The Chaoswar Saga: A Kingdom Besieged, A Crown Imperilled, Magician’s End

‘I thought Zane … wasn’t he betrothed?’

‘Almost. But he has a wandering eye, that one.’

‘And Tad’s too mindful of his duty.’ A moment of sadness passed over his face. ‘You three are as close to family …’ He let the thought go unfinished.

Jommy’s eyes scanned the room, never for an instant forgetting they might be overheard if he wasn’t cautious. ‘I know. Have you spoken with Pug recently?’

‘Not in a while,’ Jim kept his voice down despite the chatter of voices filling the hall. ‘He’s out chasing demons and seems almost obsessed with it.’

Neither man needed to remind the other it was a demon that had killed Pug’s wife, Miranda. And it was the servant of the Demon King Dahun who had destroyed the home in which Pug’s youngest son and his wife had died.

Jim said, ‘Well, let’s turn to happier thoughts. Why don’t we conspire to meet: you, me, Tad and Zane, at the River House tomorrow? If your wife doesn’t object, just us boys?’

‘I’d like that,’ said Jommy. ‘She won’t mind. It’s why I married her: who else would put up with a fool like me?’ His face openly showed a profound gratitude for her existence. He glanced over to where she was in conversation with a knot of ladies, and as if she felt his gaze she turned and looked right at her husband. She smiled and with a slight inclination of her head asked silently how long he would be.

Jommy shook his head slightly then nodded. He turned back to Jim. ‘She’s feeling neglected.’ With a grin he added, ‘I’d best be back to her before she thinks we’re plotting over here.’

As his broad-shouldered friend walked back to his wife, Jim thought: plotting indeed.

Jim Dasher crouched atop the roof of Lady Franciezka Sorboz’s townhouse, feeling the cold ocean night air in his knees. He was definitely getting too old to be out in the field, or at least playing Jimmy the Hand meets a Nighthawk.

That story was family lore and it reminded Jim that there were certain feats attributed to his ancestor he found somehow incredible. The falling off the roof and catching himself without dislocating his shoulders while the Nighthawk overbalanced and fell to his death … Jim glanced down. Dislocated shoulders certainly, then falling all the way to the cobbles, to die in agony. Then again, when Jimmy had accomplished that legendary feat he was but a lad of thirteen or fourteen years – no one was quite sure at what age he had come to Prince Arutha’s attention – and everyone knew boys had incredible flexibility in their joints.

He would give half his fortune for the flexibility and resilience he had possessed at twenty-four years, let alone fourteen. Sitting and sliding to the eaves overhanging the balcony to Franciezka’s bedroom was far less dashing, but as no one was watching, Jim really didn’t care. He was tired and cold, his joints creaky and stiff. While he welcomed Franciezka’s company for either pleasure or business, he still thought getting to see her unobserved was perhaps more trouble than it was worth.

He lowered himself down off the eaves and dropped lightly to the balcony. As he had expected, the door inside had been left unlatched. He entered the bedroom.

Franciezka sat at a writing table, wearing a comfortable-looking lounging robe. ‘On time, as always,’ she said with a smile.

‘You’re not trying to kill me this time, then?’ He sat on the bed opposite her.

She turned and handed him a large document. ‘Not this time. For better or worse it seems we’re allies again.’

He read the two pages and then re-read them. She remained silent while he did so. When he had finished, he said, ‘Is he certain?’

‘Does he sound uncertain?’

‘No,’ said Jim. He let out a long sigh, half relief, half aggravation.

‘Are any of your agents reporting anything like that?’

‘None of my agents are reporting anything.’ All my agents south of the Girdle have gone silent.’

‘Not good,’ she said, looking distressed at the news. ‘Hallon is my only agent who’s managed to get anything out of that region.’

He tapped the document which named the author.

‘Everyone else has gone silent, too.’

‘Hazara-Khan.’

‘Yes,’ she nodded at the name of the man who was almost certainly the head of the Keshian Intelligence Corps.

‘I like him a great deal, personally, but he can be a murderous bastard when he wants.’

She stretched. ‘As can we all.’

‘If he’s killing our agents, war is certain,’ said Jim, suddenly feeling older than his age.

Her sigh matched his mood and for the briefest instant he felt a slight twinge inside and shut it out as quickly as he could. It was one of the gods’ little jokes that the perfect woman in his life was the one he could never have.

His shoulders sagged as he returned the document he had just read to her. ‘Six hundred ships?’

‘That’s Hallon’s best estimate, and he’s one of my best.’ Franciezka rose, crossed to sit next to him, and put her hand over his. ‘And if what he heard at the docks was correct, three hundred of them have already left Hansulé and are sailing past the Forest of the Lost. This isn’t another minor prince of Kesh deciding to make a name for himself grabbing land in the Vale of Dreams, Jim.’

‘No,’ he said, falling back on to the bed. Staring at the canopy overhead he let out another long sigh. ‘This has all the earmarks of an invasion.’

‘But why the West?’ she asked. ‘Kesh has shown no interest in reclaiming Queg, the Free Cities, or the Far Coast since it abandoned them.’

‘I do not know,’ said Jim, looking up at her. ‘You know, you have an incredible face,’ he added, sitting up. ‘Would you consider for just a moment grabbing all the gold you’ve squirreled away over the years while I do the same, then running away with me to some tiny island miles from here where we can settle down with trusted servants and have some children?’

‘I’ve been considering it since the moment I met you, Lord James Jamison, agent of the King, Jim Dasher, thief of Krondor and leader of the Mockers. But we both know that can never happen.’ A moment of sadness passed across her face, then she brightened. ‘Besides, can you imagine what a murderous little crew our children would turn out to be?’

For a brief instant, he appeared to want to say something, then he smiled. He kissed her on the cheek and said, ‘Good night.’

She feigned a pout. ‘And I thought you were going to stay.’

‘So did I,’ he admitted with honest regret. ‘When you’re not trying to kill me, there’s no one I’d rather spend my time with.’ ‘Flatterer,’ she said, theatrically batting her lashes. ‘I’m pleased that we’re going to be on the same side when the bloodletting begins.’

‘Apparently it’s already begun. I’ll instruct key agents to ensure you get copies of all the information we get; as Hazara-Khan is shredding our networks, we need to share intelligence. You know where to send me copies of what you find.’

‘Of course I do. What are you planning?’

‘If my agents are dead, I’ve got to get down there and see for myself what is happening.’

She removed her ring and tossed it to him and he caught it in midair.

‘Look for Hallon. You’ll find him at your usual haunts, the seedier dockside taverns in Hansulé. Rough-looking fellow, dark hair, facial scars—’

‘You’ve just described half the men in that city.’

‘Tattoo of a dagger on his left forearm. He’ll recognize that signet and help if he can.’

‘Thank you, Lady Franciezka Sorboz, lady-in-waiting to the Princess, also Frankie the Razor, Madam Francis …’ He stopped naming her aliases. ‘I really do thank you, Franciezka,’ he said in earnest.

‘We’re allies now,’ she replied in a serious tone. ‘The half of the fleet that didn’t leave Hansulé is almost certainly heading this way. The combined fleets of Roldem and the Isles should be able to deal with the Keshians, but at no small cost. And if they’re also marching an army this way …’ She let the thought go unfinished.

Jim nodded. He tossed the signet into the air, then let it fall into the palm of his hand. Without another word he was out the door and over the balcony.