Raymond Feist - Into a Dark Realm

Kaspar found the very inn where he had spoken to General Alenburga three years previously, and saw it had been restored to its former tranquillity. Instead of soldiers everywhere, a boy ran out of the stable to take charge of Kaspar’s horse. The boy was roughly the same age as Jorgen had been when Kaspar had last seen him, reminding him of why he was making this trek. Putting aside a growing sense of futility in finding one boy and his mother in this vast land, Kaspar handed the boy a copper coin. ‘Wash the road dirt off and curry him,’ he instructed. The boy grinned as he pocketed the coin and said he would.

Kaspar entered the inn and glanced around. It was crowded with merchants taking their mid-day meal and others dressed for travel. Kaspar made his way to the bar and the barkeep nodded. ‘Sir?’

‘Ale,’ said Kaspar.

When the mug sat before him, Kaspar produced another copper coin and the barman picked it up. He hefted it, quickly produced a touchstone, struck the colour of the coin, then said, ‘This will do for two.’

‘Have one for yourself,’ said the former duke.

The barman smiled. ‘Little early for me. Maybe later. Thanks.’

Kaspar nodded. ‘Where’s the local garrison these days?’

‘Don’t have one,’ said the barman. He pointed in the general direction of the south road. ‘There’s a garrison down in Dondia, a good day’s ride. They pulled all the soldiers out of here when Sasbataba surrendered. We get a regular patrol up here once a week, and there’s a company of town militia to help the constables if needed, but frankly, stranger, things around here are quiet to the point of being downright peaceful.’

‘Must be a welcome change,’ said Kaspar.

‘Can’t argue about that,’ said the barman.

‘Got a room?’

The barman nodded and produced a key. ‘Top of the stairs, last door on the left. Got a window.’

Kaspar took the key. ‘Where’s the local constable’s office?’

The barman gave Kaspar directions and after finishing his ale and an indifferent lunch of cold beef and barely warm vegetables, Kaspar headed to the constable’s office. Walking the short distance, he was assailed by the sounds and sights of a bustling trading centre. Whatever the previous status of Higara, it was now clearly a regional hub for the expanding territory. For a brief moment Kaspar felt a twinge of regret; Flynn and the other traders from the Kingdom would have found the riches they sought in such a place as this. The four traders from the Kingdom of the Isles had been responsible for Kaspar coming into possession of the Talnoy, each of them dying ignorant of the part he had played.

Thinking of that infernal device, Kaspar wondered if he should set himself a limit on how long he’d look for Jojanna and Jorgen.

He found the constable’s office easily, and pushed open the door.

A young man wearing a tunic with a badge looked up from a table that served as a desk. With the air of self-importance that only a boy recently given responsibility could manage, he said, ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’m looking for someone. A soldier named Bandamin.’

The lad, good-looking with light brown hair and a scattering of freckles, tried to look as if he was thinking. After a moment, he said, ‘I don’t know that name. Which company is he with?’

Kaspar doubted the boy would have any idea where Bandamin was even if Kaspar knew that. ‘Don’t know. He was living outside a village up north and got pressed into service.’

‘Pressed man, huh?’ said the youngster. ‘Most likely he’s with the infantry south of here.’

‘What about a boy? About eleven years of age.’ Kaspar tried to judge how much Jorgen would have grown since he had last seen him, and held up his hand. ‘Probably about this high. Blond hair.’

The young constable shrugged. ‘There are lots of boys coming through the city all the time, caravan cooks’ monkeys, luggage rats, homeless boys, runaways. We try to keep them off the streets as much as we can – some of them run in gangs.’

‘Where would I find such a gang?’

The young man fixed Kaspar with what the former duke assumed was a suspicious expression, but all it did was make the lad look ridiculous. ‘Why do you seek this boy?’

‘His father was pressed into the army; the lad came looking for him. And his mother is looking for both of them.’

‘And you’re looking for the mother, too?’

‘All of them,’ said Kaspar. ‘They’re friends.’

The youth shrugged. ‘Sorry, but we only notice those that are causing trouble.’

‘What about the gang of boys?’

‘You’ll usually find them down near the caravanserai or in the market. If too many of them gather, we chase them away, but they just gather somewhere else.’

Kaspar thanked the young constable and left the office. He looked up and down the busy street, as if seeking inspiration, feeling like a man crawling across a battle field seeking one specific arrow among the tens of thousands that had fallen. He glanced skyward and fixed the hour at approximately half-way between noon and sundown. He knew that the markets here were busy throughout the day, with no cease in the afternoon for rest as it was in the hotter parts of Great Kesh. Here the markets were thronged with buyers and hawkers until shortly before sundown, then there was a frantic bustle of activity as the merchants finished for the day. He had approximately two and a half hours before sundown.

He reached the market and glanced around. The market was haphazardly organized across a sprawling plaza created more by happenstance than design. Kaspar assumed that originally there had been one major road through town – the north-to-south highway that dominated this region. Somewhere in years past circumstances had shifted the route a hundred yards or so to the east, and at that point buildings had been thrown up all around. As a result, a half-dozen lesser streets and a handful of alleyways led off from this area; the empty space in the middle served as the market.

Kaspar saw a fair number of children, most helping their families in booths or tents. There was little order to the market in Higara, save by common agreement it appeared no one was permitted to erect a tent, booth, or table in the centre of the square. There a single lamppost reared up, equidistant from the intersections of side streets forming the square. Kaspar wandered over to it and saw that it had a usable lantern hanging from the top, so he assumed it was lit by some townsman each night, perhaps one of the constables. This was the only lamppost he had seen in Higara, so he assumed the office of lamplighter was hardly likely. He noticed faint writing carved into the post: somewhere back in antiquity a ruler had decided a direction marker had been necessary at this point. Kaspar ran his hand over the ancient wood, wondering what secrets of ages past it had overheard whispered below its single lantern.

Leaning against the post, he surveyed his surroundings. Like the practised hunter he was, he noticed little things that would have escaped the attention of most others. Two boys hung around by the entrance to an alley, apparently discussing something, but clearly watching. Lookouts, Kaspar decided. But lookouts for what?

After nearly half an hour of watching, Kaspar had some sense of it. Every so often one boy, or more often a pair, would exit from or enter the alley. If anyone else approached too closely, a signal was made – Kaspar assumed a whistle or a single word, though he was too far away to hear. When the potential threat moved past, another signal was given.

Curiosity as much as a desire to chase down information about Jorgen and his mother impelled Kaspar through the market to the distant alley. He approached, but halted just shy of where he had seen the lookouts.