Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

Amos raised an eyebrow “You’ve funds?”

 

 

“In my chest aboard ship.” With a grim smile he said, “The Tsurani aren’t the only ones who play politics with war. To many of the nobles in Krondor and the East, the war is a distant thing, hardly imaginable. It has gone on for nearly nine years, and all they ever see is dispatches.

 

“And our loyal Kingdom merchants don’t donate supplies and ships out of love for King Rodric. My gold is a hedge against underwriting the cost of bringing Krondorian soldiers to Crydee, both in expenses and bribes.”

 

“Well then,” said Amos, “even so it will be a week or two. You don’t usually stroll into a ship’s brokerage and pay gold for the first ship offered, not if you wish to avoid notice. And most of the ships sold are fairly worthless. It will take time.”

 

“And,” put in Martin, “there’re the straits.”

 

“That’s true,” agreed Amos, “though we could take a leisurely turn up the coast to Sarth and wait to time our run through the straits.”

 

“No,” said Arutha. “Sarth is still in the Principality. If Guy’s in control of Krondor, he’ll have agents and soldiers there. We won’t be safe until we’re out of the Bitter Sea. We’ll attract less attention in Krondor than in Sarth: strangers are not uncommon here.”

 

Amos looked long at Arutha, then said, “Now, I don’t claim to know you as well as some men I’ve met, but I don’t think you’re as concerned for your own skin as something else.”

 

Arutha glanced about the room. “We’d better find a less public place to talk.”

 

With a sound between a sigh and a groan, Amos heaved himself out of his chair. “The Sailor’s Ease is not where I’d prefer to stay, but for our purposes it will serve.” He made his way to the long bar and spoke at length to the innkeeper. The heavyset owner of the inn pointed up the stairs, and Amos nodded. He signed for his companions to accompany him and led them through the press of the common room, up the stairs, and down a long hall to the last door. Pushing it aside, he motioned for them to enter.

 

Inside they found a room with little to recommend itself by way of comforts. Four straw-stuffed pallets rested on the floor. A large box in the corner served as a common closet. A crude lamp, a simple wick floating in a bowl of oil, sat upon a rude table, it burned with a pungent odor when Longbow struck a spark to it.

 

Amos closed the door as Arutha said, “I can see what you meant about choices in rooms.”

 

“I’ve slept in far worse,” answered Amos, settling down on one of the pallets. “If we’re to keep our liberty, we’d best establish believable identities. For the time being, we’ll call you Arthur. It’s close enough to your own to afford a passable explanation should someone call out your real name and cause you to turn or answer. Also, it will be easy to remember.”

 

Arutha and Martin sat down, and Amos continued. “Arthur—get used to that name—of navigating cities you know less than a thimbleful, which is twice as much as Martin knows. You’ll do well to play the role of some minor noble’s son, from some out-of-the-way place. Martin, you are a hunter from the hills of Natal.”

 

“I can speak the language passing well.”

 

Arutha gave a half-smile. “Get him a grey cloak and he’d make a fair ranger. I don’t speak the language of Natal, or the Keshian tongue, so I’ll be the son of a minor eastern noble, visiting for recreation. Few in Krondor could know half the barons of the East.”

 

“Just so long as it’s not too close to Bas-Tyra. With all those black tabards about, it would be a pretty thing to run into a supposed cousin among Guy’s officers.”

 

Arutha’s expression turned dark. “You were correct about my concerns, Amos. I’ll not leave Krondor until I’ve discovered exactly what Guy is doing here and what it means for the war.”

 

“Even should I find us a ship tomorrow,” said Amos, “which is unlikely, you should have plenty of time to snoop about. Probably find out more than you’ll want to know. The city’s a lousy place for secrets. The rumormongers will be plying their trade in the market, and every commoner in the city will know enough to give you a fair picture of what’s taken place. Just remember to keep your mouth shut and ears open. Rumormongers’ll sell you what you want to know, then turn around and sell news of your asking to the city guard so fast it’d make you spin to watch.” Amos stretched, then said, “It’s still early, but I think we should have a hot meal, then to bed. We’ve a lot of prowling about to accomplish.” With that he rose and opened the door, and the three men returned to the common room.