Rides A Dread Legion. Raymond E. Feist
for a fleeting moment wondered what her life story had been before coming here; did she have a loving father and a mother who wished for grandchildren? Was she a fugitive from a harsh and uncaring world? Putting aside such pointless thoughts, she opened the box.
She understood immediately what the contents of the box heralded. Within lay a dull, pearl-white stone set within a simple metal clasp and hung from a plain leather thong. She lifted it out with a resigned sigh. It was a soul gateway. Before she departed on her assignment, Sandreena would now have to endure a very long and difficult session with one of the more powerful Brothers of the Order, preparing her stone, so that in the event of her death, her spirit could be recalled to the Temple, and questioned by those who could speak to the departed. If the magic used were strong enough, she could even be resurrected in the Temple. This act was the most powerful magic available to the Temple, rare in the extreme and most difficult to execute. She wondered if her scars would reappear in the event of her resurrection; the scar on her thigh had a habit of itching at the most inconvenient times. Then she considered the stone.
Its presentation meant that whatever she was being sent to discover was important. So important that even if she didn’t survive, the discovery must still be reported to the Temple, even if that report came from her ghost, kept from Lims-Kragma’s Hall for a few additional hours. Or, should the need be great, and if Lims-Kragma were willing, she might escape death entirely.
Despite the heat of the day and her exertion, she felt a chill and a need to cleanse herself.
From a window high above the marshalling yard behind the Temple, Father-Bishop Creegan watched the girl regarding the soul gate he had sent to her, and said, ‘She’s young.’
The man standing at his shoulder said, ‘Yes, but she’s as tough as any Knight-Adamant in the Order. If Mathias were still sound, or Kendall still alive, I’d say either of them would do, but right now she’s the best mix of skill, strength, and determination you have.’
Creegan turned to face his companion, a man he had known for most of his life, though only well over the last three years. He was dressed in the garb of a commoner, and a rather dirty one at that, his hair was scruffy and his chin beard surrounded by days of stubble. Even his fingernails were dirty, but the Father-Bishop of the Order of the Shield of the Weak knew that this was but one of several guises employed by James Dasher Jamison.
‘Are you acting on behalf of the Crown?’
‘In a manner,’ said the most dangerous man in the Kingdom from Creegan’s point of view. Not only was he the grandson of the most important Duke in the Kingdom of the Isles, he was also reputed to be the mastermind behind the Kingdom’s intelligence services, and even, according to some, in control of the criminal brotherhood known as the Mockers.
Jim Dasher looked out of the window for a moment longer, then said, ‘An impossibly beautiful woman, that one.’
‘As dangerous as she is lovely,’ said Creegan.
Jim Dasher looked the cleric and said, ‘You two … ?’
‘No,’ said the prelate. ‘Not that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind upon occasion.’ He waved his guest to a small table with two chairs. ‘If I have one flaw, it’s my love of beautiful women.’ The room was not utilized for any specific reason, but Creegan had long ago claimed it for his clandestine meetings and other moments when he felt the need to be away from the High-Priestess’s army, or when he wanted a few undisturbed minutes to think.
‘I knew her,’ said Jim, ‘when she was a whore.’
‘You?’ asked Creegan.
Jim Dasher laughed, a single bark of embarrassment. ‘No. Not that way. I may not be first among those she would wish dead, but I am high on that list, no doubt.’
‘Really?’
Dasher nodded. ‘I sold her to the Keshian trader.’
Creegan let out a long sigh, and shook his head. ‘The things we do in the name of the greater good.’ Then he asked, ‘But it was you who arranged for Brother Mathias to intercede and rescue her from the Keshian, wasn’t it?’
‘I wish I could claim that were so,’ said Jim. He looked out the window again, this time into the distance and said, ‘My plan was for her to endure the company of that fat monster for a month, then I would have made contact with her and turn her to my purpose; I was going to promise her safe passage back to the Kingdom from Shamata and enough wealth to start a new life if she provided me with certain documents that were in the merchant’s possession.’
‘I never knew that,’ said Creegan. ‘I always thought it was all some elaborate plot to rid yourself of a Keshian spy and that Mathias just happened to recognize the girl’s quality.’
Jim barked out another laugh. ‘Zacanos Martias was as much a Keshian spy as you are. What he was, however, was a choking point for certain .…’ He paused. ‘Let’s just say that since his demise it’s been a lot easier for me to get certain things in and out of Kesh. I now deal directly with those whom Zacanos previously distanced me from.’ He drummed his fingers on the chair arm. ‘Still, I wish I had been able to get those documents from him. By the time my people got to his home in Shamata someone else had already been through his effects, leaving nothing of importance.’
‘Who, I wonder?’ asked the Father-Bishop.
‘The Imperial Keshian Intelligence Service,’ said Dasher. ‘Which, of course, doesn’t exist.’
‘What?’
Jim waved his hand. ‘Old family joke.’ He sighed. ‘As long as the Emperor is smart enough to leave his spies in the control of Ali Shek Azir Hazara-Khan, I have my work cut out for me.’ He sat forward, as if in discomfort. ‘That family has been responsible for more trouble between our two nations than any other single group of people.’
‘Why not simply have them removed?’ asked Creegan.
‘Well, to begin with it would constitute an act of war, and we need an excuse to bloody our noses against Kesh’s Dog Soldiers like a house fire needs a barrel of pitch. Secondly, it’s not how things are done in the espionage game; death is the last choice in all circumstances. And lastly, I really like Ali. He’s very funny with some wonderful tales, and he’s a very good gambler.’
‘Your world is one I can barely understand,’ admitted the prelate.
‘As is yours to me, Father, but sometimes the greater good demands that we trust one another.’
‘Obviously, or else you wouldn’t be here.’ The Father-Bishop stood. ‘I need to return to my office.’ As he walked his guest to the door he said, ‘If you didn’t engineer that encounter between Brother Mathias and the Keshian merchant, who did?’
‘You’d have to ask Sandreena what she recalls; if there was another player in the game, I have no idea who it might be.’
‘Perhaps it was simply the Goddess’s plan,’ said Creegan and Jim saw he was not being facetious.
Jim said, ‘I’ve seen too much in my life to believe anything involving the gods to be out of the question.’
Jim Dasher glanced out of the door and said, ‘I’ll try to be as inconspicuous on my way out as I was coming in.’
‘Then goodbye,’ said the Father-Bishop as Jim Dasher hurried down the short hallway that led to the southernmost stairs. Creegan knew there was a good chance, despite the busy Temple throng, that the agent of the Crown would manage to get cleanly away with no one noticing the scruffy looking commoner.
He sighed; things were becoming far too complex and he worried that the enormity of their undertaking was going to prove too much, even for the combined resources of the Crown and the Temple. He put aside the thought as best he could; there was no point in wasting time and energy on matters beyond his control. Better to trust the Goddess and move on to the day’s needs.
Creegan followed Jim Dasher