Raymond Feist - Shards of a Broken Crown

“Good guess,” said Nakor, smiling. “How would you like to stay with us?”

“That depends,” she said, skepticism clearly evident. “For what purpose?”

“I need smart men and women. I need people who realize that what we’re doing is important, without taking themselves too importantly.”

Suddenly the girl laughed. “I’ve never taken myself very seriously.”

“Good, neither have I.”

“What is it you’re doing?”

Nakor’s manner and voice turned serious. “Out there are forces beyond your understanding. Beyond mine, too.” He grinned, then returned to a serious demeanor. “Many of those qualities many people think of as being ‘abstractions’ are truly objective entities. Do you understand me?”

The girl shook her head. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Nakor laughed. “Very good. You are honest. Let me put it another way. The Good Goddess is sleeping. She is in a trance caused by evil forces. To awaken her we must do good in her name. If enough of us work on her behalf, she will return to us and evil will be driven back into the shadows where it belongs.”

“I understand that,” said Aleta.

“You don’t believe it.”

The former barmaid said, “I don’t know. I’ve never been much of one for gods and goddesses. But if it will fill my stomach, I’m willing to believe for a while.”

“Fair enough.” Nakor rose as Roo came into the office. “We’ll feed you for as long as you wish to stay here, and you’ll learn to do good in the Lady’s name.”

The girl departed and Roo said, “Another convert?”

“Perhaps,” said Nakor. “Potentially. She’s brighter than most.”

Roo said, “Attractive, too, in a funny way. Not pretty, but attractive.”

Nakor grinned. “I know.”

Roo sat and Nakor offered him a cup of tea. “Sorry the order is short, but everyone is being shorted right now. I just finished a shouting match with Prince Patrick’s quartermaster. The army is ready to march, but they lack stores and I can’t promise as much as I’ve already brought from the East, let alone what they want.” He sipped at the hot liquid and said, “Not good, but it’ll do.” Putting the cup down, he continued, “I can’t even find wagons. I could bring more if I could get wagons, but most of the cartwrights in Salador are building for the army. If Patrick would convince the King to let me have his wagons, I could deliver them stocked with goods, but they’re bringing more equipment – arms, saddles, blankets, and the like.”

Nakor nodded. “You need to get your businesses here back up and running.”

Roo laughed. “If only I could.”

“What about building wagons here?”

“No cartwrights. I know a little about keeping them – I was raised a teamster, after all – but not about building one. I know a little carpentry, but I don’t know the metal work, and turning a wheel is a special skill.”

Nakor said, “If I can find you some cartwrights, would you do something for me?”

“What?”

“A favor.”

Roo smiled. His narrow face showed his own wry sense of humor coming to the surface. “You’re setting me up, aren’t you?”

Nakor laughed. “Never trick a trickster.”

“What is it?”

“If I can get you six cartwrights, I want you to commission a statue to be made for me.”

“A statue? What for?”

“I’ll tell you after I get the men. Will you do it?”

A calculating look crossed Roo’s face, and he said, “Make it six cartwrights, a master smith, and three lumbermen, and I’ll commission two statues.”

“Done,” said Nakor, slapping the table with his hand. “I’ll have them for you tomorrow. Where should I send them?”

“I converted a warehouse outside the city to an office here in Darkmoor. I’ll use it as a base until I can return to Krondor. Go out the eastern gate, and at the first road, turn left. It’s the large green warehouse on the right. You can’t miss it.”

Nakor said, “I’ll find it.”

“There’s something about that girl,” said Roo, indicating where Aleta had gone. “I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”

“She’s someone important I think.”

Roo laughed. “As long as I’ve known you I’ve never pretended to understand you.”

“That’s as it should be,” replied Nakor. “For I have never understood myself.”

“Can I ask you something, as a friend?”

“Of course.”

“Over the years you’ve claimed you only know tricks, yet you manage the damnedest things that I can only call magic. Now you’re starting a religion. Now, my question is, what are you really up to?”

Nakor grinned. “I’m starting something important. I’m not sure how it will turn out, and I doubt if I’ll be around to see it at the end, but I’m doing something that may be the most important thing I’ve done in my life.”

“And may I ask what that is?”

Nakor used his hand to indicate the poor building in which they sat. “I’m building a church.”

Roo shook his head. “If you say so. Tell me, Nakor, has anyone ever called you mad?”

Nakor laughed. “Often, and most of the time they’re serious.”

Roo rose. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll see what I can do about the grain, and if you get me those workers, I’ll have those statues commissioned for you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sho Pi entered and said, “Master, those who came to hear the lesson are ready for food.”

“Then let us feed them,” said Nakor.

The odd gambler turned religious leader halted at the office door and watched the five who were there a moment. Four of them would be gone after their bellies were full, but the girl, Aleta, would remain. And without knowing why, Nakor knew that a major part of his future path had turned a particular way because she was now here. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain that from this time forward, she was the most important person in his newly founded church, and her life must be protected above everyone else, including himself. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he entered the warehouse and helped his disciples feed the hungry.

Erik pointed and said, “What do you see there?”

“Something’s coming along the road,” said Akee, the Hatadi hillman. “A single man, on horseback.”

Erik squinted against the setting sun. Sure enough, what had been a faint movement, a speck of darkness against the bright sky, resolved itself into the figure of a man on horseback, trotting along the King’s Highway.

Erik von Darkmoor, Captain of the Crimson Eagles, and a mixed detachment consisting of members of his own company, Hadati hillmen, and members of the Royal Krondorian Pathfinders were spread out on either side of the highway. “One of ours?” asked Erik.

Akee said, “I think so. I think it’s Jimmy Jamison.”

“How can you tell?”

The Hadati smiled. “You learn to recognize a friend by the way he sits his mount.”

Erik turned to see if the man was joking and saw that he wasn’t. During the winter Erik had spent enough time with the Hadati hillman and his company to come to respect him and even like him as much as one could the somewhat standoffish hill fighters. Akee was a leader in his village and considered an important voice in the council of the Hadati people up in Yabon, that much Erik had come to understand.

He had also discovered the man was the grandson of a companion of the former Prince of Krondor’s, one Baru, called the Serpentslayer, and as a result, Akee was considered very sympathetic to the Kingdom, a quality not universal among the independent and tough-minded hill people of Yabon. Of all the people living within the boundaries of the Kingdom, the Hadati were among those most aloof. The fact that any had answered the Duke of Yabon’s call for scouts was directly related to Akee’s having been among them.