The Complete Darkwar Trilogy: Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God

The boys turned in and Caleb took the first watch. He noticed how quickly Tad and Zane fell asleep. In the flickering light of the campfire, they looked like the boys they had been, rather than like the men they were becoming. For not the first time he silently prayed he had not overestimated their potential, or underestimated his own ability to keep them safe.

The three rode slowly through the crowds, trying to navigate while the boys gawked at the exotic sights of Kesh. It was just as Caleb had promised – a city unlike any other on the world of Midkemia.

They had come to appreciate the incredible scale of the place about mid-morning, after they had seen the upper city and the citadel on top of the plateau overlooking the lower city and the shores of the Overn Deep. From a distance it had looked like the top of a faraway mountain, but as they approached, the view resolved itself into what it was – a massive palace surrounded by a fortress-city, built high above every approach from land or by water: the heart of the Empire of Great Kesh.

The day had been clear and their view of the great citadel was unencumbered by fog, haze, or clouds. The boys remarked at least a half a dozen times on how large the building was. Caleb explained that the vast structure had been erected over generations, and that it housed a virtual city itself. He told them of the cavernous halls and many apartments occupied by the Imperial family, the administrators of the empire, the entire household staff – under the watchful eye of the Master of the Keep, the overseer of the building – and how it still had enough space for apartments and suites of rooms for the Lords and Masters of Kesh, as well as the great Gallery of Lords and Masters itself. Gardens were also scattered throughout the building, some encompassing fountains and pools.

At one time, only the Trueblood – the original Keshian tribe that had occupied this region around the great Overn Deep – had been permitted within the building after sundown. The only exception had been visiting royalty, ruling nobles and ambassadors, and they had been confined to a specific corner of the Imperial palace from sundown to sunrise.

Now, Caleb said, things were a little less formal, for certain non-Trueblood nobles were now permitted to stay within the upper city, but it was rare and counted as an enormous privilege. Caleb had never visited the upper city, but knew many who had.

As they made their way through the crowded streets, the boys turned this way and that trying to make sense of the confusion of images, smells and sounds around them. Caleb had pointed out a few major landmarks for them to remember, so that they would learn the layout of the city and be able to navigate it quickly, but the boys were overwhelmed by the newness of everything and Caleb knew they had no idea where they were.

Tad and Zane were in awe. Everywhere they looked they encountered novelty: the Keshian garb, the cacophony of languages, the smells, the sights. Citizens from every corner of the Empire and travellers from all over the world flocked to Great Kesh. Proud Ashunta horsemen with their broad-brimmed felt hats bedecked with feathers, Cosodi traders with their bright robes of orange, red, yellow and lime patches, and Jajormir mystics dancing in circles with their beggar bowls at their feet all slowed the three riders to a crawl. A slave coffle made its way through one of the smaller markets, and both boys stared in horror at the abject misery of the unfortunates on their way to the slave block.

Each corner they turned brought them new sights, and they were constantly besieged by beggars, hawkers and thieves. The boys often batted away curious hands that were reaching to see if a purse might be tucked away behind a saddle or at the girth.

Charioteers of the Trueblood forced their way through the streets by cracking their whips above the heads of the commoners, who ducked out of the way to let the nobles pass. The heavy thud of boot-heels hitting cobblestones caused the boys to turn in their saddles. They saw a full company of black-armoured soldiers heading their way.

Caleb motioned for them to move their horses to the side of the road, and by the time they had reached the street’s verge, the soldiers were passing them. Even the charioteers moved out of the way of the hundred men who marched towards them. They were armoured from head to foot – black pointed helms with nose bars and chain neck guards, black chest plates over black leather jackets, decorated with a single Keshian royal hawk, grieves and leggings – all fashioned from black steel. Their shields were square and slightly curved, so that they could form an interlocking shield wall, and each soldier carried a short spear over one shoulder and a shortsword at his side.

