“Every horseman we have. We can dig in and hold here for the rest of the summer with the footmen, but they can’t reach Krondor in anything under three weeks.
“Now, listen carefully. Don’t start off galloping down the coast. You’ll kill half your mounts in the first three days. Start off forty minutes at a trot, then get off the horses and lead them for twenty. At noon, switch to a half hour trotting and a half hour leading the horses. And give them plenty of grain and water each evening. If you do that, you’ll save most of them and get thirty miles a day out of the troops. That should put you in Krondor in a week.”
“Yes, sir!” said Leland. He turned and left to carry out his orders.
Erik balled his fist and looked skyward. “Damn!” he said. “I just thought up a way to dig those bastards out from behind that fortress to the north, and this has to happen.”
Jadow, who had been about to leave when Leland appeared, said, “You know they say Tith-Onanka runs a soldier’s life, but I got to tell you, man, Banath seems to run my little corner of the world.” He left.
Erik nodded. “Banath runs mine too, it seems.” The God of Thieves was also known as “The Prankster,” and was commonly given credit for everything that went wrong.
Erik looked at the old Earl, who said, “We do what we can.”
Erik nodded, and silently left the tent, feeling as defeated as he had ever felt in his life.
Dash roused himself and rubbed his eyes. He had given up on staying awake during the afternoon unless an emergency occurred. There was too much to do after darkness fell.
He began his day at sundown and worked throughout the night, with his mornings spent at the palace or sorting out problems around the city. About noon, if the gods were kind, he would collapse into his bed at the rear of the New Market Jail and fall into an exhausted sleep. Six or seven hours later, he would be roused.
He had received unexpected help from the Mockers in locating the infiltrators. He had put at least two hundred of them behind bars, and had forced Patrick to build a temporary stockade to the north of the city over the Prince’s objections. Should Kesh attack—when Kesh attacked, in Dash’s mind—they would be freed by the Keshians. At least, thought Dash, they would be unarmed and outside the city.
It was the ones still armed and inside the city that he worried about.
As Dash entered the former inn’s common room, used as a squad room by the constabulary, he realized he had overslept, and it was at least an hour after he had planned to be up. He asked one of the constables, “What time is it?”
“Eight of the clock about fifteen minutes ago. He’s been waiting here an hour. We wouldn’t let him wake you.”
The constable was pointing at a court page. “What is it?” he asked.
The lad handed him a note. “The Prince wishes you at the palace at once, sir,” said the boy.
Dash read it and winced. He had completely forgotten he had been invited to dinner this evening at the palace and had agreed to go. “I’ll be along shortly,” said Dash.
Lately he was unhappy with Patrick even more than usual and probably that was the reason he had forgotten the invitation. Dash realized that the Prince could certainly operate in any fashion he wished, with or without Dash’s approval, but given that the city’s security was Dash’s responsibility, he resented those decisions of Patrick’s which made security that much more difficult to insure.
Dash wanted things from Patrick, and making the Prince angry wasn’t a good way to do that. He had to make Patrick understand how dangerous things were right now.
Dash couldn’t seem to impress upon Patrick the mere fact that having had two Keshian agents inside the palace walls was a major source of concern. Dash knew his grandfather would have had both men singing out the names of every contact they had from Krondor to the Overn Deep. Patrick, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, and Duke Rufio felt that as both men were absent from the palace— one gone and the other in custody—things were in hand. Dash wondered if Talwin had put in an appearance as yet and what his view on the matter was. Dash was certain his late father’s spy wouldn’t share Rufio’s equanimity on the matter.
Dash gave instructions on the night’s raids and put Gustaf in charge of the most delicate one; he had come to trust the former mercenary as a steady influence on the other men. Dash got his horse and rode to the palace.