standing behind the others.
“Why?” asked Erik. Assuming no one in the room was ignorant of the coming invasion, he still didn’t want to betray anything Lord James wanted kept secret.
“Nothing to do with the coming troubles,” said Calis. He glanced pointedly at the priest, which Erik took to mean the man was not fully trusted.
“A personal matter,” suggested Lord James.
Erik wasn’t sure what he meant, for a moment, then realization struck. “Mathilda,” he whispered. He sank back into the bed. His father’s widow, mother to his murdered half brother, who had vowed revenge on Erik and Roo, had sent someone to see the matter disposed of.
“They were coming after Roo next,” said Erik.
“That’s logical,” said James.
“Who was the other man, the quiet one?” asked Erik as James helped him to sit upright. Nausea struck him, his head rang, and his eyes watered, but he stayed conscious.
“We don’t know,” answered Calis. “He got out of the inn while we were subduing Dubois.”
“You captured him?” asked Erik.
“Yes,” answered James. “Last night.” He indicated Kitty. “When she left the inn to fetch some of my agents, then returned to find you on the floor, she surmised at once what was going on. She hurried down to the nearest temple and brought a priest to heal you.”
“Half dragged, you mean,” said the nameless priest.
James smiled. “My men took Dubois to the palace and we questioned him all night. We’re certain the late Baron of Darkmoor’s widow sent him after you.” James raised one eyebrow and motioned with his head toward the cleric.
Erik said nothing. He knew the Lady Gamina, James’s wife, could read minds, which was why they were certain who had sent the assassin. No confession was needed.
The priest said, “I think you should rest. The magic that cleansed your body of the poison didn’t reverse the damage already done you. You will need at least a week of bed rest and a bland diet.”
“Thank you, Father . . . ? ” began Erik.
“Father Andrew,” answered the priest. He nodded once to the Duke and left without further comment.
Erik said, “That’s an odd priest. I don’t recognize his regalia.”
“I would find it strange if you did, Erik,” answered the Duke as he moved toward the door. “Andrew is a priest of the order of Ban-ath. Their shrine is the closest to this inn.”
The god of thieves was not one commonly worshipped by most citizens. There were two holidays when small votive offerings were made to protect thehome, as an appeasement, but mostly those who frequented the temple were on the dodgy path, as it was called. It was rumored the Mockers’ Guild sent a tithe to the temple each year.
James said, “I’m going to leave you now. You stay here a couple of days, then you’ve got to get that happy little band of cutthroats we’ve recruited for you up into the mountains and teach them what they need to know.”
Erik glanced around. “Where is here?”
“My room,” said Kitty.
“No,” said Erik, trying to rise. He almost fainted from the effort. “Give me a little while to catch my breath and I’ll get back to the palace.”
Calis turned to leave. “Stay here.”
“I’ve slept with worse company,” said Kitty. “I won’t mind a pallet on the floor.”
Erik tried to protest, but fatigue was making it hard to keep his eyes open.
He heard Calis say something to Kitty, but couldn’t remember what it was. During the night, chills racked his body for a few minutes, until a warm body slipped into bed with him and he felt reassuring arms encircle his waist. But when he awoke in the morning he was alone.
Erik rode in silence. His strength was slowly returning after a few days in bed, and a week in the saddle. Since leaving Krondor he had left it to Alfred to bully the men, doing little more than give instructions to Alfred and another corporal named Nolan. He had inspected fortifications only once or twice.
“Why?” asked Erik. Assuming no one in the room was ignorant of the coming invasion, he still didn’t want to betray anything Lord James wanted kept secret.
“Nothing to do with the coming troubles,” said Calis. He glanced pointedly at the priest, which Erik took to mean the man was not fully trusted.
“A personal matter,” suggested Lord James.
Erik wasn’t sure what he meant, for a moment, then realization struck. “Mathilda,” he whispered. He sank back into the bed. His father’s widow, mother to his murdered half brother, who had vowed revenge on Erik and Roo, had sent someone to see the matter disposed of.
“They were coming after Roo next,” said Erik.
“That’s logical,” said James.
“Who was the other man, the quiet one?” asked Erik as James helped him to sit upright. Nausea struck him, his head rang, and his eyes watered, but he stayed conscious.
“We don’t know,” answered Calis. “He got out of the inn while we were subduing Dubois.”
“You captured him?” asked Erik.
“Yes,” answered James. “Last night.” He indicated Kitty. “When she left the inn to fetch some of my agents, then returned to find you on the floor, she surmised at once what was going on. She hurried down to the nearest temple and brought a priest to heal you.”
“Half dragged, you mean,” said the nameless priest.
James smiled. “My men took Dubois to the palace and we questioned him all night. We’re certain the late Baron of Darkmoor’s widow sent him after you.” James raised one eyebrow and motioned with his head toward the cleric.
Erik said nothing. He knew the Lady Gamina, James’s wife, could read minds, which was why they were certain who had sent the assassin. No confession was needed.
The priest said, “I think you should rest. The magic that cleansed your body of the poison didn’t reverse the damage already done you. You will need at least a week of bed rest and a bland diet.”
“Thank you, Father . . . ? ” began Erik.
“Father Andrew,” answered the priest. He nodded once to the Duke and left without further comment.
Erik said, “That’s an odd priest. I don’t recognize his regalia.”
“I would find it strange if you did, Erik,” answered the Duke as he moved toward the door. “Andrew is a priest of the order of Ban-ath. Their shrine is the closest to this inn.”
The god of thieves was not one commonly worshipped by most citizens. There were two holidays when small votive offerings were made to protect thehome, as an appeasement, but mostly those who frequented the temple were on the dodgy path, as it was called. It was rumored the Mockers’ Guild sent a tithe to the temple each year.
James said, “I’m going to leave you now. You stay here a couple of days, then you’ve got to get that happy little band of cutthroats we’ve recruited for you up into the mountains and teach them what they need to know.”
Erik glanced around. “Where is here?”
“My room,” said Kitty.
“No,” said Erik, trying to rise. He almost fainted from the effort. “Give me a little while to catch my breath and I’ll get back to the palace.”
Calis turned to leave. “Stay here.”
“I’ve slept with worse company,” said Kitty. “I won’t mind a pallet on the floor.”
Erik tried to protest, but fatigue was making it hard to keep his eyes open.
He heard Calis say something to Kitty, but couldn’t remember what it was. During the night, chills racked his body for a few minutes, until a warm body slipped into bed with him and he felt reassuring arms encircle his waist. But when he awoke in the morning he was alone.
Erik rode in silence. His strength was slowly returning after a few days in bed, and a week in the saddle. Since leaving Krondor he had left it to Alfred to bully the men, doing little more than give instructions to Alfred and another corporal named Nolan. He had inspected fortifications only once or twice.
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