The sergeants’ helms had short ridges across them and were topped with a horsehair bristle. The officers rode behind them in matching uniforms save that their crests sat fore to aft, and their horsehair bristles were a hand’s span taller than the sergeants’.

‘That’s the Inner Legion,’ said Caleb as the boys watched in awe. ‘Kesh’s dog soldiers are stationed from here to the Vale, but these lads are given the protection of the capital and the imperial palace. They’ll not budge from this city, which is a good thing for their neighbours, as they tend to pick the toughest bastards in the army for that legion.’ He pointed up towards the citadel on top of the plateau.

When the soldiers had passed, he motioned for them to start moving again and after another half an hour they reached an inn. Its sign showed three willow trees in a row. Caleb led Tad and Zane through the gate into the stabling yard and a boy hurried to meet them.

Once the horses were turned over to the lackey, they entered the inn. It had a spacious, clean, and quiet common room, and they headed straight for the bar, where they were greeted by a tall, thin man with iron-grey hair and a full beard. ‘Caleb! he cried out in greeting. ‘It’s good to see you again. Who are the lads behind you?’

‘This is Tad,’ Caleb said putting a hand on Tad’s shoulder, ‘and this is Zane,’ he added putting his other hand on Zane’s shoulder. ‘They are my sons.’

‘Sons!’ said the barman, coming around to extend his hand in greeting. ‘All these years I’ve known you and never one word about being married, let alone having sons.’

‘It’s a recent thing. I’ve adopted them.’ He gave their shoulders a playful squeeze and slapped them on the back, then said, ‘Boys, this is Pablo Maguire, owner of the Three Willows.’

The boys exchanged glances at the names – for they were as alien to Kesh as Tsurani names would have been – and the old innkeeper noticed. Smiling he said, ‘My mother is from Rodez, – hence Pablo, after my grandfather – and my father came from Kinnochaide,’ he said, using the Kinnochman’s name for Kinnoch Province. ‘Which is why I’m a Maguire, and as for how I came to be running a tavern in the heart of Great Kesh is another story for another time.’ He spoke with the lilting rhythm the people of Kinnoch gave to their speech, and apparently to any language, as he spoke Keshian.

‘I’ll need two rooms,’ said Caleb. ‘Or the one big one at the end of the hall if it’s free.’

‘It’s not, sad to say, for it’s already occupied by a great lady and her daughters.’ He glanced at the boys and said, ‘Better steer a wide course away from them, lads, for they are Truebloods.’

Caleb’s eyebrows went up in silent question, and Maguire feigned offence. ‘What? A fine lady can’t heave to at my inn?’

Caleb laughed. ‘Obviously one can and has.’

Pablo’s eyes were merry as he said, ‘I know what you’re thinking: with all the great residence houses in the city, why here? Well, truth to tell, they’re not all wealthy or high-born, though—’ he directed his remark to the boys ‘—they all act as if they’re related to the Emperor and even the lowest Trueblood is still higher-born than the highest of the rest of us!’ Looking at Caleb, he continued, ‘This lady’s in for the Midsummer’s Festival.’

‘It’s a month away,’ said Caleb.

‘Well, she and the girls are buying things right now. I believe her husband is some governor or an important man in one of the southern provinces, and he’s coming up to pay his respects to the Imperial family, or something like that. She tells me nothing, so I’ve had to piece that information together over the last week. They’ll be here a while, so—’ again he looked at the boys ‘—if you want to keep your heads on your shoulders give the girls room. The Trueblood have no sense of humour when it comes to their daughters’ association with common boys.’

Tad and Zane glanced at one another and Tad shrugged. ‘We’ll behave ourselves,’ he said.

Caleb gripped them both by the shoulders again and said, ‘I’ll make sure they do. Now, let’s get cleaned up and have something to eat. I have a quick errand I must run, and then we can see some of the city in the evening. Tomorrow, we start working.’

Tad and Zane nodded, they knew that working had two meanings, and they were very nervous about the one that wouldn’t be obvious.

Zane pointed. ‘Look at those.’

