Shards of a Broken Crown

Dash nodded. “When you put it that way, I see what you mean. To me he was Grandfather, and he had lots of wonderful stories. I sometimes forgot they were true.”

The Upright Man said, “Now, the question is, what to do with you?”

“Me?”

“You’re here spying for your father. That’s not a problem, in and of itself, but the fact is you’ve seen me, talked to me, and letting you go is a problem.”

“Would it make a difference if I swore to say nothing about you to anyone?”

The old man laughed his dry chuckle again. “Hardly. You’re who you are, boy, and things might remain on the square between us for a while, but eventually, when things return to something like before around here, the day will come when some Mocker will create a problem that will call a little too much attention to us. It happens from time to time. And then you’ll find yourself wondering just where your loyalties lie, to your Prince or your old Uncle Lysle. Considering our deep family bond, I have no doubt you’d turn me in the first chance you get.”

Dash stood up. “Grandfather taught me better.” He glanced at the girl, and then at his great-uncle. “Besides, the Mockers I’ve seen don’t exactly look a menace to the sovereignty of the nation at the moment, and then there’s the small matter that we don’t presently control Krondor.”

“That’s a matter of some weight, true. And it gives me pause about ordering your death. You don’t presently pose a threat. What do you think you can manage for us if we help you get free and back to your father?”

Dash said, “I can’t promise anything. I don’t have the authority. But I suspect with a little conversation, I can get Father to authorize a general pardon for any of your people who help us retake the city.”

“A little fighting for an amnesty?”

“Something like that. Having a few of you inside the walls at key locations at the right time could save a lot of lives under the walls.”

“Well, let me think on this, and then I’ll tell you what I’ll do tomorrow. Get some rest and don’t try to escape.”

“What of my friends?”

“They’re being cared for. I don’t know how important they are to you, but I’m counting on them having a little call on your loyalties, so I can keep you in line.”

Dash nodded and the old man hobbled to the door. “Trina will keep you company for the night.” Dash tried to look pleased, but the woman’s dark glare made it clear amusing byplay would be lost on her.

After the door closed, Dash sat down on a pile of straw in the corner, obviously his bed for the night. A long moment of silence passed as Trina sat on the chair by the table watching him. Looking at his guard, he said, “Well, then. Do we tell one another our life stories?”

Taking out her dagger, the woman began to clean her fingernails with the point. She put her feet up on the table and said, “No, Puppy. We do not.”

Sighing, Dash lay down and closed his eyes.

• Chapter Six • Choices (#ulink_df4aa494-d802-518c-b97a-a0a3ae7decd2)

NAKOR FROWNED.

He scanned the room of the warehouse in Darkmoor he was currently using as a base of operations, and said, “This will not do.”

Sho Pi, his first disciple, said, “What, master?”

Since becoming self-appointed head of the Church of Arch-Indar, Nakor had ceased objecting to being referred to as “master” by the young former monk of Dala. Nakor pointed to the wagon that was being unloaded outside his new “church,” and said, “We ordered twice that.”

“I know,” shouted the driver of the second wagon as it pulled up. “Hello, Nakor.”

“Hello, Roo!” shouted the former gambler turned high priest. “Where is the rest of our grain?”

“This is all there is, my friend,” said Rupert Avery, once the richest man in the history of the Western Realm, now the proud owner of three wagons, three teams of horses, and an amazing debt owed him by a near-bankrupt Kingdom. “Most of what I can buy goes to the Prince, to feed the soldiers.”

“But I have gold,” said Nakor.

“For which I am eternally grateful, for without your patronage, I would be unable to buy even the meanest grain out there. My credit is overextended in the East, I am forced to sell my holdings there to pay off my debts, and the money that’s owed me is coming from a presently nonexistent Western Realm.”

“You seem unusually happy for a man in such dire straits,” observed Nakor.

“Karli is going to have another baby.”

Nakor laughed. “I thought you were put off by children.”

Roo smiled, his narrow face showing an almost boyish aspect as he nodded. “Once I was, but when we fled Krondor and reached Darkmoor, well, that time cooped up with them almost every day, I came to learn a great deal about my children.” His smile faded and he said, “About myself, as well.”

“Learning about one’s self is always a good thing,” observed Nakor. “After you unload, come inside and I’ll make us some tea.”

“You have tea?” asked Roo. “Where did you get it?”

“A gift from a woman who had hidden it from before the war. It is not very fresh, I’m afraid, but it is tea.”

“Good, I’ll join you when I’m done here.”

Nakor went inside the building, where another disciple was overseeing a class of students, five this time, listening to the introductory lesson on the role of good in the universe. Nakor realized that most, if not all, were there for the meager food his church provided after the lecture, but he was always hopeful someone would answer the call. So far he had recruited five new students, for a total of six counting Sho Pi. Given he had unilaterally decided to create a church for one of the four greatest Gods in the Midkemian universe, it was a very modest beginning.

“Any questions?” asked the disciple, who had himself heard the lecture for the first time only a few weeks before.

Four of the students looked back with expressions showing limited comprehension, but one tentatively raised her hand.

“Yes?” asked the disciple.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what?” said the disciple.

Nakor stopped and listened.

“Not you, all of you. Why are you preaching this message of good?”

The disciple looked at Nakor with near panic on his face. He had never been asked anything so basic, and the simplicity of the question was confounding him.

Nakor grinned. “I’ll answer, but first I must know, why do you ask?”

The girl shrugged. “Most who preach are servants of one of the common gods, looking for something. You seem to be asking for nothing, and I wish to know what is the catch?”

Nakor grinned. “Ah, a cynic! How wonderful. You, come with me. The rest of you, wait here and you’ll eat.”

The girl rose and followed.

Nakor turned as he led her into what had once been a shipping office and now served as his personal quarters. A half-dozen sleeping mats were strewn across the floor, and a small brazier heated a pot of water. “What is your name, girl?”