“Someone in Krondor doesn’t want us too close,” said Talwin.
“Anyway, we don’t have enough warm bodies to do all the jobs that need to be done. Sniff around and I won’t bother you with a regular beat. If anyone asks, you’re my deputy and on errands for me. I think we’d better quickly get another man in on this.”
“Who?”
“Gustaf is as rock-solid as he can be.”
“Not my idea of an agent,” said Talwin dubiously.
“Not mine, either,” admitted Dash, “but we can’t all be sneaky bastards. I want a third person knowing what’s going on so if we both end up dead he can run off to Brian Silden and let him know why. I don’t think we want him crawling through the sewers.”
“Agreed, but we need some people crawling through the sewers.”
Dash grinned. “Not really. We just need to make a deal with the right people.”
“Mockers?”
“They think another gang is trying to move in, but you and I know better.”
Talwin nodded. “Agents from Kesh or from Queg.”
“Or both.”
“But whoever they are, we have to root them out and quickly, because if word gets out to either of those nations that we’re sitting here with less than five hundred men under arms in the entire city, we could all be dead before the snows fall next winter.”
“I’ll take care of the Mockers,” said Dash. “You find yourself some agents. I don’t want to know who they are, unless you stick them in here as constables.”
“Agreed.”
“I assume you’re using intermediaries.”
“Safe assumption.”
“Make a list and give it to me. I’ll hide it in my room in the palace.” He grinned. “I actually manage to get back there once a week to change clothes and bathe. I’ll leave a sealed message with Lord Brian, an ‘open upon my death’ message telling where the list is.”
Talwin said, “When the network is reestablished, I’ll want the list destroyed.”
“Gladly,” said Dash, “but what good are agents out there going to do if you and I are both gone and there’s no one to get the information to the crown?”
“I understand,” said Talwin.
“Come with me,” said Dash.
He took Talwin back to the center of the room. To the two resting constables, he said, “This is Talwin. He’s been appointed the new Deputy. He’ll work the desk when I’m not here. You two, take him around and show him what things are like, then do what he tells you.”
Talwin nodded, and Dash fetched him a red armband. When the agent left, Dash sat down and returned to work. He idly wondered how many other little surprises were out there, left in place by his grandfather and father.
Jimmy said, “The fancy fellow on the very hot stallion is a gentleman named Marcel Duval, Squire of the King’s Court, and a very close friend to the eldest son of the Duke of Bas-Tyra.”
“Hot” stallion appeared to be correct, for the black stud snorted and pawed the ground and appeared to be ready to dump his rider at any moment. The Squire didn’t attempt to get off until an orderly ran over and took the animal’s bridle. Then he dismounted quickly, putting distance between himself and the horse.
Duko laughed. “Why did he pick that fractious creature?”
“Vanity,” said Jimmy. “You see a lot of that east of Malac’s Cross.”
“And what company is that?” asked Duko.
“His own private guard. Many nobles in the East indulge themselves with such companies. They’re very pretty on parade.”
Looking at the company of soldiers that accompanied the Squire, it was obvious it was a unit designed for parade, not combat. Each man sat astride a black horse, nearly identical in size, and all without a marking. Each soldier wore buckskin-colored leggings tucked into knee-high black cavalier boots, the large knee flaps of which were rimmed in scarlet cord. The color was an exact match to their red tunics, which were trimmed in black whipcord at shoulders, sleeve, and collar. Their polished steel breastplates appeared to be trimmed in brass, and each man had a short yellow cape slung over the left shoulder. Atop their heads they endured steel round helms, trimmed in white fur, with polished steel neck chains. Each man carried a long lance of lacquered black wood tipped with brilliantly polished steel.
Duko couldn’t resist laughing. “They’re going to get dirty.”
Suddenly Jimmy started to laugh, and he could barely contain himself as the Squire walked up the steps of the inn to the front door. As the door opened, one of Duko’s old soldiers said, “A gentleman to see you, m’lord.”
Duko walked over to Duval, his hand extended, saying, “Squire Marcel. Your reputation precedes you.”