Shards of a Broken Crown

He led Malar through the busy streets in the tent city and toward an alley, really just a passage between freestanding walls, all that was left of two businesses. He ducked into the alley without waiting to see if he was being watched, and heard Malar follow.

It would be easy to become lost in Krondor, Jimmy knew from his last visit. With all the destruction, landmarks didn’t exist. Yet the patterns were the same, and if one constantly remembered where one was relative to one of the few intact recognizable features in the city, it should be possible to find one’s way. At least Jimmy hoped this was so.

He heard movement before he saw it, and ducked back, almost knocking Malar over. Someone walked along the abandoned street, coming closer. Jimmy and Malar hunkered down, fading into the darkness between the walls.

Shortly, a pair of armed men hurried by, upon what errand Jimmy could only guess. Jimmy waited, to see if they returned or if others followed. When no one else appeared after a few minutes, he moved across the road to a burned-out inn.

Hunkering down behind a section of still-standing wall, Jimmy whispered, “This inn has a Way into the sewers. If it’s not blocked, and if the sewers are still intact, we can get inside the city. Most of the sewer is cut off from out there to in there,” he said pointing toward the city, “but there is an old collapsed wall of a cistern that we can wiggle through.”

“Is that a good idea, young sir?” asked Malar. “From what we’ve heard it seems difficult to remain inside without being pressed into a work gang. At least that seems the general opinion.”

“I don’t plan on being seen,” said Jimmy. “You’re free to make your own way from here on, if you choose.”

“Living by my wits is an old habit of mine, young sir, but I suspect you and your brother are my best opportunity to find something beyond that.” He studied Jimmy for a moment, as if weighing risks against possible rewards, then said, “You and your brother are two men of some position, I suspect. If so, and if I serve you to a good ending, then perhaps I may salvage something from what has so far been a horrible turn of fate.” He fell silent for a moment again, then said, “If you will have me in your service, I will go with you.”

Jimmy half shrugged. “I guess that makes you my servant in fact, then. Tell you what you must do. Should anything happen to me, return as best you may to the East. Long before you reach the Kingdom Army you will almost certainly be apprehended by Kingdom advanced scouts. Probably Hadati hillmen or Krondorian Pathfinders. If it’s Hadatis, see if there’s a man named Akee with them. If Pathfinders, ask for Captain Subati. Have either of those men take you to Owen Greylock or Eric von Darkmoor and tell them everything you’ve seen so far. Without a name, you’ll be taken for a Keshian deserter or looter or something, and it might be a long time before anyone heard your story. And they must know what we’ve seen.”

“But what have we seen?” said Malar, genuinely perplexed.

“I’m not sure, which is why we must get inside the city. But whatever it is, it’s not something we anticipated.”

“That’s bad.”

Jimmy grinned. “Why do you say that?”

“Because the unanticipated is always bad.”

Jimmy’s grin broadened. “Always?”

“Always. There is no such thing as a pleasant surprise.”

“I remember this girl once—”

“Did she end up breaking your heart?”

Jimmy nodded with a smile now rueful. “That she did.”

“You see. If you can anticipate, you can stay beyond harm’s reach.”

“You sound like a man of experience,” suggested Jimmy.

Malar’s eyes narrowed. “More than most men know, young sir.”

Jimmy looked around. The shadows had deepened as the sun had lingered in the west, and now the sky above was turning a stunning shade of violet as night approached. “It’s dark enough we won’t be noticed, I’m thinking.” He led Malar into the rear of the old inn, having to carefully pick his way across a section of timbers, what was left from a collapsed doorway and wall section, as well as part of the ceiling above. The roof was gone, and blackened timbers above showed starkly against the darkening sky. They moved cautiously, then Jimmy said, “It’s around here somewhere.”

He knelt and looked around. He moved some smaller debris covered in thick soot, raising a stench of wet charcoal. “Some of the wood is rotting.”

Malar said, “There is a ring of iron there, young sir.”

“Give me a hand,” said Jimmy as he cleared the top of the trapdoor.

As the two men pulled, Jimmy said, “This used to be the back room at an inn controlled by the Mockers.”

