SIX

Journey

 

Jimmy raised his hand.

He held up two fingers, and the innkeeper filled two tarred leather mugs from the barrels that rested on trestles along one wall.

He was middle-aged and bald and fat; the barmaid was probably his wife, and looked the same, except for having hair. She waited expectantly until Jimmy fished in his pouch and brought out the coppers. The tavern wasn’t much: a rush-strewn floor, brick walls with patches of what had once been plaster, and rough wooden tables and plank benches and stools. The smell wasn’t too bad, though; mostly spilled beer, which was inevitable.

The place did have the advantage of not being a known Mocker hangout: most of the other customers right now were dockwal-lopers and labourers, nursing a mug of beer to make it last, with maybe bread and cheese and pickles on the side.

Not much of an advertisement for honest toil, Jimmy thought morosely, taking a mouthful and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. But then I was never tempted.

The Sail and Anchor was as typical a sailors’ dive as you could find in the dockside quarter of Krondor. Jimmy had scouted the caravanserai and had judged it unlikely he could slip out within a day or so, given the close scrutiny everyone was being subjected to as they tried to leave the city. The pulling down of the tower above the cells had saved over thirty Mockers, but it had driven del Garza into a frenzy of reprisals. A few Mockers too stupid to keep out of sight were already down in the Market Square Gaol - the Sheriff’s Constables ran that lock-up - but they stood a fair chance of avoiding the gallows, for none had been collared for a hanging offence, unless del Garza changed the laws again. However, a few common workers and a couple of merchants’ wives and daughters had also been rounded up, so now del Garza had the guilds and citizens in an uproar.

From what Jimmy could see in the falling darkness the previous evening, del Garza already had every engineer and mason in the Kingdom crawling over that tower - it looked as if he meant to have it back in place before Duke Guy returned from the Keshian border. Jimmy smiled. Toss in a magician or two and he might just pull that off.

‘Thanks,’ Flora said and took a sip, watching Jimmy over the rim of her mug. ‘You’re thinking. What about?’

He hunched over his own ale, blowing at the thin layer of froth and wondering if he looked as depressed as he felt. ‘Just having to leave the city. And having to sneak aboard a ship. I don’t care much for ships.’

‘Have you ever been on one?’ she asked, a little excitedly.

‘No, but I know enough to know once you’re on one, there’s few places where you can bolt, unless you can swim like a fish. I’m good enough at hiding, but hiding out on a ship ... they call it being a stowaway.’

‘Well, don’t. Go as a passenger.’

Jimmy sighed. ‘Del Garza’s checking passengers as close here as he is at the city gates.’

‘Cheer up, Jimmy! It’s not the end of the world,’ she said softly, and grew thoughtful.

‘No, the .Upright Man just wants me to go to the end of the world,’ he said. ‘And drop off the edge for a while. Maybe he’d really like it if I managed to get kidnapped to Great Kesh, or that world the invaders come from.’ Jimmy glanced up at her from under his brows; he wasn’t even sure she was paying attention. If I’m going to grumble and moan and pity myself, at least she could listen to the specifics, he thought.

This was not the way he’d expected things to be tonight. Someone, many someones, should be buying him an ale and dinner besides, and singing his praises, and thumping his back until it hurt. Instead he couldn’t go near Mocker’s Rest or even the sewers: he had to be out of town, and soon. Even lingering this long was a bit of a risk.

Instead of being a hero, he was all alone in this working man’s tavern, facing exile.

Well, all right, I’m not alone, but for all the attention Flora’s paying me I might as well be. I’m a hero, gods take it. Girls, plural, should be all over me.

Now she was giving him a considering look. He knew that look. It was the look a woman gives you when she’s going to ask for something. Jimmy raised a single brow, waiting for the shoe to drop.

Suddenly she gave him a brilliant smile. ‘I know where we can go,’ she said.

‘We?’ That was unexpected. ‘What do you mean, we?’

‘My mother told me that I have a grandfather and an aunt in Land’s End. She said my grandfather didn’t approve of my father.’ Flora’s eyes took on the far-away look of someone remembering. ‘Not that my parents ever said so, but they’d look at one another and they’d have these odd smiles . . . sad like . . . Anyway,’ she continued, ‘we could go to Land’s End and see if I still have family there. It would be like a quest! What d’ye think?’

Jimmy blinked. It was an idea, he supposed. Or a direction at least.

‘Where is Land’s End?’ he asked. He’d heard of it, of course, but that didn’t mean he knew where it was or anything else about it.

‘I dunno. I never went there. But we can find out. What d’ye say? Shall we?’

He widened his eyes and tipped his head, shrugging. ‘Why not? I’ve got to go somewhere, but . . . would we be welcome, just dropping in with no warning? I mean, if your grandfather didn’t approve of your father ...’ He trailed off awkwardly.

Flora’s lips thinned. ‘Well, the way my Pa turned out after my mother died I could hardly blame him for that, now could I?’

