Shards of a Broken Crown

“Slower going, but there are enough trails along the lakes if we don’t head too far into the southern hills.”

Dash said, “Since Kesh pulled south to the old border, everything from here to their nearest garrison is going to be wilderness.”

Jimmy laughed. “What’s the difference if we run into fifty deserters from the Emerald Queen’s army, or fifty bandits, or fifty Keshian mercenaries …” He shrugged.

Dash made a show of shivering under his heavy cloak. “Let’s hope whoever’s down there is hugging their fires. As any sane man would do.”

Dash urged his horse forward and soon the two brothers were riding south at a steady walk. “Why do we do these things?” he asked.

Jimmy said, “Because our King commands and we obey.”

Dash let out a theatrical sigh. “I thought it was something like that.”

Softly, Jimmy began to sing a very old song:

“To Kesh’s heartland or Queg’s harsh shore,

Our blood, our hearts, our lives and more,

For honor’s sake do we obey,

And go over the hills and far away …”

The sound of cracking ice rang through the cold morning air and both brothers pulled up just before entering a clearing. Using hand signals, Jimmy motioned for Dash to move south along the edge of the clearing while he circled north.

Dash nodded, dismounted, and tied his horse to the branch of a small birch tree. Jimmy did likewise and moved silently away.

Dash moved through the thinning trees, bordering a burned-out farm, he judged from the appearance of tree stumps nearby. The sound resolved itself into a repeated hammering at ice.

Dash saw a man in the distance.

A slender figure, he crouched over the frozen ice on a large pond, perhaps a hundred yards away from where Dash watched, hammering at the ice with a rock. Up and down the rock moved, and Dash couldn’t help but be fascinated with the sight.

Dash couldn’t get a good look at the man, but his clothing seemed a hodgepodge of rags and ill-matched garments. He might have worn boots, but all Dash could see was a collection of rags tied around each foot for warmth.

Dash saw movement in the woods beyond the pond and judged Jimmy was in place. He waited.

Jimmy walked slowly out of the woods and the man leaped to his feet with astonishing speed. He turned away as Jimmy shouted, “Wait! I won’t hurt you!”

Dash slowly took out his sword as the tatters-clad man hurried toward him, trying to keep his movement from alerting the ragged man. As the man reached the first line of trees, Dash stepped out, extending his foot, and tripped him.

The man went down in a tangle of clothes and turned over, scuttling backward as he shouted, “Don’t kill me!”

Dash moved quickly to put the point of his sword before the man’s face, as Jimmy caught up, out of breath.

Dash said, “We’re not going to hurt you.” To demonstrate his good intentions, he quickly sheathed his sword. “Get up.”

The man got up slowly as Jimmy leaned over, hands on knees, and said, “He’s fast.”

Dash grinned. “You’d have caught him had you had another mile or so to overtake him. You’ve always had endurance, if not speed.” Turning his attention to the figure on the ground, he said, “Who are you and what were you doing?”

The man slowly rose, as if ready to bolt at the slightest threat, and said, “I am called Malar Enares, young masters.” He was a slender man, with a hawk nose sticking out over a large rag wrapped around his face. His eyes were dark, and they shifted back and forth between the brothers. “I was fishing.”

Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances, and Dash said, “With a rock?”

“To break the ice, young sir. Then when the fish comes up to sun himself, I would strip bark and make a noose.”

Jimmy said, “You were going to snare a fish?”

“It is easy if you but have patience and a steady hand, young sir.”

Dash said, “I hear Kesh in your speech.”

“Oh, no, mercy, young sir. I am but a humble servant of a great trader of Shamata, Kiran Hessen.”

Jimmy and Dash had both heard the name. A trader with Keshian connections who did a great deal of business with the late Jacob Esterbrook. Since the destruction of Krondor, the boys’ father, Lord Arutha, had pieced together several accounts that had clearly indicated two facts, that Esterbrook had been a long-standing agent of Great Kesh, and that he and his daughter were both dead. Jimmy could see what Dash was thinking: if Esterbrook had been a Keshian agent, so then could Kiran Hessen.

“Where is your master now?” asked James.

“Oh, dead I fear,” said the thin man with a display of regret. “Fourteen years was I his servant, and he a generous master. Now I am alone in this cold place.”

James said, “Well, why don’t you tell us this story.”

“And show us how you planned on catching those fish,” said Dash.

“If I might have some hair from your horses’ manes,” said the ragged man. “Then it would be so much easier.”

“Horses?” asked Dash.

“Two young noblemen such as yourselves didn’t walk into this forsaken wilderness, I am certain,” supplied Malar. “And I heard one of them snorting a moment again.” He pointed. “That way.”

Jimmy nodded. “That’s fair.”

“What do you need hair from their manes for?” asked Dash.

“Let me show you.”

He walked toward the place where Dash’s horse had been tied, and said, “The ice was almost broken when you startled me, young sir. If you would but use the hilt of your sword to break it open, that would be a great service.”

Jimmy nodded and started back toward the icy pond.

Dash asked, “Now, about how you came to be lost in this forsaken wilderness.”

“As you are no doubt aware,” began Malar, “there was much trouble between Kesh and the Kingdom lately, with Shamata for a time being deeded to the Empire.”

“So we had heard,” said Dash.

“My master, being of Kingdom allegiance, decided it wise to visit his holdings in the North, first in Landreth, then Krondor.