Shards of a Broken Crown. Raymond E. Feist

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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 of Intelligence.

      “Send the First Councilor our thanks for his hospitality in providing billets for our men this winter, and send him some gold. A thousand pieces should do.”

      “A thousand?” asked Nordan.

      “We have it. And we’ll get more. Then withdraw our men and bring them here.” He looked at his old friend. “That will at least keep the First Councilor on our good side until we return to Natal, take and keep it.”

      He pointed to the map. “I want Duko and his men down in Krondor by then.”

      Nordan raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

      Fadawah said, “Duko makes me uneasy. He’s an ambitious man.” He frowned. “It was only chance that put you and me first and second on the Pantathian’s roles, else we could be taking orders from Duko.”

      Nordan nodded. “But he’s a good leader, and he’s always obeyed without question.”

      “That he is, which is why I want him at the front. I want you down behind him, in Sarth.”

      “But why Krondor?” Nordan shook his head. “There’s nothing there.”

      “But there will be,” said Fadawah. “That’s their Western Capital, their Prince’s City, and they will move back there as quickly as they can.” He nodded to himself. “If Duko can keep them busy until we seize all of Yabon, then we can tum our sights on the Free Cities, this Far Coast region.” He pointed to the western coast of the Kingdom. “We’ll reoccupy Krondor and move back toward the old battle line. What’s that place?”

      “Nightmare Ridge.”

      “Well named.” Fadawah sighed. “I’m not a greedy man. Being King of the Bitter Sea is enough. We’ll let the Kingdom of the Isles keep their Darkmoor and the lands to the east.” Then he smiled. “For now.”

      “But first we must retake Krondor.”

      Fadawah said, “No, first we must make them think we want to retake Krondor. These Kingdom nobles are not stupid, they are not self-consumed like those of our homeland.” He remembered how shocked the Priest-King of Lananda had been when Fadawah and his army had refused to heed his order to leave his city. “These are smart men, duty-bound men; they will come at us, and they will come hard. We must expect that.

      “No, let them think Krondor is the prize, and when they realize we are firm in Yabon, perhaps they will negotiate, or perhaps not, but either way, once we have control of Yabon, we are here for good. Let Duko get punished lest he become ambitious.”

      Nordan stood. “If you permit, I’ll tell the men those who wish to leave in the spring may.”

      Fadawah waved his permission.

      “Majesty,” said Nordan, leaving Fadawah alone with Kahil.

      To Kahil, Fadawah said, “Wait, then follow Nordan and see who he speaks with. Mark the men who are the leaders of these dissidents. They will have accidents before the thaw, and then we can put to rest this nonsense about returning to Novindus.”

      “Of course, Majesty,” said the Captain of Intelligence. “And I applaud your design in putting Nordan down in Sarth.”

      Fadawah said, “Design?”

      Kahil leaned over, putting his arm around Fadawah’s shoulder, and he whispered, “Put all your disloyal commanders to the south, to insure that when the enemy exacts their price for our conquest, those we can most afford to lose pay it.”

      Fadawah’s eyes became unfocused, as if he was listening to something in the distance. “Yes, that is wise.”

      Kahil said, “You need to surround yourself with those who can be trusted, those who are loyal beyond a doubt. You need to return the Immortals to a place of prominence.”

      “No!” said Fadawah. “Those madmen served dark powers—”

      Kahil interrupted. “Not dark powers, Majesty, but vast powers. Powers that can insure your rule not only in Yabon, but in Krondor, too.”

      “Krondor?” asked Fadawah.

      Kahil clapped his hands twice, and the door swung open. Two warriors, each with ritual scars on his cheeks that matched Fadawah’s, entered, and Kahil said, “Guard the King with your lives.”

      Fadawah repeated, “Krondor.”

      Kahil rose and departed, closing the door behind him. A faint smile passed across his face before he turned and left upon his next task, following Nordan and marking those men for death who displayed even the smallest hint of disloyalty.

      Fadawah looked at the two soldiers and motioned for them to stand away from him. The scars on their faces reminded him of the dark and distant time he was caught up in the magic of the Emerald Queen and the lost months when the demon had ruled her army. He hated feeling used and would kill anyone who again attempted to use him as the Emerald Queen had.

      He moved to the map on the wall and began to plan his spring campaign.

       • Chapter One • Winter

      THE WIND HAD died.

      Dash waited. The frigid bite of the air still brought tears to his eyes as he scanned the road below. The reconstruction of Darkmoor had been tedious, slowed by continuous snows and rain, as the winter proved a fickle one. If slippery ice wasn’t making footing treacherous for those workmen attempting to rebuild the walls around the western portion of the city, then knee-deep mud stalled wagons carrying needed supplies.

      Now it was icy again, but at least Dash was thankful there was currently no snow. The sky was clear, the late afternoon sun hinting at warmth that wasn’t really there. Dash knew it was his mood as much as the weather, but this particular winter seemed to have lasted longer than any in his young life.

      The sounds of the city carried through the still, icy air as the day wound down. With luck the new gate would be finished before sunset, and an extra modicum of security would be added to the sum of things that needed to be done yesterday.

      Dash was tired, fatigued beyond anything he could remember in his twenty years of life. Part of it was from the seemingly endless list of things that needed attention, and the rest was from worry; his brother Jimmy was overdue.

      Jimmy was acting the part of exploring officer, a scout behind enemy lines. Prince Patrick of Krondor had decided to move hard and fast against a threat of Keshian expansion into the southern flank of the Kingdom in the spring. That meant that the retaking of lands lost during the invasion the previous summer would be left to Owen Greylock, Knight-Marshal of Krondor, and Erik von Darkmoor, Knight-Captain of the Crimson Eagles, an elite mobile force of handpicked men.

      Which СКАЧАТЬ