Jimmy sidestepped the issue of how her father had become a brawling drunk by asking, ‘Is that why you didn’t go to Land’s End after he died?’

With a grimace Flora shook her head. ‘I was only nine years old, Jimmy. I had no money and no idea how to get there.’ She shrugged, giving him a wry smile. ‘And the only people I ever knew were here.’

‘So you know how I feel,’ he said.

Flora smiled at him. ‘I know.’ Then she put her hand over his and squeezed it. ‘Maybe after supper I can make you feel better.’

Smiling wryly he raised his brows and sighed. At least someone was getting a free supper tonight.

Well, I do feel better, he thought, a few hours later, stretching and smiling smugly as his eyes opened again; the candle was guttering near its finish, casting patterns of shadow on the ceiling. A lot better.

He’d brought her to his best place; a half-ruined house with one very good room that he’d done up. Jimmy opened his eyes all the way, stretched again, yawned, and turned - only to find her gone. His sense of well-being undiminished, he crossed his arms beneath his head and remembered.

Just before they went to sleep she had thanked him.

He grinned. I’m a hero and no mistake, by the gods, he thought.

Suddenly the door opened and he jumped up, clutching the sheets.

‘Good morning!’ Flora sang.

‘I thought you’d gone,’ Jimmy said, one hand over his galloping heart and the other slipping a dagger back under the pillow.

‘You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,’ she said, laughing.

She pulled off her shawl. Hidden within its folds was a loaf of raisin-studded bread. Saliva rushed into his mouth at the smell of it, sweet and yeasty at the same time. She extracted a pot of honey out of one pocket and a slab of butter, wrapped in a handkerchief, from the other.

‘Where did you buy that?’ Jimmy asked; there wasn’t a market near this place, or a bakery.

‘Buy?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘I’m not as good as you are, Jimmy the Hand, but I made my name stealing baked goods, I’ll remind you!’

True, he thought.

Jimmy rose from the bed, wrapping a sheet around himself, smiling when Flora laughed at his sudden modesty. She sliced the bread while he poured out the rest of the wine they’d brought home the night before and they sat down to the important business of filling their stomachs.

After they’d eaten breakfast, things began to happen with the honey and the butter and they soon ended up in bed again.

As they lay quietly in one another’s arms Flora said, ‘I found out where Land’s End is.’

Her words cut through him like a knot of buzzing insects briefly invading his middle. He suddenly knew this wasn’t going to turn out well.

‘It’s south,’ she went on when he said nothing. ‘Near the Vale of Dreams.’

Thank you, he thought a little sourly. Here I’d just managed to pleasantly forget I’m leaving Krondor an exile, and you went and reminded me.

When Flora spoke her voice held a little irritation; Jimmy felt a brief stab of guilt. She’s only trying to help, after all, he thought.

‘It takes five days to sail there,’ she said, looking across at him. When he didn’t answer and wouldn’t meet her eyes she went on, ‘The fare is four silvers, apiece, to go by ship if we sleep in the hold. They got cabins, but they’re all full of people sailing past Land’s End, on to Great Kesh.’

After a prolonged silence, during which he could feel her eyes giving him sunburn, Jimmy looked at her sidelong. ‘How much by coach?’ he mumbled grudgingly.

‘There’s a ship that sails today at high tide.’

‘Four silvers is pretty steep,’ he snarled. ‘Didn’t it occur to you to bargain?’

Flora turned a scalding glare on him. ‘Yes, Jimmy, it did occur to me. That’s why it’s not six. All right?’

The way she was looking at him, it had better be all right. He changed the subject.

‘When’s high tide?’ he asked. He should know: he’d lived in a seaport town all his life, but had only the vaguest notion, since the knowledge was of no great use to a thief who didn’t work the docks.

Flora stretched luxuriously before answering — the sight of which improved his mood somewhat. Tn about three or four hours, I’d say,’ she answered.

‘Well if we’re supposed to be on this ship we’d better get ourselves organized,’ Jimmy said.

‘I know you don’t want to go,’ Flora said suddenly, her eyes sympathetic.

He smiled at her, appreciating her understanding, and leaned over to give her a kiss. ‘But I have to,’ he said. ‘Thank you for doing what I probably wouldn’t have got around to until tomorrow.’ He considered her. ‘We should probably get you some new clothes, don’t you think?’

She frowned. ‘Why? Most of my things are spanking new.’

‘Ah, true,’ he said, somewhat taken aback.

It hadn’t occurred to him that Flora would want to keep her new dresses. They were cheap and flashy and left the observer in no doubt at all as to what she did for a living. Yet, here she was talking about finding her lost family while wearing them. How should he phrase this?

‘But, they, um, they’re a bit, ah, fancy for a little place like Land’s End. Don’t you think? What’s fashionable here in Krondor might be too daring for your grandfather. Especially if he’s the disapproving type.’

