At a prearranged
signal, the incorrect ringing of the time by the city watch, the five
companies would begin to make their way toward the stronghold of the
brotherhood of assassins.
Arutha led the
company assembling at the Rainbow Parrot. Trevor Hull and Aaron Cook
commanded the seamen and soldiers entering the sewers by boats.
Jimmy, Gardan, and Captain Valdis would lead the companies hiding in
the old warehouses through the streets of the Poor Quarter.
Jimmy glanced
around as the last soldiers slipped quietly through the narrowly
opened doors of the warehouse. The Mockers’ storage house for
stolen goods was now thoroughly crowded. He returned his attention to
the single window, through which he observed the street that led
straight to the Nighthawks’ stronghold. Roald consulted an hour
glass he had turned when the last hour had been rung by the city
watch. Soldiers listened by the door of the warehouse. Jimmy again
glanced at the assembled company. Laurie, who had unexpectedly
appeared with Roald an hour before, gave Jimmy a nervous smile. “It’s
more comfortable than the caves below Moraelin.”
Jimmy returned a
half-smile to the uninvited participant in the night’s raid.
“Right.” He knew the singer turned noble was laughing off
the worry they all felt. They were ill prepared in many ways and had
no sense of how many servants of Murmandamus they faced. But the
appearance of the false Prince had heralded a new round of assaults
by the moredhel’s agents and Arutha had been emphatic about the
need for speed. It had been Arutha’s decision to assemble his
raiders quickly and attack the Nighthawks before another dawn came to
Krondor. Jimmy had urged more time to scout the area, but the Prince
had remained intractable. Jimmy had made the mistake of confiding to
Arutha how close he had come to being discovered. Also, Nathan
reported the impostor now dead, and Arutha had said they had no way
of knowing if he had accomplices in the palace, or his compatriots
other means of learning of his success or failure. They ran the risk
of discovering an ambush or, worse yet, an empty nest. Jimmy
understood the Prince’s impatience, but still wished for one
more scouting trip. They couldn’t even be certain they’d
blocked all avenues of escape.
They had sought
to increase their chances of success by sending large amounts of ale
and wine into the city, ‘gifts’ from the Prince to the
citizens. They were aided by the Mockers, who diverted a
disproportionate number of barrels and casks into the Poor Quarter,
especially Fish Town. The honest population of Fish Town - however
small a number that might be, thought Jimmy ruefully - would be
happily in its collective cups by now. Then someone said, “Watch
bell’s ringing.”
Roald glanced at
the glass. There was still a quarter hour’s sand in it. “That’s
the signal.”
Jimmy was first
through the door, leading the way. His company of seasoned soldiers
would reach the Night-hawks’ lair first. Jimmy was the only one
who had had even a glimpse of the interior of the building, so he
volunteered to flush them out. Gardan and Valdis’s companies
would be in dose support, flooding the streets surrounding the target
building with soldiers in the Prince’s tabards as Jimmy’s
men assaulted the stronghold. The companies under Arutha and Trevor
Hull had already entered the sewers through the basement trapdoor in
the Rainbow Parrot and the smugglers’ tunnel at the dock. They
were already closing in below the Nighthawks and would be responsible
for blocking any escape routes in the sewers the assassins would
likely take.
Soldiers fanned
out to either side, hugging the shadows as they moved quickly down
the narrow street. The orders had called for stealth if possible, but
with this many armed men moving at once, speed was more important.
And the orders had been to attack at once should they be spotted.
Jimmy scouted about after reaching the intersection closest to the
Nighthawks’ building and discovered no guards in sight. He
waved toward two narrow side streets, indicating the need to block
them, and soldiers hurried to comply. When they were in position,
Jimmy moved toward the entrance of the building. The last twenty
yards to the door were the trickiest, for there was little cover in
sight. Jimmy knew the Nighthawks probably kept the area before the
door free of concealing debris against the possibility of a night
such as this. He also knew there was likely at least one lookout in
the second floor corner room overlooking the two streets leading to
the intersection where nestled the building. A distant sound of metal
on stone echoed from the other approach to the building, and Jimmy
knew Gardan’s men were also approaching, just as Valdis’s
company would be coming up behind Jimmy’s. He saw movement in
the second storey window and froze a moment. He had no idea if he had
been spotted, but knew if he had, someone would be out quickly to
investigate unless he could allay suspicions. He staggered away from
the wall a moment, then fell forward, arms outstretched to support
himself, another drunk vomiting excess wine from a tormented stomach.
