Part 10 (1/2)
Crossing the courtyard, James considered that William was a tough enough lad. He could handle himself. James suspected that Gordon might turn out to be as tough in his own way, too. Besides, Treggar had been a bachelor officer a long time and knew precisely what he could and couldn't get away with in the bachelor officers' mess. Being Head of Mess had privileges, but it had responsibilities as well, and had Treggar been truly abusive Gardan would have removed him a long time ago. One thing James knew about Arutha and his knight-marshal: there was no detail so trivial that it escaped their notice for too long. Problems were quickly uncovered and dealt with.
Pa.s.sing through the gate, James considered his first stop as a guard waved a casual salute to him. Then James stopped. He had left by the western gate of the palace, once the main entrance, but now used mostly for ceremonial arrivals, processions from the city, holy day rites, and the like, while most of the commerce of the palace now was conducted via the harbor gate and the eastern gate.
A great house sat on the opposite side of the square that marked the western boundary of the palace grounds. Between the house and the gate stood a fountain, modest in size, but ancient and considered something of a landmark, for it had been the first in the city constructed by the order of one of the early princes. James studied the house. It was a large building, the ma.s.sive exterior promising many interior rooms. And to the best of his knowledge, it had been abandoned for years. James corrected himself; it wasn't abandoned, but unoccupied. From time to time some activity could be detected around the building, a fresh coat of paint on wood trim or the iron gate, or repairs to stones in the outer wall. But now it was clear someone was preparing the building to be occupied.
”What's going on?” he asked a guard at the gate, nodding toward the house.
”Don't know. Been wagons coming and going since yesterday, squire.”
'That house has been closed up as long as I can remember,” said the guard standing on the other side of the gate. ”Don't know even who owns it.”
James said, ”It's owned by the Temple of Ishap.”
Both cast him a glance, but neither asked how he knew. James made a habit of knowing things about the city and neither guard doubted his word.
”They usually keep to themselves,” James half muttered. ”I wonder what this is about?”
Both guards knew the question was rhetorical and kept silent, as James turned his attention from the new arrival across the street to an old problem: the Nighthawks.
James emerged from between two buildings, his clothing far less fas.h.i.+onable than what he had worn when he had left the palace. He had several stashes around the city where he had secreted clothing, weapons, and money, against a mult.i.tude of possible needs. Blending into the common rabble was common necessity for the Prince's squire.
James moved through the midday press in the merchants' section of the city, near where it unofficially turned into the Poor Quarter. No one could point to any map or charter that defined the city's districts in such a fas.h.i.+on, but all who lived in Krondor knew where the market section ended and the dockside began, where Harborside became Fishtown and how the other unofficial precincts were arrayed. And knowing where one district ended and another began was vital to one's health and safety, James knew.
He crossed the nondescript street that separated the merchants' and Poor quarters, and as he entered the latter, the streets seemed to shrink, to narrow, to confine. Buildings rose up on both sides, leaving barely enough room for a cart to pa.s.s between, keeping them in gloom except when the sun was at its zenith.
James's posture and walk didn't change as he moved into his old haunts, but his awareness did. The streets of the poor quarter in the daytime were almost as busy as the other sections of the city, but they were far more dangerous. The dangers were less obvious than at night, but they were potentially more lethal for their subtlety. Within moments James sensed the disquiet that permeated the district. Glances were more furtive than usual, people moved just a bit more hurriedly than was the norm. Voice were hushed and strangers were watched closely. The killings were making a suspicious population even less trusting.
James turned into an even narrower path, an alley with an occasional door or a wooden stairway to a second story entrance above. Near the end of the alley he saw a hunched-over figure securing items to a two-wheeled pony cart. The door that had been his intended destination was open.
James drew his dagger and held it so it was hidden behind his wrist. A quick flip would bring it into play if needed.
Reaching striking distance to the figure he stopped and said, ”Sophia?”