Flora stared at him with her mouth open, then burst into delighted laughter, kicking her slim legs in the air, while he watched her in puzzled surprise. Every time she looked at his confused expression she went off again and it was a while before she stopped gasping and could say, ‘Oh, Jimmy, you’re such a dear!’ She gave him a fierce kiss. ‘There you are twisting yourself into knots to keep from saying, “But, Flora, you dress like a whore!” I can’t remember when someone last took my feelings into consideration like that. You’re a true friend.’

Greatly relieved, he smiled. ‘I’m glad you approve.’

‘I do,’ she said, getting up. ‘I hadn’t even thought of it. But now I do think of it you’re absolutely right. Only, what am I going to tell him about how I’ve been making my living the last few years?’

‘Does he know your father is dead?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Well he certainly didn’t hear it from me,’ she said. ‘But I can’t take the chance that he doesn’t know. That kind of news has a way of travelling.’

‘Let’s see . ..’ He thought a moment. ‘How about this? You lived with a neighbour family for a few years after your Pa died, working at chores for your keep. Then a kind old lady with a little gold took you in and you’ve been her companion the last few years - you still know how to talk like a swell, so if you don’t fall into street cant, they’ll never know it’s a story.

‘Anyway, now the old lady’s died and her relatives wouldn’t make a place for you. But they did pay your fare to Land’s End so that you could find your mother’s family. What about your father? Did he have family there?’

Flora shook her head as she did up her laces. ‘If he did he never spoke of them. Come to think of it, he never spoke much at all, even when Ma was alive.’

Jimmy took a handful of silver and gave it to her. ‘Go disguise yourself as a companion to a nice old lady,’ he said. ‘What ship is it that we’ll be taking?’

‘Krondor’s Lady,’ Flora said, counting with expert speed. ‘Jimmy, I can’t take all this!’

‘Well, you don’t have to spend it all. Don’t worry about it. After all, I need you for my disguise, namely the younger brother of a nice girl who was companion to an old lady. I’ve got to get some newer clothing, and then I’ll meet you on the docks,’ he said and gave her a quick kiss. ‘See you at high tide.’

She fled through the door, eager to be shopping, leaving Jimmy to finish dressing alone. As he pulled on his trousers, he thought he might find a tailor who could quickly provide him with a reputable-looking coat to wear over his second-newest shirt -the one he had purchased while he and Larry had bathed had to be burned after the second crawl through the sewer drain below the cell. He should also wear boots and a hat, he thought.

Yes, a young couple ... no, he still looked too young. Flora was a few years older, so a grieving girl and her younger brother, yes, that would be it. On their way to Land’s End because of a family loss.

Suddenly he was a great deal more sanguine about bringing Flora along than he had been a few minutes earlier. Silver was precious, but not as dear as his neck - which del Garza would happily stretch - or his head - which the Upright Man’s bashers would happily club - so it wasn’t a bad deal. Yes, brother and sister on their way to visit Grandpa. Besides, she filled his bed better than any girl he knew, and he thought that might be a welcome relief during exile. He was almost whistling when he left the flop. Then he stopped himself. When did ‘I become ‘we’? he thought to himself. I’m the one the Upright Man is running out of the city; Floras free to stay here. As he headed down the stairs he considered that he had never invited her to come with him and she had never asked his permission. It was just, somehow, done. Shaking his head in wonder, he realized he was now beginning to understand what some of the older men in the Mockers meant when they said they could bloody well do anything they pleased, so long as it was what their wives wanted them to do.

He turned his mind away from irritation and back to the soft feel of Flora’s skin and her round rump and suddenly it didn’t seem too big a price to pay, letting her have her way. He was back to almost whistling when he reached the street.

Krondor’s Lady was old and small and tubby; about a hundred feet long and thirty wide amidships. The smell filtering up from the bilges made her more than a little homelike, to one who’d spent a lot of time in the sewers.

It had proven surprisingly easy to get aboard. While most of the guards on the docks were Bas-Tyra men, Krondor’s Lady was under the watch of some of the Sheriff’s Crushers, as the constables were known. A quick story about visiting grandpa, with Flora looking genuinely distressed - not entirely an act after her stint in the gaol - and they were allowed aboard. Jimmy was thankful for the change of clothing both had elected earlier that day. One glance at the sword at his hip and the constable had judged him a young man from a family of means.

Flora had gone below to see where they were being permitted to sleep, while Jimmy remained on deck to watch the departure.

‘You make this run often?’ Jimmy asked a sailor, dodging a group of others who went running by with a roll of canvas, obviously ready to kick the annoying deck passenger out of the way.

‘Two, three times a year,’ the sailor said, doing something nautical involving two pieces of rope and a knife, his fingers running on with an automatic nimbleness. ‘Usually not so early. Storms, y’know.’

‘Oh,’ Jimmy said hollowly.

A last net of cargo - bales, boxes and sacks - swung off from the dock and down into the hold. Sailors hammered home the wedges that held a grating over the hatchway and did various mysterious things with the ropes and sails, mostly involving hauling or running up the ratlines while other sailors screamed at them. The captain was a short grizzled wiry man, with a gold hoop in his left ear and a missing little finger on his right hand.

