’

‘Not mine, gentle Mr Avery. I am but one of many servants to Lord Vasarius.’

‘Is that Lord Vasarius in the litter?’ asked Roo.

The Quegan returned an indulgent smile. ‘The litter is to transport you to Lord Vasarius’s home, Mr Avery.’ He made a gesture that indicated Roo should enter the litter. ‘Porters will secure your baggage and bring it to my master’s home.’

Roo glanced at Dash and Jimmy, who nodded briefly. Roo said, ‘I was planning on staying at one of your city’s better inns …’

Velari made a sweeping gesture with his hand, as if to brush aside the remark. ‘There are none, sir. Only common travelers and seamen stay at our public houses. Men of rank always guest with other men of rank.’

As if that settled the matter, he held aside the litter’s curtain and Roo awkwardly entered. Instantly he was inside, the litter was picked up by the eight slaves, and the procession set off.

Roo could see the city of Queg as he was carried through. He glanced behind and saw that Jimmy and Dash were having no trouble keeping up, and he settled in to view the splendor of the Quegan capital.

One of Queg’s greatest exports lay in quarries at the center of the island. Marble of unsurpassed quality was cut there and exported at great expense to nobles in the Kingdom, Kesh, and the Free Cities who wanted impressive façades on their homes, or stunning fireplaces. But here it was used everywhere. The common buildings seemed to be fashioned from stone and plaster, but the larger buildings on the tops of the surrounding hills all glistened white in the morning sun.

Already the day was warm, and Roo wished he had cooler clothing. The tales about the climate here were understated if anything. While the weather in Krondor was still brisk in the morning and mild in the afternoon, here it was almost like summer. Rumor had it that much of the warm currents that surrounded the island came from undersea volcanoes, venting nearby. It had been said on more than one occasion by those to whom Roo spoke that occasionally prayers were said to Prandur, Burner of Cities, that the entire island should blow up.

Despite the Quegans’ reputation as a people hostile to outsiders and generally unpleasant to deal with, the common folk of the city seemed much like those of Krondor to Roo. The only marked difference was dress, as the laborers wore only breechclouts and headbands as they loaded and unloaded cargo at the docks, and the common workers wore short tunics of what looked to be a light spun wool, and cross-gartered sandals.

Occasionally Roo spied a noble in a toga, but mostly the men affected the short tunic. Roo saw women wearing long skirts, but with their arms bare and their heads uncovered.

The sounds of the city were much like those of Krondor, though horses seemed rare. Roo judged a population of this size must require that a very high percentage of the land be put under cultivation, which wouldn’t leave much room for grazing non-food animals. Horses on Queg would be a luxury.

The party wended its way up a series of hills until at last it reached a large building behind a high stone wall. The gate opened and they were admitted by two guards wearing the traditional Quegan military uniform: breastplate, greaves, shortsword, and helm. Roo realized they looked similar in attire to the legendary Legionaries of the Keshian Inner Legions. He had practiced Legionary tactics when he had served with Calis’s Crimson Eagles, and he knew much about them. But this was as close as he had come to ever seeing one.

As the litter was gently deposited on the stones before the entrance to the building, Roo considered it likely it was as close as he was ever likely to get to a genuine member of the Keshian Inner Legions. Rumor had it that they were still the finest body of soldiers in the world, despite their never having ventured outside the immediate vicinity of the Overn Deep, the inland sea upon which the city of Kesh had been built ages before. Absently Roo wondered if their reputation was earned, or the legacy of ancient conquest.

The language of Queg was a variant of the ancient Keshian spoken at the time of the Empire’s withdrawal from the Bitter Sea, so it was related to the languages of Yabon and the Free Cities. It was also similar enough to the language spoken in the land of Novindus that Roo could understand most of what was being said around him.

He thought it best to feign ignorance.

As he exited the litter, a young woman slowly walked down the three stone steps that led to the wide entrance to the building. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was regal. Slender, self-assured, and possessed of an attitude that spoke volumes of her contempt for this alien merchant who stood before her, all the while masking that contempt behind a welcoming smile.

‘Mr Avery,’ she said in accented King’s Tongue.

‘I am,’ said Roo with a noncommittal half-bow.