Krondor: The Assassins

Copyright

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1999

Copyright © Raymond E. Feist

Cover design by Dominic Forbes © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Raymond E. Feist asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008311261

Ebook Edition © January 2018 ISBN: 9780007352456

Version: 2018-11-13

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the editors who have put up with, inspired, corrected, and aided me, to the ends of improving the work and making me look good: Adrian Zackheim, Nick Austin, Pat LoBrutto, Janna Silverstein, Malcolm Edwards, and my current guides: Jennifer Brehl and Jane Johnson.

Also, to Peter Schneider, who has done far more on my behalf than he realizes.

My deepest thanks to them all.

Raymond E. Feist

Rancho Santa Fe, CA

May, 1999

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Prologue: Departures

Chapter One: Escape

Chapter Two: Krondor

Chapter Three: Reception

Chapter Four: Surprises

Chapter Five: Secrets

Chapter Six: Confusion

Chapter Seven: Ambush

Chapter Eight: Attack

Chapter Nine: Decisions

Chapter Ten: Revelation

Chapter Eleven: Stealth

Chapter Twelve: Improvisation

Chapter Thirteen: Concealment

Chapter Fourteen: Murders

Chapter Fifteen: Desperation

Chapter Sixteen: Discovery

Chapter Seventeen: Misdirection

Chapter Eighteen: Unmasking

Epilogue: Encounters

Acknowledgements

About the Author

By the same author

About the Publisher

Map

• PROLOGUE •

Departures

LINES OF SOLDIERS MARCHED ALONG THE RIDGE.

The baggage train had been broken into two segments, the first of which was now departing with the wounded and the dead who would be cremated with honours back in Krondor. Clouds of dust rose from the trail as wheels rolled and boots tramped towards home, the fine powder mixing with the acrid smoke from campfires as they were extinguished. The rising sun streamed through the haze, orange and pale gold, lances of colour in an otherwise grey morning. In the distance birds sang, ignoring the aftermath of battle.

Arutha, Prince of Krondor and ruler of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles, sat on his horse, taking a moment to enjoy the majesty of the sunrise and the serenade of the birds as he watched his men heading home. The fighting had been blessedly short but bloody, and while casualties were lighter than anticipated, he still hated to lose even one solider under his command. He let the beauty of the vista before him soothe his frustration and regret for a few moments.

Arutha still resembled the youthful man who had come to the throne of Krondor ten years before, though lines around his eyes and a small scattering of grey through his otherwise black hair revealed the toll rulership had taken on him. For those who knew him well, he was still much the same man, a competent administrator, military genius, and fiercely duty-bound man who would surrender his own life without question to save the lowest soldier under his command.

His gaze went from wagon to wagon, as if somehow willing himself to see the wounded men inside, as if he could communicate to them his sense of gratitude for a job well done. Those closest to Arutha knew he paid a silent price, pain kept within, for each injury done a man who served Krondor and the Kingdom.

Arutha pushed aside his regrets and considered the victory. The enemy had been in full retreat for two days, a relatively small force of dark elves. A much larger force had been prevented from reaching the Dimwood when a rift machine had been destroyed by Arutha’s two squires, James and Locklear. It had cost the life of a magician named Patrus, but his sacrifice had allowed the invaders to fall prey to their own internal conflicts. Delekhan, the would-be conqueror, had died beside Gorath, a moredhel chieftain who had proven as honourable and worthy a being as Arutha had ever met, while they struggled to seize control of the Lifestone. Arutha cursed the existence of that mysterious and ancient artifact under the abandoned city of Sethanon, and wondered if its mystery would ever be understood, its danger removed, in his lifetime.

Delekhan’s son Moraeulf had died from a dagger thrust home by Narab, once an ally of Delekhan. As agreed to by Narab, the retreating moredhel weren’t being harassed by Kingdom forces as long as they were heading straight north. Orders had been dispatched to allow the moredhel safe passage home as long as they kept moving.

The Kingdom forces in the Dimwood were now dispersing to their various garrisons, the majority returning to the west, and some heading back north to the border baronies. They would start moving later in the morning. The previously secret garrison north of Sethanon would be moved to another location and reprovisioned.

Sunlight began to bathe Arutha as the morning mist burned off, leaving only the smoke and dust to cloud the air. The day was already growing hot, and the cold of the previous winter was fading from memory. Arutha kept his distress deep inside as he considered the latest assault upon the tranquillity of his Kingdom.

