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Calis grinned, and Erik knew without being asked that the eastern hill fighters were unlikely to take being trained gracefully. ‘But for the moment,’ the Captain said, ‘you’re to head back into the hills with another batch of soldiers.’
‘Again?’ Erik barely suppressed a groan.
‘Again,’ said Calis. ‘Greylock and Jadow have got sixty survivors of their boot camp they swear will take to your training like a baby to the teat. You and Alfred and another six of your men will take them out tomorrow morning.’
William said, ‘Teach them everything you can, Sergeant Major.’
‘And keep your eye out for potential corporals,’ Calis added. ‘We need more sergeants, too.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Erik rose, saluted, and turned to leave.
Calis said, ‘Erik?’
‘Yes?’ asked Erik as he paused at the door.
‘Why don’t you go out tonight and have some fun? You look like hell. Consider that an order.’
Erik shrugged, shook his head, and said, ‘You’re no daisy.’
Calis smiled. ‘I know. I’m taking a long hot bath; then I’m turning in early tonight.’
William said, ‘Go find a girl and a drink and relax.’
Erik left the Knight-Marshal’s office and moved to his own quarters. He had been working in the marshalling yard all day, and if he was going anywhere he wanted to bathe and change.
After his bath and in a fresh tunic, he felt hunger and considered heading to the mess. He weighed his choices and decided a meal in town might be just the thing.
Erik decided to walk to the Broken Shield, the inn operated by Lord James for the men, giving them a place to drink and meet the whores hand-selected by the Duke to ensure no one said anything to a potential agent of the enemy.
Evening was falling and the city was ablaze in torch and lantern light as Erik reached the inn. James had picked a location far enough from the palace to look a likely hangout for soldiers wishing to be away from the scrutiny of their officers, yet close enough that a message would reach anyone in minutes. Only Erik, the officers, and a few others realized that every person within the inn was an agent or employee of the Duke.
Kitty waved as Erik entered the room and he found himself smiling at her. He had been the one who had told the girl of Bobby de Loungville’s death and since then he had looked in on her from time to time. She had shown no reaction to the news, excusing herself for a few minutes, and when she had returned, only slightly red eyes had betrayed her feelings. Erik suspected the former thief had been in love with the man who had held the position of Sergeant Major before him. Bobby had been a difficult, even cruel, man at times, but he had treated the young girl with nothing but respect since she had come to the inn.
Erik had asked James if the girl did more than tend bar, but the Duke had simply replied he was pleased with the girl’s services since she had become one of his agents. Erik knew her primary job was to keep alert for any Mocker, a member of the Guild of Thieves of Krondor, attempting to enter the Broken Shield.
‘What’s new?’ asked Erik as he reached the bar.
‘Not much,’ said Kitty, retrieving a large jack from under the counter, then filling it at the ale tap. ‘Just those two in from somewhere.’ With a motion of her chin she indicated two men sitting at a corner table.
‘Who are they?’ asked Erik, then took a long pull on the ale. Say what you will, he thought, about being told to frequent only this one inn: at least the Duke kept it serving only the finest ale and food.
Kitty shrugged. ‘Didn’t say. They sound like Easterners to me. Certainly not from around here.’ She picked up a bar rag and began wiping imaginary spills. ‘One of them is quiet, the dark fellow in the corner, but the other talks enough for both of them.’
Erik shrugged. While the inn was known to locals as being the hangout of garrison soldiers off duty, a few strangers wandered in from time to time, and although the staff was always on the lookout for spies and informers, most of those strangers had legitimate business in the area. Those few who didn’t were either followed out by Duke James’s agents or conducted to a basement room for interrogation, depending on the Duke’s instructions.
Erik glanced around and noticed that none of the girls who serviced the soldiers was in view. He glanced at Kitty and found he preferred talking to her for the moment. ‘The girls keeping out of sight?’
‘Meggan and Heather are working tonight,’ said Kitty. ‘They ducked out when the strangers arrived.’
Erik nodded. ‘The special girls?’
‘One’s on the way,’ said Kitty. The special girls were agents of the Duke, and when a stranger stayed too long at the inn, one quickly appeared, ready to accompany the stranger and ferret out whatever information might prove useful.
Erik found himself wondering who had taken up the role of ‘Spymaster,’ as Erik was certain that had been one of Bobby de Loungville’s many masks. Certainly it wasn’t Captain Calis, and Erik knew it wasn’t himself.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Kitty.