Turning his head, he knew Roald was only a short distance behind in
the gloom. Between loud retching noises, he softly said, “Get
ready.”
After a moment
he resumed a staggering walk toward the corner building. He paused
once more, then continued on. The entire way, he sang a simple ditty,
as if to himself, hoping he passed for a late celebrant on his way
home. Nearing the entrance of the building, he staggered away, as if
to turn the corner to the next street, then jumped to the wall next
to the door. Jimmy held his breath and listened. A muffled sound, as
if someone spoke, could be discerned. There seemed no tone of alarm.
Jimmy nodded, then staggered out, a short way down the connecting
street to where Gardan’s company waited. He leaned against the
wall and feigned being sick again, then yelled something mindless and
happy. He hoped that yell would momentarily distract the lookout.
A dozen men
quickly came up the street, carrying a light ram, and positioned
themselves, while four bowmen nocked arrows behind them. They had a
direct line of fire into the windows on the second floor as well as
the entrance to the building. Jimmy staggered back toward the
building, then when he reached a point below the window, he could see
an inquisitive head stick out to follow his progress. The sentry had
watched his performance and had not noticed the approaching raiders.
Jimmy hoped Roald knew what to do.
An arrow sped
through the night, showing the mercenary had seized the moment. If
there was a second lookout above, they lost nothing by killing the
first, but if not, they gained additional moments of surprise. The
lookout seemed to lean further out, as if attempting to follow
Jimmy’s movement along the wall. He kept coming out the window,
until he fell into the street a few feet behind the youngster. Jimmy
ignored the body. One of Gardan’s men would be cutting the
man’s heart out soon enough.
Jimmy reached
the door, pulled his rapier, and signalled. The six men with the ram,
a beam with a fire-hardened end, stepped forward. They quietly rested
the end against the door, pulled back, took three swings, then on the
fourth crashed the ram against the door. The door had been bolted,
not barred, and exploded inward, sending splinters flying from around
the lockplate and men scrambling for weapons. Before the men who held
the ram could let it fall and draw weapons, a flight of arrows sped
past them. Roald and his men were through the door as the ram struck
the stones and bounced.
The sounds of
fighting, screams, and oaths filled the room as other voices shouted
questions from other parts of the building. Jimmy took in the layout
of the room with a single glance and swore in frustration. He spun to
confront the sergeant leading the second company. “They’ve
opened doors to buildings on the other side of the walls behind this
one. There’re more rooms there!” He pointed to two doors
through which questioning shouts had issued. The sergeant led his
detachment off at once, splitting his squad and sending men through
both doors. Another sergeant led his group up the stairs, while Roald
and Laurie’s men overwhelmed the few assassins in the first
room and began searching for trapdoors in the floor.
Jimmy ran to the
door that he was certain led to the room above the sewer. He kicked
open the door and found a dead Nighthawk and Arutha’s men
coming up through the trap. There was a second door out of the room
and Jimmy thought he saw someone duck around a corner. Jimmy followed
after, shouting for someone to follow him, and turned the corner. He
dodged to one side, but no expected ambush remained. The last time
they had fought the Nighthawks, Arutha’s raiders had found the
assassins determined to die rather than be captured. This time they
seemed more determined to flee.
Jimmy ran down
the corridor, a half-dozen soldiers at his heels. He pushed open a
side door and found three dead Nighthawks on the floor of a room
behind the first they had entered. Already soldiers prepared torches.
Arutha’s orders had been specific. All the dead were to have
their hearts cut from their bodies and burned. No Black Slayers would
rise from the grave this night to kill for Murmandamus.
Jimmy shouted,
“Did anyone run by here?”
One soldier
looked up. “Didn’t see anyone, squire, but we were busy
up to a moment ago.”