‘Loose sail!’ he shouted from the rear of the ship. Canvas thundered down and bellied out into brown patched curves. ‘Cast away fore, cast away aft, loose all, fend off! Fend off, don’t tickle the dock, you bitches’ brood!’

Sailors loosed ropes and pushed at the dock with long two-man oars. Jimmy swallowed and watched as the roofs of Krondor began to slip away, and the deck took on a slight rocking motion under his feet. A cold clammy feeling settled in his stomach.

Up on the sterncastle the harbour pilot directed the helmsman, while the captain kept shouting orders to his crew.

I’m leaving Krondor, he thought. It didn’t seem quite real; it was as if he’d just said to himself I’m going to the moon. ‘Leaving Krondor’ was always something other people did.

Like the Prince and the Princess, he thought then, which cheered him a little. Getting onto a bigger stage, that’s what I’m doing!

The pilot had the ship moving gracefully through other ships at anchor or coming in to the docks. They dodged freighters and long, sleek warships and fishing-boats and wherries and barges. At some point that was not significant to Jimmy, the pilot hurried down to the main deck, and with agility surprising in a man of middle years he swung a leg over the side and scampered down to a waiting rowboat.

The ship moved surprisingly slowly as it edged out of the harbour. Jimmy glanced back to the sterncastle and saw the captain keeping his own hand on the tiller as he barked orders.

‘Ah, comin’ on a bit fresher,’ the sailor said.

The sky was growing clouds, cold and grey-looking. The water turned from blue to green-grey too, and began to crumple itself up into tall hills that moved toward him, topped with white foam. The ship’s blunt bow rose to meet it, dug in and rose again with white foam coming across the forward railings and swirling ankle-deep across the deck. In what seemed to Jimmy to be unreasonable haste, the land fell off to nothing but a dark line to their left, and the rocking-horse motion of the ship acquired other twists, a curling roll, left forward to right back.

A sailor, some sort of officer, saw Jimmy the Hand’s face turn pasty-white and how he clapped a hand to his mouth. ‘The lee rail, you infernal lubber!’ he snarled, then grabbed the boy by collar and belt and ran him over to it, getting his head over the side just as the first heave struck. ‘Feed the fish, and don’t foul our deck, damn your eyes!’

‘I hate you,’ Jimmy mumbled feebly, not sure whether he meant himself, Flora who’d got him into this, the ship, the crew, or all of them together.

His sides hurt, his head ached, his eyes felt as if they’d been rolled in hot sand. Now I know what the word misery was invented for, he thought, as he crawled hand-over-hand toward the rail and another spell of dry retching heaves until there was nothing left inside to come up.

And I stink.

So badly that he spent most of his time on deck letting the high winds blow his funk away. That meant he was mostly at the stern since the gale came from the south. He’d learned quickly that spitting wasn’t the only thing you didn’t do into the wind. The fresh air made it a little easier to live with himself. Even so, he avoided company.

Sometimes between bouts of retching he was tormented by memories of his original plans for this voyage. He’d imagined himself playing dice with the crew and cleaning them out easily. He’d done it often enough in Krondor, though most of the sailors were drunk at the time.

Instead, the crew were amusing themselves by sidling up to him and saying things like, ‘Arrgh, sick are ye? Whatcha need laddie-boy is some nice ham floatin’ in a bowl of warm cream! Or maybe you’d like some cold fish chowder?’ Then laughing as he swore feebly, not realizing that he’d be cutting them down right then and there, if only he weren’t so weak and if only moving didn’t make him feel worse.

Or maybe they remember me from the dice and the taverns, and this is some sort of sick, twisted revenge.

Flora came staggering up bearing a mug of broth for him and hunched down beside him where he hid from the wet wind behind a crate secured to the deck.

‘Flora,’ he said, gasping and trying to drink the salty broth. It seemed to hurt less if you had something to give the sea. ‘Do you think they recognize me? Could I have picked someone’s pocket, or won too much at dice, d’ye think?’ Then he shook his head. ‘But there’s no profit in it, so why bother?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, my friend, if I thought someone who’d robbed or cheated me was nearby and the only revenge I was going to get was to make him throw up then I would, and gladly. And I’d consider that profit aplenty.’ Flora smiled at his expression of abject horror. ‘But I don’t think they do recognize you, Jimmy. I hardly knew you myself when I first saw you waiting on the dock, you looked so respectable!’

She huddled deeper into her thick shawl and huddled closer to him, shivering with cold. He welcomed her warmth, and the fact that she blocked the wind on that side.

‘Actually, it seems to be something they do whenever someone gets seasick; sailor or passenger,’ Flora continued. ‘I think it’s mean and I’ve asked them not to do it any more. But I honestly don’t think they can resist.’

He tried to dump the rest of the broth overboard - his shrunken stomach was starting to protest - but she pushed it right back at him.

So the crew didn’t want revenge on him, they just wanted to torture him for the joy of it. That was nice.

