Raymond Feist - Shards of a Broken Crown

Jimmy feigned indifference to hearing his grandfather’s name, This invader was very well informed about things in Krondor and the Kingdom to know about Duke James and Rillanon’s better bootmaker.

“But we manage,” said the man. “Feeding the workers is difficult, but the fishing has been good and there are those willing to sell to us for the little booty we’ve found in Krondor.”

Jimmy was intrigued. He was also wary. This man was apparently unconcerned by what he said, and appeared to be someone of some importance among the invaders.

The man stood and said, “Can you walk?”

Jimmy rose and nodded. “I’ll manage.”

“Good. Then come with me.”

Jimmy followed the man out of the door of the inn. Outside the afternoon sun was brilliant and Jimmy squinted. “We must walk, I’m sorry to say. Horses are a staple of our current diet.” He glanced at Jimmy. “Though a few are maintained to carry messages.”

They walked along a busy street. While almost every man was armed and obviously a warrior, a few were workers and a few women were seen here and there. Everyone seemed occupied with some task, and none of the usual idle habitues of the city were in evidence: the drunks, prostitutes, confidence men, and beggars. Also noticeable by their absence, the street urchins who flocked in rowdy gangs through the poor and workers’ quarters of the city.

“If I may ask,” said Jimmy, “where’s my dog robber?”

“He’s comfortable,” said the man. “Don’t worry about him.”

The man who was walking beside him said, “Jimmy, if you are a spy, you’re most likely wondering what it is we’re doing here in Krondor.”

Jimmy said, “It is a question that has crossed my mind. I may not be a spy, but it’s obvious there’s more going on here than a simple staging for a spring offensive. You’ve got soldiers on the outside of the walls anxious to enlist and you’re not enlisting them. You have a great deal of work underway, but some of it” – he pointed to a nearby building where two soldiers were hanging a new door – “clearly not military in nature. It’s as if you’ve come to Krondor to stay.”

The man smiled, and again Jimmy was reminded of the old Prince, for this man had the same cryptic half-smile Arutha had evidenced when amused. “Good observation. Yes, we’re not planning on leaving anytime soon.”

Jimmy nodded, his head still ringing from the beating he had taken. He said, “But you’re turning away swords who will help you hang on to this place when the Prince’s army returns.”

“How many spies are among that band outside?” asked the man.

“I couldn’t begin to guess.” Jimmy shrugged. “Not many, I wager.”

“Why?”

“Because no man of the Kingdom can pass himself off as one of your own. We don’t speak your language.”

“Ah,” said the officer, “but you have. Some of your countrymen have been among us for years. We first became of aware of a group calling itself ‘Calis’s Crimson Eagles’ before the fall of Maharta. We now know they were Kingdom agents. We know they were with us from time to time.” They reached the walls and the man motioned for Jimmy to climb with him up a flight of stairs to the ramparts.

As they climbed, the man continued. “We who were commanding never had a clear picture of this campaign. To understand what we became, you need to know what we were before.” They reached the ramparts, and the man motioned for Jimmy to follow. They reached a section of the wall freshly refurbished, the stones set firmly in place with new mortar. The man motioned beyond the wall, toward the east. “Out there is a nation, your Kingdom.” He turned to regard Jimmy. “In my homeland we have no such nations. There were city-states, ruled by men who were petty or noble, who were acquisitive or generous, wise or foolish. But no ruler’s power existed beyond a week’s ride by his soldiers.” He motioned toward Jimmy. “You people have this thing in your mind. This idea of a nation. It is an idea I am most intrigued by, even captivated by. The notion that men who live more than a month’s travel from a ruler swear to that ruler, are willing to die for that ruler—” He stopped himself. “No, not the ruler, this nation. Now this is an amazing idea.

“I have spent much time this winter speaking with those among our prisoners who could teach me, men and women of some education or experience, who would help me understand this concept of this Kingdom.” He shook his head. “It is a grand thing, this nation of yours.”

Jimmy shrugged. “We tend to take it for granted.”

“I understand, for you have never known otherwise.” The man looked out over the wall. Below was a sea of tents and makeshift shelters, campfies and the sounds of humanity, laughter, shouts of anger, the voices of peddlers, a child crying. “But to me the notion of something larger than what I can take and hold – for my employer or for myself – that is a wondrous notion.”

The wind blew and the afternoon smelled of salt and charcoal. The man said, “Tell me, why is this city built here?” He glanced westward. “If there is a worse harbor in the world, I’ve not seen it.”

Jimmy shrugged. “The story says the first Prince of Krondor liked the view of the sunset from the hill upon which the palace was built.”

“Princes,” said the man, shaking his head. He sighed loudly. “We are dredging that terrible harbor. We have found those who call themselves ‘Wreckers’ and they are using their magic to raise hulks for us. We manage one every three days, and will have the harbor cleared before next winter.”

Jimmy said nothing.

“We know you marshal what’s left of your fleet down in Shandon Bay, in the village you call Port Vykor. We have no fleet, but we will have ships, and we will hold the city.”

Jimmy shrugged. “May I ask why?”

“Because we have nowhere else to go.”

Jimmy looked at the man and said, “If there was a way back to your home …?”

“There is nothing there.” He glanced toward the east. “There is my future, one way or another.” Then he looked toward the west. “Out there is a land ravaged by over twenty years of war. No city of size remains. Those few that do are small backwaters, barely more prosperous in their glory than Krondor is now in her ashes. They are city-states of tiny men with no sense of the future. One day is much like the next.”

He turned toward Jimmy and studied him a long time. “I’m fifty-two years old next Midsummer’s Day, lad. I’ve been a soldier since I was sixteen years of age. For thirty-six years I’ve been fighting.” He glanced at the city as the sun began to lower in the west. “That’s a damn long time to be dealing in blood and slaughter.” He leaned on the parapet as if tired. “For the last twenty I’ve served demons or black gods, I don’t know which, but I know that the Army of the Emerald Queen was made up of men beguiled by dark forces, lured by promises of wealth, power, and immortality.” His voice lowered. “Or propelled by fear.” He looked down, as if reluctant to look Jimmy in the eyes. “I was ambitious when I was young. I was anxious to make a name for myself. I formed my own company when I was eighteen. I was commanding a thousand men by twenty.

“At first I was glad to serve the Emerald Queen. Her army was the greatest my land had known. With conquest came booty, gold, women, more recruits.” He closed his eyes as if remembering. “But after a while the years slip by and you find the string of women hold no interest, and there’s only so much gold you can carry with you. Besides, there’s nothing to do with it but hire more men.”

He looked at Jimmy and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, to the north. “My old friend Noradan is up there, at my back. If I know Fadawah, I am to be left here to be ground to a fine dust by the returning army of the Prince of Krondor. I am to slow him down and bleed him, while Noradan builds up a barrier across the highway to the north of here, to stand at Sarth.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if somehow able to see to that distant town. “That’s a hell of a defensive position, that abandoned abbey. Once he’s dug in, it will take your Prince all year to dig him out.”