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‘Or they’re paying nothing for their labour,’ said Jazhara as they passed one such open establishment. The door was ajar and a quick glance inside indicated there was nothing suspicious taking place; a dyer and others – obviously members of his family – were busy preparing a large shipment of cloth. Most likely it was to be delivered at dawn to tailors who had ordered the material.
They moved along the dimly-lit street until they reached a large, two-storey building, before which stood a large man with a sword at his belt. He watched with a neutral expression as James and Jazhara approached.
James asked, ‘What is this place?’
The guard answered, ‘This is the shop of the honourable Yusuf ben Ali, the illustrious cloth merchant.’
Jazhara asked, ‘Is he in?’
‘No. Now, if that’s all, you’ll excuse me.’ Since the guard showed no sign of leaving, it was clear that he expected James and Jazhara to move along.
James said, ‘I find it odd to believe your master is out at this late hour, and you are merely standing here guarding a workshop in which no one is working.’ He moved to stand before the man. ‘I am Prince Arutha’s squire.’
Jazhara added, ‘And I his newly-appointed court mage.’
At this the guard’s eyes flickered over to her for an instant, then he said, ‘My master is indeed within. He is working late on a shipment that must leave tomorrow on a caravan and wishes not to be disturbed by any but the most important guest. I will see if he considers you to be important enough.’ He turned his back on them, saying, ‘Follow me to my master’s office, but touch nothing.’
They entered the building and discovered a brightly-lit display area, showing finely-woven cloth dyed in the most marvellous colours. A bolt of crimson silk was allowed to spill from a rack, the best to show off its scintillating colour. Surrounding them was indigo and bright yellow linen, cotton of every hue, all waiting for potential buyers. A door to the rear of the showroom was closed, and a narrow stairway ran up along the left wall to a single door. A large chandelier ablaze with a dozen candles hung from the ceiling.
Beyond the viewing area, huge vats of dye stood, while large drying racks held freshly dyed cloth. James saw two children, no older than ten years, moving a rack aside to make way for another being pushed by another pair of children. The youngsters were dirty, and a few appeared to shiver beneath their thin ragged clothing. Jazhara noticed one little girl, who looked to be about seven years old, yawn, struggling to keep her eyes open as she pushed the heavy drying rack. Two guards stood watching the children.
The guard who had accompanied them inside said, ‘Wait here. I will fetch my master.’
James asked, ‘Isn’t it late for the children to be working?’
The man said, ‘They are lazy. This order must be ready by noon tomorrow. Had they finished at dusk, they would be asleep in their beds now. They know this. Do not talk to them; it will only slow them down. I will return with my master.’
The man hurried across the large room and disappeared through the rear door. A few minutes later, he and another man returned. The newcomer was obviously a merchant, yet he carried a curved desert sword – a scimitar. He wore Kingdom tunic and trousers, but elected a traditional desert man’s head cover, a black cloth wound as a turban, its length allowed to drape below the chin, from right to left, the end thrown across the left shoulder. He had a dark beard and the swarthy looks of Jazhara’s countrymen, a fact confirmed as he reached them and said, ‘Peace be upon you,’ the traditional greeting of the people of the Jal-Pur.
Jazhara replied, ‘And upon you be peace.’
‘Welcome to my workhouse, my friends. My name is Yusuf ben Ali. How may I serve?’
James glanced back at the labouring children. ‘We’ve heard how you work around here. This place is being shut down.’
If the man was surprised at this pronouncement, he didn’t show it. He merely smiled. ‘Oh, you’ve heard, have you? And what exactly did you hear?’
Jazhara said, ‘We’ve heard about your working conditions and how you treat children.’
Yusuf nodded. ‘And let me guess, you heard it from a young girl, perhaps less than a decade in age? Or was it a young boy this time?’
‘What do you mean?’ James asked.
‘My dear sir, it was all a lie. My competitors have taken to paying children to accost guardsmen and other worthy citizens. They ply them with stories of the “horrors of Yusuf’s shop.” And then they vanish. My shop is then closed down for a few days while the Prince’s magistrate investigates, and my competitors flourish.’
Jazhara said, ‘But we’ve seen the working conditions inside.’
