Rage of a Demon King. Raymond E. Feist
campaign since the Riftwar, and one never matched before.’
‘How many men under arms do you think?’
‘I’m speculating,’ said Erik. ‘But at least fifty, sixty thousand more than the current armies of the East and West.’
‘That’s close to a hundred thousand men!’ said Roo. ‘Do we have that many?’
‘No.’ Erik shook his head. ‘We have twenty thousand in all the Armies of the West, including the ten thousand directly under the Prince’s command. The Armies of the East number more, but many of them are honor garrisons. With our long-term peace with Roldem, the other eastern kingdoms are calm, not willing to try anything without Roldem distracting us.’ Erik shrugged. ‘Too much time spent with Lord William, I guess, talking strategy … We now must start building for the battle here.’ With a shake of his head he said softly, ‘We lost too many of our key men on our last trips to Novindus.’
Roo nodded. ‘There is a large debt to be repaid to that green bitch.’ Then he sighed audibly. ‘And a huge billing to finance it.’
Erik smiled. ‘Our Duke is getting into your pocket?’
Roo returned the smile, though his was far more wry. ‘Not yet. He’s made it clear that taxes will remain reasonable because he expects me to underwrite a large portion of the coming fight and to convince others, like Jacob Esterbrook, to provide funds as well.’
Mentioning Esterbrook, Roo again thought of his daughter, Sylvia, Roo’s mistress for the better part of a year before his sailing to rescue Erik, Calis, and the others. He had seen her only once since returning two weeks ago, and he was planning on seeing her tonight; he ached for her. ‘I think I should call upon Jacob soon,’ he said as if the thought had just come to him. ‘If he and I together agree to participate in financing the war, no one else of importance in the Kingdom would refuse the Prince’s request.’ Dryly he added, ‘After all, if we fail in this, repayment of loans will be the last of our worries.’ Then he whispered in a somber tone, ‘Assuming we can worry about anything.’
Erik nodded noncommittally. He had to admit that Roo had proven beyond any doubt he understood matters of finance far better than Erik and, should his phenomenal success be any indication, better than most of the businessmen in the Kingdom.
Roo said, ‘I should make my excuses to the Prince and get about my own business. I suspect those of us here who are not part of your military inner circle will be asked to find other things to go do soon, anyway.’
Erik took his hand. ‘I think you’re right.’ Other nobles, not part of the military, were presenting themselves to the Prince. Roo left his boyhood friend and joined the line of those begging the Prince’s leave to depart, and soon only the Prince, his senior advisers, and members of the military remained.
When Owen Greylock entered, Patrick said, ‘We’re now all here.’
Knight-Marshal William motioned for them to gather around a circular table at the far end of the room. Duke James sat to his Prince’s right, and William to the left.
It was the Duke who began. ‘Well, now that the pomp is over, we can get back to the bloody work ahead of us.’
Erik sat back and listened to the plans for the final defense of the Kingdom begin to take shape.
Roo reached the gate where his horse was waiting for him. He had left his carriage at home for his wife’s use, for he had moved his family to an estate outside the gates of the city. While he preferred the convenience of his town house, across the street from Barret’s Coffee House – where most of his business day was spent – the country house offered a tranquillity he couldn’t have imagined before the move. He had grounds for hunting if he chose, and a stream with fish, and all the other advantages granted to the nobility and rich commoners. He knew he would have to find time soon to enjoy those pastimes.
Not yet twenty-three years of age, Roo Avery was the father of two, one of the richest merchants in the Kingdom, and privy to secrets shared by few. The country house was also a hedge, as the gamblers called it, a place from which his family could escape the oncoming invasion to safer refuge to the east before the mob fled the city, trampling everything in its path. Roo had endured the destruction of Maharta, the distant city crushed three years before by the armies of the Emerald Queen. He had been forced to fight his way through the mass of panic-stricken citizens, had seen innocents die because they were in the wrong place. He vowed he would spare his children that horror, no matter what else might come.
He knew what he had been told, years before, along with the rest of Calis’s company, on the shore of that distant land called Novindus, that should the Kingdom of the Isles not prevail, all life as they knew it would cease on Midkemia. He still couldn’t accept that deep within, but he acted as if it were true. He had seen too many things on his trip south to know that even if the Captain’s claims were overblown, life under the yoke of the Emerald Queen’s advancing army would bring only a choice between death and slavery.
He also knew that if that event should come to pass which the Captain warned of, the invading army reaching some unnamed goal, then whatever preparations he made would be meaningless. But short of that, he was determined to take whatever steps necessary to keep his wife and children alive and away from harm. He had purchased a town house in Salador, presently used by an agent he had hired to run his affairs in the Eastern Realm, and he would probably buy another in the city of Ran, on the Kingdom’s eastern frontier. He was next going to inquire of foreign agents in the East about the availability of property in distant Roldem, the island kingdom most closely allied with the Kingdom of the Isles.
Gathering his thoughts, he realized he was halfway to his office. He had told Karli he would spend the night at the town house, claiming that the affairs at the palace would force him to work late into the night. The truth was he was going to send a message to Sylvia Esterbrook, asking to see her tonight. Since returning from rescuing Erik and the others, he had thought of little else. Images of her body haunted his dreams, and memories of her scent and the soft feel of her skin made him unable to think of more important things. The one night he had spent with her after his return only reinforced his hunger to be with her.
He reached his office and rode through the gate, past workmen hurriedly attempting to finish the improvements to the property he had ordered when first back from his sea voyage. A second story was being added to the old warehouse, a loft, actually, where he could conduct business without being on the busy warehouse floor. His staff was growing and he needed more room. He had already made an offer for a piece of property adjoining his at the rear, and would have to completely tear down an old block of apartments rented to workmen and their families, and then build new facilities. He paid too much, he knew, but he was desperate for the space.
He dismounted and motioned for one of the workers to take his horse. ‘Give him some hay; no grain,’ he instructed as he made his way past wagons being loaded and unloaded. ‘Then saddle another horse and have it ready for me.’ Workers repairing broken wheels and replacing shoes on draft animals set up a raucous hammering, and men shouted instructions to one another across the floor.
Overseeing the chaos were two men, Luis de Savona, Roo’s companion from the early days of Calis’s ‘company of desperate men,’ and Jason, a former waiter at Barret’s who had been the first there to befriend Roo, and who was also a genius with figures.
Roo smiled. ‘Where’s Duncan?’
Luis shrugged. ‘Abed with some whore, probably.’
It was midday, and Roo shook his head. His cousin was reliable in certain ways, but in others he had no sense of loyalty. Still, there were only a handful of men in the world Roo would trust at his back in a knife fight, and Duncan was one of them.
‘What news?’ asked Roo.
Jason held out a large document. ‘Our attempt to establish a regular route to Great Kesh is “under consideration,” according to this very wordy document that just arrived from the Keshian Trade Legate’s office. We are, however, welcome to bid on odd jobs as they come to our attention.’