id="u1fc73fcf-eae0-51e2-930b-d6ff0240d58b">
RAYMOND E. FEIST
&
STEVE STIRLING
Jimmy the Hand
Voyager An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 77–85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
Published by Voyager 2003
First published in Great Britain by Voyager 2003
Copyright ©Raymond E. Feist & Steve Stirling 2003
The Authors assert the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2012 ISBN 9780007370238
Version: 2014-07-31
To my readers:
Without your enthusiasm I’d be selling cars for a living.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Raymond E. Feist
To Jan … and to Ray, Will, and Joel: the only guys who could have brought this off.
S.M. Stirling
Table of Contents
Men cursed as they grappled.
Jimmy the Hand slipped eellike between knots of fighting men on the darkened quayside. Steel glittered in torch- and lantern-light, shining in ruddy-red arcs as horsemen slashed at the elusive Mockers who strove to hold them back. Only seconds more were needed for Prince Arutha and Princess Anita to make their escape, and the fight had reached the frenzied violence of desperation. Screams of rage and pain split the night, accompanied by the iron hammering of shod hooves throwing up sparks as they smashed down on stone, to the counterpoint of the clangour of steel on steel.
Bravos and street-toughs struggled against trained soldiers, but the soldiers’ horses slipped and slithered on the slick boards and stones of the docks and the flickering light was even more uncertain than the footing. Knives stabbed upward and horses shied as hands gripped booted feet and heaved Bas-Tyran menat-arms out of the saddle. The harsh iron-and-salt smell of blood was strong even against the garbage stink of the harbour, and a horse screamed piteously as it collapsed, hamstrung. The rider’s leg was caught in the stirrup, crushed beneath his mount, and he screamed as the horse thrashed, then fell