Authors: Raymond E. Feist
“Now we sleep,” said Tal, “and let the bread rise. At dawn, we put it in the ovens and start the porridge.” After they were both lying down, Tal said, “Tell me about the other prisoners.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Who they are. What crimes have they committed.
What skills they might have.”
Will whispered. “You’re planning an escape!”
Tal said, “More.”
“What?”
“I’m building an army.”
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Weeks went by, and when another prisoner was delivered, Zirga sent the boat back to the ship with a list of provisions Tal had drawn up, along with a request for a new cook. Tal was convinced he might get the provisions, but hoped the request for a cook would be ignored. After all, Zirga had requested that a new guard be assigned when the one Will had told him of, Jasper, had died, and yet after four years, no replacement had arrived.
Tal found the kitchen a haven. He quickly organized Will and Anatoli so that the preparation of meals became easy. He then started adding variety to the diet, startling Zirga one morning with a heap of pan bread and honey, with slabs of ham, rather than porridge. He interspersed cuts of beef, pork, or roasted chickens with the stews, which he also varied, including a fish stew after he had convinced Zirga and the guards to spend a day fishing off the docks.
Subtly, he usurped command of the fortress, letting his natural leadership quietly assert itself, while Zirga unwittingly fell back into the role of sergeant, a man comfortable giving directions once tasks had been identified. Often the idea came in the form of a question, one couched in terms that made the answer obvious, and never let the former soldier suspect for a minute that he was following instructions. Zirga gladly took credit for every improvement in their daily lives, as if the ideas were his own, and Tal was happy to let him take the credit.
Quietly, Tal got the two prisoners in the dungeon moved to better cells. One of them was a murderer, a powerful man who could pick up Anatoli and throw him across the courtyard if he took a mind. His name was Masterson. Tal had sneaked down to visit him and found him slightly deranged, a bully who was prone to violence.
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But when Tal promised him a better cell and food, Masterson agreed to do as Tal told him.
The other man was a political prisoner, the former Baron Visniya, who quickly agreed to whatever Tal’s terms might be, against the chance of freedom and revenge on Duke Kaspar.
Tal held little hope that these men would prove reliable in the end, but for the moment, he wanted everyone who wasn’t working for Kaspar on his side when the time came to move. He had a plan, but he was keeping it to himself, not even sharing the details with Will.
The former thief had become as faithful as a puppy.
Besides his undying thanks for the improvement in his lot, he was now convinced that Tal was capable of anything he truly wished. But all Tal ever did was smile and merely say,
“Just keep your mind on today’s business, Will.”
Weeks passed, and then another ship arrived, this time with provisions and a new cook. Zirga came to the docks, and when he saw that Tal was no longer needed in the kitchen, the Governor visibly wilted.
Tal was in the kitchen when the new cook was shown in. The cook looked around and said, “This will do.”
Tal glanced at Will, then started to leave. Zirga said,
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my cell, Governor.”
“Wait a minute.” He turned to the cook. “What is your name?”
“Royce.” He was a stocky man of middle years, and it looked as he had been drinking. His face was puffy, his jowls hung loosely, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes.
“Why are you here?”
The cook blinked like an owl caught in lanternlight.
“What?”
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“Why are you here? What did you do to get yourself discharged from your last position?”
Royce hesitated, and said, “Well, I . . .”
“Don’t lie to me!” shouted Zirga. “You got drunk on the job, didn’t you?”
The man lowered his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir. I worked at an inn called the Tumbled Maiden and fell asleep while cooking a lamb on a spit. The fat caught fire and . . . the inn burned to the ground.”
“Ha!” said Zirga. “I thought so.” He pointed at Royce. “I asked for a guard four years ago! So, you are now a guard.” Then he pointed at Tal. “You are still the cook until they send me one who won’t burn the keep down.”
Royce seemed about to protest, then thought better of it. He shrugged and looked at Zirga. “What do I do?”
“For the time being, you help out here in the kitchen.
Anatoli, you come with me.”
