Raymond Feist - Silverthorn

Jimmy rolled his eyes upwards but played along. ‘What wedding, Golden?’

‘Why, the royal wedding of course. Though we shall be seated away from the King’s table, it will not be at the table most remote.’

Jimmy sat bolt upright. ‘The King? In Krondor!’

‘Of course.’

Jimmy gripped Golden by the arm. ‘Start at the beginning.’

Grinning, the handsome but not terribly perceptive confidence man said, ‘The widow Fallon was informed by no less a source than the purchasing agent at the palace, a man she has known for seventeen years, that extra stores were required within a month’s time for, and I quote, “the royal wedding”. One is safe in assuming a king would be in attendance at his own wedding.’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘No, you simpleton, not the King’s. Anita and Arutha’s.’

Golden seemed ready to take umbrage at the remark, but then a sudden glimmer of interest showed in his eyes. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘The King weds in Rillanon. The Prince weds in Krondor.’ Golden nodded, indicating this made sense. ‘I hid out with Anita and Arutha; it was only a matter of time before they wed. That’s why he’s back.’ Seeing a reaction at that, Jimmy quickly added, ‘… Or will be back soon.’

Jimmy’s mind raced. Not only would Lyam be in Krondor for the wedding, but so would every noble of importance in the West, and no small number from the East. And if Dase knew of the wedding, then half of Krondor did as well and the other half would know of it before the next sundown.

Jimmy’s reverie was interrupted by the approach of Laughing Jack, the Nightwarden, senior lieutenant to the Nightmaster. The thin-lipped man came to stand before Jimmy and Dase and, with hands upon hips, said, ‘You look like you’ve something on your mind, boy?’

Jimmy had no affection for Jack. He was a dour, tight-jawed man given to violent tempers and unnecessary cruelty. The only reason for his high place in the guild was his ability at keeping the guild’s bashers and other hotheads in line. Jimmy’s dislike was returned in kind by Jack, for it had been Jimmy who had appended ‘Laughing’ to Jack’s name. In the years Jack had been in the guild, no one could remember hearing him laugh. ‘Nothing, really,’ said Jimmy.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he studied Jimmy, then Dase, for a long minute. ‘I hear there was some fuss over near the east gate; you weren’t thereabouts this night, were you?’

Jimmy maintained an indifferent expression and regarded Dase, as if Jack had asked both the question. Golden shook his head in the negative. Jimmy wondered if Jack already knew about the Nighthawk. If he did, and if someone else had caught sight of Jimmy nearby, Jimmy could expect no mercy from Jack’s bashers. Still, Jimmy suspected that if Jack had proof, he would have come accusing, not questioning. Subtlety was not Jack’s hallmark. Jimmy feigned indifference as he said, ‘Another drunken argument? No, I was asleep most of the night.’

‘Good, then you’ll be fresh,’ said Jack. With a jerk of his head he indicated Dase should absent himself. Golden rose and left without comment and Jack placed his boot upon the bench next to Jimmy. ‘We’ve got a job this night.’

‘Tonight?’ said Jimmy, already counting the night half done. There were barely five hours left until sunrise.

‘It’s special. From himself,’ he said, meaning the Upright Man. ‘There’s a royal do on at the palace and the Keshian ambassador’s coming. A load of gifts arrived late tonight, gifts for a wedding. They’ll be straight off for the palace by midday next at latest, so tonight’s our only chance to boost them. It’s a rare chance.’ His tone left no doubt in Jimmy’s mind that his presence was not requested but required. Jimmy had hoped to get some sleep tonight before heading for the palace, but now there was no chance of that. With a note of resignation in his voice, he said, ‘When and where?’

‘An hour from now at the big warehouse one street over from the Fiddler Crab Inn, near dockside.’

Jimmy knew the place. He nodded and without another word left Laughing Jack. He headed up the stairs towards the street. The question of assassins and plots would have to wait a few hours more.

Fog still overwhelmed Krondor. The warehouse district near the docks was usually quiet in the early morning hours, but this night the scene was otherworldly. Jimmy wended his way among large bales of goods, of too little value to warrant the additional expense of storage inside, and therefore safe from the threat of thievery. Bulk cotton, animal fodder to be shipped, and stacked lumber created a maze of maddening complexity through which Jimmy moved quietly. He had spied several dock watchmen, but the night’s dampness and a generous bribe kept them close to their shed, where a fire burned brightly in a brazier, relieving the gloom. Nothing short of a riot would get them away from the warmth. The Mockers would be long removed from this area before those indifferent guardians stirred.

Reaching the designated meeting place, Jimmy looked about and, seeing no one in sight, settled in to wait. He was early, as was his habit, for he liked to compose his mind before the action began. Additionally, there was something in Laughing Jack’s orders to him that made him wary. A job this important was rarely a last-minute affair, and even rarer was the Upright Man’s allowing anything to tempt the Prince’s wrath – and purloining royal wedding gifts would bring Arutha’s wrath. But Jimmy was not placed highly enough in the guild to know if everything was on the up and up. He would simply have to remain alert.

The soft hint of someone approaching caused Jimmy to tense. Whoever was coming was moving cautiously, as was to be expected, but with the faint footfalls he had heard a strange sound. It was the slight clicking of metal on wood and, as soon as recognition registered, Jimmy leapt away. With a loud thud and an eruption of wood splinters, a crossbow bolt ripped through the side of a crate, where Jimmy had stood a moment before.

An instant later, two figures, dark silhouettes in the grey night, appeared from out of the gloom, running towards him.

Sword in hand, Laughing Jack rushed Jimmy without a word, while his companion furiously cranked up his crossbow for another shot. Jimmy drew weapons and executed a parry of an overhand slash by Jack, diverting the blade with his dirk, then lunging with his rapier in return. Jack skipped to one side, and the two figures squared off.

‘Now we’ll see how well you can use that toad sticker, you snotty little bastard,’ snarled Jack. ‘Watching you bleed just might give me something to laugh about.’

Jimmy said nothing, refusing to engage in distracting conversation. His only reply was a high-line attack that drove Jack back. He had no illusions about being a better swordsman than Jack; he simply wanted to keep alive long enough to gain a chance to flee.

Back and forth they moved, exchanging blows and parries, each looking for an opening to finish the contest. Jimmy tried for a counterthrust and misjudged his position, and suddenly fire erupted in his side. Jack had managed to cut Jimmy with the edge of his sword, a painful and potentially weakening wound, but not fatal, at least not yet. Jimmy looked for more room to move, feeling sick to his stomach from the pain, while Jack pressed his advantage. Jimmy backed off from a furious overhand slashing attack as Jack used the advantage of his heavier blade to beat down Jimmy’s guard.

A sudden shout telling Jack to get out of the way warned Jimmy the other man had reloaded his crossbow. Jimmy circled away from Jack, trying to keep moving and put Jack between himself and Jack’s accomplice. Jack slashed at Jimmy, turning him back rapidly, and then hacked downwards. The force of the blow dropped Jimmy to his knees.