Krondor: The Assassins. Raymond E. Feist. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Raymond E. Feist
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежное фэнтези
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007352456
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and barracks. Traffic in the area was normal for this time of day: a few traders drove wagons into the city, while farmers who’d visited the city for the day were leaving, starting their homeward journey.

      James pointed. ‘Not much of a welcome, is it?’

      Locklear saw that a few curious onlookers were turning to watch the approaching company that was escorting Arutha through the palace district. Otherwise they were ignored by the citizenry, as they had been since entering the outer reaches of Krondor. ‘I guess Arutha didn’t send word we would arrive today.’

      ‘No, there’s something else,’ said James, his days of fatigue washing away as curiosity took hold of him.

      Locklear looked at the faces of those on the street who stood aside to let the Prince’s company ride past, and saw anxiety. ‘You’re right, James.’

      The capital city of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles was never silent. Even at the darkest hours before sunrise, sounds could be heard from all quarters. There was a pulse to any city, and Krondor had one that was as well known to James as his own heartbeat. He could listen to its rhythm and understand what it was saying: Something’s wrong. It was less than an hour before sundown, yet the city was far more subdued than it should be.

      Locklear listened and knew what it was James was hearing, a muted quality, as if everyone was speaking a little more softly than usual. A shout from a teamster to his mules was cut slightly short, lest it hang too long in the air and attract notice. A mother’s command for a child to come home was short and sharp, followed by a low threatening warning rather than a top-of-the-voice shriek.

      ‘What do you think is going on?’ asked Locklear.

      Just ahead, Arutha spoke quietly to the two squires without looking back. ‘We should find out in a moment.’

      The young men looked past their ruler and saw a committee waiting for them at the palace gate. In the forefront was Princess Anita, her smile edged with relief at seeing her husband unharmed before her. Still youthful despite ten years of marriage and motherhood, her red hair was gathered up under a wide white hat, looking more like a sailing ship set atop her head, thought James, than anything else. But it was the current fashion, and one did not make jests at the expense of the Princess, especially not when her second smile was directed at you.

      James returned the Princess’s welcoming smile and basked for a moment in its warmth. His boyhood infatuation with Anita had matured into a deep, abiding affection, and while she was too young to be viewed as his surrogate mother, she served as surrogate older sister with ease and humour. And it was clear to all who knew them that she viewed James as the younger brother she never had. It went so far as the Princess’s children calling James ‘Uncle Jimmy’.

      At Anita’s right stood twin boys, the Princes Borric and Erland, jostling with one another, as if it were impossible for the two nine-year-olds to remain at rest even for a moment. The red-headed lads were intelligent, James knew, and undisciplined. Some day they would number among the most powerful nobles in the Kingdom, but at present they were simply fractious boys bored with having to act the part of Princes and anxious to be off about whatever mischief they could find. Directly before her mother stood the Princess Elena, four years younger than the boys. Her features were as fine as her mother’s, but her colouring was her father’s, dark and intense. She beamed at the sight of her father riding at the head of his Household Guard. Succumbing to impulse, she pointed and said, ‘There’s Daddy!’

      Arutha held up his hand and ordered a halt. Without waiting for official greetings from the Master of Ceremonies, he jumped from his mount and hurried to his family. Embracing his wife, he then turned his attention to his sons and daughter.

      James motioned with this chin towards the welcoming guards and whispered to Locklear, ‘Willie’s on duty.’

      William, Pug’s son, was a cadet, a young soon-to-be officer who presently was learning his trade. He exchanged glances with James, giving the squire a tiny nod.

      The order was given for the company to fall out, and James and Locklear dismounted. Grooms hurried over and took away the tired mounts.

      Their duty required the squires to wait upon their Prince’s need, so they moved to stand at Arutha’s right hand.

      Anita gifted the young men with a warm greeting, then turned her attention to Arutha. ‘I know I shouldn’t worry. I know you’ll always come back to me.’

      Arutha’s smile was both happy and tired. ‘Always.’

      A small knot of court officials stood silently behind the royal family, and Arutha nodded greetings. He saw by their expressions that he would be needed in council before he would be permitted the pleasure of a long visit with his family. He noticed the Sheriff of Krondor in attendance, and sighed. That could only mean grave problems in Krondor, for the sheriff, while an important officer in the city, wasn’t properly a member of Arutha’s court. Glancing at Gardan, he said, ‘Marshal, see what the sheriff and the others want, and meet me in my private council chamber in a half hour. I will have this road-dirt off before I sit down to another meeting.’ He smiled at Anita. ‘And I’ll steal a few minutes to speak with my wife and children.’ He leaned over and kissed Anita on the cheek and said, ‘Take the children to our apartment. I’ll be along in a minute, dearest.’

      Anita herded the children away, and Arutha motioned to James and Locklear. ‘No rest for the wicked, boys.’ Looking over at the palace guard, he added, ‘Young William looks as if he’s going to pop with news to share, so go find out what’s on his mind. I’m sure I’ll be hearing a different version of the same tale from my officers in council. If something warrants some snooping around in the city, do it, and be back no later than the end of the evening meal.’ Then he looked James in the eyes and said, You know what you must do.’

      James nodded. As he led Locklear away, Locklear said, ‘What does that mean?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘“You know what you must do?”’

      ‘Just something Arutha and I have been working on since you were sent north to Tyr-Sog for …’

      ‘I know why I was banished to Tyr-Sog,’ Locklear said in a tired voice. ‘Too well,’ he added, considering his imminent return to that cold and lonely town on the northern frontier.

      James signalled to the guardsman in charge of the trainees, who stood to attention as he shouted, ‘Members of the court!’

      The cadets were already at attention, but they seemed to stiffen a bit more as the two squires approached.

      James nodded greeting to Swordmaster McWirth. ‘How are the cadets this afternoon, swordmaster?’

      ‘A worthless lot, squire, but one or two of them may survive to actually be allowed to serve as an officer in my army!’

      James smiled wryly at the pointed remark, given that he and the swordmaster had little affection for one another. As a member of Arutha’s court, the young man was not technically part of the army, and trained with weapons with the Prince; in fact, James was Arutha’s favourite duelling partner as he was one of the few in the city as fast as Arutha with a blade. As a squire, he also carried some rank, which meant that often he was put in charge of soldiers who had trained under the swordmaster, and it galled the old soldier.

      Still, thought James, McWirth was thorough in his job and the officers he turned out, especially those who were chosen for the élite Royal Household Guards, were fine soldiers, to a man. In his travels, James had seen the worst of the army as well as the best, and he had no doubt these were the among the best in the Western Realm.

      ‘I need to speak to the Prince’s cousin when you’re done with him, swordmaster.’

      The dour old soldier fixed James with a baleful gaze for an instant, and one more time James was thankful he never had to endure the swordmaster’s supervision. McWirth turned and shouted, ‘Dismissed! Cadet William, over here!’

      William came