Tad nodded and they approached the vendor whose booth was set up against the southernmost boundary wall of the main bazaar in the Hajana District of the lower city. The boys had been in Kesh a week now and were still hard pressed not to get lost.

They had carried out the same mission each day while Caleb was off on his own business. They wandered the merchant districts of the city, paying attention to everything they saw, and then at the end of the day they told Caleb what they had witnessed. Their cover-story was that they were scouting for possible items of interest to sell in the north – Krondor specifically, and that they were from the Vale of Dreams, hence their odd accents.

The newness of the Keshian city was beginning to wear off, though they were still easily distracted by some of its younger female inhabitants who passed by. Dress customs ranged from head-to-toe tribal dress that left only the eyes exposed, to the near-nudity of the Oshani lion hunters, Dingazi cattle herders and the Truebloods themselves. The boys would often stand in mute amazement as a dark-skinned girl of alien beauty walked by, ignoring the gawking northern youths. But even that distraction was beginning to wear off as they grew accustomed to it. And from a couple of ill-timed overtures made to passing girls in the city, they had learned that outlanders were seen as barely worthy of civility, let alone friendliness. Caleb had warned them that Kesh was an empire of many nations, some of whom were bitter enemies of others, and only the iron rule of the Emperor kept them from open warfare. Civility was a function of the rule of law, not a social concern.

Zane motioned for Tad to follow him to the vendor’s table, passing a hawker offering lemon-flavoured cool water from an earthenware jar strapped to his back. The boys were dressed in their lightest clothes and were still not used to the heat, though they had been told that the city would get even hotter over the next few months.

The items that had caught Zane’s eye were an unusual bunch of religious icons. Some of them were familiar to the boys, but others weren’t. They examined them under the wary gaze of the merchant, who appeared ready in case they attempted to dash off with an item without paying for it. After a few minutes, he demanded, ‘Buy now or move along. I have no time for such as you.’

Tad’s eyes widened. He had been repeatedly scolded to buy or move on by merchants all week, for penniless boys held no interest for them. He said, ‘My master bids us find saleable items to take north and sell in the Kingdom of the Isles.’

‘And who might your master be, O host to a thousand fleas?’

Zane tried not to laugh. He found the usual insults of the market extremely amusing. Tad just got irritated. ‘Caleb, a merchant of wealth and standing in the Vale of Dreams. He trades from one end of the Bitter Sea to the other. Do you have sources that can supply curiosities such as these in quantity?’

Still appearing dubious, the merchant nevertheless modified his tone and said, ‘If that is true, it would be a matter of what constitutes “quantity”. Some of these items are of great craftsmanship and took many days to fashion.’

Zane stood examining the various icons and amulets. He held one up and stared at it even more intently. Slowly he put it back. Tad said, ‘Say, perhaps a dozen of each of the more common gods worshipped in the north?’

‘A week, two perhaps,’ said the man, smelling a possible windfall.

Zane grabbed Tad’s wrist and squeezed, saying, ‘We will speak to our master and if he’s interested, we will return tomorrow.’

Zane didn’t wait for Tad to add anything more, and half-steered, half-pushed him away from the booth. When they were lost in the crowd and far from the merchant’s view, Tad said, ‘What?’

‘One of those icons looked like the one Caleb told us to watch for. The thing that looked like a hawk.’

Tad glanced over his shoulder and then said, ‘We should get back to the Three Willows and tell him.’

The boys hurried off and took the shortest route back to the inn they could remember, though it still took them almost an hour to find it.

Caleb sat at a table in the corner with another man; a stocky fellow wearing a red turban, a heavy brocade vest – despite the summer’s heat – over the finest linen shirt. His face was dark, like sun-tanned leather, and his darker eyes regarded the boys as they approached the table.

Zane halted while Tad said, ‘Caleb, may we speak to you for a moment, please?’

Caleb turned to look at the boys and said, ‘You’re back early.’

‘We found something we think you might be interested in,’ said Zane.