Atop a nearby hillock a figure sat, playing a thin reed pipe . . . badly.
The traveler leaned on a staff that compensated for his limp, due in the main to a nasty sword wound to the thigh that was only just now beginning to heal. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, and the figure on the hill started waving.
Owen limped closer and at last said, “Nakor?”
“Greylock!” said Nakor as he walked down the hill. The road was heavily traveled as thousands fled the invaders, making their way up the old coastal trading route toward the distant City of the Serpent River.
The two men embraced and Nakor said, “You didn’t get out with the others?”
“I don’t know who got out,” he said, using his staff so he could ease himself to the ground. Nakor squatted next to him and put his pipe away in his ever-present shoulder sack.
“Most didn’t,” said Nakor. “I saw a boat and I think Calis was in it, pretty sure. And some others. Saw a ship, but they were too far away to see me.”
“So someone’s getting word back to the Prince in Krondor?”
“Pretty sure,” said Nakor with a grin.
“What are you doing now?”
“I was practicing my flute and resting. I’m going to the City of the Serpent River.”
“Mind if I walk with you?” asked Greylock. “I’m afraid I’m going to slow you down.”
“That’s all right,” said Nakor. “I’ve got lots of time.”
“What happened to you?” asked Greylock. “I got caught up in the crush when everyone was trying to get back to the estuary. I got a horse but got knocked off, then a guardsman swung at me with a sword before he ran off.” He gestured to his leg. “I barely got out of the city when the citizens broke down the northeastern gate. Something happened to the invaders and there weren’t a lot of them around for a while, so I got through. I hid for a couple of days, until the leg healed enough for me to limp along.” He massaged his stiff leg. “Don’t know what happened, back there, but something played fair havoc with their invasion.”
“Pug of Stardock,” said Nakor. “I think it was his trick. He dumped them all into the river. It was grand. I couldn’t see much, though, as I was trying to keep from burning.”
“You were responsible for all that in the city?”
“Most of It. A trick, really Got the Pantathians to do the work for me.”
“How did you get out of that holocaust?”
“I found that tunnel I told Calis about, the one that led to the western precinct. I got past some rubble and some guards, and when I reached the west side of the river, most of the defenders had fled.”
Greylock said, “Ingenious.” Then he said, “Wait a minute. If you were on the other side of the river, how did you . . .” Pulling himself up with the staff and a hand up from Nakor, Greylock said, “Why don’t you tell me about it as we walk?”
Nakor grinned. “Good. If we hurry we may reach the City of the Serpent River before Calis and the others sail home.”
“You sure they got out alive?”
“Ship I saw sail past a few days ago?” said Nakor with a grin, pointing out to sea. “Freeport Ranger; if that was Calis I saw in the boat, then they’re alive, and they’re heading that way.” He pointed toward the northeast. “City of the Serpent River. They’ll do some talking with the clan chiefs, make plans, do other things.” They started walking. “If we don’t dawdle, we might get there in time.”
“Think we can steal some horses?” asked Greylock.
Nakor only grinned in reply as he dug into his sack and pulled out a large round object. “Want an orange?”
About the Author
Raymond E. Feist’s novels include Magician; Silverthorn; Faerie Tale; Prince of the Blood; and The King’s Buccaneer; as well as his New York Times-bestselling Serpentwar Saga: Shadow of a Dark Queen; Rise of a Merchant Prince; Rage of a Demon King; and Shards of a Broken Crown; and The Riftwar Legacy: Krondor: The Betrayal; Krondor: The Assassins; Krondor: Tear of the Gods. He is the creator of the immensely popular computer games “Betrayal at Krondor” and “Return to Krondor.” Mr. Feist lives in Southern California.