Tal smiled and said to Royce, “You get to sleep over there.” He pointed to the room that had been used by Charles, the previous cook. “Put your belongings there.
Then come back and wash vegetables.”
“I can do that,” said Royce as he picked up his bag and moved to the door.
Will said, “Well, he can’t be any worse helping around here than Anatoli was.”
Tal winced. “Don’t say that. Ruthia listens.”
Will nodded, making a good luck sign at mention of the Goddess of Luck.
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The addition of Royce was a stroke of good fortune for Tal. Although he was a drunk, he was experienced in the _______________
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kitchen and quickly adapted to a routine that freed up much of Tal’s time.
Tal utilized this free time wandering the island. He did it by increments, letting Zirga find him outside in the old marshaling yard, inspecting the chickens or pigs; then a month later, when Zirga came upon Tal down in the tiny meadow on the lee side of the island, seeing how the cattle and sheep were doing, Zirga didn’t object.
By the onset of Tal’s third winter, he knew the island as well as he knew the mountains of home. He knew the fastest way to the north beach, where there was a stand of trees containing a hive of bees. He smoked the bees out and robbed their honey the way his grandfather had taught him, and Zirga was inclined to say nothing about his forays as long as the food continued to be wonderful.
None of the guards seemed to notice that Tal had moved two prisoners out of the dungeon, all assuming that Zirga had ordered it, and Zirga never bothered to inspect their quarters. And as far as Tal could see, Zirga assumed everyone was doing just fine until otherwise notified.
Tal had got to know every prisoner well. He had managed at one time or another to bring food personally to each of them. Between the information Will had already provided and his own discussions with the men, Tal had a good idea of what they were capable of.
It was an interesting mix, mostly political prisoners, which gave him a core of five men who were former nobles, like Visniya, men who were familiar with Kaspar’s court or the administration of Olasko. These men Tal was determined to see safely home if possible. They would give him allies once he returned to Opardum, for they all had friends and families still at liberty.
The other thirteen men were common murderers, _______________
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rapists, habitual thieves, and robbers, men who had been condemned to the Fortress of Despair because of some oddity in their case, or because a judge had wished them more suffering than a quick hanging would bring. These men were expendable to Tal, but at the start he would need strong and ruthless men if any of them were to survive.
So Tal was doing his best to keep everyone alive. He organized excuses to get prisoners out of their cells, such as the honey raid, or to clean away deadwood from the cattle meadow, or to chop firewood for the coming winter. Everyone got some exercise and much-needed sunshine and fresh air. He even convinced Zirga to allow the men to gather in the courtyard for a small celebration on Midsummer’s Day, Banapis. Several men wept openly at the day spent outside and the food on the table.
None of these men would be fit for combat when he mounted his escape, and some would die along the way.
But he was going to ensure they would survive as long as possible.
One night, as autumn approached, Will sat at the small table in the kitchen with Tal. He said, “I talked to Donal today.”
“How is he?”
“The coughin’ has stopped. He thanks you for that tea you sent ’im.”
“It’s an old family recipe,” said Tal.
“You know, these men would die for you, Tal.”
Tal nodded.
“You’ve given them hope.”
Tal was silent, then said, “I pray that’s not a cruelty.”
“Me, too.” Will was silent as he chewed on a piece of ham. After he swallowed, he said, “You remember when we first met?”
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Tal nodded.
“You said I was ‘uncommonly cheerful for a man condemned to live his life on this rock.’ Remember?”
Tal nodded again.
“Back then, I had nothin’ to lose. Now I find I’m not so happy, if’n you take my meaning.”
“I do,” said Tal. “Now you feel as if you have something to lose.”
“Ya,” said Will. “I feel like I got somethin’ to lose.”
“Hope.”
“Hope,” Will agreed. “So, let me cut right to it. When we goin’ to escape?”
Tal was silent a moment, then said, “Next spring. I don’t know when exactly, but it’ll be the day after the next ship puts in.”
“We goin’ to boost a ship?”
