Which didn’t make them any less a murdering bunch of thugs. But there was less of a chance of reprisals from the Nighthawks if he put paid to them. At least, James hoped so. Then he mentally corrected himself: there was no true Crawler. Still, he thought, even though the crime lord was a fiction, it was a fiction created by the governor or someone high up in his palace, so for the sake of keeping his thoughts in order, he assigned the label ‘Crawler’ to whoever that might be.
Now urgency was starting to outweigh caution. From what he had noted when he had visited the palace, he judged the most likely access to where Jazhara was being kept would be the stables nearest the gate from which the four black riders had emerged. There, or somewhere nearby.
His logic was based on two factors: for everyone in the governor’s palace to be part of some dark plot was unlikely – too many servants and minor officials were in and out of there every day, as well as merchants, vendors, carters, wagon drivers, and errand boys – and wherever the black riders and Jazhara were, it would be somewhere most servants and none of the nobility and functionaries would wander: the stables.
James had two avenues of approach: either through the main gate which, given the daily traffic in and out of the palace, wouldn’t prove difficult; or over the wall. The problem was, either choice had drawbacks.
He weighed his options and finally devised a plan. His delight at his own ingenuity made him almost forget Jazhara’s plight for a moment, but only for a moment. Ignoring his sore shoulder and itching back, he hurried off into the city.
Two hours later a rider garbed in expensive robes leading a magnificent stallion approached the entrance to the governor’s stables. He dismounted and banged loudly on the gate.
It had taken James nearly half an hour of haggling with Jacob the moneylender to get his hands on the sum sufficient to buy the best horse in Durbin. He had basically been forced to promise Jacob he could safely return to Krondor once James returned, and that he would protect him from the Mockers. By the time James left with the money, he was surprised Jacob hadn’t asked for a parade down the central boulevard of the city to the prince’s palace, with a royal reception and lunch thrown in for good measure.
After James had banged on the gate a few more times, the viewing plate slid aside and a face peered at him. ‘What do you want?’ demanded the servant.
‘I bring the governor’s new horse.’
‘New horse? I know of none such.’
‘Are you the governor?’ asked James in as condescending a tone as he could muster. He spoke passable Keshian but was affecting an odd accent just to add to the confusion.
‘No—’
‘Then open the bloody gate and take this fractious creature to the stable! I merely carry out my master’s orders.’
There was a moment of deliberation, then the peek-through slid shut and another moment passed, and then the gate opened. James led both horses through and handed the reins of the stallion to the servant. As soon as the stallion felt unsure hands on the reins, he began to pull away and the servant nearly lost his grip.
‘By the gods, you fool!’ shouted James, raising the level of noise and excitement. ‘Don’t let go, else you’ll be chasing him through the city for days!’ He reached out and took the reins, then handed his own horse’s reins to the servant. ‘Show me to the stable and I’ll put him in a stall.’
The servant, now very flustered, nodded and said, ‘This way.’
James watched as the man awkwardly shut the gate behind him while holding on to James’s mount. He was so distracted he hadn’t thought to hand the reins back to James while he did it.
Good, thought James. He wanted the man to be so preoccupied with what was taking place that he wouldn’t notice who James was. If all went according to plan, James would have Jazhara out of there and safely hidden somewhere by the time William and the Izmalis returned. Then they’d wait for her family and put right this mess in the governor’s household. But while he wanted all this done, he didn’t want too many people taking a good look at him, certainly not when he was clearly the prince’s man in Durbin, for he intended to return here, build up what he had started at the Jade Monkey and move on, into the Empire, constructing a network that his sons – should he have any – and his grandsons – if he had any of those – would continue to use in service to the Kingdom.
Inside the stable it took James less than a minute to render the servant unconscious after the stallion had been put in a stall. He struck him from behind, then pried open his mouth and poured in the contents of a small vial. The man would sleep for the rest of the day and then the night, and awake tomorrow with a massive headache. It was unkind, but better than killing him, and James needed to guarantee he didn’t awake and raise the alarm before he found Jazhara.
James quickly removed the small burr he had put under the ornate saddle that was part of the ‘governor’s gift’ and the horse instantly calmed down. ‘Forgive me, boy,’ said James, patting him, and got a reassuring snort in return.
James had no intention of leaving as valuable an animal as this one behind; he needed a second horse so Jazhara could ride out of here. He judged that once he got her into this stable, assuming there was no immediate pursuit, it would take him less than two minutes to ride to the gate, open it and be through.
He positioned both horses so they could be easily and quickly mounted, then looked around. He spied a door in the rear wall and, remembering the layout of the palace from within and without, judged it likely to be his best choice. From where it stood, it would either be a pantry door or a door to stairs leading down. The latter turned out to be the case and James quickly hurried down the stairs.
At the bottom he listened and when he heard no sounds, he peered into a corridor. There was a door to his right, which he dismissed as being too near the outer wall to be more than a cupboard or small room, and a long hall off to his left, illuminated by a lone torch in an iron holder affixed to the wall. He moved down the hall.