Jimmy nodded
once and ran down the hall. Rounding a corner, he discovered a
hand-to-hand struggle under way in a connecting corridor. He dodged
between guardsmen who were quickly overwhelming the assassins and ran
toward another door. It was not entirely closed, as if someone had
slammed it behind him but not stopped to see if it was shut. Jimmy
shoved it wide and stepped into a broad alley. And across from him
were three open and unguarded doors. Jimmy felt his heart sink. He
turned to discover Arutha and Gardan behind him. Arutha cursed in
frustration. What had once been a large burnt-out building had been
replaced by several smaller ones, and where a solid wall had been,
now doors invited passage. And not one of Arutha’s soldiers had
arrived in time to prevent anyone from fleeing by this route. “Did
anyone escape this way?” asked the Prince.
“I don’t
know,” answered Jimmy. “One, I think, through one of
these doors.”
A guard turned
to Gardan and asked, “Shall we pursue, Marshal?”
Arutha turned
back into the house as shouts of inquiry came from nearby buildings,
from citizens of Fish Town awakened by the fighting. “Don’t
bother,” said the Prince flatly. “As certain as the
sunrise, there are doors to other streets in those homes. We’ve
failed this night.”
Gardan shook his
head. “If anyone was already here, they might have bolted as
soon as they heard us attack.”
Other guards
came up the narrow alley, many with bloodied clothing. One ran to the
Prince. “We think two escaped down a side street, Highness.”
Arutha pushed
past the man and re-entered the building. Reaching the main room, he
found Valdis overseeing the guards as they conducted the grisly work
of ensuring no undead assassins rose again. Grimly the men cut deeply
into the chest of each dead man and removed his heart. The hearts
were burned at once.
A breathless
sailor appeared and said, “Your Highness, Captain Hull says you
should come quick.”
Arutha, Jimmy,
and Gardan left the room, as Roald and Laurie came into view, weapons
still in hand. Arutha regarded his blood-spattered brother-in-law and
said, “What are you doing here?”
“I just
came along to keep an eye on things,” he answered. Roald looked
sheepishly at the Prince as Laurie added, “He could never learn
to lie with a straight face. As soon as he asked me to go gambling, I
knew something was up.”
Arutha waved
away further comment and followed the sailor to the room leading to
the sewer, and down the ladder, the others coming after him. They
moved down a tunnel to where Hull and his men waited in their boats.
Hull motioned for Arutha to board, and he and Gardan entered one
boat, Jimmy, Roald, and Laurie another.
They were rowed
to a large convergence of six channels. A boat was tethered to a
mooring ring in the stone, and from a trap in the ceiling above hung
a rope ladder. “We stopped three boats of them coming out, but
this one got past. When we reached here, they had all escaped.”
“How
many?” asked the Prince.
“Maybe
half a dozen,” answered Hull.
Arutha swore
again. “We lost maybe two or three down a side street and now
we know this lot got away. We may have as many as a dozen Nighthawks
loose in the city.”
He paused a
moment, then looked at Gardan, his eyes narrowing in controlled anger
as he said, “Krondor is now under martial law. Seal the city.”
For the second
time in four years, Krondor endured martial law. When Anita had
escaped from her captivity in her father’s palace and Jocko
Radburn, Guy du Bas-Tyra’s captain of secret police, had sought
her out, the city had been sealed. Now the Princess’s husband
searched out the city for possible assassins. The reasons might be
different, but the effects on the populace were the same. And coming
on the heels of celebration, martial law was a doubly bitter draught
for the people to swallow.
Within hours of
the order for martial law being given, the merchants began to troop
to the palace to lodge their complaints. First came the ship brokers,
whose commerce was the first disrupted as their vessels were held in
port or denied entrance to the harbour. Trevor Hull led the squadron
assigned to blockade duty, since the former smuggler knew every trick
used to run a blockade. Twice ships attempted to leave and both times
they were intercepted and boarded, their captains were arrested and
their crews confined to ship. In both cases it was quickly determined
that the motive had been profit and not escape from Arutha’s
retribution. Still, since it was not known who they were searching
for, any man arrested was kept in the city jail, the palace dungeon,
or the prison barracks.