Raymond E. Feist - The Complete Darkwar Trilogy - Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God

Tad’s eyes widened. He had been repeatedly scolded to buy or move on by merchants all week, for penniless boys held no interest for them. He said, ‘My master bids us find saleable items to take north and sell in the Kingdom of the Isles.’

‘And who might your master be, O host to a thousand fleas?’

Zane tried not to laugh. He found the usual insults of the market extremely amusing. Tad just got irritated. ‘Caleb, a merchant of wealth and standing in the Vale of Dreams. He trades from one end of the Bitter Sea to the other. Do you have sources that can supply curiosities such as these in quantity?’

Still appearing dubious, the merchant nevertheless modified his tone and said, ‘If that is true, it would be a matter of what constitutes “quantity”. Some of these items are of great craftsmanship and took many days to fashion.’

Zane stood examining the various icons and amulets. He held one up and stared at it even more intently. Slowly he put it back. Tad said, ‘Say, perhaps a dozen of each of the more common gods worshipped in the north?’

‘A week, two perhaps,’ said the man, smelling a possible windfall.

Zane grabbed Tad’s wrist and squeezed, saying, ‘We will speak to our master and if he’s interested, we will return tomorrow.’

Zane didn’t wait for Tad to add anything more, and half-steered, half-pushed him away from the booth. When they were lost in the crowd and far from the merchant’s view, Tad said, ‘What?’

‘One of those icons looked like the one Caleb told us to watch for. The thing that looked like a hawk.’

Tad glanced over his shoulder and then said, ‘We should get back to the Three Willows and tell him.’

The boys hurried off and took the shortest route back to the inn they could remember, though it still took them almost an hour to find it.

Caleb sat at a table in the corner with another man; a stocky fellow wearing a red turban, a heavy brocade vest – despite the summer’s heat – over the finest linen shirt. His face was dark, like sun-tanned leather, and his darker eyes regarded the boys as they approached the table.

Zane halted while Tad said, ‘Caleb, may we speak to you for a moment, please?’

Caleb turned to look at the boys and said, ‘You’re back early.’

‘We found something we think you might be interested in,’ said Zane.

Caleb nodded as the other man stood. ‘Boys, this is Chezarul, a trader from the west of the Empire. He’s as stingy in a bargain as he is generous with his friends.’ To the man, he said, ‘These are my adopted sons.’

‘Then I bid you welcome to the greatest city in the world. You are welcome guests in my home from now until the end of your days.’ He bowed, and then shook hands with each of the boys.

Chezarul took his chair again and Tad said, ‘Caleb, if we could have a moment, in private …?’

Both men rose and Caleb said, ‘If you will excuse me?’

Chezarul bowed and said, ‘Bring the boys to my shop tomorrow, Caleb.’

He departed and they moved upstairs to the privacy of their room. ‘What is it?’

Zane quickly described what they had seen and said, ‘I don’t know if it’s the same amulet you told us to watch out for, but it could be.’

‘I wish I had thought to show you the one in my father’s possession,’ said Caleb. ‘There were just too many things going on when we left.’ He paused, then nodded. ‘I’ll go with you tomorrow and if the vendor is there, we’ll purchase some of his trinkets, with a promise to buy more. That should move him to contact his supplier and we can have him followed.’ He put his hand on Zane’s shoulder. ‘You did well.’

Zane looked pleased with himself.

‘I’ve got some errands to attend to for the next two hours. Go and do whatever you wish, but try not to find too much trouble. Be back here in two hours and we’ll have supper together.’

‘Yes, Caleb,’ said Tad as their stepfather left the room.

‘What now?’ asked Tad.

‘I don’t know,’ answered Zane. ‘We could just rest here for a while?’

‘Too hot,’ he said. ‘I’d just as soon keep exploring and see if there’s anywhere we might be welcome – someplace to have some fun.’

Zane grinned. ‘You mean someplace where the girls won’t spit on us just because we have an odd accent.’

‘That, too,’ said Tad, returning the grin. ‘I hear there’s a small plaza over by the eastern caravanserai gate where foreigners gather. Maybe there …?’

As Zane pulled the door wide open, he was confronted by a momentarily confusing sight. A slightly portly older woman, dressed in the fashion of the Trueblood, moved down the hall to his right, followed by two beautiful girls. Both were dressed like their mother, in linen skirts fastened with brooches at the hip and wearing decorative torques around their necks. A great deal of beadwork adorned their hair, and rings and bracelets made a racket as they moved. One of the girls caught his eye and smiled at him, while the other seemed intent upon something her mother was saying.

Zane halted suddenly and Tad bumped into him, forcing Zane to step into the hall. The girl who had turned to see who was at the door giggled and moved aside, causing her sister to also look in the boy’s direction. Zane was on the verge of uttering an apology for startling them, when their mother turned to see the two somewhat dishevelled boys, still covered in grime from their day in the city under the sweltering sun.

‘Mamanaud!’ she said, her voice rising to an angry tone and she pointed at the boys.

Zane turned to look at Tad and said, ‘Mamanaud?’

Just then, two fists the size of hams gripped the boys’ shoulders and the largest man they had ever seen shoved them hard, back into their room. Both lads collapsed in a heap, while in the hall, the older woman screamed what sounded vaguely like insults at them. The large man entered the room and pulled a very long, very sharp curved dagger from his belt.

Everything had taken place so quickly, the boys were not quite sure what had happened. The huge man took a menacing step towards them but suddenly a sword blade rested on his shoulder at the crook of his neck, and a voice from behind him said, ‘Try not to move, my friend, unless you wish to bleed profusely.’

The huge man frowned and froze in mid-step, his face looking like a dark brown pumpkin with eyes and a tiny nose above his broad mouth. The woman shouted something unintelligible from the hall and a man’s voice answered her. ‘I’m sure it was all just a misunderstanding, madam, and the boys meant no harm or insult.’

Still prevented from seeing anything through the door by the motionless behemoth who occupied their entire field of vision, the boys then heard the voice of Pablo Maguire saying, ‘What is going on here?’

A three-voiced conversation then ensued; the woman shouting in an almost hysterical pitch, while two male voices appeared to be trying to assuage her concerns.

The big man in the doorway put his dagger away slowly and backed out the door, so now the boys could see a swordsman standing behind him, his blade resting on the man’s neck. ‘Now, I’m going to remove my sword from your neck,’ he said, ‘and you’ll go see to your mistress without any more fuss.’

The bodyguard moved forward a step and turned. Just before he could faced the wielder of the blade, he found the point of the weapon at his neck once more. ‘Ah ah ah!’ said the young man holding the sword. ‘That wouldn’t be very wise.’

The big man stepped away, threw a nasty glance at the two boys and turned and vanished into the room at the end of the hall.

The man with the sword walked over to the door and said, ‘You boys all right?’