James decided this area looked as much like a dungeon as a pantry or storage area. The doors were all of heavy wood with massive locks, and there were slides to peer through. He peered into one such but it was dark.
He listened. No sound was a mixed blessing. It meant he was unlikely to encounter anyone unexpectedly, but it also meant he was no closer to finding Jazhara than he had been before arriving in the palace. At the far end of the hallway James hesitated, for it branched left and right, but only for a moment. Keeping his orientation relative to the palace above was second nature to him. He turned the corner and was halfway down the corridor when a door behind him swung open and he turned, just as a large man in black clothing emerged and saw him. He shouted something inarticulate but angry. James realized he had no choice in the matter. There was nowhere to run.
He drew his belt-knife and charged, driving his shoulder into the man’s stomach before he could draw his sword. The fashion in which he took him off his feet told James this was no true Nighthawk, which answered one question for him.
The mythical Crawler’s crew had nothing to do with the real Nighthawks.
The two men went down in a heap, with James on top. He was just drawing back his dagger when he sensed another man behind him. That moment’s hesitation prevented him from killing the man beneath him, and before he could protect himself, a heavy blow to the side of his head sent him spinning into darkness.
• CHAPTER FOURTEEN •
Confrontation
JAMES AWOKE IN PAIN.
He was suspended in the air, shackled to heavy chains that were bolted to the ceiling and floor. The first thing he realized as he became conscious was that his shoulder was in agony. Then he realized his head was throbbing.
Jazhara stood before him smiling. ‘Are you . . .?’ he began, groggily, then realized she was free. ‘Get me down,’ he whispered.
‘No need to whisper, Sir James,’ she answered, and instantly he knew he wasn’t speaking to Jazhara.
A
single torch in a sconce on the wall behind James threw deep shadows into the corners of the room, and his field of vision was limited. He found he was sweating.
‘No one can hear you scream,’ ‘Jazhara’ said.
James knew he had found the demon. Or rather, she had found him.
‘Lady Shandra?’ he asked.
‘You are a clever one, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘My previous host.’
‘What happened to her?’ asked James.
With a tilt of her hand, the demon occupying Jazhara’s body indicated a corner behind and to the left of James. He craned his neck over his shoulder but all he could see were two pairs of legs extending out of the gloom: one, as far as he could see, male; the other female.
‘The governor and his wife?’ asked James. He kept a lock-pick in his right sleeve, but hanging from these chains made it impossible to reach. If he was to survive long enough for help to arrive, he first had to remain alive.
‘She was useful, for a while, but this body has so much more to offer,’ said the demon. ‘Though her mind has retreated behind some sort of barrier.’ She cocked her head to one side as if listening to another voice. ‘With your kind, I have their memories and know all they know within minutes, but Jazhara’s magic has shielded her. I’ve possessed a dozen before Lady Shandra and it was always amusing to have them there, with me, tucked away in a corner of their own body, unable to do anything but watch me and scream. Sometimes they’d be driven mad, but other times they would rage, beg, threaten. It’s very entertaining. To me, it’s much like your music. So many variations, so many different tunes. There was the idiot who thought summoning me would do a service for his god, and then a travelling merchant with a great deal of gold. After I killed off his entire retinue except for the strongest warrior, I took the warrior and killed the merchant.’ She smiled and James could not believe a face so familiar to him could suddenly become so alien, so evil. ‘It took a while, but my master wanted to do little but sow discord, and for a while random bloodshed was amusing. But when I managed to take Lady Shandra while she was out shopping, then I realized I had learned enough about human politics to know that starting a major war would be of far more service to my master than what I had been doing thus far. So, here we are.’ She waved her hand around as if encompassing all of the governor’s palace.
James felt sick to his inner core. He didn’t know if distracting her might somehow give Jazhara any help, but he felt he had nothing to lose. ‘So why aren’t I dead?’ he asked.
‘I need you,’ said the demon. ‘At least for a little while longer.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’ The demon’s mannerisms were reminiscent of Lady Shandra, at least from what James remembered from the one time they had met.
‘Why kill the governor?’ asked James.
‘When I leave a host there’s not much of a mind left behind, and having his very alert and clever wife suddenly become bereft of reason would be difficult to explain. There are illnesses that leave a healthy, mature woman suddenly slack-jawed and drooling, but a good healing cleric might find traces of my being there. Moreover, once they realized there was no healing spell known that could restore her mind, the thought that this might be a simple brain seizure would pass and they’d start seeking other causes. I do not need people guessing I’m here.’ She grinned. ‘But a brutal murder by a rogue agent of the Prince of Krondor . . .’ she smiled and there was nothing humorous or warm in that expression, ‘now that could prove very useful. A serious war between Kesh and the Kingdom would certainly take attention away for a while.’ She glanced around the room, as if waiting for something.
‘Away from what?’
The face that had been Jazhara’s lost its smile. ‘You’ve been a thorn in our side, Jimmy the Hand.’
‘Whose side?’
