Jimmy and the Crawler (11 page)

William was frustrated. He had no idea what to do next. His normal sense of responsibility and duty was overlain by his rediscovered passion for Jazhara. He now knew she was the woman he was fated to love for the rest of his life. His budding romance with Talia the innkeeper’s daughter had taught him that love came in many forms, and that there were many worthy people deserving of that affection, but Jazhara was that special person who made his life complete. He had seen such a love between his mother and father who, despite being born on different worlds to profoundly different cultures, managed to bridge the gulf between them with a passion that still abided.

He would not lose that. For he knew that if he did, he would never find its like again.

He took a deep breath and one more time looked around the room.
What would Jimmy do?
he wondered.

J
AMES WINCED
.

‘Stop twitching. This is hard enough as it is,’ said Brother Eli.

James had arrived at the shrine of Ban-ath at sunrise, and behind it had found the monk asleep in his tiny shack. Now James lay face down on the monk’s disreputable bed. He vowed that his next votive offering to the God of Thieves would be bedding and a fresh blanket for the monk. Eli dug into him again with a needle and fished out another nasty wooden splinter. ‘There,’ he said triumphantly. ‘That’s the last of them.’

James started to rise but the monk’s beefy hand pushed him back down. ‘Let me put some unguent on those so they don’t fester. Some of those splinters went fairly deep, lad.’

The monk fetched out a jar from under a table piled high
with books and scrolls, and unscrewed its metal lid. The stench
that struck James was enough to make him jerk back. ‘What is that?’

‘It’s a concoction whose composition was taught to me by Brother Regis at the abbey outside Shamata. Mostly tallow with a healthy dose of sulphur and a bit of willowbark ground fine, some crushed moonflower seeds, and a bit of henbane to stop the pain.’

‘It stinks like a sewer, and I know sewers.’

‘As I well know, Jimmy the Hand.’ He started applying the ointment, dabbing it over each puncture.

‘Jimmy the Hand?’

Eli laughed. ‘A young noble from Krondor by the name of James comes skulking around asking about dark subjects, and you don’t think my curiosity is piqued? I appreciated the ale, lad, but also was wondering what you were doing here, so I had one of my acolytes watching you at the Jade Monkey. Every night, he says, this young court knight from Krondor comes skulking out of his window, drops down from the roof, and off he goes. Then he runs across rooftops, jumping from there to here and back. He lies down and watches, waiting, for what?

‘Then two nights back my boy says four riders come back all dressed in black with hooves muffled and gear tied in rags, and all stealthy-like they ride out of the city, and our young lord from Krondor is watching them like a hawk.’ Eli slapped James lightly on the shoulder. ‘Put on your tunic, lad. The stink will fade.’

‘Good, because right now you can smell me coming a block away.’ James sat up and put on his tunic. Moving his shoulders, he said, ‘Thank you, Brother Eli. The wounds do feel better.’

The monk put away the jar and continued, ‘So I’m thinking to myself, those must be assassins, those four riders. And while Durbin may be the most miserable hive of miscreants in the Empire, we are still the doorway to the Bitter Sea, and traders and travellers and sailors come through every day from all parts of the Western Realm. And you know what they bring?’

James shook his head with a slight smile.

‘Stories,’ answered the monk. ‘They bring tales of a boy-thief who saved the Prince of Krondor from the Nighthawks and was taken into his court. Oh, not all at once, you know. A bit here and a bit there, and not a few Mockers have wandered into my shrine over the years. You piece this bit and that bit together and after a while you have a story, don’t you?’

He sat down next to James and grinned. ‘Besides, if my master has a favourite, it has to be you, young sir.’

‘I’d like to think so,’ said James. ‘But he can be a difficult patron at times.’

‘Isn’t that the truth?’ said Eli. ‘The Trickster has his place in the scheme of things, you know. He’s a bit of a rogue and most of those visiting my shrine are ne’er-do-wells embarking on a caper, or those who fear thieves and mountebanks; but in the end, they’re all asking for his protection.’

James chuckled. ‘The bookie who gets his cut if he wins or loses, right?’

