Shards of a Broken Crown. Raymond E. Feist

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       • Prologue •

      THE GENERAL KNOCKED.

      “Enter,” said the self-styled King of the Bitter Sea as he looked up from a hastily scribbled note just handed him by his Captain of Intelligence, Kahil.

      General Nordan entered and shook off the snow from his cloak. “You found us a cold land to rule, Majesty,” he said with a smile. He gave Kahil the briefest nod of greeting.

      Fadawah, former Commanding General of the Army of the Emerald Queen, now ruler of the City of Ylith and the surrounding countryside, said, “At least it’s a cold land with food and firewood.” He waved in a vague fashion to the south. “We’re still getting stragglers in from as far away as Darkmoor who paint a bleak picture about conditions throughout the Western Realm.”

      Nordan motioned to a chair and Fadawah nodded. While old companions, they observed the formalities, as Fadawah prepared to launch his spring campaign. The General still wore the ritual scars on his cheeks, marks given him when swearing loyalty to the Pantathians. He had considered attempting to find a witch or healing priest who could remove them, for when he had finally realized that the Pantathians were as much dupes as he was, he had killed their remaining high priest. As far as Fadawah was concerned, he was no longer bound to anyone. He was his own man, and he was in a rich land with an army. But Kahil had reminded him the scars were intimidating and kept the men in awe of him. Kahil had served the Emerald Queen before she had been destroyed by the demon, but he had proven a valuable and trusted advisor since the change in leadership of the invading army.

      By last count over thirty thousand men had found their way into the south end of the province of Yabon. He had organized them, stationed them, and now controlled all the lands from Ylith south past Quester’s View, north to the outskirts of Zun, west to the city of Natal, which was now occupied by more of his own men than their own pitiful defenses. He had also captured Hawk’s Hollow, a small town, but one giving him control of a vital pass through the mountains to the east.

      “Some of the men don’t like the idea of staying,” said Nordan. The stocky soldier rubbed his bearded chin, and cleared his throat. “They’re talking of finding a ship and going back across the sea.”

      “To what?” asked Fadawah. “To a land burned out and overrun by barbarians from the grasslands? Besides the dwarven stronghold in the Ratn’gari Mountains and some surviving Jehsandi in the North, what is there left of civilization? Did we leave a city standing? Is there anything there to support us?” Fadawah scratched his head. He wore a single long fall of hair and shaved the rest of his head, another sign of his devotion to the Emerald Queen’s dark powers. “Tell any of the men who are talking this way that come spring, if they can find a ship and take it, they’re free to leave.” He looked off into space, as if seeing something in the air. “I want no one here who isn’t ready to serve me. We’re going to have a serious fight on our hands.”

      “The Kingdom?”

      Fadawah said, “You don’t think they’re going to sit idly by and not attempt to regain their lands, do you?”

      “No, but they were terribly mauled at Krondor and Darkmoor. The prisoners tell us they don’t have much of an army left to put in the field.”

      Fadawah said, “If they don’t bring their Army of the East over from Darkmoor, true. But if they do, we need to be ready.”

      “Well,” said Nordan, “we won’t know until spring.”

      “That’s only another three months,” said Fadawah. “We need to be prepared.”

      “You have a plan?”

      “Always,” said the wily old general. “I don’t want a two-front war if I can help it. If I was stupid, I could find myself in a four-front war.” He indicated a map on the wall of the room. They were currently occupying the estate house of the Earl of Ylith, dead by all reports along with the Duke of Yabon and the Earl of LaMut. “If our information is right, we face a boy up in LaMut.” He rubbed his chin. “We need to take LaMut as soon as the spring thaw begins, and I want Yabon in our grasp by midsummer.” He smiled. “Send a message to the leader in Natal …” He turned to Kahil. “What’s his title?”

      “The First Councilor,” supplied his Captain СКАЧАТЬ