‘Just wondering about our’ – glancing at the two strangers, he changed what he was about to say – ‘landlord’s employees.’
Kitty raised her eyebrows in question. ‘What do you mean?’
Erik shrugged. ‘It’s probably none of my business, anyway. A man can get too curious.’
Kitty leaned forward, elbows on the bar, and said, ‘Curiosity is what got me the death mark.’
Erik raised his eyebrow. ‘The Mockers?’
‘Rumor reached me a few weeks ago. An old friend thought to warn me. The Upright Man has returned, or at least someone claiming to be the Upright Man, and I’m being blamed for some troubles beyond the death of Sam Tannerson.’
Tannerson had been a bully and thief who had killed Kitty’s sister as a warning to Roo not to do business in the Poor Quarter without paying bribes. It had been a bloody business and had resulted in both Roo and Kitty finding themselves in need of the Duke’s protection.
‘What sort of troubles?’
‘Something to do with the previous leader of the Mockers, the Sagacious Man, having to flee Krondor.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, if I venture out of this inn after dark, or into the Poor Quarter at any time, I’m dead.’
Erik said, ‘That’s a heavy burden.’
Kitty shrugged as if it weren’t important. ‘Life is like that.’
Erik sipped his ale. He studied the girl. When she had first been captured, she had stripped before Bobby and the men who had captured her, partly in defiance, partly in resignation. She was pretty – a lithe body, long neck, and big blue eyes that any man would notice – but hard. There was an element of toughness in her which took nothing away from her features but which underlined them, as if life had forged her in a hotter fire than most. Erik found it attractive in a way he couldn’t articulate. She wasn’t remotely provocative, like the girls he slept with at the Sign of the White Wing, or playful and mildly taunting, like the whores who worked this inn. She was guarded, thoughtful, and, Erik had decided, very smart.
‘What are you staring at?’ she asked.
Erik lowered his eyes. He hadn’t realized he had been staring at her. ‘You, I guess.’
‘There are plenty of girls around here to scratch your itch, Erik. Or there’s the White Wing if you want something special.’
Erik blushed. Suddenly Kitty laughed. ‘You’re a child, I swear.’
Erik said, ‘I’m not in the mood … for that. Just thought I’d have a drink or two and … talk.’
Kitty raised an inquiring eyebrow, but said nothing for a moment. Finally she said, ‘Talk?’
Erik sighed. ‘I’m spending so much time shouting at men, watching them fall all over themselves trying to anticipate my next order, or in meetings with the Captain and the other court officers, I just wanted to talk about anything that doesn’t have something to do with’ – he almost found himself saying ‘the invasion’ but caught himself – ‘being a soldier.’
If Kitty noticed his slight hesitation, she said nothing. ‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ she asked, putting away her bar rag.
‘How are you doing?’
‘Me?’ she asked. ‘Well, I’m eating better than I ever have. I’ve gotten used to not having to hold a dagger in my hand when I sleep – I just keep it under my pillow. That’s another thing I’m getting used to: sleeping in a real bed.
‘And not having lice and fleas is good.’
Suddenly Erik laughed. Kitty joined in. Erik said, ‘I know what you mean. The pests on the march can be as maddening as anything.’
One of the two strangers approached. ‘From your garb I take you for a soldier,’ he said.
Erik nodded. ‘I am.’
With a friendly manner the fellow spoke. ‘It’s kind of quiet here tonight. I’ve been in a lot of inns, and this isn’t exactly what I’d call lively.’
Erik shrugged. ‘Sometimes it is. Depends on what’s going on at the palace.’
The man said, ‘Really?’
Erik glanced at Kitty, who nodded slightly, said, ‘Got to check some inventory,’ and left through the rear door.
‘We’ve got a big parade coming up soon,’ said Erik. ‘Some embassy or another from Kesh is coming for one of those state visits. The Master of Ceremonies has the Captain of the Prince’s Household Guards half-crazy with all the nonsense the garrison’s going to go through to get ready for this. I’m in for a quick ale and a chat with my friend, then I’ve got to head back.’
The man glanced at his empty ale mug. ‘I need another.’ He turned and shouted, ‘Girl!’
When Kitty didn’t answer, he turned back to Erik. ‘Think she’d mind if I fill my own?’
Erik shook his head. ‘If you leave your coins on the bar, she won’t.’
‘Buy you one?’ asked the man as he moved behind the bar.
‘What about your friend?’ asked Erik, indicating the other man at the table, the darker stranger Kitty had referred to as the quieter of the pair.