“Mockers?”

“Thieves,” said Jimmy. “I thought their fame reached into the vale.”

“The only thieves with whom I had contact were those who used quill and parchment, not dagger and guile. Businessmen.”

Jimmy laughed. “My brother would agree; he used to work for the worst of the lot, Rupert Avery.”

“That’s a name I have heard, young sir. My late master had cause to curse him more than once.”

They got the trap moved and swung it back, letting it fall. The opening yawned at them like a black pit. Jimmy said, “I wish we had some light.”

“You expect to travel in such gloom?” said Malar, a note of incredulity in his voice.

“There is no light on the brightest day down there.” He found what he was looking for, the ladder down, and as he swung himself down onto the topmost rung, he said, “There are lights down there if one but knows where to look.”

“If you know where to look,” Malar muttered under his breath.

They carefully descended into the darkness.

Dash winced, but not from the cold; rather he flinched at the sound of a lash striking a man down below. He, Gustaf, Talwin, and a few other men he had come to know were laboring atop the wall just to the north of Krondor’s main gate. Dash glanced over at Gustaf, who nodded, indicating everything was all right. Suddenly they both turned. A man screamed a few yards off as he lost his footing; in that brief instant, the man knew with dread certainty he was going to fall and no amount of will or prayer would keep him alive. His anguish and terror filled the afternoon air as he toppled sideways and fell to his death on the cobbles below. Gustaf flinched at the sound of the body striking the unyielding rock. They were repairing the battlements and the footing was treacherous, made doubly so by loose stones and constant fog in the mornings and evenings.

“Keep your wits about you,” said Dash.

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” said Gustaf.

Dash chanced a look over the wall and saw the usual confusion of the foulbourgh, soldiers milling around, street vendors, and the other human flotsam drawn into this eddy of the previous year’s war. Somewhere out there, he fervently wished, his brother Jimmy was getting the information needed to alert Owen Greylock that something strange was taking place in Krondor.

Given the lack of resources, General Duko was doing an admirable job of restoring the city to its earlier status, at least from a military point of view. The merchants and other residents of Krondor would see years pass before the city came close to returning to its former prosperity. Too much damage had occurred for that to be anything but a distant dream. But from a soldier’s point of view, Krondor would be close to its previous level of defensibility in less than a year’s time, perhaps as quickly as nine or ten months.

Dash wished mightily he could get loose of this work gang, scout around, and find out what was going on, but the reality of the situation was that any man who wasn’t an invader was a slave. Whatever Dash’s father had been thinking, it would have made more sense to have sent along one of the men who had traveled to Novindus with Erik von Darkmoor, someone who spoke the language and had a fair chance of passing for one of the men from the continent across the sea.

Even if he got free, Dash knew his only hope was to get beyond the wall, blend into the populace there, and find his way to the East, where he was certain his father had other agents waiting for sight of either brother.

Dash was certain his father had sent other agents into the city, and throughout the surrounding countryside. It would be unlike him not to. Besides, thought Dash as he helped hoist a large rock up to the battlements, the ghost of Duke Arutha’s father, Lord James, would haunt him if he didn’t. As Dash bruised knuckles on the harsh stone and began putting mortar into place, he thought that his grandfather’s ghost would be welcome about now. Certainly, if anyone could puzzle out what was happening in Krondor it would be the legendary Lord James.

Jimmy cursed in the darkness as he bruised his shins against an unexpected stone. “Is the young gentleman certain he hasn’t lost his way?” came Malar’s voice out of the blackness.

Jimmy said, “Keep quiet. It’s certain we’re not the only ones down here. And yes I know where we are,” he said. “We turn right and another dozen paces on the right should be the place we’re looking for.” As if to prove the point, he turned to the right and moved into a small passage. Malar kept both hands on the right wall as he awkwardly followed.

After a few minutes they moved slowly through the gloom, then suddenly Jimmy said, “We’re here.”

“Where is here, sir?” asked Malar.

“One of the many hiding places for …” A sound of rustling, as if something was being moved, came from where Jimmy stood. Then Malar shielded his eyes as a small spark was struck, blindingly bright after the long time spent in the dark.