It’s a very good thing I can’t put curses on people or by now the whole crew would be writhing in agony. Or dying horribly. And in the throes of violent sea-sickness a man can think up some very horrible things indeed.

He knew that if it weren’t for Flora’s influence the crew would be even worse. How she kept them off him he didn’t know.

Perhaps he should.

‘You’re not giving them ...” he hesitated.

‘Giving them bribes to leave you alone?’ Flora shook her head, smiling. ‘If I were then I’d not be getting much in return for my efforts, now would I? But no, I’m not doing that any more. I’m going to be an honest girl if it kills me. At least until I find out if I do have a family.’

She watched him look miserably into the cup of cooling broth and gave his shoulder a pat. ‘Just drink it, Jimmy. You’ve got to get something down you or you really will be sick.’

He gave her a piteous look, but all she did was nod encouragingly. He squeezed his eyes shut and drank the last, lukewarm half. He knew it would come up again, but at least now it was comfortably warm. Flora would have waited until he drank it even if the stuff grew a skim of ice.

Then he thought about what she’d said. ‘I am sick,’ he pointed out.

‘You’re not dying. But if you don’t keep drinking water or broth, though, you actually might.’

Well, that was a pleasant thought.

Jimmy began to feel the broth dancing in his aching stomach and knew it wouldn’t be long before the stuff made a break for it. He was too ashamed of his condition to encourage her presence at such times.

‘Cook says if you can keep that down, and spend a while just looking at the horizon, so your senses can adjust, you just might get over this sickness. Some people do.’ Then with a piteous look she added, ‘And some people don’t.’

‘Maybe you should go below,’ he suggested.

She looked at him askance, then nodded. ‘It is getting cold out here.’ Flora tucked a tendril of hair back under her enveloping shawl. ‘I’ll be back later with something else.’

‘Oh, gods!’ Jimmy groaned and rushed to the rail.

Flora hurried away; even then he managed to feel a mute animal gratitude.

Jimmy willed himself to hold the content of his stomach down. He did as suggested and watched the horizon and soon noticed that the rise and fall of the ship was less distressing on his stomach when he could see the motion as well as feel it. He took slow, deep breaths and attempted another sip of broth.

Gradually he became aware that one of the other passengers was watching him. The man was about thirty; of medium build, but standing with an easy balance that made some corner of Jimmy’s mind say swordsman despite his dress; he was wearing dark clothes of good wool, but they’d seen hard use and were stained with salt. The sort of clothes might be worn by a travelling merchant in a small way of business, or by a ship’s officer.

But that belt has wear on it, Jimmy thought, glad of something to distract him from his wet, chill misery. Look at the way it’s polished, and stretched a little. That’s the attachment for a sword-sling.

Like Jimmy, the man kept himself to himself, though probably for different reasons, lending the occasional, very competent, hand to the sailors when the seas became unusually rough. Otherwise he spent his time either gazing out to sea or staring at the young thief. Jimmy was beginning to find it very annoying.

It also worried him. After separating from Flora in Krondor he’d retrieved his gold and turned a fair bit of it into silver and copper, much of which he’d secreted about his person. There were times he thought the stranger somehow knew that he was carrying well over a hundred and fifty in silver and gold even though it shouldn’t have been obvious to anyone.

Unless that someone had seen him changing his gold to silver.

Certainly Jimmy didn’t look rich; Flora had outfitted him from a used-clothing store, one where respectable shopkeepers and craftsmen went. True, there were a large number of pockets, but that was something common to all the boys Jimmy knew, town or Mocker. And having a lot of pockets didn’t necessarily mean that each one was full of money. Even if, in his case, it was.

The only bright spot is that if he wants to rob me he’ll have to do it here on deck in front of the captain and the crew, and Flora, when she’s here.

It would take a good long time, too, because as one of the best pickpockets in Krondor he’d long known the value of spreading your valuables around. And with no less than twelve pockets, not including the ones he’d sewn himself, he’d had plenty of places to put his gold. Of course, if he ever fell overboard he’d sink like a stone, but you couldn’t have everything. Besides, the way he was feeling right now the idea actually had some appeal.

Jimmy clung to the rail and slanted his eyes toward the stranger where the man squatted with his back against the mainmast. The man caught his glance and rose in a single graceful movement. As he approached the stranger took something from his belt pouch.

Jimmy tensed.

The man held out a strap of leather. ‘Let’s put this on you.’ Without waiting for an answer he grabbed Jimmy’s left wrist and fastened it on, then positioned it just so. ‘I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer any more, lad,’ the fellow said. His voice was deep and mild.

Jimmy could feel something like a pebble pressing lightly into his wrist. He looked suspiciously at the stranger.

‘Keep it just there and in a few hours your problem should be solved.’

‘Is it magic?’ Jimmy asked.

The man snorted. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘The trick of it was shown to me by an old Keshian sailor, and I’d bet my last silver he had nothing magical about him.’ He held out his hand. ‘My name is Jarvis Coe.’

