Shards of a Broken Crown. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ “The sun shines through the hole in the ice, and the fish swims up to feel the warmth.”

      Jimmy looked over the man’s shoulder and saw a large brook trout lazily circling the hole. Moving slowly, Malar inserted the noose of horsehair into the water, behind the fish. The trout ceased moving for a moment, but Malar resisted the urge to move quickly, instead inching the snare toward the fish’s tail.

      After another long minute, the fish darted away, and Malar said, “Another will come. They see the light and think insects may land upon the surface.”

      After a silent five minutes, a trout appeared near the edge of the hole. Dash couldn’t tell if it was the same fish or a different one. Malar again started moving the noose slowly and got it around the fish’s tail. With a jerk, he snared the trout and yanked it out of the hole, landing it on the ice, where it flopped.

      Dash couldn’t see the man’s face behind the rags that covered it, but the crinkles around his eyes showed Malar was smiling. “If one of you young gentlemen would be so kind as to light a fire, I will catch some more.”

      Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances, then Jimmy shrugged. Dash said, “I’ll get some wood. You find a campsite.”

      They hurried off while the strange man from the Vale of Dreams sought out another fish for supper.

      For three days they moved slowly toward Krondor. Several times they had heard distant voices and the sound of men moving through the woodlands, but they had avoided contact with anyone.

      Jimmy and Dash both found Malar an enigma. He had surprising skills for wilderness survival, odd for one claiming to be the servant of a rich trader. On the other hand, Jimmy had confided to his brother, the servant of a rich smuggler might prove in need of such skills. Still, they were pleased to have him along, for he had found several shortcuts through the undergrowth, had identified edible plants that supplemented their stores, and had proven a reliable night sentry. As they were walking their horses, leading them more than half the time, his keeping up had proven to be no difficulty. Jimmy judged they were less than a week’s travel from Krondor.

      At midday they heard horses in the distance, from the north. Jimmy spoke at a low conversational level. “Duko’s men moving along the highway?”

      Dash nodded. “Probably. If we can hear them from here, we’ve headed back toward the highway.” He turned to Malar. “Do you know of any southern route to Krondor?”

      “Only the highway that loops around from Land’s End, young sir. But if we are nearing the King’s Highway, within a few days we should start encountering farms.”

      Jimmy was silent for a long moment, then said, “They’ll almost certainly be burned out.”

      “But,” suggested Dash, “if they are, no one is likely to be living in them, and we might slip into the city unnoticed.”

      “No farmers, you mean,” corrected Jimmy. “But they’d be decent shelter for some very unpleasant men with a fondness for weapons, I bet.”

      Dash’s brow furrowed, as if thinking he should have thought of that, but a moment later, his grin returned and he said, “Well, then, we will just blend in. You’ve told me often enough how unpleasant I can be, and I am certainly fond of my weapons.”

      Jimmy nodded. “Two more hired swords will scarcely be noticed. And if we can get close to the city, we’ll find a way inside. There are enough holes in the walls, that’s for certain.”

      Malar said, “You’ve been to Krondor, then, young sir? Since the war, I mean.”

      Jimmy ignored the question, saying, “We’ve heard of the damage.”

      Dash agreed. “More than a few people left Krondor and came east.”

      “This I know,” said Malar, falling silent.

      They moved on through the woods for the rest of the day and made a cold camp that night. Huddled under their blankets, Jimmy and Dash stayed close together while Malar took the first watch. They slept fitfully, coming awake many times.

      In the morning, they resumed their journey.

      The woods were filled with the sounds of the thaw. In the distance the cracking of ice rang through the suddenly warm air as ponds and lakes began to lose their frozen skins. Large mounds of snow fell from trees in sudden, wet attacks on the travelers, while everywhere water dripped from branches. The footing beneath their feet alternated between crusty patches of ice and thick mud which gripped at boots and horses’ hooves. The constant noise was a backdrop against which the occasional sounds of spring could be heard. The distant call of a bird that had returned from the south early, seeking others of its kind. The faint rustle in the distance of small creatures coming out of their winter’s burrows stilled as they passed, only to resume after a while.

      When they paused to rest, Jimmy tied his horse to a low tree branch and motioned for Dash to do likewise. Dash did as he was bid, and said, “Keep an eye out. We’re going to relieve ourselves.” He moved to where Jimmy stood, making a show of urinating into the snow.

      Dash did likewise, whispering, “What is it?”

      “Have you formed an opinion of our chance companion?” asked the older brother.

      Dash shook his head slightly, saying, “Not really. I’m certain he’s more than he claims, but I have no idea what.”

      “There’s not a lot of fat on him,” said Jimmy, “but he doesn’t move like a man weak from hunger.”

      Dash said, “Do you have a theory?”

      Jimmy said, “No. But if he’s not the servant of a rich trader, what’s he doing up here?”

      “Smuggler?”

      “Maybe,” answered Jimmy, doing up the front of his trousers. “Could be anything we could imagine.”

      Remembering what their grandfather had cautioned them over the years about leaping to conclusions, Dash said, “Then we’d best not imagine anything.”

      “Wait and see,” agreed Jimmy.

      They returned to the horses, and Malar hurried off to relieve himself away from the trail. When he was out of hearing range, they continued. Jimmy asked, “Remember that abandoned farm a day’s walk this side of where we met Malar?”

      “The one with half a thatch roof and the fallen-down cow shed?”

      “That’s the one. If we bolt, and get separated, meet there.”

      Dash nodded. Neither chose to discuss what to do should the other never appear.

      Malar returned and they started off. The servant from the Vale of Dreams had been as closemouthed as the brothers. Part of the reason was the environment. The nights were still and even in the day noise carried. They knew they were approaching an area likely to be patrolled by the invaders; they were leading their horses rather than riding them, as, even in the woodlands, a rider presented a much higher profile in the distance than a man on foot or a horse. Periodically they stopped to listen.

      Rains came later that afternoon and they sought out what shelter they could, finding a hut of some sort, burned СКАЧАТЬ