“No,” said Tal. “The men here are fitter than they were when I got here, but they’re no match for Zirga’s four guards and a shipful of healthy sailors.
“But there’s a reason I want to go the day after the next ship puts in, and I’ll tell you about it when it’s time.”
“And that’ll be . . . ?”
Tal grinned. “The day the first ship puts in next spring.”
Will sighed, and resigned himself to having to wait another six months. After all, he’d already waited twelve years. What was another half year?
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ESCAPE
Tal watched.
The ship lay off the point and Zirga and two guards, Anatoli and Kyle as always, waited to see if a new prisoner was being delivered. Tal observed from the entrance to the keep, hanging back in the shadows. Will stood behind him, also watching.
The longboat rowed from the ship to the dock, and Tal saw a prisoner sitting in the center of the boat. As was the case when Tal arrived, the sailors were efficient in getting the prisoner off the boat and up the ladder. As was the case when Tal arrived, Zirga didn’t bother reading the writ on the docks, but directed the prisoner to follow him up the hill to the keep.
Tal felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. There was something very familiar about the prisoner, about the way he moved and carried himself. Before the man’s fea-
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tures became clear, Tal was stepping back and saying to Will, “Follow me.”
Will hurried along as Tal returned to the kitchen.
When they reached the kitchen, they found Royce asleep in a chair, head on the table, an empty brandy bottle lying next to him. One of Tal’s discoveries was that the ancient wine cellar of whatever noble had built this keep was in-tact, and while most of the wine still down there was long past being drinkable, there was an ample supply of spirits that hadn’t gone bad. Tal had also discovered that Royce was very manageable if Tal let him get drunk once or twice a week.
Tal looked around and Will softly said, “What is it?”
“The new prisoner, I know him,” whispered Tal.
“Who is he?”
Tal looked thoughtful. “Someone I never expected to see again, unless I was running him through with my sword. He’s Quentin Havrevulen, Duke Kaspar’s Special Captain.”
“You mean he
was
Kaspar’s Special Captain.”
“Apparently.” Tal thought. “Don’t talk to him when you take him his first meal. Just deliver it and see how he acts. I need to know if he’s really a prisoner here or if this is another of Kaspar’s schemes.”
“Why would the Duke exile his senior captain here?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” said Tal, “but only when I’m ready.”
“We still go tomorrow?”
Tal had to decide quickly. Tal said, “Yes. We go tomorrow, but tell no one. I know exactly what it is I wish to do, and I don’t want anyone tipping our hand before it’s time.”
Will nodded. “I’ll do exactly what you say, Tal.”
Tal said, “So, let’s get back to making supper.”
Will said, “With luck, our last one on this rock.”
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Royce finished his meal and yawned. “Think I’ll turn in.”
Tal said nothing, but nodded. When Royce’s door closed, Tal picked up his water cup and wooden spoon, put them on his plate, and carried them over to a big sink.
Will followed suit. When they were as far away from Royce’s door as possible, Tal said, “What do you think of our new prisoner?”
“If he’s workin’ for Kaspar, he missed his callin’, Tal.
He should’a been an actor. He’s no agent; I’ll wager my life on it. He’s got that look.”
Tal knew what Will meant. It was an expression of shock and disbelief, a sense that somehow a horrible mistake had been made. Only the hardened criminals didn’t have it. Seven prisoners had arrived since Tal, although four had died, despite Tal’s attempts to help. Three had simply not had the will to survive, and the fourth had suffered a gash on his hip that had turned putrid before it had been treated.
Zirga thought nothing of this, but to Tal every man lost was a lessening of his chance of survival. Still, he had a net gain of three men since he had formulated his plan, and those who had died would most likely have been among the first to fall after reaching the mainland.
Now Tal wrestled with what to do with Havrevulen.
He would eventually see the man dead, and nothing would please him more than to leave him here with Zirga and the guards, except the risk that somehow Quint would turn that to his advantage and find a way to gain Kaspar’s forgiveness.