Jimmy shook his hand weakly. ‘If this works, Master Coe, I’ll be eternally in your debt.’ At that moment the ship rose, then fell steeply and so did Jimmy’s stomach. When he turned around again Jarvis Coe was gone. He looked goggle-eyed at the bracelet. Doesn’t seem to be working, he thought miserably, as he turned his eyes back to the horizon and contemplated another sip of broth. Maybe between staring at the horizon and the pebble on his wrist he just might survive the journey . . .

But it does work! Jimmy thought exultantly, an hour later. ‘Oh, gods, it works!’ he mumbled aloud.

He looked down at his bowl. In it was some stew, the inevitable traveller’s food, and there were beans and dried tomato and bits of salt fish floating around in it, and it didn’t make him want to crawl groaning toward the leeward rail!

Even the wiggling thing that had dropped out of his hard biscuit when he tapped it on the table like everyone else didn’t revolt him, and it would have back in Krondor. Now he just felt . . .

‘Hungry,’ he whispered to himself. ‘It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like!’

Flora was looking at him oddly. The passengers took their meals at a table set up in the passageway in front of the captain’s cabin; he gave her a smile and saw her match it as he dipped his spoon into the bowl and methodically ate everything in it. That wasn’t a big serving, and he felt stuffed - no wonder, after three days of nothing but water - but it stayed down.

Flora’s hand jerked him awake just before he went face-down in the bowl.

‘Come along, brother,’ she said, helping him up.

When he came to under the coarse brown blankets that covered his bunk, an inner sense told him he’d more than slept the clock around. That was no wonder either, since he’d no more been able to sleep than to eat.

If that’s what feeling old is like, I hope I die young, he thought, shuddering. His clothes were damp and clammy as he pulled them on in the little box miscalled a cabin, but he was no stranger to that, and his feet almost danced as he headed down the passageway and up the steep ladder-stairs to the deck, looking for his benefactor. He walked about watching the sailors work: it was always a pleasant activity watching someone else sweat.

Pleased as he was with the miracle of not being sea-sick, the whole world took on a rosier hue. The young thief decided that travel to Land’s End just might be something to look forward to after all. He’d simply been startled by the Nightmaster’s demand that he leave, that was it, and for a while he’d been worried because he wouldn’t have anything or anybody familiar to fall back on. It wasn’t fear he’d felt at all, he’d just been . .. taken by surprise.

Besides, he’d managed the rubes right handily when they’d made their way to Krondor; why would he have problems just because they’d stayed at home? This is going to be an adventure, by Ruthia! he thought. I’ll have some fine tales to tell when I get home.

That he looked forward to getting home before he’d even reached his destination brought a wry smile to his face. Jimmy could fool most people, but he never could fool himself. All right, he thought, so it’s not something I would have chosen to do. But I’ve turned bad luck to good advantage before now. I don’t see why this should be any different.

He looked about: still no sign of Coe and he’d been on deck for most of the morning by now.

‘Where’s that fellow who was propping up the main mast yesterday?’ he asked a passing sailor.

‘In ‘is cabin, I s’pose,’ the man barked, brushing past. ‘I’m not ‘is nanny that I’d know.’

Guess I’m not as much fun to talk to now that you can’t make me vomit, Jimmy thought snidely.

Even so, it was strange. One day the man was unavoidable, the next day he’d disappeared. Jimmy didn’t like it, such behaviour was suspicious. It reminded him too much of Radburn’s men.

His abused stomach lurched horribly and he thought, Oh, gods! Not again, I thought I was cured. But it wasn’t sea-sickness that had caused the sensation. It was the idea that he might have been followed by one of Bas-Tyra’s secret police that had given him such a qualm.

Jimmy knew many of Radburn’s sneaking spies by sight, and usually, given time, could guess who was one by their behaviour. But did they know him?

He tried to dismiss the thought. At the moment he looked respectable, which was to say, not like himself. And when he spoke - which given his malady had been infrequently - he’d been careful to speak like a well-brought-up boy. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to suspect that he was a Mocker. Flora had had enough gentlemen of rank in her day to have some practice speaking like a girl of means, so she hadn’t given him away with street cant; it’d been ‘mister’ and ‘sir’ not ‘deary’ and ‘luv’ - and not one obscenity had escaped her lips - since she’d traded in her whore’s garb for a modest dress, shoulder-shawl, and hat. Besides, if Coe did know him, why hadn’t he simply turned him in at the dock, or just chucked him overboard?

It would have been easy, Jimmy thought. Hells and demons, I would have thanked him for it!

And yet, having finally introduced himself, the mysterious stranger had disappeared. Was Coe just a concerned soul who’d been watching to make sure the young thief didn’t fall overboard? Now that he’d given Jimmy the cure for his sea-sickness perhaps the man had decided to retire to the relative comfort of his cabin. Was that suspicious? Jimmy frowned. Actually, he did find generosity from strangers suspicious. Useful on occasion, he allowed. Especially if the giver was naive and easy to manipulate. But Coe didn’t seem the type one could use. In fact he seemed the type to ream you proper if you tried: Jimmy could smell that on a man. The young thief exhaled with a snort of frustration.

