Raymond Feist - Rage of a Demon King

Roo glanced out the window at the sunset, and he heard the city noises outside as the day wound down and shops began to close. ‘I need to take a break before I start doing your grandfather’s bidding,’ said Roo, standing up. ‘I think I’ll pay a visit to Helen Jacoby and her children.’

Dash nodded. ‘After that?’

‘I’m going to Avery and Son’s for an hour or so this evening,’ and with a sour face he added, ‘Then it’s back here. I’ll most likely be here all night.’

Dash nodded. ‘Anything else?’

‘No, that’s all. Come back here first thing in the morning. I expect I’ll have a great deal for you to do. Have Jason come along, as well.’

As Dash hurried toward the door, Roo walked down the stairway. He reached the entrance to Barret’s and considered crossing the street to his town house, to saddle up a horse and ride over to Helen’s. Then he decided he’d rather walk.

He wended his way through the busy streets. Roo never tired of the crowds and clamor of the city. A smalltown boy, he saw Krondor as a never-ending source of stimulation. Just by walking he could refresh himself and conceive of anything being possible. But today as he walked, the distant specter of the Emerald Queen and her approaching host intruded on his appreciation of the robust city.

On one level, he knew that eventually Krondor would be attacked, probably overrun. He had seen what happened when her conquering General Fadawah crushed a city: he had barely escaped the destruction of distant Maharta. He knew it was coming. He had a faint hope the Kingdom army, far better trained and more dedicated than anything encountered by the invaders, might keep them out of Krondor, but he recognized it was probably a vain hope.

On another level, the coming seemed an impossibility. He was rich beyond even his boyish dreams of avarice; he possessed the most beautiful woman in the world; and he had a son. Nothing remotely evil could be allowed to touch that perfection.

Roo stopped. He had been so intent on his imagining, he had neglected to turn on the street that led to Helen Jacoby’s home. He turned and thought he saw a figure duck out of sight. He quickened his steps and turned the corner, and glanced both ways.

Shopkeepers were closing for the day, and workers were hurrying along, either on their final errands for their masters, or to home or a friendly inn. But the figure he had glimpsed was nowhere to be seen.

Roo shook his head. It must be fatigue, he thought. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling he had been followed. He glanced around, then set off toward the Jacoby house.

He thought it had to be the realization that the Emerald Queen’s fleet was getting ready to sail. He didn’t have any direct intelligence, but he knew enough to understand it was a certainty.

He’d watched as her army had swept over the continent of Novindus, and had sat in council while plans were made to defend the Kingdom against her attack. He could read the signs. He provided as much transport as any firm in the Kingdom; he knew where the supplies were being stored; he knew where the shipments of arms and reserve horses were being readied. He knew the attack was coming soon.

It was early fall in Krondor, which meant it was spring on the other side of the world; soon the massive fleet would be loading, and would start its months-long voyage. Time and again Roo had heard Admiral Nicholas talk about the dangers of sailing through the Straits of Darkness. Difficult in the mildest of weather, it was nearly impossible in the winter. To bring so large a fleet through safely, the ideal time would be almost exactly upon Banapis, Midsummer’s Day. Tides and winds would make the narrow passage between the Endless Sea and the Bitter Sea clement enough for those inexperienced ship masters who must be in command of the bulk of the fleet. Given the wholesale carnage visited on Novindus by the Queen that Roo knew about, he couldn’t imagine there were six hundred competent captains left alive down there. Besides the wholesale devastation her conquest had visited upon the populace, Novindus boasted no deep-water sailors; they were all coast huggers, captains who didn’t suspect there was a land across the sea until Nicholas and his crew had visited there twenty years before.

Roo also suspected Nicholas had a surprise or two in store for the visitors when they attempted to clear the Straits, which was why Roo had made the journey to Queg. The only reason Duke James might require Quegan ships to act as escort for Kingdom merchants would be if the entire Royal Navy was busy elsewhere. No, Nicholas would have something waiting for the invaders as they pushed through the Straits.

He reached the Jacoby house and put the troubling thoughts of invaders behind him for a while. He knocked.

Helen Jacoby answered his knock, and Roo said, ‘I hope you don’t mind an unannounced visit?’

She laughed and Roo was struck by how nice that sounded. ‘Rupert, of course not. You are always welcome here.’

From behind came the sound of her children calling his name, and Roo found himself struck by a refreshed feeling he seldom experienced elsewhere. ‘Uncle Rupert!’ said Willem, the five-year-old. ‘Did you bring me something?’

‘Willem!’ said his mother. ‘That’s no way to treat a guest.’

‘He’s no guest,’ said Willem indignantly. ‘He’s Uncle Rupert!’ Seven-year-old Nataly rushed forward and threw her arms around his waist in a welcoming hug.

Rupert smiled at the boy’s brashness and the girl’s affection as Helen moved to close the door behind him. As it latched, he realized something: if his calculations were accurate, the invaders would be in sight of Kingdom soil in seven months.

Acting Corporal Garret had looked dubious, but he accepted Erik’s orders without comment. After questioning Duga and his men all the previous day, Erik had decided on a course of action. He ordered Garret to lead half the men requisitioned from the Border Barons on a slow march to Krondor, while Erik kept the remaining half with himself. They had turned in their tabards when they left their previous commands, but they still looked like soldiers.

Erik then had them swapping clothing with the captured mercenaries, and after a while judged the results sufficiently chaotic to give the illusion of this being a very large company of mercenaries.

Duga gave his approval: ‘They look like my boys.’

Erik had spent the previous evening talking with Duga. He had come to like the man, a simple no-nonsense captain with a company of eighty men who had come to realize they were in over their heads. It had taken all night, but Erik had at last convinced him that it was in his own best interest to give more than his parole; rather, he should switch sides. Several of his men seemed dubious, and Erik had marked those and sent them off with Garret’s squad, while the rest stayed with Erik and Duga.

Later that same day, the second contingent of Kingdom soldiers had ridden past, and Erik instructed them to follow Garret’s company. When Duga saw the third company of two hundred come past early the next morning, he commented that he and his men had been led to believe they were invading a country of weak, ill-prepared cities.

Erik had gone on at great length, patiently explaining how things were different here in the Kingdom, and while he downplayed the relative sizes of the two armies, he emphasized the training and equipment of the Kingdom soldiers. Fortunately for his case, he had been aided by the sight of six hundred of the toughest veterans in the King’s Army riding by.

Duga gladly accepted the rations carried by Erik’s men, which they shared for breakfast. ‘You know,’ he commented as he ate, ‘there’s not a lot keeping the Queen’s army together but fear.’