By the time he had reached the Durbin docks, Subai had killed three men. He had never found those who had taken his mother and sister, and Durbin was, if anything, more lethal an environment than the hills nearby. He stowed away on a ship bound for Krondor, and had stayed hidden for the entire voyage.
Knowing nothing else, he had found his way to a village outside the city, where he worked as a servant for a family who fed him and clothed him in exchange for work. At sixteen, he returned to Krondor and enlisted in the Prince’s army.
By the time he was twenty-five, Subai was the leader of the Pathfinders. But now, ten years later, he still remembered the sound of the slaver’s whip as it cracked through the air.
There were still five Pathfinders with him as they reached the area east of Quester’s View. Two had been dispatched south already, carrying back intelligence to Marshal Greylock. There had been no fortifications like the one halfway between Sarth and Quester’s View. There had been two observation towers, with relay riders ready to carry word when the Kingdom forces reached a certain point in their journey north. Subai had drawn detailed maps showing them, and Erik’s best avenue of approach was to take them out before they could send warning north. Subai had faith in von Darkmoor, and knew his Crimson Eagles would take those positions quickly.
Subai had left four of his Pathfinders high in the hills above where he and his companion worked their way down steep hillsides to oversee the sounds coming from the highway. Their horses were far enough above them now that they didn’t worry about being discovered unless the two men blundered into a sentry.
Given the treacherous footing on the hills as they made their way down toward the coast, Subai doubted there even was a guard up here. Each step was made slowly, so as not to dislodge stones and send a man rolling down the mountain to his death.
The trees were thick enough there were ample handholds, but the going was difficult.
When they reached the edge of a high ridge, with a veritable cliff below them to another steep slope fifty feet below, Subai knew the effort had been worth it. Without speaking he withdrew a roll of fine parchment from within his tunic and removed a tiny box, along with some writing sticks. With economy, he sketched what he saw before him and added a few notes. At the bottom he wrote a short commentary, then he put away his writing implements. To his companion he said, “Study what you see below.”
They remained for a full hour, watching as slave gangs of Kingdom citizens dug deep trenches along the route Greylock’s army would have to take. Walls were being built, but unlike the earthen barricade down south, these were huge constructions of stone and iron. A forge had been constructed near the front, and its hellish glow cast a reddish light over hundreds of poor wretches laboring for the invaders. Guards walked along, many carrying whips which they used to keep the miserable workers hard at their labor.
The sound of sawing also reached them, and they saw a lumber mill had also been constructed near the coast. Riders came down the road and wagons pulled by oxen slowly made their way toward the construction.
As night fell, Subai said, “We must be back up the hill, else we’re stuck here through the night.”
He stood and, as he took a step, heard his companion say, “Captain, look!”
Subai looked where the man pointed and swore. Along the road, as far as the eye could trace, in the evening gloom, other lights burned brightly; more forges and torches and tantalizing hints that told Subai one cold fact. The Kingdom could not win this war fighting the way it was. He started up the hill, knowing that he would have to wait until first light, then begin a long report to Greylock. Then he would have to race north and reach Yabon before it fell. With LaMut, Zun, and Ylith in enemy hands, Subai realized the King and Prince of Krondor did not realize how close they were to losing Yabon Province forever.
And should Yabon be lost, it would only be a matter of time before the invaders turned south again and attempted to retake Krondor and the West.
Nineteen - Decisions
Wind swept the beach.
Pug walked hand in hand with Miranda as the sun rose in the east. They had been walking and talking all night and were close to agreement about several critical issues facing them.
“But I don’t see why you have to do anything now,” said Miranda. “I thought after relaxing in Elvandar for those weeks and getting rid of all that anger you had directed at the Prince, well, I thought you could just ignore Patrick’s stupidity.”
Pug grinned. “Ignoring stupidity in a merchant or servant is one thing; ignoring it in a Prince is quite a different thing. It’s not the simple question of the Saaur. That’s merely a symptom. It’s the entire issue of who is, at the end, responsible for my power, me or the crown?”
“I understand,” she said, “but why rush this decision? Why not wait until it’s clear that you’re being told to act against your conscience?”
“Because I want to avoid a situation where I’m faced with two evils, and must act to prevent the greater evil by embracing the lesser.”