Flight of the Night Hawks. Raymond E. Feist
are often the means by which some parts of the mind communicate what is about to become conscious thought; especially when the emotions are strong. Our races are not that different; when it comes to the workings of our minds we have much in common.’
Magnus glanced at the alien magician and Pug could almost read his son’s thoughts: few humans, including Pug, Miranda and Magnus, could even begin to approach the mind-discipline of a novice of Uskavan’s order. Salavan minds were far more complex than human ones, despite Uskavan’s insistence this was only because the Salavans were an older race and had been practising mental arts for thousands of years.
Pug nodded, a slight expression of resignation on his face. ‘Indeed. I fear my dreams may be portends of coming disaster. Or, they may simply be a manifestation of my concerns over the Dasati.’
Magnus said, ‘Father, we must prepare as if they are coming.’
‘I know.’ Pug looked at each member of the inner circle of the Conclave. ‘Send word to our agents who are placed in all the royal courts. I want to know about every ambition, plot or intrigue, and any situation that could be turned to our advantage. If we must, we shall bribe and threaten to secure help in such a conflict.’
Pug fell silent for a minute. He remembered the Riftwar; for twelve years, while the Tsurani had fallen upon the Kingdom and the Free Cities, Queg, Great Kesh and the lesser kingdoms to the east had watched with keen anticipation, seeking any opportunity to advance their own cause at the Kingdom’s expense. ‘Should the Dasati come, we must have friends in high places who will argue that every nation needs to respond quickly, no matter where the invasion strikes.’
Magnus said, ‘Father, that is all well and good should an attack happen in Triagia – all the monarchs on this continent have some sense of vulnerability – should aliens set foot on close by soil they would be equally vulnerable and will unite, but what if the beachhead is some deserted shore of the Sunset Islands, or down in the grasslands of Novindus, or the high plateau of Wynet?’
‘A more difficult task, then,’ said Pug. He looked at his council, pausing a moment to study each face. Miranda seemed as enigmatic as a stranger. She often kept her own counsel and took matters into her own hands. They had fought more than once over the years about her putting agents into the field without consulting him or giving orders that he disagreed with. He smiled slightly. As long as his wife was involved, Pug could never be accused of ruling the council of the Conclave of Shadows. She nodded slightly and returned his smile, and he knew this time she was in full agreement.
Rosenvar’s lined face looked as if it was fashioned from sunburnt leather. His reddish hue was accentuated by a shock of unruly blond hair, now rapidly turning white. ‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that we might be well served if we started leaking a rumour or two.’
Pug was silent for a moment. ‘To what end?’
The magician from Salmater smiled and Pug recalled the first time he had met him, sitting in the corner of an ale house, dispensing sage advice, minor charms and outright lies with equal abandon to anyone who’d stand him the price of a drink. Since coming to the island, he had stayed relatively sober, and his drinking bouts were few and far between.
‘Rumours are wonderful things, when employed correctly,’ said Rosenvar. His voice tended to rumble as if it started somewhere deep within his bowels and slowly worked its way up through his throat. ‘I’ve seen entire cities turned on their collective ear by the right rumour, Pug. Rulers distrust official reports and credible witnesses, but a juicy rumour … ah, that’ll set them running around like turkeys in a storm, heads turned upwards with mouths agape, trying to drown themselves in the downpour.’
Pug chuckled. He enjoyed Rosenvar’s turns of phrase. ‘Very well, but what rumours?’
Rosenvar lost his smile. ‘Word is Duke Erik is ill, perhaps dying, in Krondor.’
Pug nodded. ‘So I have heard.’
Miranda said, ‘He is the last.’
Pug knew what she meant. He was the last survivor of Calis’ company of ‘Desperate Men’, those prisoners given their freedom in exchange for making the journey down to Novindus at the start of the Serpentwar, and the only man of rank still serving who had survived the conflict. Erik knew what distant dangers could mean. ‘Then we start in Krondor?’
‘It seems wise,’ said Rosenvar. ‘There are a couple of rumourmongers who have various highly placed officials of the Western Realm among their clients. If we start something vague enough to not cause an immediate response, but something familiar enough to Lord Erik that he’ll feel obliged to warn the Prince of Krondor … well, it’s a start.’
Magnus said, ‘And if the Kingdom of the Isles takes the warning seriously, so will Great Kesh.’
‘And if Great Kesh and the Kingdom start to marshal their defences, so shall every other kingdom in their vicinity,’ added Miranda.
‘But we can only hold them alert for so long; we must not rush this,’ said Rosenvar.
Pug said, ‘We need Erik around long enough to make this work.’
Nakor said, ‘I’ll go to Krondor and visit the Duke. I’ll make him well for a while.’
Pug nodded. Nakor had travelled with Erik, Calis on the journey to Novindus when they first encountered the Emerald Queen. The old duke would trust Nakor.
Pug said, ‘Rosenvar, I need you to coordinate what rumours to start, where, and when. We have some well-placed agents in nearly every capital of importance on Midkemia. But I want to ensure it’s a gradual discomfort and concern, not instant blind panic.’
‘Understood,’ he replied, standing. ‘We’ll draw up a list of ideas to put the rulers of the world on edge.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Slightly on edge.’
To Uskavan, Pug said, ‘If you would, I’d like the names of your very best students. We may need to dispatch them to work in the field soon.’
The alien magician nodded, rose, and departed with Rosenvar, leaving Pug, Miranda, Nakor, and Magnus alone in the cave. Pug looked at his older son and said, ‘Where’s your brother?’
‘Down in Stardock, I believe. He should be delivering some supplies, but no doubt he lingered for the festival.’
Miranda said, ‘Lingered to spend time with that widow, you mean.’
Pug shrugged. ‘Let him grab whatever joy he can, beloved. We don’t need him back here for anything special, and I expect he’s enjoying himself.’
Magnus looked at his mother and asked, ‘Shall I find him, or return to Kelewan?’
Miranda glanced at her husband. ‘Which?’
‘Neither. Go to Novindus and continue Nakor’s work on the Talony. The Great Ones of the Assembly of Tsuranuanni can muddle along without you for a while. When Nakor returns from Krondor, I’ll send him back to you and you can go back to Kelewan.’
Nakor smiled. ‘Don’t break anything before I get there.’
Magnus glanced with a wry smile at the little gambler, nodded, reached inside his robe and pulled out a golden orb. He clicked a switch and suddenly vanished.
Miranda came to stand behind her husband and put her arms around him. ‘You’re worried.’
‘I’m always worried,’ said Pug.
‘No, this is something more.’ She studied her husband’s face. ‘You sense something?’
Nakor said, ‘I think I know what you’re going to tell her. I will go to Krondor and see that Duke Erik stays alive long enough to help us.’ He glanced at Pug and Miranda and said, ‘You two really do need to talk to each other more often. Really,’ he repeated, picking up his rucksack and staff, then vanishing from before their eyes.
Pug closed his eyes a long moment, then answered his wife’s question.