Roo and Erik quickly dressed, their clothes still slightly damp. They went outside and gathered up bundles of goods, and climbed a steep path that cut straight up the side of a small cliff behind the village. Fishermen were moving down toward the beach where they would launch their boats and spend their day as their fathers and grandfathers had before them. They took no notice of the smugglers, and Roo assumed the inhabitants of the village were paid a handsome sum to pretend the smugglers were invisible.
They climbed the cliffs until they reached the plateau above, a large stretch of dirt and grass they quickly crossed to reach the road. They moved swiftly down the road until they came in sight of a barricade. It was a sturdy affair of dirt, reinforced with wood and stones, sporting an impressive array of steel-tipped wooden stakes to repulse riders. To pass it, the smugglers had to move to the side of the road, step down into a shallow gully, then circle around to the back of the barricade. A wagon or a man on foot could easily negotiate it, but attackers up the road would be forced down to the cliffs on the sea side, where another large barricade was erected, or into thick woods steeply rising up the side of a small mountain, impassable by any but the occasional goat or deer.
As they hurried past the guards, the leader of the smugglers stopped and handed over a pouch and nodded, without a word, to a soldier who was equally silent.
Then they were past the checkpoint and down the road into the town of Sarth.
The rear door to the storage room closed after the last smuggler departed. It was attached to the back of John Vinci’s shop, the second floor of which was his home. A single lantern illuminated the room, which was stacked with small boxes and bundles of goods he would sell in his shop: cloth, needles, thread, iron goods—kettles, pots, and pans— rope, tools, and other necessities for those living in and around Sarth. Vinci turned and said, “Bad news, Roo.”
“What?”
“Lord Vasarius has agents in town.”
Rupert said, “Damn. Any who know me from my visits to Queg?”
“Almost certainly. You’ll have to keep a very low profile,” Vinci said. “You can stay out back in the smaller worker’s shed. I have no one using it now. Vasarius’s men are due to sail back to Queg by the end of the week. Once they’re gone, you should be able to move about freely.”
John Vinci was the son of an escaped Quegan galley slave who had made his way to the safety of the Kingdom. He spoke the language of the island nation like a native, and traded with smugglers and sea captains attempting to avoid Kingdom customs officers.
He had come to Roo’s attention when he had gained possession of a valuable necklace, one which Roo had eventually used to ingratiate himself to Lord Vasarius. He had then achieved several profitable trades with the Quegan noble, leading up to planting a rumor of a treasure fleet which had caused the leading nobles of Queg to dispatch their warships to attack the fleet of the Emerald Queen as it exited the Straits of Darkness the previous Midsummer’s Day. The most powerful lords of Queg had seen the vast bulk of their ships sent to the bottom, the single most devastating naval defeat in their history.
Most knew that Rupert Avery of Krondor somehow had a hand in this, for while there was no direct line proving he engineered the ruse, there were ample reports of rumors started by men who served on his ships, or who worked for his agents. Without being told, Roo knew he was a marked man in Queg and that to be discovered outside Kingdom protection meant his life would be measured in hours, if not minutes. Even in the Kingdom he would have to forevermore be vigilant against assassins hired by Quegan gold.
Roo looked at John. “I can hide out until we have to depart, if necessary. But Erik needs to look around. Can you provide believable cover?”
John looked dubious. “I don’t know. There are so many strangers in Sarth, perhaps. If he could pass as a Quegan or Keshian mercenary, no doubt. But all Kingdom citizens who bear arms are known to the local soldiers.”
Erik said, “I don’t have to go armed. If I’m one of your workmen. . .”
Vinci shook his head. “I only employ casual labor, Erik. Things are a little slow now, given the occupation.” He said, “Let me think about this. You two sleep and take it easy. I’ll send one of my children out with some food in a while, then sleep. Maybe by tomorrow morning I’ll have thought of some reason to be walking around town with someone as noticeable as Erik.”
“Buy something,” said Roo.
John’s eyebrows went up. “What?”
“Buy something. A building, a business, a house. Something over on the other side of the town that will let you move back and forth. Make Erik. . . a builder. Someone you’re going to pay to repair things.”
Vinci said, “There are several businesses that are abandoned or for sale.”
“Good, let it be known you’re taking the opportunity to seize profit, and are willing to buy whatever anyone has to sell.”
“How, by the way, am I paying for this?”
“If you actually have to buy something, John, you’ll pay for it as you always do, with my gold.”
Vinci grinned. “It usually comes back with a profit attached.”