Jimmy’s face showed his surprise. “No, Highness. I thought it a bit strange, is all. If anything, I owe you my life.”
“I worried you’d resent being taken from the only family you knew.” Jimmy shrugged off the remark. “And as for owing a life . . .” He leaned back, finger against his cheek as he smiled. “We are even, Squire James, for had you not acted quickly the other night I’d be shorter by a head.”
They both smiled at that. Jimmy said, “If we’re even, why the office?”
Arutha remembered his pledge to the Upright Man. “Count it a means of keeping an eye upon you. You are free to come and go, as long as you discharge your duties as a squire, but should I find the gold cups missing from the pantry, I’ll personally drag you down to the dungeon.” Jimmy again laughed, but Arutha’s voice took on a more somber tone. “Also, there’s the matter of someone’s foiling an assassin upon the roof of a certain fuller’s house earlier this week. And you’ve never said why you chose to come to me with news of that Nighthawk rather than report it as you were warranted to do.”
Jimmy looked at Arutha, his gaze older by years than his boyish face. Finally he said, “The night you escaped from Krondor with the Princess, I got caught with a full company of Black Guy’s horsemen on the docks between me and freedom. You threw me your sword before you knew you’d be safely away. And when we were closeted in the safe house, you taught me swordplay. You were always as fairly spoken to me as you were to any other.” He paused for a moment. “You treated me like a friend. I’ve . . . I’ve had few friends, Highness.”
Arutha indicated understanding. “I also count few as true friends—my family, the magicians Pug and Kulgan, Father Tully, and Gardan.” His expression turned wry. “Laurie has shown himself more than a simple courtier and I think he may prove a friend. I’ll even go so far as to name that pirate Amos Task a true friend. Now, if Amos can be the friend of the Prince of Krondor, why not Jimmy the Hand?”
Jimmy grinned and there was a hint of moisture in his eyes. “Why not indeed?” He swallowed hard and raised his mask again. “Whatever happened to Amos?”
Arutha sat back. “The last I saw of him, he was stealing the King’s ship.” Jimmy guffawed. “We’ve not had word of him since. I’d give much to have that cutthroat by my side this night.”
Jimmy lost his smile. “I hate to bring this up, but what if we run into another of those damn things that won’t die?”
“Nathan thinks it unlikely. He thinks it happened only because the priestess called that thing back. Besides, I can’t wait upon the temples’ pleasure to act. Only that death priest, Julian, has offered to help.”
“And we’ve seen how much help those who serve Lims-Kragma can provide,” Jimmy added dryly. “Let’s hope Father Nathan knows of what he speaks.”
Arutha rose. “Come, let’s get what rest we may, for the night should provide bloody work. “
Throughout the night bands of soldiers, dressed in the common garb of mercenaries, had been wending their way through the streets of Krondor, passing one another without a flicker of acknowledgment, until at three hours after midnight over a hundred men were in the Rainbow Parrot. Several were dispensing uniform tabards from large sacks, so the soldiers would again be in the Prince’s colors during the raid.
Jimmy entered in the company of two men dressed in simple foresters’ garb, members of Arutha’s elite company of army scouts, the Royal Pathfinders. The senior Pathfinder saluted. “This youngster has the eyes of a cat. Highness. He spotted our men being followed to the inn three times.”
When Arutha looked at them questioningly, Jimmy said, “Two of them were beggars known to me, and they were easy to intercept and chase off, but the third . . . It may have been he simply followed to see if something was up. Anyway, when we blocked his way down a street—subtly, you may be sure—he simply moved off in another direction. It could have been nothing. “
“It also could have been something,” Arutha said. “Still, there is nothing more we can do. Even if the Nighthawks know we are doing something, they will not know what. Look you here,” he said to Jimmy, pointing to a map on a table before him. “This was given me by the royal architect. It is old, but he thinks it a fair accounting of the sewers.”
Jimmy studied it for a moment. “Perhaps a score of years ago it was.” He pointed to one spot on the map and another. “Here there’s been a collapse of a wall, and while the sewage still flows, the passage is too narrow for a man. And here there is a new tunnel, dug by a tanner requiring a more rapid disposal of his waste.” Jimmy studied the map a bit longer, then said, “Is there a quill and ink, or charcoal?” A piece of charcoal was forthcoming and Jimmy made marks upon the map. “Friend Lucas has a slip-me-out to the sewers in his basement.”