The Riftwar Legacy: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘How many know about the run?’

      ‘Most of the locals know there are tunnels under the old keep. A few might even suspect there’s a bolt-hole under the waterfall. But I doubt anyone outside the family, the old guard commander, and maybe one or two of the older servants, has any idea where it is. It’s pretty well hidden.’

      They continued on toward Cavell Village, arriving at mid-afternoon. As they turned off the road and moved to within sight of the place, James said, ‘For a village it’s rather prosperous.’

      Owyn laughed. ‘I guess. It was a village for a couple of hundred years, but became a busy farming centre about fifty years ago. Since the fire in the keep forced my uncle to move into the village about three years ago, all business is conducted down here. I think he and his household account for a third of the houses here in the village.’

      ‘Fire?’ asked Jimmy as they reached the outer buildings. ‘What was that?’

      ‘No one knows,’ said Owyn. ‘The story is my uncle was having some work done in one of the lower chambers and a fire broke out, working its way up through the building, gutting it and making it unsafe to live in. There had already been a collapse in the lower tunnels, where my uncle was expanding his wine cellar. My cousin Neville died in that collapse. He was a few years older than Ugyne and me. He was an odd boy; it always seemed to me his father didn’t care much for him. Ugyne was always Uncle Corvallis’s favourite.’ He was lost in memory for a moment, then returned to the present. ‘Anyway, that basement was just sealed off, with my cousin’s unclaimed body still under tons of rock.

      ‘The fire started not far from there, and the maid who is blamed for starting it died in the flames, so no one is quite sure how it began. It burned up from below, weakening timbers and causing floors and walls to collapse. Uncle’s been telling everyone he was going to repair everything and move back in some day, but so far we’ve seen little proof of it.’

      They rode down the main street of the village, a broad thoroughfare that ended in a large square, dominated by a fountain and three other streets which ran off at odd angles to the one on which they rode. ‘That house over there,’ said Owyn, turning his horse so they could ride around the fountain. The afternoon market was underway and the buyers and sellers ignored the three riders for the most part, though one or two gave Gorath a second glance.

      They reached the front of the Baron’s house and a stableboy ran over and said, ‘Master Owyn! It’s been years.’

      Owyn smiled. ‘Hello, Tad. You’re caring for horses now?’

      The boy, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Now that we have no proper stable the Baron’s keeping his guests’ mounts over at the inn.’ He pointed to an inn directly opposite the Baron’s house. It was dominated by a sign of a wood-duck’s head. ‘I’ll arrange rooms for you.’

      Owyn smiled. ‘You’re telling me my uncle won’t be happy to see me and offer me a room?’

      The boy nodded. ‘He’s not really happy to see anyone, these days, Master Owyn. If you were here alone, he might offer, but with your friends …?’ He smiled apologetically and said no more.

      Owyn sent him off with the horses and instructions to get them one large room for the night.

      They mounted steps to the large house. James glanced around and said, ‘This house dwarfs the rest in the village.’

      Owyn smiled at the understatement. The rest of the village ranged from simple huts of wattle and daub with thatch to some two-storey wooden houses with small gardens. The inns were the only buildings that matched the Baron’s residence.

      ‘It used to be an inn, but fell on hard times. My uncle bought it and converted it to his own use. There is a stable in the rear, but it’s occupied by his company of personal guards.’ Lowering his voice, Owyn said, ‘Like many minor nobles, my uncle has more rank than money. The rents are modest, the taxes to the Duke of Cheam considerable, and my uncle has never been what you would call an enterprising man.’

      They knocked upon the door. The door opened a crack. A serving woman of middle years peeked through and when she saw Gorath in his armour standing before her, her eyes widened and her complexion turned pale. ‘Hello, Miri,’ said Owyn, coming into her field of vision. ‘It’s all right. They’re with me.’

      The woman said, ‘Master Owyn,’ and swung the door wide.

      ‘Could you please tell Uncle Corvallis we’re here?’

      The woman nodded and hurried off. A few minutes later a tall man, affecting a velvet coat and lace-front shirt, with far too many rings, arrived and said coolly, ‘Nephew, we had no word of your arrival.’ He cast a disapproving eye upon James and Gorath.

      ‘That’s all right, uncle. We intrude. We’ve already made arrangements to stay at the inn across the square. May I present to you Seigneur James, squire to Prince Arutha, and our companion, Gorath. Gentlemen, my uncle, Baron Corvallis of Cavell.’

      At the mention of a relationship to the Prince of Krondor, Baron Corvallis’s attitude softened slightly. He nodded at James and said, ‘Seigneur.’ Looking at Gorath as if he didn’t know what to make of him, he said, ‘Elven sir, welcome.’ He made a sweeping gesture and said, ‘If you will join me in my parlour, I’ll send for some wine.’ He signalled to the serving woman and said, ‘Miri, a bottle of wine and four goblets.’

      They followed the Baron into a hallway through what had been the old common room of the inn, now divided into several different rooms. The rear stairway to the upper rooms was visible at the end of the entrance hall, and James absently wondered if the old bar was still intact. Apparently he would never know, as they turned into a corner room with two large windows, overlooking the village square. The Baron indicated three chairs and took a fourth for himself. ‘What brings you to Cavell Village, Seigneur?’

      ‘The Prince’s business,’ said James. ‘There was some trouble down in Romney, and, as an outgrowth of that, we’re investigating rumours of Nighthawks returning to the Kingdom.’

      At mention of Nighthawks, the Baron almost levitated out of his chair. ‘Rumours!’ he shouted. ‘They are not rumours. There is wicked slaughter being done here in the north and I have sent reports to my lord the Duke of Cheam. They have tried to kill me three times!’

      James attempted to look concerned. ‘It was those very things that brought me here. The Prince is adamant, as is his brother the King –’ Lyam probably had no idea what was happening, but James had long ago learned that dropping the King’s name from time to time was a very powerful thing to do ‘– can’t countenance the idea of unprovoked assaults upon their nobles.’

      At mention of the King, the Baron seemed almost reassured. ‘Good, it’s about time.’

      James said, ‘Why don’t you tell us of your situation.’

      His face flushed with emotion, the Baron spoke quickly and with anger. ‘Three years ago a maid died in a fire that started near the abandoned wine cellar. At the time, I thought it was merely a tragic accident, but now I’m convinced it was but the first attempt on my life.

      ‘A year ago, while out hunting, a band of riders, all clad in black, appeared on the ridgeline and rode at us with weapons at the ready. Only a fox flushed by my hounds saved me, as the animal bolted across a field before the attackers, and the pursuing hounds caused their horses to falter. Lost СКАЧАТЬ