‘Something like that.’ The monk’s tone turned serious. ‘There are things coming, my young friend. Perhaps not in my lifetime, perhaps not even in yours, but some day things are coming that will threaten the very existence of life as we know it, and when that day arrives the best any of us can hope for is to be ready to confront the thing we fear the most.’

‘Which is?’

‘Ourselves, young Lord James.’

James smiled. ‘Not a lord . . . yet,’ he added with a wry twist. ‘One day perhaps, but for the moment it’s Sir James, or if you like, Jimmy.’

Putting his hand on James’s shoulder, Eli said, ‘Well, Jimmy, your reputation precedes you. So if all you need is my help in removing a few splinters, you’ve got it. If you have secrets to keep, that is your right. But if I can be of further service . . .’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You were asking a lot of questions about demons the other day.’

‘I have my reasons,’ replied James.

‘I have no doubt,’ said Brother Eli. ‘I have learned years ago that my master is among the most difficult of gods to serve, as he’s an aspect of life that most people would not care to consider most of the time. The random nature of Ban-ath’s acts tends to unnerve those who think the universe flows in an orderly, natural pattern.

‘But I have learned since my acolyte days that the universe is far more complicated than any of us will ever understand and the roles of our gods are not necessarily what we think them to be at times. Demons are by nature . . . well, they’re not natural,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Or at least not in this realm. They come from somewhere else and don’t belong here.’

‘Then why do they want to be here?’ asked James.

‘You mean the ones that aren’t summoned?’

James nodded.

‘No one knows, or at least no one who’s written anything on the subject. I did a little poking around after our last conversation and I have a friend who’s a prior at the Temple of Dala. They’re among the most keen demon-hunters in the world: their Order of the Shield of the Weak specializes in ridding this world of demons.’ He rose and reached over to his cluttered shelf and pulled down a small book. It was leather-bound and ancient. ‘He lent me this.’

‘What is it?’ asked James.

‘A little tome penned by a monk named Auric of Tyr-Sog, copied several times by the order of Dala. This is the prior’s personal copy which I shall shortly return to him.’

‘Anything interesting in it?’

‘Two things, really. One is an attempt at a taxonomy of demons, which isn’t half bad once you learn to ignore the terrible writing and love of flowery description. The second is a reference to an ancient Keshian text reputedly in the library in Queg, the title of which loosely translates as
The Large Great Book of Demons
.’ He held out his hands. ‘I think it means it’s both a large book and great with details.’

‘Next time I’m in Queg I’ll give it a glance,’ said James, wincing slightly as he moved his left arm. ‘Don’t suppose you have anything for a banged-up shoulder, do you?’

‘Not among my skills, sorry to say.’

‘Don’t think anything’s broken, but I thumped that arm and almost dislocated my shoulder.’

‘Let me look.’ He gently reached over and touched James’s shoulder. Then he gripped it hard, one hand on the front, the other on the back of the joint, and twisted. There was a loud pop, followed almost instantly by James gasping in pain. ‘Nothing almost, lad. That was a partial dislocation, and I’ve set a few. Many of our master’s followers have a nasty habit of falling off roofs or walls and the like.’

James rubbed his sore shoulder and forced himself back to the subject in hand. ‘The book?’

‘Yes, it details a bit more of what I was telling you, about the different types of demons.’ The monk seemed almost enthusiastic. ‘There are three general types, as I said: the big physical monsters that get summoned, a few of whom even have their own magic, and those that seize the bodies of humans and take them over. And there are those that can shape change, and look like humans.’

‘Shape change?’

‘A few. From what I’ve been told that’s a very difficult magic. Usually, they cast a glamour, to fool the eye.’

James shook his head. ‘Seems to me that the spell that would do that would be big enough for a good magician to detect.’

‘I would expect so, too, but then we’re not talking human magic here, are we?’

James sat back. ‘Tell me more about those spirit demons that take over humans.’

‘Well, let’s see,’ said the monk, thumbing through the small book. ‘It says here, once they take over a human they become very difficult to kill. Seems it’s partly to do with the magic and partly that they don’t care how much damage the human takes because it’s not their body. If the host dies, they flee.’