Ben Ali glanced over at the ragged youngsters and shook his head slightly. ‘My dear countrywoman, I may be unable to provide for the children as I would like, but even I have a heart. They have a roof over their heads, and hot meals, and clothes. It may not be the extravagance that you would be used to, but, as the wise men taught us, poverty is food to a righteous man, while luxury can be a slow poison.’ He inclined his head towards the children. ‘We work late tonight. This is not unusual in my trade, but I assure you most nights these children would be safely asleep. When this shipment is done, I shall send them to their beds and they will be free tomorrow to sleep; then, when they awake they shall have a day of rest and play. What would else you have me do? Put them back on the streets?’
Children working to support their families was nothing new in the Kingdom. But this smacked of something close to slavery and James wasn’t convinced this man Yusef was what he seemed. ‘What about up there?’ he asked, pointing at the stairs.
‘Ah, the second floor is under construction – we make improvements. It is not safe at present to see, but when it is done it will expand our capacities, and will include better quarters for the children.’
James was about to speak, when Jazhara said, ‘James, may I have a moment alone with this gentleman?’
James was surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Please.’
James glanced from Jazhara to Yusuf, then said, ‘I’ll be outside.’
When he was gone from the building, Jazhara lowered her voice and said, ‘You work for my great-uncle?’
Yusuf bowed slightly. ‘Yes, kin of Hazara-Khan, I do. And I wished to speak to you alone. You did well sending our young friend away. A Kingdom nobleman is a complication. Does he know your great-uncle’s position?’
Jazhara smiled. ‘As Governor of the Jal-Pur, or as head of Keshian Intelligence in the north?’
‘The latter, of course.’
‘He may suspect, but what he knows is not the issue. This place is what matters. Is what the young girl said true?’
‘The Imperial treasury hardly provides enough support for this operation,’ said Yusuf. ‘I must supplement my means; this shop is very successful, primarily because the labour is almost free.’ He looked at her disapproving expression and said, ‘I’m surprised at you. I expected a great-niece of Hazara-Khan to value practicality over misguided morality. Deceit, after all, is the first tool of our trade. What I do here aids me in my work.’
‘Then what the girl said was true. Does my great-uncle know about this?’
‘I have never bothered to inform him of the details of my operation, no. But he appreciates my results. And now that you are here, they will be greater than ever!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It is well known of your falling out with your family and your choice to study magic at Stardock. Only your great-uncle’s power has shielded you from those in the Imperial Court who think you a potential risk. It is time for you to grow up and face your responsibilities. You are a child of the Empire, a citizen of Great Kesh. Your loyalties must lie with them.’
‘My loyalties also lie with this court, and the Prince. I am the court mage, the first to be appointed to this position.’
Yusuf studied the young woman’s face. ‘Sometimes the ties of blood must be held above the ties of hollow words.’
‘I am not a spy!’
‘But you could be,’ insisted ben Ali. ‘Work for me; grant me secrets from the lips of Krondor’s courtiers and make your family proud!’ His expression darkened. ‘Or disgrace your country, your family, and continue as you are. Your great-uncle can provide only limited protection if you swear that oath to Arutha.’ He paused, then added, ‘These are harsh choices, Jazhara. But you are now an adult, and the choice, as ever, must be yours. But know that from this point forward, whatever choice you make will change you forever.’
Jazhara was silent for a long moment, as if considering the merchant’s words. Finally she said, ‘Your words are harsh, Yusuf, but your actions have shown me where my loyalties lie.’
‘Then you will help me?’
‘Yes. I will honour his teachings and the ideals of my nation.’
‘Excellent! You’d best leave now, before your friend becomes suspicious. Return again when you’re settled into the prince’s court and we shall begin.’
She nodded and walked towards the door. She passed the still-labouring children, one of who looked up at her with eyes dulled from lack of sleep. In those eyes, Jazhara noted a flicker of fear. When she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder at the smiling spy and the three guards who stood nearby.
James waited at the end of the alleyway. ‘Well?’ he asked as she approached.
‘Yusuf is a spy for my great-uncle.’
James could barely conceal his surprise. ‘I don’t know which I find more astonishing; that he is what you say, or that you’ve told me.’