Arutha had taken the Tsurani magicians at face value after the end of the Riftwar. For nearly ten years they had been free to come and go between worlds, via several magic rifts. And now he felt a profound sense of betrayal. He fully understood the rationale that had driven Makala, a Tsurani Great One, to attempt to seize the Lifestone at Sethanon, the belief that the Kingdom possessed a great weapon of destruction, some engine of power that would give predominance in war to whoever held it. Had he been in Makala’s place, with the same suspicions, he might have acted in the same way. But even so, he could not trust the Tsurani to be loose in the Kingdom, and that meant an end to almost a decade of trade and exchange. Arutha pushed aside worry as to how he would effect the changes he must make, but he knew that eventually he would have to sit down with his advisors and fashion a plan that would ensure future security for the Kingdom. And he knew almost no one would be pleased at the changes he would make.

Arutha glanced to his right and saw two very fatigued young men sitting astride their horses. He permitted himself one of his infrequent smiles, a bare upturning of the sides of his mouth, which served to soften the often sombre expression on his still-youthful face. ‘Tired, gentlemen?’ he asked.

James, senior squire to the Prince, returned his ruler’s gaze from eyes surrounded by dark circles. James, and his companion Squire Locklear, had ridden a punishing ride, abetted by magic herbs which had kept them awake and alert for days in the saddle. The after-effects of the prolonged use of the draught was to unleash all the pent-up fatigue and body-ache on the young men at once. Both had slept through the night, upon cushions in Arutha’s tent, but had awakened tired and bone-weary. Summoning up his usual brazen wit, James said, ‘No, sire, we always look like this when we wake. Usually you don’t see us until after our morning coffee.’

Arutha laughed. ‘I see none of your charms have faded, squire.’

A short man with dark hair and beard walked over to where the Prince and his companions sat astride their horses.

‘Good morning, Highness,’ said Pug, as he bowed.

Arutha returned a polite nod and said, ‘Pug, do you return to Krondor with us?’

Pug’s expression revealed concern. ‘Not straight away, Highness. There are matters I must investigate at Stardock. The activities of the Tsurani Great Ones involved with this last attempt at Sethanon cause me great concern. I need to ensure that they were the only magicians involved, and that those who still reside at my Academy are free of any guilt.’

Arutha looked at the retreating wagons again as he said, ‘We do need to talk about the role played by the Tsurani in your Academy, Pug. But not here.’

Pug nodded agreement. Even though everyone within earshot was privy to the secret of the Lifestone which sat beneath the city of Sethanon, it was wise to talk only in private. And Pug also knew that Arutha had grave concerns about the betrayal by the Tsurani magician Makala which had led to this last battle between the Prince’s army and an invading army of moredhel warriors. He expected that Arutha would insist on far more stringent controls over who and what came through the rift – the magic gateway – between Midkemia and the Tsurani homeworld of Kelewan.

‘We will, Highness. First, I must see to the safety of Katala and Gamina.’

‘I understand your concerns,’ said the Prince. Pug’s daughter Gamina had been abducted and transported by magic to a distant world in order to lure him away from Midkemia while the Tsurani magician attempted to seize the Lifestone.

Pug said, ‘I must make sure that I am never again made vulnerable because of a family member.’ He looked knowingly at the Prince. ‘There’s nothing I can do about William, but I can ensure that Gamina and Katala are safe at Stardock.’

‘William is a soldier, so by the nature of his craft he is at risk.’ Then Arutha smiled at Pug. ‘But he’s as safe as a soldier can be, surrounded by six companies of the Royal Krondorian Household Guard. Anyone attempting to blackmail you through William will find him difficult to reach.’

Pug’s expression showed he didn’t approve. ‘He could have been so much more.’ His look silently implored Arutha to do something. ‘He still can. It’s not too late for him to return to Stardock with me.’

Arutha regarded the magician. He understood Pug’s frustration and his parental desire to see his son back with his family. But his tone left no confusion as to his willingness to intercede on Pug’s behalf. ‘I know you two have had your differences about his choice, Pug, but I’ll leave it for you to work out at your own leisure. As I told you when you first objected to William coming into my service, he’s a royal cousin by adoption and a free man of age, so there was no reason for me to refuse his request.’ Before Pug could voice another objection, he raised his hand. ‘Not even as a favour to you.’ His tone softened. ‘Besides, he’s got the makings of a better than average soldier. Quite a knack, actually, according to my swordmaster.’ Arutha changed the subject. ‘Did Owyn return home?’ Owyn Belefote, youngest son of the Baron of Timons, had proven a valuable ally to James and Locklear in the recent struggle.

‘At first light. He said he must mend fences with his father.’

Arutha motioned towards Locklear, though he kept his eyes on Pug. ‘I have something for you.’ When Locklear failed to respond to the gesture, Arutha shifted his gaze to Locklear. ‘Squire, the document?’

Locklear had been on the verge of falling asleep in the saddle but he snapped to attention as the Prince’s voice penetrated his muzzy thoughts. He moved his horse to where Pug stood and handed a parchment down to him.