‘He’ll keep. He’s a business associate of mine.’ The man lowered his voice and in a conspiratorial tone said, ‘Truth to tell, he’s a terrible bore. All he talks about is trade and his children.’
Erik nodded, as if agreeing with the man.
‘I’m unmarried myself,’ said the stranger, coming around the bar, handing a foaming mug to Erik. ‘Name’s Pierre Rubideaux. From Bas-Tyra.’
‘Erik.’ He took the mug.
‘Your health,’ said Pierre, hoisting his own mug.
Erik took a drink. ‘What brings you to Krondor?’
‘Business. In particular, we’re looking to set up some trading with the Far Coast through the port.’
Erik smiled. ‘You’ll be wanting to talk to a friend of mine, I think.’
‘Who’s that?’ asked Rubideaux.
‘Rupert Avery. Owns the Bitter Sea Company. You trade in Krondor, you do business with either Roo or Jacob Esterbrook. If you’re talking about Kesh, that’s Esterbrook. If you’re talking the Far Coast, that’s Roo.’ Erik took another long drink from his mug. Something slightly bitter lingered after the ale, and he frowned. He didn’t remember his first mug being off.
‘As a matter of fact, I am looking for Rupert Avery,’ said the man.
The other man stood, nodding to Pierre. ‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘We must leave.’
‘Well, Erik von Darkmoor, it’s been more of a pleasure than you know.’
Erik started to say good-bye, then frowned. ‘I never told you my full name –’ he began. Suddenly a pain ripped through his stomach, as if someone had plunged a fiery knife in his gut. He reached out and grabbed the stranger by his tunic front.
As if removing the grip of a baby, the man pulled Erik’s hands away. ‘You’ve got only a few more minutes, Erik, but they’ll be long ones; trust me.’
Erik felt the strength drain from his legs as he attempted to step forward. The blood pounded in his temples and darkness began to close around his field of vision. He was dully aware of Kitty reentering the inn. Her voice sounded distant and he couldn’t understand most of what she was saying, but he heard a man shout, ‘Take them!’
Then he was looking upward through a tunnel of light as darkness moved in from all sides. His body was afire with pain as if each joint were swelling inside him. Hot spikes of agony traveled up and down his arms and legs, and his heart pounded faster and faster as if trying to erupt from his chest. Perspiration ran from his face and drenched his body as Erik felt his muscles tighten, disobeying his command to let him stand. As Kitty’s face appeared at the end of the tunnel of his vision, he attempted to speak her name, but his tongue wouldn’t work and the pain made it almost impossible to breathe.
The last thing he heard as darkness overtook him was a single word: ‘Poison.’
‘He’ll live,’ said the voice, as Erik found himself regaining consciousness.
Pain exploded behind his eyes as he opened them, causing him to groan. The sound of his own voice caused the pain to redouble, and he bit back a second groan. His body ached and his joints were burning.
‘Erik?’ came a woman’s voice, and Erik attempted to find the source. Strange blurry shapes hovered at the edge of his vision, and he couldn’t make his eyes obey his will, so he shut them.
Another voice, Roo’s, said, ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ Erik managed to croak.
Someone put a damp cloth on his lips and Erik licked them. The moisture seemed to help, so he sucked on the cloth. Then someone held a cup of water to his lips, while someone else held his head so he could drink.
‘Just a sip,’ said the woman’s voice.
Erik sipped, and while his throat hurt worse than he ever remembered, he forced himself to swallow. In a few seconds the returning moisture to his mouth and throat eased the discomfort.
Erik blinked, as he realized he was in a bed. Hovering over him were Kitty, Duke James, Roo, and Calis. Another figure was barely visible at the periphery of his vision.
‘What happened?’ asked Erik, his voice still hoarse.
‘You were poisoned,’ said Roo.
‘Poisoned?’ he asked.
Nodding, Duke James said, ‘Henri Dubois. He’s a poisoner from Bas-Tyra. I’ve run afoul of his handiwork before in Rillanon. I didn’t expect to see him this far west.’
Glancing around, Erik assumed he was in a back room at the inn, a priest of an order he didn’t recognize standing behind the others.
‘Why?’ asked Erik. Assuming no one in the room was ignorant of the coming invasion, he still didn’t want to betray anything Lord James wanted kept secret.
‘Nothing to do with the coming troubles,’ said Calis. He glanced pointedly at the priest, which Erik took to mean the man was not fully trusted.
‘A personal matter,’ suggested Lord James.