‘I serve one who has very long-term goals here, Jimmy. And you’ve managed to thwart him three times.’ She sighed theatrically. ‘The fool who attacked Arutha at Sarth sent a thing, a monster with no mind to speak of, the most primitive construct; the summonings at the Tomb of the Hopeless; and those in Krondor. Poor attempts at best. But when this one mad warlock up in the mountains thought he’d summon a demon to bargain for long life . . .’ She grinned and there was no trace of Jazhara in her eyes. ‘My master dispatched me instead of the annoying little imps that usually answer those calls.’ She laughed. ‘I merely waited inside his circle, invisible, until he foolishly stepped inside to see what he had done wrong. Once the ring was broken, he was mine!’
‘What do you want?’ asked James.
She shrugged. ‘He whom I serve is so far above me, I only do his bidding, never asking his reasons or questioning his motives. I am but one of many who serve him. My mandate is to cause havoc, to bring chaos, and keep you humans distracted.’
‘Distracted from what?’
She wagged her finger at him. ‘It is what it is. You will die never knowing.’
‘Who is your master?’
She shook her head, saying nothing. ‘Perhaps one day you’ll find out. Perhaps not. It’s immaterial. At first, we tried to keep you alive. I thought it would not do to have Prince Arutha’s agent in Kesh turning up dead in Durbin, nor drawing attention to the Crawler, here. He was supposed to be a distant and mythical personage, keeping your filthy Mockers off balance. When you balked our attempts to summon my brothers into Krondor, we conspired to keep you there, while we . . .’ That unnerving smile returned. ‘It doesn’t matter what we are doing here. It only matters that we succeed. Now, we will wait for my agents to find your other companion and ensure that he is part of this grisly tale.’
She was silent and still for a moment, as if listening to something. ‘Jazhara returning to Krondor with a tale of betrayal and murder, a plot to throw discredit upon Arutha, that will prove beyond any doubt her loyalty to him. We will ensure that Kesh sees her as part of the murder plot, paint her a traitor and further drive a wedge between these two nations.’
She was silent again while James waited, struggling to contrive a way out of this situation. He knew things looked hopeless, but life had so far taught him hope only died with surrender. He might be flung from the highest tower on this world, but he would be thinking of a way to escape until the moment he struck the ground.
Suddenly Jazhara closed her eyes tightly and let out a sound of pain, as if struck by a blinding headache. She opened her eyes and for a brief instant looked around in confusion. ‘James . . .?’ she whispered.
‘Jazhara?’
‘Don’t let her . . . use me.’ Suddenly her eyes closed tightly, then she stood upright as if shaking off the pain. ‘The little minx fights back!’ She was motionless for a long moment. At last she opened her eyes again and sighed. ‘Ah, there. Jazhara’s defences weaken. Her will is strong, but mine is stronger.’
Time dragged on. James tried to wrest information out of the demon, against the faint possibility he might somehow survive and put it to good use. She was adamant in not revealing anything of her mission or who she served. In the end, all he was left with was that she must be stopped: she could not be allowed to travel to Krondor disguised as Arutha’s magic-advisor. He knew what the next, inevitable step must be.
‘The death of the Governor of Durbin at the hands of the prince’s advisor will bring problems enough,’ he said. ‘The death of the Prince of Krondor at the hands of the niece of one of the most powerful nobles in the Empire will start the war you seek.’
Laughter erupted from the demon. ‘You are almost as clever as they said you were.’ She looked at James and he was sure he caught a gleam of horror behind her eyes. ‘The death of Lord Hazara-Khan’s niece at the hands of the Prince of Krondor as she attempts to kill him and his family, that will be even better – it will bring what we desire. When Arutha declares war without the King’s leave, not even his brother will say nay.’ She looked down coyly. ‘Especially when the prince is mad with grief over the foul murder of his beloved wi
fe and children.’
James recoiled. ‘You’ll kill Anita and the children, then possess Arutha,’ he said, sick at the thought of such an evil plan.
She nodded. ‘By then Jazhara’s mind will be that of a simpering child. She will not be able to defend herself when Arutha kills her with his bare hands. It’s all a matter of timing. Just kill the children first, then the princess before Arutha turns up. I think perhaps as they are sleeping and she thinks everything in her world is perfect.’
James hung from his chains, unable to think of any way to prevent the most horrifying plot he could imagine – the murder of the five people in the world he loved the most, which would in turn engender the biggest catastrophe ever to face the Kingdom.
‘Ah,’ the demon said, ‘I believe your friend is coming.’
‘Willy will never believe you,’ said James. ‘You don’t have enough knowledge to feign being Jazhara.’
‘He will believe I am distraught over the need to kill you,’ she countered, ‘and in a few days I will have torn down these barriers in Jazhara’s mind and will have all her knowledge.’
‘She’ll find a way to prevent that!’
The demon laughed. ‘She may as well be dead, James. If you had a powerful cleric with the right knowledge and had me dislodged last night . . . perhaps she would have emerged intact. She is using whatever magic and mental strength she has left to battle me, seeking to wrest back control, but she is losing and now she’s reduced to just keeping me away from her memories, but those defences are wearing thinner by the moment. Even if you could banish me now, she would be no more than a shadow of what she was. Oh, she’d have most of her memories, and her magic, but she would be a frightened little girl compared to the woman you knew.’