The figure turned and drew herself to her full height and James relaxed. The woman was gray-haired with just enough dark brown to show the original color of her youth. She held one hand in what James knew was a warding position. A moment later, she relaxed and said, ”Jimmy. You just about scared what few years I have left out of me.”
James walked over to the pony cart and then glanced at the open door. ”Leaving?”
”As soon as I tie down this last bundle.”
”Where are you bound?”
”I don't know, and I'm not sure I want anyone in Krondor knowing where I land, Jimmy.”
James studied the woman's face. Never a pretty woman-her features had rightly been called horsey in her youth-Sophia possessed a strength in her bearing and a strong body that made her striking, and had won her a fair share of lovers over the years, men of wealth as often as not. But Sophia's trade in spells, charms and magic potions had gained her a life that was ultimately solitary, save for a few trusted friends, like James.
James nodded at her remark. ”If you want to vanish, I understand, but I would like to know why if I may?”
”You've heard of the killings; I don't have to ask. You wouldn't be the Prince's man and not know.”
”You're fearful of joining that departed company?”
She nodded. Adjusting her blue dress and fetching a black shawl off the top of the cart, she moved to close the door to her small room. ”What may not have caught your attention is that most of those who are not members of the Mockers, removed for reasons you're no doubt more familiar with than I, were pract.i.tioners of the art.”
”Magicians?” asked James, suddenly keenly interested in what the woman had to say.
”Five to the best of my knowledge. Most of their names would be unknown to you, for they practiced in private. We're not as public a bunch as those down in Stardock, Jimmy. Some of us prefer a quiet livelihood.”
”And others?”
”Practice crafts which might not be looked upon with favor by those in power.”
”Black arts?”
”Nothing so sinister, but let's say a merchant wants a compet.i.tor's cargo of grain to rot before s.h.i.+pment, or a gambler needs an edge in a big game. There are those who practice such arts as will provide what is needed.”
”For a price,” observed James.
Sophia nodded. ”Someone is eliminating magicians in Krondor, James.”
James glanced around. ”How many others are there?”
Sophia said, ”Help me turn this around. I should have pointed it that way before I loaded it.”
James helped the woman turn the cart around, and watched as she knelt between the twin stalls of the wagon and picked them up. He knew better than to offer to help; Sophia was as independent-minded a woman as he had ever encountered, and he had known several. ”You ought to get a small horse or pony to pull that thing.”
”I can't afford one,” she answered as she started to pull all her worldly possessions out of the alley.
”I can . . . loan you the funds for a horse, Sophia. You were always kind to a rude street boy.”
She smiled and years fell away from her face. ”You were never rude. Obnoxious, yes, but never rude.” Then her smile vanished. ”I'd just have to feed the beast, but thanks for the offer.”
As they reached the corner Sophia halted and said, ”But I should be asking you what brought you to my door.”
James laughed. ”Actually, it was a minor magical problem.” He explained about the Princess Paulina's amulet and its effect, and finished by saying, ”If my young friend is to be spending time in her company, I think it would be to his benefit if he had some means of resisting her charms.”
Sophia chuckled at the play on words. ”Charms. I like that. Well, I have something that may help your friend.” She put down the stalls and went to the rear of the cart. She pulled up the tie-down cover she had just fastened and said, ”Wish you said something before I did this,” and reached in. She pulled out a small bag and rummaged through it. ”I have an effective potion, but that will only last for a few hours.” She held up a small ring. ”But this this might do.” It was simply fas.h.i.+oned, of a gray-silver metal and was adorned with a single dull red semi-precious stone. might do.” It was simply fas.h.i.+oned, of a gray-silver metal and was adorned with a single dull red semi-precious stone.
She handed it to James. ”It protects the wearer from a variety of minor enchantments and spells. Likely the sort of thing the young lady employs. It's useless against anything of substance, but at the least it will keep the girl's effects confined to what nature gave her.”
James took the ring. ”Thanks. What do I owe you?”
”For you,” she said, ”nothing.” She refastened her tie-downs.