Arutha said, ‘Over my signature and seal, this names you the final authority over all issues of magic as they affect the Western Realm.’ He smiled slightly. ‘I should have no trouble convincing His Majesty to ratify this for the entire Kingdom. You’ve had our ear in this area for years, Pug, but this gives you authority if you ever find yourself having to deal with another noble or King’s officer without me at your shoulder. It names you official magician of the court of Krondor.’

‘My thanks, Highness,’ said Pug. He seemed about to speak, but hesitated.

Arutha cocked his head to one side. ‘There’s a but here, isn’t there?’

‘But I need remain at Stardock with my family. There’s much work to be done and my attention there precludes me from serving in Krondor, Arutha.’

Arutha sighed slightly. ‘Understood. But that still leaves me without a magician in court, if you’re unwilling to take residency in the palace.’

‘I could send Kulgan back to nag at you,’ said Pug with a smile.

‘No, my former teacher is too quick to forget rank and scold me in front of my court. It’s bad for morale.’

‘Whose?’ asked Jimmy under his breath.

Arutha didn’t look at the squire, but said, ‘Mine, of course.’ To Pug he said, ‘Seriously, the betrayal of Makala shows me the wisdom my father employed by having an advisor on matters of magic close to hand. Kulgan’s earned his retirement. So, if not you or young Owyn, who then?’

Pug thought for a moment and said, ‘I have one student who might be just the person to advise you in the future. There is one problem.’

‘What would that be?’ asked Arutha.

‘She’s Keshian.’

Arutha said, ‘That’s two problems.’

Pug smiled. ‘Knowing your sister and wife, I would have thought a woman’s advice wouldn’t be alien to His Highness.’

Arutha nodded. ‘It’s not. But many in my court would find it … difficult.’

Pug said, ‘I’ve never noticed you to be overly concerned with the opinions of others when your mind was set, Arutha.’

The Prince said, ‘Times change, Pug. And men get older.’ He was silent for a minute as he watched another contingent of his army break camp and start to move out. Then he turned to face Pug, one eyebrow raised in question. ‘But Keshian?’

‘No one will accuse her of allying herself with this or that faction in court,’ said Pug.

Arutha chuckled. ‘I hope you’re joking.’

‘No, I’m not. She’s unusually gifted despite her youth; she’s cultured and educated, reads and writes several languages, and has a remarkable grasp of magic, which is exactly what you need in an advisor. Most importantly, she’s the only one among my students who can understand the consequences of magic in a political context, as she’s had court training in Kesh. She’s from the Jal-Pur and understands how things stand in the west, as well.’

Arutha seemed to consider this for a long moment, then said, ‘Come to Krondor when you can and tell me more. I’m not saying I will not finally agree to your choice, but I need more convincing before I do.’ Arutha smiled his half-smile and turned his horse around. ‘Still, the expression on the faces of the nobles in court when a woman from Kesh walks in might be worth whatever risk she brings.’

‘I will vouch for her; I give my word on it,’ said Pug.

Arutha looked back over his shoulder. ‘You’re very serious about this, aren’t you?’

‘Very. Jazhara is someone I would entrust my family’s lives to. She is only a few years older than William and has been with us at Stardock for almost seven years, so I’ve known her a third of her life. She can be trusted.’

Arutha said, ‘That counts for much. A great deal actually. So, come to Krondor when you will, and we will discuss this at length.’ He bade Pug good-bye, then turned to James and Locklear. ‘Gentlemen, we have a long ride ahead.’

Locklear could barely conceal his pain at the thought of more time in the saddle, albeit at a less furious pace than a few days earlier.

‘A moment, if Your Highness permits. I would speak to Duke Pug,’ said James.

Arutha waved his permission as he and Locklear rode forward.

When the Prince was out of earshot, Pug said, ‘What is it, Jimmy?’

‘When are you going to tell him?’

‘What?’ asked Pug.

Despite his crushing fatigue, James managed one of his familiar grins. ‘That the girl you’re sending is the great-niece of Lord Hazara-Khan of the Jal-Pur.’

Pug suppressed a chuckle. ‘I thought I’d save that for a more propitious moment.’ Then his expression changed to one of curiosity. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I have my own sources. Arutha suspects that Lord Hazara-Khan is involved with Keshian intelligence in the west – which he almost certainly is, from what I can find out. Anyway, Arutha is considering how to counter Keshian intelligence with an organization of his own – but you didn’t hear that from me.’

Pug nodded. ‘Understood.’

‘And as I have ambitions, I count it a wise thing to keep current on these matters.’

‘So you were snooping?’

‘Something like that,’ said James with a shrug. ‘And there just can’t be that many noble-born Keshian women from the Jal-Pur named Jazhara.’

Pug laughed. ‘You will go far, Jimmy, if someone doesn’t hang you first.’

