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 center 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.”
One of the children drew back at mention of the place, and James remembered Nita’s reaction. James called into the main room, “You, boy, why does that frighten you?”
The lad just shook his head, fear written across his face.
Jazhara put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. No one will hurt you. Why are you frightened?”
A girl behind the boy said, “These men said they were from the Yellow Shield and if we came here they’d feed us.”
James rose, left the office, pushed past Jazhara to where the nearest thug lay in a pool of blood. To an older boy he said, “Run outside and find a city watchman. You should find one two streets over by the Inn of the Five Stars. Tell him Squire James requires two men here as soon as possible. Can you remember that?”
The boy nodded and ran off, leaving the street door open behind him. James glanced after him and said, “Well, if he doesn’t head straight for a hideout somewhere, help should be here in a few minutes.”
Jazhara watched as James turned the dead Keshian over and looted his purse. “What are you looking for?” she asked.
James held up a ring. “This.” He rose and handed it to her to examine.
She turned the ring over in her hand. It was a simple iron ring with a small painted yellow iron shield fastened to it. “Those who serve the Order of Dala wear a ring similar to this. I suspect these men showed this to the children to lure them here, claiming they were taking them to the orphanage.”
Jazhara glanced toward the children, several of whom nodded. “That would explain why Nita was so adamant about not going there,” she said.
James returned to the office and looked again at the closed chest. He hesitated, then opened it. Inside were more documents. He removed a few and asked, “Jazhara, can you read these? They appear to be in a form of Keshian I don’t understand.”
Jazhara took the proffered documents and glanced at the topmost. “I can read them, but it’s a desert script, from the area around Durbin, and not from the interior of Kesh.”
James nodded. He could only read formal court Keshian. Jazhara’s eyes widened. “Filthy traitor! Yusuf has been using my great-uncle and his resources, setting Kesh against your Prince, and your Prince against Kesh!”
James looked perplexed. Finding out that Yusuf was a Keshian agent was hardly a shock. Discovering he was also betraying his master was. “Why?”
Jazhara held out a single page. “To serve someone named ‘the Crawler.”‘
James rolled his eyes heavenward, but stayed silent. The Crawler had been a thorn in the side of both the Prince and the Mockers for months now and James was no closer to establishing his identity than he had been the day he had first heard his name. Hoping for some clue, he asked, “What else does it say?”
Jazhara finished reading the document, then looked at the next. “This Crawler is someone of note, someone who rewarded Yusuf handsomely for his betrayal. There are references to payments already made of large amounts of gold and other considerations.”
She hurried through several other documents, then came to one that caused her to stop and go pale. “This cannot be . . .” she whispered.
“What?” asked James.
“It is a warrant for my death should I choose not to serve Yusuf. It bears my great-uncle’s signature and seal.”
She held it out with a shaking hand and James took it. He examined the paper closely then said, “It isn’t.”