Silverthorn (Riftware Sage Book 2)

“I know a place,” said Laurie, “if friend Jimmy the Hand is willing to say devotions, so the Nighthawks will be less likely to think it a trap.”

 

 

“I don’t know,” said Jimmy. “Things are funny in Krondor. If I’m under suspicion, we might never get another opportunity.” He reminded them of Jack’s attack, and of his unknown companion with the crossbow. “It may have been a grudge thing, I’ve known men to get crazy over something even more trivial than a nickname, but if it wasn’t . . . If Jack was somehow involved with that assassin . . .”

 

“Then,” said Laurie, “the Nighthawks have turned an officer of the Mockers to their cause.”

 

Jimmy looked upset, as he suddenly dropped his mask of bravado. “That thought has troubled me as much as the thought of someone sticking his Highness with a crossbow bolt. I’ve been neglecting my oath to the Mockers. I should have told all last night, and certainly I must now.” He seemed ready to rise.

 

Volney placed a firm hand upon Jimmy’s shoulder. “Presumptuous boy! Are you saying some league of cutthroats merits even a moment’s consideration in light of the danger to your Prince and possibly your King?”

 

Jimmy seemed on the verge of a retort when Arutha said, “I think that’s exactly what the boy said, Volney. He has given oath.”

 

Laurie quickly stepped over to where the boy sat. Moving Volney to one side, he leaned down so his face was level with Jimmy’s. “You have your concerns, we know, lad, but things seem to be moving rapidly If the Mockers have been infiltrated, then speaking too soon could make those who have been placed there cover tracks. If we can get one of these Nighthawks . . .” He left the thought unfinished.

 

Jimmy nodded. “If the Upright Man will only follow your logic, I may survive, singer. I come close to past the time when I may cover my actions with a facile story. Soon I will be at an accounting. Very well, I’ll take a note to the Drawer of Nets’ temple. And I will play no mummery when I ask her to make a place for me should it be my time.”

 

“And,” said Laurie, “I must be off to see an old friend about the loan of an inn.”

 

“Good,” said Arutha. “We will spring the snare tomorrow.”

 

While Volney, Nathan, and Gardan watched, Laurie and Jimmy departed, deep in conversation as they made plans. Arutha followed their departure as well, his dark eyes masking the quietly burning rage he felt. After so many years of strife during the Riftwar he had returned to Krondor hoping for a long, peaceful life with Anita. Now someone dared to threaten that peaceful life. And that someone would pay dearly.

 

 

 

 

 

The Rainbow Parrot Inn was quiet. The storm windows had been closed against a sudden squall off the Bitter Sea, so the tap room lay blanketed in haze, blue smoke from the fireplace and a dozen patrons’ pipes. To any casual observer the inn looked much as it would have on other rainy nights. The owner, Lucas, and his two sons stood behind the long bar, one of them occasionally moving through the door to the kitchen to get meals and carry them to the tables. In the corner near the fireplace, opposite the stairs to the second floor, a blond minstrel sang softly of a sailor who is far from home.

 

Close inspection would have revealed that the men at the tables barely touched their ale. While rough in appearance, they didn’t have the air of workers from the docks and sailors fresh in from sea voyages. They all possessed a certain hard-eyed look, and their scars were earned in past battles rather than tavern brawls. All were members of Gardan’s company of Household Guard, some of the most seasoned veterans of the Armies of the West during the Riftwar. In the kitchen five new cooks and apprentices worked. Upstairs, in the room closest to the head of the stairway, Arutha, Gardan, and five soldiers waited patiently. In total, Arutha had placed twenty-four men in the inn. Arutha’s men were the only ones present, as the last local had left when the storm commenced.

 

In the corner farthest from the door, Jimmy the Hand waited. Something had troubled him all day, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. But he knew one thing: if he himself had entered this room this night, his experience-bred caution would have warned him away. He hoped the Nighthawks’ agent wasn’t as perceptive. Something here just wasn’t right.

 

Jimmy sat back and absently nibbled at the cheese, pondering what was askew. It was an hour after sundown, and still no sign of anyone who might be from the Nighthawks. Jimmy had come straight from the temple, making sure he had been seen by several beggars who knew him well. If any in Krondor wished to find him, word of his whereabouts could be purchased easily and cheaply.