James grinned. ‘I know. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll bring a couple of the more likely fellows down for a drink and let nature take its course.’
‘But not Locklear!’ said Lucas. ‘You keep him away.’
James laughed. ‘No worries. He’s probably riding out the gate this very minute, heading for a long tour of duty in Tyr-Sog.’
Talia came back into the room and said, ‘Everything is ready, father.’
‘That’s a good lass,’ he replied. ‘Open the door, then, and let anyone in who’s waiting for breakfast.’
As she moved off, Lucas said to James, ‘All right then. You didn’t get yourself almost killed sneaking in from the sewers to gossip about my girl and the boys in court. What brings you here before sunrise?’
James’s face lost any hint of humour. ‘There’s a war underway in the sewers, Lucas. And someone’s killed some friends of mine. What’s going on?’
Lucas sat back and nodded. ‘I knew you’d come asking one of these days. I thought it would be sooner.’
‘I just got back into the city last night. I was off with the Prince … doing some things.’
Lucas said, ‘Well, Arutha would do well to look closer to home for trouble, for he has heaps of it here free for the asking. I don’t know the truth of it, but according to the rumours men are killing freely in the sewers and along the waterfront. Citizens and Mockers alike are dying. I hear of Keshians setting up shops in buildings once owned by Kingdom merchants, and new bully gangs working along the docks. No one knows what’s going on, save the Mockers who have gone to ground and are hiding out. I’ve not seen one in a week. Most of my regulars come later and leave earlier, wanting to be home safe before dark.’
‘Who’s behind it, Lucas?’ asked James.
Lucas looked around, as if afraid some invisible agency might overhear him. Softly he said, ‘Someone calling himself the Crawler.’
James sat back. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he muttered.
JAMES WAITED.
A court page knocked upon the door, his youthful expression neutral as befitted a lad of twelve stationed just outside the royal apartments. An answering voice bid James enter, and he waited as two pages pushed open the ornate wooden doors. Inside, the Prince took breakfast with his family, the fractious twins poking at one another while attempting to avoid parental notice. A scolding look from their mother indicated their failure and they went back to a pretence of model behaviour. The little Princess was happily singing a song of her own making while she purposefully put spoon to a bowl of hot breakfast mush.
Princess Anita smiled at James as he presented himself to the family and bowed. ‘Our squire finally appears,’ said Arutha dryly. ‘I trust we’re not inconveniencing you this morning?’
James smiled back at the Princess as he straightened, then turned to the Prince and said, ‘I was dressed in a quite inappropriate fashion for a meal with the royal family, Highness. I am sorry to be so tardy.’
Arutha indicated for James to stand at his right hand, where he was expected to wait on his ruler’s pleasure unless out on some errand or another. James did so and took a moment to rest in the glow of the only thing in his life that felt like family to him.
The Prince of Krondor and his squire enjoyed a relationship that was eccentric and unique. At times they were comrades as much as master and servant, while at other times their bond was almost brotherly. Yet there was always this one thing between them: James never forgot that Arutha was his Prince and he was Arutha’s loyal servant.
‘You look tired,’ observed the Prince.
‘It’s been a long time since I enjoyed the comfort of a warm bed and a good night’s sleep, sir,’ James replied. ‘Last night included.’
‘Well, was it worth it?’
James said, ‘In one way, very much. In another, no.’
Glancing at his wife and children, Arutha looked at James and softly said, ‘Do we need to speak in private?’
James said, ‘I judge it inappropriate table conversation, if that’s the answer you seek, Highness.’
Arutha said, ‘Retire to my private office and wait. I will join you in a few minutes.’
James did as he was told and walked the short distance to Arutha’s private office. Inside he found it as it always was, ordered and clean. He eased his fatigued body into a chair near the Prince’s writing desk and sat back.
James lurched awake as Arutha entered a short while later. ‘Sleeping?’ asked the Prince with amusement as James came to his feet.
‘It was a very long and tiring ride home, Highness, followed by another night without sleep.’
Arutha waved James back into his chair and said, ‘Relax a bit while you talk, but don’t nod off again.’
‘Sire,’ said James as he sat. ‘Three of my informants have gone missing.’
Arutha nodded. ‘From what the good sheriff tells me, we have a rash of killings here in Krondor again, and this time it looks as if there’s no pattern. But the disappearance of your informants tells us someone knows more about us than we do about him, and doesn’t want us improving our knowledge.’
James said, ‘I don’t see any pattern either.’
‘Not yet,’ said the Prince. There was a knock at the door, and Arutha called out, ‘A moment.’ To James he said, ‘That would be Gardan with his retirement documents.’
‘He is leaving, then?’ asked James.
Arutha nodded. ‘I’m sorry to see him go, but he’s earned his rest. He’ll go home to Crydee and spend his last years with his grandchildren, and I can’t think of a better fate for any man. And I suspect he’s correct in his accusation that I don’t leave him much to do, really. He suggests I appoint someone with administrative talents to the post rather than a military man as long as I insist on personally supervising the army. And this conversation stays in this room.’
James nodded silently.
Pointing to the door, Arutha said, ‘Let Gardan in on your way out. Then go to your room and get some sleep. You’re excused from court duty this morning. You have a busy evening ahead of you.’
‘More scouting the city?’ asked James.
Arutha said, ‘No, my wife’s arranged a homecoming ball, and you must attend.’
James rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Couldn’t I go crawl around in the sewers some more?’
Arutha laughed. ‘No. You’ll stand and look interested as rich merchants impress you with tales of their fiscal heroics, and their vapid daughters try to entice you with their marginal charms. That’s a royal command.’