Raymond Feist - Rise of a Merchant Prince

Along the docks the usual assortment of beggars, confidence men, workmen, and hawkers moved, for the arrival of a boat from the coast meant opportunities, legal and otherwise. Nakor grinned as he said to Sho Pi, ‘Watch your purse.’

‘I don’t have one, Master.’

Nakor had finally despaired of ever getting the young man to stop calling him master, so he just ignored it now.

Calis laughed and said, ‘It’s an expression.’

They left the boat and were greeted at the foot of the gangway by a sergeant in the tabard of the garrison of Shamata. Like the border barons of the north, the garrison commander at Shamata answered directly to the Crown, so there was little court formality observed in the Vale of Dreams. Pleased to be free of any need to pay a social call on local nobles, Calis accepted the man’s salute and said, ‘Your name?’

‘Sergeant Aziz, m’lord.’

‘My rank is captain,’ said Calis. ‘We need three horses and an escort to the Great Star Lake.’

‘The pigeons arrived days ago, Captain,’ answered the sergeant. ‘We have a subgarrison here at the port, with ample horses and enough troops to provide for your needs. My Captain sends an invitation to dine with him this evening, Captain.’

Calis glanced at the sky. ‘I think not. We can ride at least four hours and my mission is urgent. Send your Captain my regrets at the same time you send for mounts and provisions.’ Casting around, he pointed to a disreputable-looking inn across the street from the docks. ‘You’ll find us there.’

‘At once,’ said the sergeant, and he gave orders to a soldier nearby, who saluted and spurred his mount away.

‘It should be no longer than an hour, Captain. Your escort, horses, and provisions should be here quickly.’

‘Good,’ said Calis, motioning for Sho Pi and Nakor to follow him into the dockside inn.

A genial setting, the inn was neither the worst any of them had seen nor the best. It was what one would expect from an inn located so close to the docks: fitting for a leisurely wait, but not somewhere one would choose to frequent if better accommodations were available or affordable. Calis ordered a round of ale and they waited for the return of their escort.

Halfway through their second drink, Nakor’s attention was diverted by a sound from without. An inarticulate cry and a series of monkeylike hootings followed quickly by the sounds of a crowd laughing and jeering. He rose and looked through the closest window. ‘I can’t see anything. Let’s go outside.’

‘Let’s not,’ said Calis, but Nakor had already vanished through the doorway. Sho Pi shrugged and followed his master out of the inn.

Calis stood and followed, deciding it was better to see what trouble Nakor could find before he got too deep into it.

Outside, a crowd had gathered around a man who hunkered down on his haunches as he gnawed on a mutton bone. He was easily the filthiest man Calis had ever seen. It looked – and smelled – as if the man hadn’t bathed in years. Spending time in the fields made one indifferent to the level of fastidiousness required in the Prince’s court, but even among common dockworkers and poor travelers, this man was a walking cesspool.

His hair was black, with touches of grey, and rank with oil and dirt. Shoulder-length, it was matted with debris and old food. His face was nearly black from dirt above an equally filthy beard, and the skin, where it showed through, was sunburned. He wore a robe so torn and ragged it seemed to have more holes than material; whatever color the robe had been was a memory, for now the shreds were stained and smeared.

Years of indifferent eating had left the man famine-thin, and there were sores on his arms and legs.

‘Do the dance!’ shouted one of the workers.

The crouching man growled like a beast, but when the call was repeated a few more times, he put down his nearly bare mutton bone and held out his hand. ‘Please,’ he said, with a surprisingly plaintive tone, almost as if a child were begging. The word came out ‘Plizzz.’

Someone in the crowd shouted, ‘Dance first!’

The ragged beggar stood and suddenly executed a furious mad twirling. Calis stopped behind Nakor, who stood watching the beggar closely. Something about the movements seemed vaguely familiar to Calis, as if hidden in the mad twirling was familiar movement. ‘What is this?’ he said.

Nakor spoke without looking back. ‘Something fascinating.’

The man finished dancing and stood there, swaying with weakness, and held his hand out. Someone in the crowd threw him a half-eaten piece of bread, which landed at the beggar’s feet. He instantly crouched and swept it up.

A supervisor shouted, ‘Here now, get back to work,’ and most of the dockworkers moved away. A few others remained a moment to watch the beggar; then they started to wander off.

Calis turned to a man he took to be a local and asked, ‘Who is he?’

‘Some crazy man,’ said the stranger. ‘He showed up a few months ago and lives where he can. He dances for food.’

‘Where did he come from?’ asked Nakor.

‘No one knows,’ said the townsman, moving along.

Nakor went over to where the ragged man crouched and knelt down before him, studying his face. The man growled like an animal and half turned away to protect his meatless bone and crust of bread.

Nakor reached into his carry sack and pulled out an orange. He stuck his thumb in and pulled off the peel, then handed a section to the beggar. The beggar looked at the fruit a moment, then snatched it from Nakor’s hand. He tried to stuff the entire orange into his mouth at once, creating a wash of orange juice that flowed down his beard.

Sho Pi and Calis came to stand behind Nakor and Calis said, ‘What is this?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered Nakor. He stood up. ‘But we need to take this man with us.’

‘Why?’ asked Calis.

Nakor looked down at the grunting beggar. ‘I don’t know. There’s something familiar about him.’

‘What? You know him?’ asked Calis.

Nakor scratched his chin. ‘He doesn’t look familiar, but given all that dirt, who can say. No, I don’t think I know him. But I think he may be important.’

‘How?’

Nakor grinned. ‘I don’t know. Call it a hunch.’

Calis looked dubious, but over the years Nakor’s hunches had proven to be important, often critical, so he only nodded. The sound of riders approaching signaled the arrival of their own mounts and escort. Calis said, ‘You’ll have to figure out how to convince him to get on a horse, though.’

Nakor stood, scratching his head. ‘Now, that would be a trick.’

Calis said, ‘And before anything else, we’re going to have to give him a bath.’

Nakor’s grin widened. ‘That will be an even better trick.’

Calis returned the grin. ‘Then you figure out how to do it. If I must, I’ll have the guards throw him into the sea.’

Nakor turned and stood considering the options before him as the riders reached Calis.

They gathered at a modest inn in the Merchants’ Quarter, a few streets over from the Poor Quarter of Krondor. The inn was under the control of the Prince of Krondor, though few who frequented it knew that fact. A back room was being used for a meeting, conducted by Robert de Loungville.

‘Duncan, you and William here’ – he indicated a man that Roo had never laid eyes on before – ‘will find your way to a small booth near the corner of Candlemaker Road and Dulanic Street. The man selling scarves and headcloths is a snitch for the Mockers. Make sure he doesn’t say anything to anyone. Knock him senseless if you must.’

Roo glanced at Erik, who shrugged. A dozen men who were strangers crowded into the small room with de Loungville and those who’d had lunch with him earlier in the day. It was now an hour past supper, and most of the shops were either closed for the day or doing their evening business. Erik and Roo were to travel with Jadow and de Loungville to a shop and wait across the street. Robert had impressed on them that if he gave the word they were to get into that shop as quickly as humanly possible. He said it twice, so Roo knew de Loungville viewed that as a critical part of the night’s mission.