‘When I left my father’s court and trained at Stardock, I set aside my loyalty to Great Kesh. What my great-uncle does, he does for the betterment of the Empire.’ With a nod of her head to the entrance to Yusuf’s shop, she added with a steely edge to her voice, ‘But this one seeks to line his pockets with gold from the suffering of children, and his service to the Empire is of secondary concern, I am certain. Even were I in service to Kesh, I would not long abide his continued existence.’ She gripped her staff and James saw her knuckles go white. Although he’d known the court mage for but a few hours, he had no doubt she was not making an idle threat; no matter where Jazhara’s loyalties might lie, she would see Yusef pay for his crimes against the children.
‘What do you propose?’ he asked.
‘There are but three guards. You are, I assume, a competent swordsman?’
‘I am—’ began James.
‘As I am a competent magician,’ interrupted Jazhara. ‘Let’s go.’
As they strode back towards the dyer’s shop, James felt the hair on his arms stand up, a sure sign magic was being gathered. He had never liked the feeling, even when he knew someone on his side was employing it. Jazhara said, ‘I will distract them. Try to take Yusuf alive.’
James pulled out his rapier and muttered, ‘Four to one and you want me to try to keep one of them alive? Wonderful.’
Jazhara entered the shop ahead of James, and Yusuf turned as she did so. ‘What—?’ he began.
Jazhara’s pointed her staff at him and a loud keening sound filled the air as a ball of blue energy exploded off the tip of the staff. It struck the merchant, doubling him over in pain.
James rushed past the magician, quickly scanning the room for a sign of the children. They were gone. The three armed guards hesitated for a moment, then sprang into action. James was about to strike the guard on his right when the energy ball caromed off Yusuf and struck the guard to James’s right. James quickly switched his attack to the center assailant.
James had fought multiple opponents before, and knew there were certain advantages. The most important thing he had found was that if his opponents hadn’t practised as a unit they tended to get in one another’s way.
He lunged and took the centre assailant under his guard, running him through. As he withdrew his blade, he leapt to his right and as he had hoped, the man on James’s left stumbled into the dying man in the middle.
Yusuf’s sword suddenly slashed the air near James’s head. He had recovered from the magic Jazhara had thrown at him and was now on James’s right, his scimitar expertly slicing the air.
‘Great,’ James muttered. ‘The spy has to be a master swordsman.’
The two remaining thugs had regained their feet and were a danger, but Yusuf was the true threat. ‘Jazhara! Keep those two off me, if you please.’
Jazhara advanced and another burst of energy shot across the room, this time a red blast of lightning that caused the air to crackle as it struck the floor between James and the two guards. They quickly retreated as smoke began to rise from the wooden floor.
James didn’t have time to appreciate the display, for Yusuf was proving a formidable opponent. It looked as if there would be almost no chance of keeping the Keshian spy alive, unless he got lucky. And given a choice, he’d rather keep himself alive than spare Yusuf and die in the process.
James used every trick he knew, a lethal inventory of combinations and feints. Twice he came close to cutting the Keshian, but twice in turn Yusuf came close to ending the struggle, too.
James circled and the turn brought Jazhara and the other two thugs into view. One had left the magician and was coming to help his master finish off James, while the other approached the magician warily, as Jazhara stood ready with her iron-shod staff before her.
James didn’t hesitate. He feigned a blow to Yusuf’s right hand, and as the Keshian moved to block, James spun to his own right, taking him away from the Keshian spy. Before Yusuf could recover, James was standing at his exposed left side, and all the merchant could manage was to fall away, avoiding a killing blow. This brought James right into the reach of the approaching guard, who lashed out high with his sword, a blow designed to decapitate the squire.
James ducked and thrust, running the man through. He then leapt to his right, knowing full well that Yusuf would be coming hard on his blind side. James hit the floor and rolled, feeling the scimitar slice the air above him. As he had hoped, Yusuf was momentarily slowed as he tried to avoid tripping over the falling corpse of his guard, and that afforded James enough time to regain his feet.
Off to one side, James could make out Jazhara and the other guard locked in combat. She wheeled the staff like an expert, taking his sword blows on hardened oak and lashing back with the iron tips. One good crack to the skull and the fight would be over, and both James and Jazhara’s opponent knew that.