James seemed to shed his fatigue as he returned the laugh. ‘You’re not the first to say that, Pug.’

‘I will get around to mentioning the relationship, in the future.’ Waving to Arutha and Locklear, Pug said, ‘You’d better catch up.’

Nodding as he turned his horse, James said, ‘You’re right. Good day, my lord duke.’

‘Good day, squire.’

James put heels to his horse’s sides and the animal cantered after Arutha and Locklear. He overtook Locklear as Arutha moved to confer with Knight-Marshal Gardan about the ongoing dispersal of the army.

As James rode up next to him, Locklear asked, ‘What was that about?’

‘Just a question for Duke Pug.’

Locklear yawned and said, ‘I could sleep for a week.’

Arutha overhead the remark as he rejoined them and said, ‘You can rest for a full night in Krondor when we get back, squire. Then you leave for the north.’

‘North, sire?’

‘You came back from Tyr-Sog without leave, although I grant your reasons were good ones. Now the risk has subsided, you must return to Baron Moyiet’s court and fulfill the terms of your service there.’

Locklear closed his eyes as if in pain. Then he opened them and said, ‘I thought …’

‘… you’d wormed your way out of that banishment,’ supplied James under his breath.

Arutha, taking pity on the exhausted youth, said, ‘Serve Moyiet well, and I may order you back to Krondor early. If you stay out of trouble.’

Locklear nodded without comment, as Arutha put heels to his horse and rode ahead.

James said, ‘Well, you can sleep in a warm bed in the palace for a night before you leave.’

‘What about you?’ asked Locklear. ‘Don’t you have some unfinished business in Krondor?’

James closed his eyes for a moment as if thinking made him tired, then said, ‘Yes, there’s a bit of trouble with the Guild of Thieves. But nothing for you to be bothered with. Nothing I can’t handle by myself.’

Locklear snorted and said nothing. He was too tired to think of a jibe.

James said, ‘Yes, after this nasty business with the Tsurani and moredhel, my business with the thieves in Krondor will seem dull by comparison.’

Locklear looked at his friend and saw that James’s mind was already turning to whatever problems were caused by the Mockers – the Guild of Thieves. And with a chilling certainty, Locklear knew that his friend was making light of something serious, for James had the death mark on him for leaving the Guild to serve the Prince.

And, he sensed, there was something more. Then Locklear realized, with James, there was always something more.

• CHAPTER ONE •

Escape

THE SOUNDS OF PURSUIT ECHOED THROUGH THE DARK TUNNELS.

Limm was nearly out of breath from attempting to evade those determined to kill him. The young thief prayed to Ban-ath, God of Thieves, that those who followed were not as knowledgeable about the sewers of Krondor as he was. He knew he could not outrun them or fight them; his only hope was to outwit them.

The boy knew that panic was the enemy, and he struggled against the terrible fear that threatened to reduce him to a frightened child, clinging to anything that might provide warm comfort while he huddled in the shadows, waiting for the men who would kill him. He paused for a moment at an intersection of two large channels and then took off to the left, feeling his way through the gloom of the deep sewers, his only illumination a small, shuttered lantern. He kept the sliding window closed to the narrowest setting, for he needed only the slightest light to know which way to go. There were sections of the sewer in which light filtered down from above, through culverts, gratings, broken street stones, and other interstices. A little light went a long way to guide him through the stinking byways under the city. But there were also areas of total darkness, where he would be as blind as one born without eyes.

He reached a narrowing of the sewer, where the circumference of the circular tunnel grew smaller, serving to slow the flow of sewage through this area. Limm thought of it as a ‘dam’, of sorts. He ducked to avoid hitting his head on the smaller opening, his bare feet splashing through the filthy water which collected at the end of the larger sewer until the level rose up enough to funnel down the rough and rusty narrow pipe.

Spreading his legs, Limm moved in a rocking motion, his feet high up on the side of the circular passage, for he knew that in less than ten feet a nasty outfall sent waste to a huge channel twenty feet below. Hard calluses kept the jagged build-up of sediment on the stonework from slicing open his soles. The boy shuttered the lantern as he intersected a tunnel with long lines of sight; he knew exactly where he was and was fearful of even the smallest light being seen by his pursuers. He moved by touch around a corner and entered the next passage. It was hundreds of feet long, and even the faintest spark would be visible from one end to the other.

Hurrying as best he could in this awkward fashion, he felt the tug of air as the water fell below him from a hole in the pipe he was in, splashing noisily. Several other nearby outfalls also emptied in this area, known as ‘the Well’ to the local thieves. The sound of all the splashing water echoed in the small pipe, making its exact source difficult to locate, so he proceeded slowly. This was a place in which a six-inch misjudgment could send him falling to his death.