“I’ll make ready.”
Arutha kissed her and moved toward the door. “I’ll return shortly. Jimmy advises I keep in quarters until the palace is free of strangers. Good advice, but I must remain on public view a while longer. The Nighthawks think us ignorant of their return. We cannot let them think otherwise, yet.”
Finding humour amid the terror, Anita said, “Jimmy still seeks to be First Adviser to the Prince?”
Arutha smiled at that. “He’s not spoken of being named Duke of Krondor for nearly a year. Sometimes I think he’d be better suited than many others likely to come to that office.”
Arutha opened the door and found Gardan, Jimmy, Laurie, and Carline waiting. Others had been moved away by a company of the Royal Household Guard. Next to Gardan, Captain Valdis waited. Arutha told him, “I want a full company of lancers ready to ride in the morning, Captain. The Princess and the Princes will be travelling to the Princess Mother’s estates. Guard them well.”
Captain Valdis saluted and turned to issue orders. To Gardan, Arutha said, “Begin to slowly place men back at post throughout the palace and have every possible hiding place searched. Should any inquire, say Her Highness is feeling poorly and I am staying with her for a while. I’ll return to the great hall shortly.” Gardan nodded and left. Then Arutha added to Jimmy, “I have an errand for you.”
Jimmy said, “I’ll leave at once.”
Arutha said, “What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Go to the docks,” said the boy with a grim smile.
Arutha nodded, again both pleased and surprised at the boy’s grasp of things. “Yes. If you must, search all night. But as soon as you can, find Trevor Hull and bring him here.”
TWO - Discovery
Jimmy searched the room.
The Fiddler Crab Inn was a haunt of many who wished a safe harbour from questions and prying eyes. As the sun began to set the room was crowded with locals, so Jimmy was at once the source of curiosity, for his clothing marked him out of place. A few native to the city knew him by sight - after the Poor Quarter, the docks had been a second home to him - but no small number of those in the inn marked him as a rich boy out on the evening, perhaps one with some gold to be shaken loose.
One such man, a sailor by the look of him, drunken and belligerent, barred Jimmy’s passage through the room. “Here and now, such a fine young gentleman as yourself 11 be having a spare coin or two to buy a drink in celebration of the little Princes, wouldn’t you think?” He rested his hand upon his belt dagger.
Jimmy adroitly sidestepped the man and was half past him, saying, “No, I wouldn’t.” The man reached for Jimmy’s shoulder and tried to halt him. Jimmy came around in a fluid movement, and the man found the point of a dirk levelled at his throat. “I said I don’t have any extra gold.”
The man backed away, and several onlookers laughed. But others began to circle the squire. Jimmy knew at once he had made an error. He’d had no time to scrounge up clothing to fit his present environment, but he could have made a show of turning over a half-empty purse to the man. Still, once begun, such a confrontation could not be aborted. A moment before, Jimmy’s purse had been at risk, now it was his life.
Jimmy backed up, seeking to place his back to a wall. His expression was hard and revealed no hint of fear, and a few who surrounded him suddenly understood that here was someone who knew his way about the docks. Softly he said, “I’m looking for Trevor Hull.”
At once the men stopped advancing upon the boy. One turned and indicated with his head a back door.
Jimmy hurried toward it and pulled aside the hanging cloth cover.
A group of men sat gambling in a large, smoke-filled room. From the pile of betting markers on the table, it was for high stakes. The game was lin-lan, common to the southern Kingdom and northern Kesh. A colourful display of cards was unfolded and players bet and dealt in turn, determining odds and payoffs by which cards were turned. Among the gamblers were two men, one with a scar from forehead to chin, running through a milk-white right eye, and the other a bald, pock-faced man.
Aaron Cook, the bald man and first mate on the customs cutter Royal Raven, looked up as Jimmy pushed toward the table. He nudged the other man, who sat regarding his cards with disgust, throwing them down. When he saw the youth, the man with the white eye smiled then, as he took note of Jimmy’s expression, the smile faded. Jimmy spoke loudly, over the noise in the room. “Your old friend Arthur wants you.”