Yusuf came in with his sword point low, circling to his right. James glimpsed bales of cloth and display racks to his own right and moved to counter Yusuf. The spy wanted James’s back to possible obstructions, so he might cause the squire to trip.
James knew it was now just a matter of who made the first mistake. He had been in struggles like this before, and knew fear and fatigue were the enemies most to be avoided. Yusuf’s face was a study in concentration: he was probably thinking the same thoughts.
James paused as if weighing which way to move, inviting Yusuf into committing himself to an attack. Yusuf declined. He waited. Both men were breathing heavily.
James resisted the urge to glance to where Jazhara struggled to finish off her opponent, knowing that to do so would invite an attack. The two men stood poised, each ready for an opening, each waiting for the other to commit.
Then James had an inspiration. He intentionally glanced to the left, at Jazhara, seeing her block a blow from the guard; she took the tip of the staff inside the man’s guard, and James saw her deliver a punching blow with the iron end of the staff to the man’s middle. He heard the man’s breath explode out of his lungs, but didn’t see it, for at that precise moment, James spun blindly away to his left.
As he had expected, Yusuf had acted the moment James’s eyes wandered, and as he had also suspected, the attack came off a combination of blade movements. A feint to the heart, which should have caused James’s sword to lash up and out, to block the scimitar, followed by a looping drop of the tip of the scimitar to a low, inside stab, designed to impale James in the lower belly.
But James wasn’t there. Rather than parry, he had spun to the left, and again found himself on Yusuf’s right hand. And rather than dance away, James closed. Yusuf hesitated for an instant, recognizing he was over-extended and needed to come back into a defensive posture. That was all James needed.
His rapier struck out and the point took Yusuf in the right side of his neck. With a sickening gurgling sound, the spy stiffened. Then his eyes rolled up and his knees gave way and he fell to the floor.
James pulled out his sword and turned to see Jazhara break the skull of the last guard.
The man went down and Jazhara retreated, glancing around to see if any threats remained. Seeing only James standing upright, she rested on her staff as she tried to catch her breath.
James walked to her and said, ‘You all right?’
She nodded. ‘I’m fine.’
James then looked around the room. Bolts of cloth were overturned and had been sent every which way, and many were now stained with crimson.
Letting out a long breath, James said, ‘What a mess.’
• CHAPTER TWO • (#u178fbd43-b163-545f-a499-7fd2059d4765)
Schemes (#u178fbd43-b163-545f-a499-7fd2059d4765)
JAMES SHEATHED HIS SWORD.
‘Where did the children go?’
Jazhara looked around, then glanced up the stairs. ‘I’ll look up there. You see if they are hiding in that office,’ she instructed, and pointed to the door at the rear of the shop.
James nodded, with a half-smile. No point in making an issue out of who was in charge, he thought, turning to comply with her instructions. She was, after all, a princess by birth. Then as he reached the door he wondered, does a court magician outrank a squire?
He opened the door, sword at the ready, in case someone else lurked within. He entered a small office at the centre of which stood a writing table. Two burning lamps lighted the room, and a large chest stood against the far wall. The chest was apparently unlocked, its hasp hanging open, but James had received too many harsh lessons about trusting appearances, and so he approached the chest with caution. He glanced first at the papers spread across the writing table and saw several in a Keshian script he recognized. Most of these were orders for dyed cloth. Other letters in the King’s Tongue were also business-related. Then he spied two documents in a script he did not know.
He was examining the chest for traps when Jazhara appeared in the doorway. Through clenched teeth she said, ‘The dog had the children caged.’
James turned and looked through the door and saw a dozen frightened children, ranging in age from five to ten, standing mute behind the magician. They were dressed in filthy rags, their faces streaked with grime. James let out a slow sigh. Poor children in Krondor were nothing unusual; he had been an ‘urchin’ himself before becoming a thief. But systematic abuse of children was not part of normal Kingdom practices. ‘What do we do with them?’
‘What was that place you spoke of earlier?’
‘The Sign of the Yellow Shield. It’s an orphanage established by the Princess and the Order of Dala.’
