Prince of the Blood. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ nod of agreement, Locklear bid his companion good night. A moment later, James stood alone in the long, empty hall. Something was not right. But he left that feeling for the next day. Now he needed food and a wash.

      With the sound of a bird chirping outside his window, James was awake. As was his habit, the young Baron of the Prince’s court rose before the sun. To his surprise, he discovered his clothing had been washed and folded and left just inside his door. A light sleeper by nature and quick to full wakefulness by training, he was discomforted that anyone could have opened his door and not disturbed him. James pulled on the clean tunic and trousers, foregoing the heavy travelling boots. Since childhood he had preferred bare feet, and over the years it had become something of a common joke among the palace staff that should one enter Baron James’s office, one was likely to find his boots removed and tucked away under his desk.

      He made his way to the outer doorway, moving soundlessly. He was certain that everyone else was still asleep, but his stealth was not born of consideration, it was habitual. As a boy in the Poor Quarter of the city, James had earned his livelihood as a thief, and moving without sound was second nature.

      Opening the outside door, he slipped through and closed it silently behind. The sky had already turned slate grey and the eastern horizon was showing the blush of the approaching sunrise. The only sounds were the calling of birds and the thud of a single axe falling, as someone cut wood for an early morning fire. James moved away from the huge building of the Academy and made his way along the path that led to the village.

      The sound of wood being cut fell away as that unknown farmer or fisherman’s wife finished the task. After a hundred yards, the path diverged, one part heading toward the village while a smaller path led toward the lakeshore. James decided he was in little mood for idle morning chatter with townspeople, so he moved toward the water.

      In the gloom he almost didn’t see the black-robed figure until he was nearly upon him. Pug turned and smiled. He pointed eastward. ‘This is my favourite part of the day.’

      James nodded. ‘I thought I’d be the first up.’

      Pug kept his eyes fastened upon the horizon. ‘No, I sleep very little.’

      ‘The wear doesn’t show. I don’t think you look a day older than when I last saw you seven years ago.’

      Pug nodded. ‘There are things about myself I am just discovering, James. When I took upon myself the mantel of Sorcerer…’ his voice trailed off. ‘We’ve never really talked, have we?’

      James shook his head. ‘We’ve had our share of interesting conversations, Pug, but not about anything profound, if that’s what you mean. Not anything that wasn’t related to the business of the state, is what I’m saying. It’s not exactly as if our paths cross frequently. We first met at Arutha and Anita’s wedding,’ he ticked off on his fingers as he spoke, ‘and again after the battle at Sethanon.’ Both men glanced at each other and nothing needed to be said between them about the cataclysmic battle that had taken place there. ‘Then twice since in Krondor.’ Neither spoke of the last two encounters, for not only had state secrets involving a secret society of assassins and then a mission to recover a stolen Ishapian artefact of critical importance, and dark magic been involved, but they had lost someone special to them both, a student of Pug’s who had become a close friend of James’s.

      Pug returned his attention to the east, where the first hot pink and orange of the sun’s rays struck the clouds. ‘When I was a boy I lived in Crydee. I was nothing more than a Far Coast peasant lad. I worked in the kitchen with my foster family and had ambitions to be a soldier.’ He fell silent.

      James waited. He had little desire to talk about his past, though it was well enough known to anyone of rank in the city of Krondor, and to everyone in the palace. ‘I was a thief.’

      ‘Jimmy the Hand,’ said Pug. ‘Yes, but what sort of boy were you?’

      James considered the question for a moment, then answered. ‘Brash. That’s the first word that comes to mind.’ He watched as the dawn unfolded. Neither man spoke for several minutes as each saw the fingers of light striking the clouds hanging in the east. The fiery rim of the disc of the sun began to appear. James said, ‘I … was also foolish at times. Remind me sometime to tell you the story about how I almost destroyed half the keep in Krondor when Guy du Bas-Tyra was Viceroy: one of my first lessons in why it’s wise to leave magic to magicians.’ James grinned, then his smile faded and at last he sighed. ‘I had no idea of there being any limit to what I could do. I have no doubt that had I continued that existence, I’d have finally taken one big chance too many. I’d most likely be dead by now.’

      ‘Brash,’ Pug repeated. ‘And foolish at times.’ He indicated with his head the Academy. Not unlike the royal twins.’

      James smiled. ‘Not unlike the Princes, though they lack any sense of true risk, I fear. I knew from my earliest days that any misstep could end my life. They are convinced they will live forever.’

      ‘What else?’

      James considered. Without false modesty, he said, ‘Brilliant, I suppose you could say, or gifted at least. Things often seemed obvious to me that confused many of those around me. At least the world seemed a more obvious place then. I’m not so sure I wasn’t a great deal smarter as a boy than I am now as a man.’

      Pug motioned that James should walk with him and started slow progress toward the water’s edge. ‘When I was a boy, my modest ambitions seemed the most splendid things. Now …’

      ‘You seem troubled,’ James ventured.

      ‘Not as you would understand it,’ Pug answered. James turned and in the grey light saw an unreadable expression on Pug’s face. ‘Tell me of the attempt upon Borric. You were closest to him.’

      James said, ‘News travels fast.’

      ‘It always does. And any coming conflict between the Kingdom and Kesh is of concern for us.’

      ‘Given your location, I can understand. You are a window upon the Empire.’ He gestured south, toward the not-distant border. James told Pug what he knew of the attempt, and finished by saying, ‘That the assassin was Keshian is hardly in doubt, but all those clues that point to the Royal House of Kesh being at the root of the attempt … it’s too clear. I think someone seeks to dupe us.’ He turned as they lost sight of the town, regarding the upper stories of the Academy. ‘You have many Keshians here?’

      Pug nodded. ‘And from Roldem, Queg, Olasko, Miskalon, the Peaks of the Quor, and other places. Here we pay little attention to matters of nation. We are concerned with other issues.’

      James said, ‘Those two who met with us last night …’

      ‘Watume and Korsh, yes. They are Keshian. From the city of Kesh itself.’ Before James could speak, Pug said, ‘They are not Imperial agents. I would know. Trust me. They think nothing of politics. In fact, if anything, they are too eager for us to be apart from the rest of the world.’

      James turned for a moment, to regard the hulking edifice of the Academy. ‘This is a Kingdom duchy, at least in name. But many have wondered aloud what it is you build here. There is something about this place that strikes many in the court as odd.’

      ‘And dangerous,’ Pug added. James turned to study the magician’s face. ‘Which is why I work diligently to see that the Academy never partakes in national conflicts. On any side.’

      James СКАЧАТЬ