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

‘We can surmise that Hawkins avoided a trap of some sort. But I want to know who the mysterious man who went up the stairs before Amafi was. And where has Talwin Hawkins and Petro Amafi taken him?’

Kaspar said, ‘I have no idea.’

‘Well, I suspect your man Pasko might have some means of getting word to him.’

‘I’ll have him go about it as soon as we’re done here.’

‘I have two masters, Kaspar. I serve those whom you serve, because I believe their cause is just and in the long term your objectives also aid my other master, the Emperor. I can best serve by bringing proof of a plot to him. Not guesses, not vague circumstances, but proof.

‘The other matter is that last night word reached me of an assault at an inn called the Three Willows, owned by a former Kingdom citizen by name of Pablo Maguire. A trader from the Vale of Dreams was in residence, a man of vague nationality, seeming both Keshian and Kingdom, and with him were three boys, apprentices apparently. The master was away on business, and the boys were eating their supper when an altercation broke out.

‘Why these three lads were singled out is uncertain, but it is clear that there’s more going on than meets the eye.’ Bey looked at Kaspar. ‘This Maguire isn’t another of your agents, is he?’

‘I’m like you, Turgan; I only get told what I need to know, and no more.’

The large old man let out a deep sigh. ‘I understand why our masters act as they do, but I must confess that it annoys me no end to have other agents – potential allies – close at hand and be ignorant of them.’

‘It’s all to a purpose,’ said Kaspar. ‘You can’t divulge what you don’t know.’

‘Then send your man to wherever he must be sent and start spreading the word: I need proof of Dangai’s duplicity, and I need it soon, or Kesh may be plunged into a civil war.’

‘What have your own agents found?’

Turgan Bey flexed his hands in frustration. ‘I can not trust more than a handful of those who are purportedly in my service – too many alliances have been formed and reformed around the succession.

‘The Banapis Celebration begins in less than two weeks, and the city will be thronging with visitors. The Emperor is due to make what may be his last public appearance. He will address the Gallery of Lords and Masters and then stand on a balcony waving to the crowds below, though it is unlikely that they will be able to see him.

‘In short, if there is to be a coup d’état it will most likely happen then. The Inner Legion will be in the city, but the Royal Charioteers and the Imperial Army will not be.’

‘I’ll see what I can come up with. Any idea where Tal might have gone to ground?’

‘No. Talk to your man Pasko, or go to the Merry Juggler, the inn where he was staying. Track him down and see if he has found anything.

‘Talk to our friends in the north, too, do whatever it takes, Kaspar. Help me keep this Empire intact, and if your brother-in-law won’t have you back in Olasko, I’ll see that Sezioti makes you a prince of the Empire.’

Kaspar smiled. ‘Thanks, but my appetite for power seems to be a thing of the past. I find that working on behalf of our friends in the north gives me ample cause for rising each morning, and no man can ask more than that.’ He bowed and left the room.

He signalled to Pasko who was waiting quietly on a bench outside the room, and the old servant fell into step with him. ‘I’m going to an inn called the Merry Juggler. You go wherever you need to go if unexpected trouble occurs. Something went sour last night, and our friends have gone to ground … assuming they haven’t got themselves killed.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘I need to speak to Tal and Caleb, and sooner is better than later.’

Pasko nodded and hurried off, turning down a corridor that would eventually take him to the lower city via the servants’ entrance. Kaspar hurried to the office of the Keeper of the Imperial Household, to request that a mount be readied for him as soon as possible. He wondered if he could find another mug of coffee somewhere, and perhaps a bread roll or slice of ham to eat before he went riding out to confront chaos.

The warehouse was surrounded by guards loyal to the Conclave. Inside, Tal watched dispassionately as Amafi continued to question the assassin. It had taken a great deal of luck as well as skill to carry the unconscious man to a safe house, and they had barely reached this deserted warehouse before dawn.

But now they were secure, at least for a while, and the prisoner could make as much noise as he wished and no one would be the wiser. And despite his refusal to talk, he had been making a great deal of noise for over two hours.

Amafi turned away from the man, who had been bound by leather ties to a heavy wooden chair, which was in turn tied to a supporting-beam in the middle of the room. It had been necessary after he had tried to break his own skull against the dirt floor. Fortunately for Tal, all it had done was render the assassin unconscious for less than an hour.

Amafi said softly, ‘We have reached a place where both he and I must rest, Magnificence.’ With a jerk of his head, he indicated that Tal should walk with him to the far side of the warehouse.

When they were some distance from the prisoner, Amafi said, ‘Torture is an art form, Magnificence. Anyone can beat a man into insensibility. Anyone can inflict enough pain so that the prisoner becomes nearly mindless.’

‘Where are we with him?’

‘This man has been trained, Magnificence, and he is a fanatic. He would rather die in agony than betray his clan. So the trick is to convince him that the agony will be endless. Then he will talk.

‘But when he talks, he must also believe that the truth is his only escape from pain, from betrayal and from whatever drives his silence. For if he is too resilient, he will still speak lies. And if he is too damaged, he will just say whatever he thinks we wish to hear.’

Tal nodded. He took no enjoyment from watching Amafi inflict pain, but he had seen so much death and suffering since his childhood that it disturbed him only a little. He always remembered that those he opposed were at the heart of what had befallen his people – they had caused the near-obliteration of the Orosini. He also had a family in Opardum that would suffer, along with everyone else on Midkemia, should the Conclave fail.

‘What do we need to do?’

‘First, I need some of the men outside to cover the windows, so it is always dark in here. We must confuse his sense of time, so that he thinks he’s been here longer than he has. I should return to the inn and secure a change of clothing or two for us, so that we can confuse him about the passage of time that way too. Lastly, we need to bring in some food and wine – brandy would be better – so that we can soothe him when it becomes necessary.’

‘Do what you must.’

Amafi hurried out of the warehouse, and Tal walked over to where the semiconscious prisoner sat, befouled by blood and his own body-waste. Tal and he exchanged a long look, and neither man spoke.

Caleb groaned as he sat up. The boys had been trying to stay calm all day, but without any way to judge the passing of time in the small room, the minutes dragged by.

Tad and Zane had already reached the point of confrontation due to their frayed nerves, but Jommy had broken up the scuffle before it could really start.

The girl had returned with another meal and said, ‘It won’t be long before they’ll decide where to move you,’ but she would not stay with them or answer any more questions.

Now Caleb had recovered, the boys told him of what had happened at the Three Willows. He said, ‘So, we were not half as clever as we thought we were.’