Krondor: Tear of the Gods. Raymond E. Feist
he shouted after the fleeing child.
‘We have to stop him,’ said Jazhara. ‘Besides a few coins, my purse has items which could prove fatal to a child.’
James didn’t hesitate.
He knew the city as well as any man, and after a moment’s pursuit, he slowed. ‘What is it?’ asked Jazhara.
‘If memory serves, he just ducked into a dead end.’
They turned into the alley after the cutpurse and saw no sign of him.
‘He’s gone!’ Jazhara exclaimed.
James laughed. ‘Not quite.’
He moved to what looked to be some heavy crates, and reached around behind them, pulling away a piece of cloth tacked to the back. With a quick motion, in case the young thief was inclined to use the blade to defend himself, James snatched a thin arm.
‘Let me go!’ shouted a young girl who looked no older than ten, dressed in rags. She dropped her blade and Jazhara’s purse on the cobbles.
James knew it was a ruse to get him to release her arm and pick up the purse, so he held firm. ‘If you’re going to be a thief, you must learn who to mark and who to leave be.’
He turned to block her path if she tried to run and held her arm loosely. Kneeling so that he was at eye level with her, he asked, ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’
Quickly sensing that this man and woman weren’t trying to harm her, the girl relaxed slightly. ‘Nita,’ she said with a tiny hint of defiance. ‘Mommy called me that after Prince ’Rutha’s wife, ’Nita.’
James couldn’t help but smile. He knew Princess Anita would be flattered to hear of that tiny honour. ‘I’m Squire James, and this is Jazhara, the court mage.’
The girl seemed less than reassured at being confronted by two members of the court. ‘Are you going to take me to jail?’
‘James,’ said Jazhara, ‘you’re not going to put this child in jail, are you?’
With mock seriousness, James said, ‘By rights I should. A dangerous criminal like this preying on innocent people at night!’
The child’s eyes widened slightly, but she stood unafraid and didn’t flinch. James softened his tone. ‘No, child. We’ll not put you in jail. There’s a place we could take you, if you like. It’s called the Sign of the Yellow Shield. They take care of children like you.’
The reaction was instantaneous. ‘No! No! You’re just like the other men. You’re just like the bad men!’ She struck at James’s face with her free hand, and tried to pull away.
James hung on. ‘Hold on! Hold it! Stop hitting me for a minute.’
The girl ceased hitting him, but still kept tugging. James slowly let go of her arm and held up his hands, palms out, showing that he was not going to grab her again. ‘Look, Nita, if you want to stay here that’s fine. We’re not going to hurt you,’ he said softly.
Jazhara asked, ‘Who were you talking about, Nita? Who were the bad men?’
The girl looked up at the mage and said, ‘They say they’re like the Yellow Shield, and all good children go with them, but they hurt me!’ Her eyes started to fill with tears, but her voice was firm.
James asked, ‘How did they hurt you?’
Nita looked at the former boy-thief and said, ‘They took me to the big house, and they locked me in a cage, like all the other children. Then they told me to dye cloth for Yusuf, or else they’d beat me, and some of the other children, the bad children, they took and they never came back and there were rats and squirmy things in our food and—’
‘This is horrible,’ said Jazhara. ‘We must act on this “Yusuf,” but first we must care for Nita.’
‘Well, I suppose we could take her to the palace,’ began James, turning to look at Jazhara.
It was the chance the girl had waited for. As soon as James looked away from her, she was off, sprinting down the alley towards the street.
James stood and watched her turn the corner, knowing that he could probably chase her down, but deciding not to. Jazhara stared at James with an unspoken question in her eyes. James said, ‘I told her she could stay with us if she wanted to.’
Jazhara nodded. ‘Then you will do something about this?’
James leaned down to pick up Jazhara’s purse. He dusted it off and as he handed it to her he said, ‘Of course I will. I grew up on these streets. This isn’t about duty; it’s personal.’
Jazhara turned away from the palace and started walking back the way they had come.
‘Hey!’ said James, hurrying to catch up. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Unless this Yusuf lives in the palace, we need to go deeper into this poor section of the city, I am guessing.’
‘Good guess,’ said James. ‘There’s a dyer named Yusuf up in what’s called “Stink Town,” to the north – it’s where all the tanners, slaughterhouses, and other aromatic businesses are housed. But now?’
Looking at James with a resolute expression, Jazhara said, ‘We can’t start any sooner, can we?’
‘Apparently not,’ replied James. Then he grinned.
James kept his eyes moving, peering into every shadow, while Jazhara gazed resolutely forward, as if fixed upon a goal. As they walked purposefully through the Poor Quarter of Krondor, Jazhara said, ‘Do you expect trouble?’
‘Constantly,’ answered James, glancing down a side-street they were passing.
The rising stench in the air told them they were close to their destination, the area of the Poor Quarter given over to those businesses best kept downwind. ‘Where do you think this Yusuf resides?’
James said, ‘The cloth-makers are all located at the end of this street, and along two others nearby.’ Turning to look at Jazhara, he said, ‘You realize, of course, that the place will almost certainly be closed for the night?’
Jazhara smiled. ‘Which will give us an opportunity to look around unnoticed, correct?’
James smiled back. ‘I like the way you think, Jazhara.’
Several times along the way they passed individuals hurrying by; the city was never truly asleep. Those who passed cast appraising glances at the pair, either as potential threats – or as possible victims.
They reached an intersection and glanced in both directions. Off to the left, all was quiet, but to James’s surprise down the street to the right a few places were still obviously open for business. ‘The dyers’ trade must be very profitable for these establishments to be conducting business all night.’
‘Or they’re paying nothing for their labour,’ said Jazhara as they passed one such open establishment. The door was ajar and a quick glance inside indicated there was nothing suspicious taking place; a dyer and others – obviously members of his family – were busy preparing a large shipment of cloth. Most likely it was to be delivered at dawn to tailors who had ordered the material.
They moved along the dimly-lit street until they reached a large, two-storey building, before which stood a large man with a sword at his belt. He watched with a neutral expression as James and Jazhara approached.
James asked, ‘What is this place?’
The guard answered, ‘This is the shop of the honourable Yusuf ben Ali, the illustrious cloth merchant.’
Jazhara asked, ‘Is he in?’
‘No. Now, if that’s all, you’ll excuse me.’ Since the guard showed no sign of leaving, it was clear that he expected James and Jazhara to move along.
James