Jazhara took a final long look around the room, as if searching for something or trying to impress details on her memory, then without comment she lifted her staff and moved purposefully toward the door.
James hesitated for a half-step, then overtook her. “You’ll send word to your great-uncle?” he asked when he caught up with her.
“Certainly. This Crawler may be Keshian and what occurs here in Krondor may be but a part of a larger scheme, but it’s clear that my great-uncle is at risk.”
James said, “Well, there’s the matter of the Prince.”
“Oh.” Jazhara stared at James. “Do you think he would begrudge my great-unde a warning?”
James touched her shoulder lightly. “It’s not that. It’s only . . .”
“Matters of politics,” she finished.
“Something like that,” James said. They turned a corner. “It may be there’s no problem in communicating this discovery to your great-uncle, but Arutha may request you leave out certain facts, such as how you got the information.”
Jazhara smiled slightly. “As in not revealing we know Yusuf was ostensibly an agent working on behalf of Great Kesh?”
James grinned. “Something like that,” he repeated.
As they continued to walk, she added after a while, “Perhaps we could simply say that while dealing with an illegal slavery ring, we discovered a plot to murder me and pin the blame upon my great-uncle, to the purpose of having him removed from his position as Governor of the Jal-Pur.”
“My thinking exactly.”
Jazhara laughed. “Do not worry, my friend. Politics are second nature to Keshian nobles not born of the True Blood.”
James frowned. “I’ve heard that term once or twice before, but must confess I’m vague as to what it means.”
Jazhara turned a corner, putting them on a direct path back to the palace. “Then you must visit the City of Kesh and visit the Empress’s court. There are things I can tell you about Kesh that will not make sense until you have seen them with your own eyes. The True Blood Keshians, those whose ancestors first hunted lions on the grasslands around the Overn Deep, are such. Words would not do them justice.”
A hint of irony — or bitterness — tinged her words, and James couldn’t tell which, but James decided not to pursue the matter. They crossed out of the Merchants’ Quarter and entered the palace district.
As they approached the palace gates, Jazhara glanced over to the large building opposite and noticed the solitary guardsman there. “An Ishapian enclave?”
James studied the sturdy man who stood impassively at his post, a lethal-looking warhammer at his belt. “Yes, though I have no idea of its purpose.”
Jazhara looked at James with a wry smile and a twinkling eye and said, “There’s something occurring in Krondor about which you’re ignorant?”
James returned her smile. “What I should have said is that I have no idea what its purpose is - yet.”
The guards came to attention as James and Jazhara reached the gates and the senior guard said, “Welcome back, Squire. You’ve found her, then?”
James nodded. “Gentlemen, may I present Jazhara, court mage of Krondor.”
At this, one of the other guards began to stare at Jazhara. “By the gods!” he exclaimed suddenly.
“You’ve something to say?” James inquired.
The guard flushed. “Beggin’ your pardon, Squire, but a Keshian? So close to our Prince?”
Jazhara looked from one to the other, then said, “Set your minds at rest, gentlemen. I have taken oath and I will swear fealty to Arutha. Your prince is my lord, and like you, I shall defend him unto death.”
The senior guard threw a look at the outspoken soldier that clearly communicated they would be talking about his outburst later. Then he said, “Your pardon, milady. We are honored to have you in Krondor.”
“My thanks to you, sir,” replied Jazhara as the gates were opened.
James followed, and as the gates were closed behind them he said, “You’ll have to excuse them. They’re naturally wary of strangers.”
“You mean, wary of Keshians. Think nothing of it. We would be equally suspicious of a Kingdom magician in the court of the Empress, She Who Is Kesh. When Master Pug entrusted me to this position, he was very clear that my appointment is not to be political.”
James grinned. Nothing in the court was not political, but he appreciated the sentiment. He regarded the young woman again. The more he knew her, the better he liked her. Mustering up his best courtier’s tone, he said, “A woman of your beauty and intelligence should have no trouble with that. I myself am already feeling a great sense of trust.”
She laughed. Fixing him with a skeptical expression, she said, “Your compliment is appreciated, Squire, but do not presume too much, too quickly. I’m sure your Prince would be upset were I forced to turn you into a toad.”