Raymond Feist - Magician’s End

‘A pair of sailors off a ship …?’ Jim shrugged.

‘Do you have a description?’ asked Tal, reaching over and taking a ladle of water from a bucket and pouring it over his head.

‘I doubt they look the same any more,’ said Jim. ‘I’ve got on a ship looking like a nobleman, and got off it looking like something that crawled out of the bilge. For a target in the palace,’ he pointed at Hal, ‘even if he is only a distant royal, that means a great deal of gold and only the best would accept the contract.’ Jim took the ladle from Tal, refilled it from the nearby bucket, and poured it over his own head. ‘I’ve never been one for this dry heat.’

Tal smiled. ‘My people in the mountains had sweat lodges when I was a boy. You get used to it. After a fashion, you even enjoy it.’

‘What I’ll enjoy is getting out of it,’ said Jim Dasher, rising. To Hal he said, ‘Pack a bag and leave it in your rooms, by the doors that so my servants can find it quickly. Be ready to leave the moment I give word. Until then, stay in the palace.’

Tal looked at his son and said, ‘Pack as well. You’re going with him.’ Then he rose and departed.

Ty looked at Hal and said, ‘I guess I’m going with you.’

‘Apparently.’

Rising, Hal said, ‘Let’s go gather our things.’

‘And then we wait,’ finished Ty.

‘Boredom beckons,’ said Hal.

Ty laughed. ‘In a palace full of serving women who would love to make close acquaintance with a duke?’

Hal sighed and said nothing.

As they walked to the dressing room where fresh clothing awaited them, Ty said, ‘Stephané.’

Hal again said nothing.

‘Sorry,’ said Ty.

‘It’s … something I need to get used to.’

This time, Ty said nothing. He understood what a beauty Stephané was, and how resilient she had proven herself when Hal and he had helped her escape Roldem. But Tyrone Hawkins had never found a woman to hold his attention longer than a few weeks, perhaps a month at most. His childhood had been less than instructive about how women and men should be together, he thought occasionally. He knew the facts of his childhood, that his father was some unknown Olaskan soldier, though Talwin Hawkins treated him as his own, and he loved him as his father, but there was a sadness about his mother, one that never seemed to completely pass. He knew she loved her husband, but there was something missing. Ironically, he felt closer to his adopted father than his natural mother, though she loved him dearly.

He pushed aside thoughts that led to doubt and concern, and turned his mind to something much more enjoyable: that pretty blonde wench in the kitchen who had smiled at him as he had passed through. As they reached the changing room, he decided the first thing he’d do was to find out her name.

A knock at the door awoke Hal. It was still dark. After the many cautions he’d received from Jim Dasher, he had his sword in hand when he opened the door. Opening it slightly, he saw a page waiting. ‘Lord James asks you to attend him, my lord.’

Hal nodded and said, ‘Wait here.’

It took him only a few minutes to dress and, again he heard the echoing cautions in his head, he wore sturdy clothing suitable for travel rather than court finery. He followed the page and was surprised that even in the pre-dawn darkness, the palace at Rillanon was busy.

They reached Duke James’s quarters and found Jim Dasher, Ty, and a court chirurgeon attending the duke. Hal hurried to the old duke’s bedside. ‘Are you ill, my lord?’

Waving away the hovering chirurgeon, Duke James coughed and said, ‘Just a bit of an ague. It’ll pass.’

Hal glanced at Jim, who shook his head slightly.

Feeling alarm rising, Hal asked, ‘How may I serve, my lord?’

Old Duke James said, ‘That reprobate grandson of mine says someone’s come to kill you. He’s inclined to let you sit here as bait and capture the murderous dogs who are sniffing around. I, on the other hand, think it best to get you somewhere else. They can’t kill you if they don’t know where you are. So, get going and stay alive.’

Hal was caught between concern and amusement, but managed to keep a serious expression as he said, ‘Yes, my lord.’

Jim nodded toward the bed. ‘My grandfather is holding this kingdom together with strength of will. There are nobles who’ve stood silently, not allying with Montgomery or Chadwick, or are thinking of throwing their weight behind Oliver.’ Jim closed his eyes as if suffering a headache, then said, ‘We take these trials as they come. Now I need to get you two off this island,’ he said to Hal and Ty. ‘Then I must have a very important talk with Montgomery.’

Hal and Ty listened, and said nothing.

‘If in a few days you hear my grandfather is no longer among the living and that Montgomery is now Duke of Rillanon, assume I’m dead.’

Hal’s face showed alarm. He glanced at the old duke, who nodded.

‘Your very distant cousin’s claim to the throne benefits him if he’s Duke of Rillanon, the man in theory I would be paying fealty to, and who would be in a far better position to allocate favours before a vote in the Congress.’

‘And have control over your agents,’ added Ty with a tone of concern that surprised Hal.

Jim nodded. ‘So I must have a chat with dear old Monty and insist he let me assume the office of duke so I can maintain the balance between all the raving lunatics around us who think being king is a wonderful idea!’ His voice rose at the last, his anger starting to manifest itself.

‘Can you convince him?’ asked Hal.

Jim said, ‘A combination of promises and threats … perhaps. Our Montgomery is a man of low tastes at times and has made some ill-advised choices. His wife is a simple woman, but her father is the Duke of Bas-Tyra, who would not be pleased to know that his son-in-law is unfaithful on a regular basis, preferring the company of young girls – very young girls – to his wife.’

Hal said nothing, but his face bore an expression of distaste.

‘Without Bas-Tyra, Montgomery’s claim will fall short. Bas-Tyra influences the votes of every noble from here to the Eastern Kingdoms. A great deal of the plotting and dealing around his claim presumes that he has his father-in-law’s backing.’

It was Ty who said, ‘Still, rumours against the possibility of his daughter being Queen of the Isles?’

It was the old duke who said, ‘Bas-Tyra is a cautious man, but not without ambition. Not for himself, but as young Ty observes, perhaps for his daughter. Bas-Tyra has not openly supported anyone, but in the end he’ll do the right thing for the Crown. Now, Montgomery,’ he added, looking less than happy, ‘he’s another thing. Not a driven man, like some, but one capable of being led.’ To Jim he said, ‘When it comes to claiming the Crown, you must convince him not to stand before the Priest of Ishap.’

‘I’ll convince him, or kill him,’ said Jim.

Hal was speechless.

‘Go on, now,’ said Duke James from his bed. ‘Leave an old man to his rest and go cause some havoc for our enemies.’

Jim walked out of the old man’s room with Ty and Hal. Once outside, Hal asked, ‘How is he, really?’

‘Not good,’ said Jim, his tone matter-of-fact, but behind it lingered a hint of sadness. ‘I’ve sent for a healing priest from the Temple of Sung, but there are only so many times you can fend off death. My grandfather is approaching ninety, though he looks a man twenty years younger when he’s in his armour bellowing at the palace guard.’ He glanced back towards the door of the duke’s private chambers.

‘Now,’ said Jim. ‘I’ve had your travel bags collected from your rooms, Hal. From here you’re to go straight to the stables where two horses are waiting. They are sturdy, but unremarkable, as is the tack. In short, once you’re out of the gate, you’re swords-for-hire, or young adventurers, or whatever brand of feckless gadabouts you care to be.