‘Flee? Where?’

‘Some speculation on that subject, but most sources suggest they return to the lower hells. They have to have a second living host nearby to leave the first one and move to another; again, this is mostly speculation.’

James said, ‘So, difficult to kill and . . . That doesn’t leave the host any happy outcome, does it?’

‘Not unless you’ve got a banishment spell and can confine the host safely. Then an exorcism will drive it out.’

James remembered the demon that was banished in the basement below Lucky Pete’s in Krondor. ‘I’ve seen a banishment. Is it like that?’

‘Something like that. You have to bind the human host, to protect it, then a priest can banish the demon and save the host. Some of the better-trained members of the Order of the Shield of the Weak can, as well.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘Though truth to tell, they’re a fair lot for just bashing first and asking questions second.’

James mulled this over, then asked, ‘Anyone in the city with the skills?’

‘Certainly,’ said Eli. ‘My friend the prior to start with, and maybe three or four others.’

‘That’s good to know,’ said James, standing.

‘One more thing about the exorcism,’ added Eli.

‘What?’

‘If the demon’s been inside too long, there’s not much of the host left. The body may be fine, but the mind . . .’ He grimaced. ‘Living as a drooling, mindless creature, or death; I’ll leave it to you to decide which is the kinder fate.’ He paused, then added, ‘And there was one story of a demon killed by a Knight-Adamant of Sung; it possessed the head of a very powerful family in Kesh by taking over a merchant who then mysteriously died while serving the son of the noble, who some time later died alone in his father’s company. Caused a stir when the knight stormed in and killed the father, but when people saw the demon flee – big cloud of smoke and stench – then considered the untimely deaths . . .’ He shrugged. ‘But we’re still left with the why of it, aren’t we? What did the demon want?’

James looked at Brother Eli and said, ‘Thank you. When this is done, I’m going to send you something, but for the moment this will have to do.’ He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a gold coin and handed it to the monk.

‘A sovereign,’ said Eli with a smile. ‘Not a small gift.’

‘There’ll be more. One more thing. Tell me, why is there no organization to the thieves here? Nothing like the Ragged Brotherhood or the Mockers?’

‘Long story,’ said Eli. ‘But the short of it is, over the years the governors of Durbin and the Captains of the Coast were pretty brutal in killing off the competition, as it were. So the thieves and bashers, the whores and pickpockets, well, they just go it alone or find a patron.’

‘Patron?’

‘A particularly powerful merchant who puts the word out that this lad or that girl is his, and anyone who messes with them has a price to pay. Each ship’s captain, each bandit chief, they have their boys and girls around the city. You thinking of reaching out from Krondor for the Mockers?’

James laughed. ‘Let’s say I’m not on the best of terms with my former brethren.’ He thought for a minute, then added, ‘Can you find me a couple of smart, trustworthy lads?’

‘I can.’

‘One’s a fast rider?’

‘As well.’

‘Good,’ said James. ‘First I’d like a lad to amble over to the Jade Monkey and poke around a bit. He’s not to say anything about who sent him, but just look around. I want to know if business has returned to normal and the girl known as Jade is well, then he’s to seek out my companions, or at least rumour of their whereabouts, should he not see them at the Jade Monkey.

‘Then send that rider to the oasis three days to the south-west and pass a note to whichever Hazara-Khan noble happens to be in charge.’ He glanced around. ‘You have pen and parchment?’

‘I do,’ said the monk, indicating the desk.

James handed him a half-dozen silver coins, then took up pen and parchment and scribbled a long note, then folded it and folded it again. ‘Your rider needs to leave now and with all haste get this to the family of Lord Hazara-Khan at the Bal-Shala oasis.’

Eli stood up. ‘I shall see to it at once, young sir. And where will I find you should the boy encounter your friends?’

James said, ‘If you have no objections, I’ll wait here a while.’

The monk nodded and James lay back down on the bed, trying to find some ease for the still-aching shoulder and sharp splinter wounds, despite the stench in the hovel. As sleep sought to overtake him, he redoubled his vow to send new bedding to Brother Eli as soon as possible.