Focus, concentrate, he commanded himself.

If one of Radburn’s spies had seen him and knew him for a Mocker, known what he’d done, which was unlikely - make that impossible - then without question he would have been arrested immediately. There was no reason for one of Radburn’s boys to go following him to Land’s End.

But what if one of Radburn’s spies was going to Land’s End anyway? Land’s End was an outpost, near the Keshian border. More accurately, it was the domain of the Lord of the Southern Marches, Duke Sutherland, but that office had been vacant for years, due to some politics Jimmy didn’t understand or care to understand. Yes, maybe that’s it, he thought. Maybe it’s just Guy du Bas-Tyra trying to extend his reach. Who knew how far the Duke wanted to extend his power? Jimmy watched the hills of water rise and fall, actually enjoying the clever motion of the ship as it followed their motion.

As far as he can, of course!

He wrestled with some more notions of what the Duke might be plotting, but grew bored with it. It was surprising enough as it was that he was interested in that question at all. Until meeting Prince Arutha he had no concept of what ruling must be like, but he had spent a fair number of evenings listening to Arutha, Martin Longbow and Amos Trask talking about affairs of state. He found it fascinating, and from time to time wondered if he could make the sorts of judgments they were forced to consider, decisions that would change the future of nations.

No, he reconsidered, he wasn’t bored with the question; he was frustrated that he had no information upon which to base a reasonable guess as to what was happening. And that surprised him, as well. Grinning at a silly notion, he thought: maybe some day I’ll get to meet Prince Arutha again. That would be interesting. He’d know what Duke Guy was up to and Jimmy could ask him questions about such things. But until that time, it was no business of Jimmy’s what the Duke was plotting.

Meddling in the affairs of the mighty had only brought trouble on him and his kind. True, he was pleased to think of the Princess Anita as free and safe, but the cost to the Mockers had been high, perhaps too high. And while he was sorry for Prince Erland and his wife, saving them was well-nigh impossible, and even had that not been the case, to do so would very likely only have made things worse. For which the Upright Man would not have thanked him.

No, it was time to get back to looking after Jimmy the Hand, which was something he did very well. Let them plot and scheme among themselves; it had nothing to do with him.

Jimmy stopped to look around, as he and Flora stood on the dockside at Land’s End, their scant baggage at their feet. The first street facing the harbour was broad and cobbled, but the cobbles were worn nearly flat by hooves and iron-rimmed wheels and sledges; the bowsprits of a row of ships ran over it, above the heads of stevedores, sailors and passengers. Teamsters moved wagons close to receive offloaded cargo and quickly transport it to shops or warehouses nearby, and the usual assortment of riffraff lingered at the fringes. Jimmy instantly spotted two lads who were probably pickpockets and one who was the most obvious lookout Jimmy had ever seen - maybe looking to see if someone special came off the ship, or if a particular cargo was unloaded, ready to signal someone probably lingering half a block up the street or watching from an adjacent window. Jimmy kept his smile to himself; if this was the best Land’s End had to offer, he might not return to Krondor, but rather stick around and take over.

Gulls made a storm overhead - always a sign of a thriving port, with plenty of offal. Green-blue water lapped at the sides of ships, at the black weed-and-barnacle-covered timbers and pilings of dock and seawall, a chuckling undertone to the clamour of voices and feet and iron on stone.

‘Not nearly as big as Krondor,’ Jimmy said stoutly. I’m from the big city, he thought. This is the sticks. ‘Or as well-sheltered a harbour.’

The largest ships here weren’t as big as those you saw in Krondor’s harbour, either - the tubby Krondor’s Lady was about as large as they came; more of them were Keshian, too. The dock-side street was hedged on its landward side by warehouses, two or three storeys high, with A-frame timbers jutting out from their gables to help hoist freight. Some came down via block and tackle as he watched, a load of pungent raw hides. Streams of dockwallopers were trotting up and down gangplanks, with sacks and bales and boxes bending them double; cloth, thread, bundled raw flax, dried fruit, cheeses, blacksmith’s iron, copper pots . . . Heavier cargo swung up on nets slung from the end of the yards that usually bore sails.

Beyond the warehouses, buildings rose up steep streets on the hills surrounding the harbour; they could get a few glimpses of the city walls, gates, and the pasture and forest beyond. Jimmy stared for a moment, realizing he could see farms up on the highest hillsides, tiny thatched houses with meadows and fields around them. He had never seen a farm before.

‘It’s bigger than I’d thought it would be,’ Flora said, her voice sounding small.

Jimmy was glad she’d said it because it was exactly what he’d been thinking. He snorted. ‘It’s not a patch on Krondor,’ he said. He straightened and threw back his shoulders. ‘And we did just fine there.’

Flora touched his arm with a grateful smile. Then she looked out at the town, uncertain once more. She sighed. ‘I have no idea where to begin.’

