The Complete Krondor’s Sons 2-Book Collection: Prince of the Blood, The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist
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– more than both our companies could face. Perhaps a hundred guards.’
Feeling the heavy weight of despair begin to descend upon him, Erland said, ‘We’ll find him. He isn’t dead.’ But his own words sounded hollow in his ear.
The scout scrambled up the wall of the gully to where his horse waited. ‘If we ride quickly, m’lord, we shall reach the Oasis of the Broken Palms at sundown.’
James detailed two guards to accompany the two wounded men back to the inn where they would recuperate until they were ready to return to the Kingdom. He did a swift calculation and realized he now had only a dozen healthy soldiers. Feeling vulnerable and somewhat foolish, he ordered that small band into the desert.
The sun was touching the horizon when the scout rode at a gallop toward the Islemen. James signalled a halt. Reining in his mount, the scout said, ‘In the Wadi al Safra, a caravan gathers: one hundred guards, maybe more.’
James swore. Erland said, ‘Any sign of my brother?’
‘I could not get close enough to tell, my Prince.’
‘Is there any place nearby where we could get close to the camp?’ asked Locklear.
‘A shallow ravine courses along one side of the wadi, and at the far end it becomes a gully running close to the camp, m’lord. Four, maybe five men could approach unobserved, be they stealthy. But it is dangerous. At the far end it becomes shallow enough for a standing man to see into the camp, but it is also close enough for a standing man to be noticed.’
Erland began to dismount, but James said, ‘No, you’ll clank like an armourer’s wagon in that chain. Wait here.’
Gamina said, ‘I should go, James. I can tell if Borric’s in the caravan if I can get close enough.’
‘How close is close enough?’ asked her new husband.
‘A stone’s throw,’ answered Gamina.
James asked the scout, ‘Can we get that close?’
The scout said, ‘We shall be close enough to see if any of the pigs have boils upon their faces, m’lord.’
‘Good,’ said Gamina, picking up the hem of her riding gown so it stayed clear of the ground. She tucked it in her wide leather belt, in the fashion of the Stardock fisherwomen when they waded into the shallows.
James ignored the unseemly display, exposing two slender white legs very high up on the thighs, as he attempted to think of a good reason to object to her coming along; he couldn’t. It’s the problem with having a logical mind and giving women the same credit for ability as men, he mused to himself as he dismounted. You can’t contrive reasons to keep them safe.
Locklear signalled a pair of guards to accompany James, Gamina, and the scout and the five set out down the trail on foot. They moved slowly, as the sun fell below the western horizon. By the time they approached the near end of the ravine, the sky was slate grey and the desert was alive with highlights of crimson and pink as the reflected sunlight off the clouds over the distant sea bathed the landscape in rose twilight.
Noise from the caravan echoed through the deepening gloom and James glanced around to see if everyone had stayed close. Gamina touched his arm lightly and her thoughts came to him. I can sense many minds in the wadi, my love.
Borric? he asked silently.
Nothing, she admitted. But I must get closer to be certain.
Gripping the scout’s arm, James whispered, ‘Can we get closer?’
Whispering back, he answered, ‘There is a bend ahead, and if we follow it, we shall be close enough to urinate upon the dogs. But be cautious, my lord, for it is a likely place to dump offal and garbage and there may be guards nearby.’
James nodded and the scout led them into the gloom.
James could remember several times in his past when he had taken short journeys that seemed to take for ever, but none seemed to take so long as it took to travel the short distance to the end of the gully. As they reached it, the voices of the guards could be heard in soft conversation as they walked easily along the perimeter of the camp. Not only was the journey nerve-wracking for the danger, but the end of the gully was being used as a garbage dump and privy trench; the Islemen had to creep through garbage and waste, both human and horse.
James stepped in something wet and soft and from the odour which hung in the ravine like a noisome fog he was certain he didn’t want to know what it was. He could guess. He signalled to the scout who signalled back that they were as close as they dared get.
Cautiously James peeked over the edge of the gully. Standing no more than ten paces away, two silhouettes stood outlined against the campfires. Huddled near them for warmth were at least thirty miserable-looking people, but nowhere in the group could James see Borric. Not every face could be seen, but James was certain his red hair would be easily noticeable in the sea of dark heads, despite the flickering firelight.
Then a man in a purple robe approached the two guards and for a moment, James’s chest constricted. But it wasn’t Borric. The wearer of the robe had the hood tossed back and the darkly bearded face that scowled at the two guards was one James had never seen before. He wore a sword at his hip, and ordered the two men to cease their chatter and move on.
The robed man turned as another joined him, a large man in a leather vest, wearing the caste mark of the Durbin slavers on his arm. It was a mark James hadn’t seen since he was a boy, but like all members of the Mockers, Krondor’s Guild of Thieves, he knew it by reputation. The Durbin slavers were not men to trouble lightly.
James chanced another glimpse of the camp, then hunkered down next to his wife. Her eyes were closed and her face was set in an expression of concentration as she sought out Borric among the prisoners in the camp. Finally she opened her eyes and her mind’s voice came to James. There is no thought I recognize as Borric’s in the camp.
Are you certain? he asked.
Sadly, she said. If he were in that camp, as close as we are, I would find him. Even were he sleeping, I could sense his presence were he in that camp. She silently sighed and he caught the echoes of sorrow in her mind. There can be no explanation for it save he lay buried beneath the rubble back where we found the boot. There was a moment of silence, then she said. He is dead.
James was motionless for an instant, then he motioned to the scout. By sign he gave the order to return the way they had come. The search was over.
‘No!’ Erland’s face was harsh as he refused to accept Gamina’s pronouncement. ‘You can’t know for certain.’
James recounted his observations for the third time since returning to where Erland and the balance of the company waited. A campfire had been started and the men were busy preparing an evening meal. James dismounted and gave the reins of his horse to a solider, who led the animal away. ‘We saw another bandit wearing the robe, so we can assume that it’s possible they took the boots from him as well, I grant that. But there was no sign of him in the camp.’ To the Keshian scout he said, ‘Is there any chance the bandits who raided us were not part of this slaver caravan?’
The scout shrugged, as if to say anything was possible. ‘Probably not, my lord. By carrying off some of your men it is unlikely it was but a coincidence you were raided. Any of your men who remain alive are for certain in that camp.’
James nodded. ‘If he had been alive, Erland, Gamina would have been able to speak to him.’
‘How can you be so certain?’
So that all in the camp could hear her, Gamina said, I have control over my talents, Erland. I can choose how many or few I wish to speak to, and once I touch a mind I can recognize its thoughts. Borric’s thoughts were not among those in the camp.
‘Perhaps he was unconscious.’
Gamina shook her head sadly. ‘I would