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

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ she’s a nice kid,’ said James, as he thumbed through the book. ‘Her brother Willie’s a good lad. He’s training to be an officer in Arutha’s guard.’

      ‘Hmmm,’ said Owyn, and James glanced over to see the young magician lost in his notes.

      James looked through the book in his lap again for nearly a half hour. ‘This is the most improbable collection of accounts and … outright fabrications I’ve ever encountered.’

      Owyn looked up. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘There’s lists of births and deaths, as if someone sat down one day and told this Abbot Cafrel the Cavell family history in one sitting, then suddenly we’re talking about missing treasure, swords of incredible magic power, and curses.’

      ‘Sounds interesting,’ said Gorath, who was trying to be polite.

      James laughed. ‘I agree,’ he said, putting aside the book. ‘You watch and I’ll sleep. Wake me in two hours.’

      James curled up and Owyn studied, and Gorath watched the window, his hand resting on his sword.

      

      They came the next night. James had again been reading the Cavell family history and Owyn was meditating on the bed, his eyes closed as he was developing a method of casting the spell Nago had used on him. Gorath lay sleeping on the floor, having elected to sit the later watch.

      One moment James was reading, and the next he was moving, his sword coming out of his scabbard. Owyn was shot forward by two heavy bodies hitting the other side of the door as the window shutters exploded inward. An assassin had tied a rope to the roof beam and swung out, so he could crash feet first through the wooden shutters into the room.

      He caught James full in the chest and the squire flew backwards into Gorath. Owyn came up on his knees, then fell back out of the way of a sword blow, while behind him someone was trying to force the door open.

      Owyn had been halfway through constructing the spell in his mind when suddenly letters of fire seemed to burn in his mind’s eye. He raised his hand and pointed it at the assassin who was again raising his sword. An evil purple-grey sphere, black veins of energy dancing across its surface, leaped from his hand, striking the assassin in the face. The man froze as if suddenly transformed into purple stone, blue sparkles of energy dancing across the surface of his body. A faint moan of pain escaped his lips.

      James was up and ran to the window, thrusting his sword through it as another man tried to swing in. The second Nighthawk was impaled on the blade and fell into the stable yard below, striking the stones with a sickening wet thud.

      Gorath regained his footing and threw his weight against the door. He shouted, ‘Do we try to hold the door?’

      James said, ‘When I yell, jump back and pull that last bed with you.’

      Owyn was staring at the entranced assassin in wide eyed wonder. ‘It worked!’ he whispered.

      James struck the ensorcelled man as hard as he could across the back of the head with the flat of his sword and he crumpled to the ground, the energy around him vanishing. ‘Can you do it again?’

      ‘I don’t know!’

      ‘Then get out of the way! Gorath, now!’

      Gorath did as he was told, and Owyn grabbed the bed and pulled it away as well. The other two beds began to slide away from the door.

      ‘If I know my Nighthawks,’ said James. ‘I suggest you duck … now!’

      Both men did so as James fell to the floor. The door burst open and two crossbow bolts flew into the room and vanished out the window. James instantly jumped atop the bed Gorath and Owyn had just moved. He bounced off the bed and crashed into the two men closest to the door, sending them through the railing of the stairs to the floor below. He slid over the edge of the landing, barely avoiding a fall by grabbing a part of a shattered post. His sword went clattering to the floor below, as an astonished and shocked Peter the Grey entered the room from behind the bar. ‘What?’

      James looked up from where he hung to see a Nighthawk standing over him, sword raised high. The assassin’s eyes went round as Gorath ran him through with his sword. The last Nighthawk tumbled over James to the floor below, landing at Peter’s feet.

      ‘Oh, my word!’ said the innkeeper. ‘My word!’

      James hung by one hand and said, ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble …’

      Gorath’s powerful hand seized him by the wrist and hauled him up to the landing. James said, ‘Thank you,’ and hurried down the stairs, rubbing his sore shoulder. ‘I’m getting too old for that sort of thing,’ he observed.

      ‘What is going on?’ asked Peter.

      James knelt next to the last assassin and began searching the body. ‘These men tried to kill us,’ he answered calmly. ‘We didn’t let them.’

      ‘Well …’ said the innkeeper. ‘Well … I …’ After a moment, he said, ‘Well,’ one more time.

      James said, ‘Get somebody in here to clean up the mess, Peter. Else your customers may be put off their meals.’

      The innkeeper turned and hurried off to do as he was bid. Instructions like that he understood. To Owyn, James said, ‘You’d better go get your uncle and explain to him that we’ve just removed most of the Nighthawks who were stalking him.’

      Owyn said, ‘I think he might not even object too much to being awakened in the middle of the night for that bit of news.’

      After Owyn left, Gorath said, ‘I noticed you said, “most of the Nighthawks who were stalking him”.’

      James stood up, after having found nothing useful on the bodies. ‘We still have one Nighthawk to go, I think. At least one who matters.’

      ‘The leader?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And how do you propose to find him?’

      ‘I don’t,’ said James with a satisfied smile. ‘He will find us. And I think it will be this weekend when a certain chess player arrives to pay court to Owyn’s cousin.’

      Gorath considered that, then nodded. ‘He’s a logical suspect, but how will you prove it? Accuse him in public?’

      ‘Unlike your people, where I suspect an open challenge of honour carries some weight, this is a man whose honour is non-existent. He is one who lurks in shadows and kills from behind trees. He would only deny an accusation.’

      ‘So then how do you get him to confess? Torture?’

      James laughed. ‘I’ve always considered torture to be of dubious benefit. Fanatics will die with a lie on their lips, and an innocent man will condemn himself to stop the pain.’

      ‘I have found that torture, applied judiciously, can yield interesting results.’

      ‘No doubt,’ said James, with a look of mixed amusement and alarm.

      Peter СКАЧАТЬ