‘Well, you know his name and what he does, or,’ he shrugged, ‘did for a living, right?’ He’d intended to talk with her about this on board, but he’d been too sick most of the way and too hungry for the rest of it.

‘Yes,’ Flora said. ‘He was a solicitor and his name was Yardley Heywood.’

Oh, that’s not good, Jimmy thought. If her grandfather was a court solicitor he had represented his fair share of criminals. Which meant he was all too likely to guess what his long-lost granddaughter had been doing to survive these last few years, no matter what she said. Worse, he’d be able to guess what Jimmy did.

‘Yardley Heywood,’ he said aloud. ‘That sounds like a rich man’s name.’

Flora laughed. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’

Picking up his bag decisively, and one of hers to maintain the illusion of his being well brought up, Jimmy gestured toward the town. ‘First thing we should do is head for solid ground. I can feel this dock moving up and down and it’s making me nervous.’

‘It’s not the dock, lad,’ Jarvis Coe said with a smile.

Jimmy blinked in surprise. Twice: because he couldn’t imagine how the man had managed to get that close without him noticing; and because of a subtle change. Coe’s clothes were just a bit more prosperous than they’d seemed aboard ship, perhaps because he’d added a horseman’s high boots and a long dark cloak with a hood, plus a flat cloth cap that sported a peacock feather. More probably because he wore the sword that Jimmy had suspected would be his to wear: a plain, narrow blade with a curled guard in a workmanlike leather sheath, matched with a dagger on the other side - a fighting dirk nine inches long, not the ordinary belt-knife people carried for everyday tasks like cutting bread or getting a stone out of a horse’s shoe.

Coe still didn’t look rich, or conspicuous; but he did look like a gentleman of sorts. He pulled off the cap and bowed slightly to Flora, who bobbed him a curtsey in reflex.

‘It’s the way everyone feels coming off a ship. In a day or so you’ll get your land-legs back, as the sailors say. Where are you headed?’

Both the young Mockers frowned at him. I don’t like this, Jimmy thought. This man alters his appearance too easily, just by donning a new cloak and by changing the way he holds his head.

Coe chuckled: ‘I suppose it’s none of my business,’ he said. ‘But if you’re looking for a clean, cheap place to stay I can recommend a few.’

Jimmy and Flora looked at one another. Generosity from strangers, especially this close to Great Kesh and its slavers, was somewhat suspicious.

Coe looked at them and nodded thoughtfully. ‘All right, then. I can see you’ll be all right on your own. Just, if I may,’ he nodded at a dockside inn, ‘avoid The Cockerel.’ He put a finger beside his nose and winked. ‘Just a word to the wise.’ Then he was gone with a swirl of his dark cape.

‘Who’s he?’ Flora whispered. ‘I never talked to him on board.’

‘His name’s Jarvis Coe,’ Jimmy said. ‘But who he is I don’t know.’

He pulled at the bracelet on his wrist until the leather strap came undone. Then he studied it carefully. The slight pressure he’d felt against his wrist had been provided by a small pebble glued to the leather. The pebble looked ordinary enough, still... He tossed it into the water. Who could tell what might or might not be magic, or what that magic might do?

‘What was that?’ Flora asked.

‘Something he gave me for the seasickness. It worked. It might be magic.’

‘Well that was nice,’ she said dubiously.

Jimmy glanced at her. Flora was looking into the water and frowning, then she stared down the dock. Following her example, Jimmy saw that Coe had vanished; not hurrying, just walking away and blending in like a wisp of mist. Something a Mocker knew the way of.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s find a place to stay and stow our gear. Then we can start looking for your family.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder with a grin. ‘But what do we do about The Cockerel? It might turn out to be the safest place in town.’

Flora picked up her bag and started walking. ‘That’d be a first for a dockside tavern,’ she said.

Jimmy nodded, then stopped. ‘Wait!’ he said.

Flora looked at him enquiringly; he said nothing as he squatted beside their baggage, untying the cloth wrapped around a long narrow bundle.

The rapier came free, and Jimmy unwrapped the belt from the sheath and swung it around his hips. The tassets that the scabbard went through - a slanted row of loops on a triangular patch of leather sewn to the belt - kept the chafe - the metal reinforcement at the bottom of the scabbard - from tapping on the ground, if he walked with his left hand on the hilt. He wouldn’t have to worry about that in a few years when he reached his adult growth, but right now he was a bit shorter than most swordsmen.

‘Is that wise?’ Flora said.

‘It’s a mark of respectability,’ Jimmy said. ‘Or at least that you’re nobody to be trifled with!’

And there’s no Upright Man in Land’s End, the young thief thought. Demons and gods, but I’m sick of being pushed around!

They set out, walking slightly uphill along what Jimmy suspected would turn out to be the town’s main thoroughfare to the docks. He assumed there would be a large town square somewhere up ahead, and near there a reputable inn. His eyes wandered and again he studied the distant farms and wondered what it must be like up there. From what townsfolk said about farmers, their lives were pretty boring.