their necks cut in exactly the right place to bleed them as fast as possible.
‘Oh, damn!’ said Duncan, and Roo hurried to find the stableboy lying in his own blood.
They dashed to the wagons and found that every barrel had been stove in or had the bung pulled, so that wine flooded the courtyard. The cracking of wood that Roo had heard had been someone using a large hammer on the spokes of the wheels, so that the wagons were now useless without expensive repair.
The innkeeper came hurrying across the courtyard when he saw the two naked men holding their swords.
‘What’s afoot?’ he asked, halting, as if afraid to approach these two strange apparitions any more closely. From his nightshirt it was clear he had turned in.
‘Someone’s killed your stableboy and my horses, and ruined my wagons and cargo,’ said Roo.
Abruptly a scream cut the night and Roo was running past the innkeeper before Duncan could react. Roo almost flew through the door to the inn, banging against a table, and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the room he and Duncan shared and took a half-step in, his sword leveled.
He faltered as Duncan came running up the stairs. Duncan looked over the shoulder of his shorter cousin and again he said, ‘Damn.’
Jean and Betsy lay upon the two pallets, their vacant gaze telling both men they were dead before the men could see the dark spreading stains flowing from where their throats had been cut. Whoever had come through the window had taken the two women from behind, killing them quickly and pulling them back on the mats. Roo was suddenly aware he was standing in something sticky and warm and realized the women had probably come to the door after the men had raced out, only to die before they realized someone had entered the room from the window.
Then Roo realized his clothing was strewn around the room. He quickly searched, and as the innkeeper arrived, Roo looked at Duncan and said, ‘They took the gold.’
Duncan seemed almost to go limp as he leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Damn,’ he said for a third time.
The constable of the City Watch was obviously anxious to be done with his investigation. He looked at the dead horses and the dead stableboy, and went into the inn to inspect the dead barmaids, and then asked Roo and Duncan a few questions. It was also obvious that he knew the Mockers were involved and this would be reported in as an ‘unsolved crime.’ Unless someone was caught in the act, finding criminals and proving guilt was a rare event in a city the size of the capital of the Western Realm. As the constable left he instructed them to report anything they discovered that might help solve the crime to the office of the City Watch, at the palace.
The innkeeper was devastated by the death of his three employees and voiced his fear that he was somehow slated to join them. He ordered Roo and Duncan out of his inn at first light and then barricaded himself in his room.
As the dawn came, Roo and Duncan walked out of the courtyard of the Inn of the Seven Flowers. The early morning press of business hadn’t begun, but already workers were moving toward their places of employment. As they entered the street, Duncan asked, ‘What now?’
Roo said, ‘I don’t know –’ He inhaled as he spied a familiar figure across the street. Lounging against the wall of the building opposite them was the thin man from the day before. Roo crossed the street, almost knocking down a hurrying workman, and as he reached the man, he heard him say, ‘Quietly now, stranger, else my friends will have to shoot you.’
Duncan overtook Roo in time to hear the remark and spun around, looking for the bowman. On the rooftop above, a bowman had an arrow drawn hard against his cheek, aimed in their direction. The thin man said, ‘I expect you now understand just the sort of troubles we can protect you from, don’t you?’
‘If I thought I stood a chance of not getting my cousin shot in the bargain,’ said Roo, his anger barely held in check, ‘I’d cut your liver out right now.’
‘Like to see you try,’ said the thin man. ‘You caught me by surprise yesterday, but it would never happen again.’ He then smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. ‘Besides, there’s nothing personal in this, lad. It’s only business. Next time you seek to do business in Krondor, let those who can help you … help you.’
‘Why did you kill the boy and the girls?’ asked Roo.
‘Kill? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the man. ‘Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that Sam Tannerson was playing pokiir at Mama Jamila’s in the Poor Quarter all night long. Did someone go and get themselves killed?’ He made a signal and moved away, saying, ‘When you’re ready to try doing business again, ask around. Sam Tannerson isn’t hard to find. And he’s always willing to help.’ He quickly moved off into the press of traffic and vanished from sight.
After a moment Roo asked again, ‘Why did they kill the girls and the stableboy?’
Duncan said, ‘My guess is that if you’re too stubborn to pay them, they’re making sure everyone else knows the price of doing business with you.’
Roo said, ‘I’ve only felt more helpless once in my life, and that was when they were about to hang me.’
Duncan had heard the story of how Roo and his friend Erik had been reprieved from the gallows after a mock hanging. ‘Well, you may not be dead, as they say, but what will we do?’
Roo said, ‘Start over. What else is there to do?’ Then he added, ‘But first we head for the palace, and the office of the City Watch.’
‘What for?’
‘To tell them we know the name of the man who was behind this, Sam Tannerson.’
‘Do you think that’s his real name?’
‘Probably not,’ said Roo as he turned in the direction of the palace. ‘But it’s the one he uses, and it will do.’
Duncan shrugged. ‘I don’t know what good it’ll do, but as I have no better idea, why not?’ He fell in beside his cousin and they began walking toward the Prince of Krondor’s palace.
Erik looked out over the yard where the levies hurried through their drills. He remembered with some guilty pleasure the near fit Alfred, the corporal from Darkmoor, had thrown when informed he was now reduced to the rank of private in the Prince’s new army. The third time Erik had deposited him on his ear on the parade ground had convinced him to shut up and do as he was told. Erik suspected he would turn out to be a better than average soldier if he could learn to control his temper.
‘What do you think?’ asked Robert de Loungville from behind.
Without turning to look, Erik said, ‘I’d know better what to think if I knew what exactly you, the Duke, the Prince, and everyone else you meet with every night have in mind.’
‘You’ve been down there. You know what’s coming,’ said de Loungville without emotion.
‘I think we’ve got a few men here who might do well enough,’ answered Erik. ‘These are all seasoned soldiers, but some of them are worthless.’
‘Why?’ asked Robert.
Erik turned and looked at the man to whom he reported. ‘Some of them are barracks rats, fit for nothing much more than light garrison duty and three meals a day. I guess their lords decided it was cheaper to let us feed them. Others are too …’ He struggled for a concept. ‘I don’t know, it’s like a horse that’s been trained to do one thing, then you want to train him to do another. You’ve first got to break him of the old habits.’
Robert nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Some of these men just can’t think on their feet. If you’re in a battle and giving orders, they’re going to be fine, but if they’re on their own …’ Erik shrugged.
Robert said, ‘Muster all the castle rats and those too set in their ways to think for themselves after the midday meal. We’re