Jimmy the Hand (47 page)

‘Minstrels?’
Flora said.

Jimmy cocked an
eye: evidently she’d watched how Lorrie handled the reins,
because she was managing the dog-cart with easy competence.

Jarvis Coe
chuckled. ‘I think young Jimmy is thinking of how the hero gets
the girl, the gold and half the kingdom,’ he said.

‘Instead
of which, Bram Blockhead does,’ Jimmy said. Flora sighed, and
he rolled an eye at her. ‘What sort of baron do you think he’ll
make?’ he asked Coe.

Coe shrugged.
‘Better than the last, if the court and the Duke find for him.
There are plenty of witnesses that he’s Baroness Elaine’s
lost son—and it’ll be convenient to have a local man,
after the way Bernarr ran the holding into the ground and neglected
his duty. Duke Sutherland paid no heed because he spends most of his
days in Rillanon, rather than the western court, and the Baron paid
his taxes on time. I think with Guy du Bas-Tyra in Krondor, a more
critical gaze will settle on Land’s End. Great Kesh is close: a
strong man’s needed here. Young Bram might have the makings of
a hero.’

Jimmy shrugged.
‘Some hero,’ he said. ‘Oh, he looks the part—but
what did he do? Get knocked on the head, get tied up, and get rescued
by . . .’

‘By a pair
of boys, four girls, a thief, and a witch-finder who officially
doesn’t exist,’ Flora said tartly. ‘Still, I think
Bram’s sweet.’

‘Girls,’
Jimmy said, and then laughed. ‘Maybe I’m a
hero-in-training, then.’

‘Or a
witch-finder,’ Coe suggested. ‘You show a lot of talent,
Jimmy. I could use an apprentice . . .’

Jimmy shuddered
and raised a hand. ‘Oh, thank you, but that’s far too
much of an honour. I respect your goddess—and look forward to
meeting her,
many
years from now.’

‘Well, if
you change your mind, send word to the Temple. I have to go looking
for that magician, and could use some help.’

‘Where do
you think he is?’

‘Out there
somewhere,’ answered Coe. ‘Getting ready to cause
trouble.’ He glanced at Flora, who was watching Jimmy, then
said to the boy, ‘There are things in the world, my young
friend, you may never appreciate. Like the distant war with the
Tsurani in the west. You might hear about them, and they may have
some bearing on your life, but you may remain blissfully ignorant of
most of what occurs. But you also may find yourself confronting some
aspect of a struggle that I can’t begin to imagine myself, let
alone tell you about.

‘That
magician, that Lyman Malachy, was no chance visitor to the manor on
the night Bram was born. Why he was here, at this place, on that
night, may forever be a mystery, but I can tell you this much.

‘He or
someone else like him will return to cause more evil. At the end, I
sensed dark spirits in that house. Whatever the Baron thought would
happen, I fear something else far more dire would have occurred. I
think perhaps there was another agent of evil waiting to possess the
Lady Elaine’s body at the critical moment.

‘There are
dark forces loose in the world, my friend; dark forces which benefit
from blood, murder and chaos. We could use a bright lad such as
yourself in facing that evil.’

Jimmy laughed
ruefully. ‘Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to something a
little less dangerous, like stealing gold from under the nose of
sleeping dragons.’

‘You could
stay with m— with us, Jimmy,’ Flora said.

The young thief
cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed.

‘I don’t
think I’m cut out to be your . . . foster-brother,’ he
said cheerfully. ‘And if I stayed, you’d have me helping
old ladies across the street, and slaying demons, and Ruthia knows
what else! Besides, what would your aunt’s Captain Karl find
for me to do? Cabin-boy, puking up my guts watch after watch?’

Flora and Coe
laughed at that.

‘What will
you do, then?’ Jarvis asked curiously.

‘Go back
to Krondor—and by land!’ Jimmy said.

Coe laughed.
‘Then turn your horse around, my friend, because you’re
heading in the wrong direction.’

Jimmy blinked
like an owl caught in lantern-light. Then he laughed. ‘I knew
that!’ he shouted, and clapped his heels to the horse as he
turned it around. ‘Fare well, friends! If you ever get back to
Krondor, Flora, you know where to find me!’

She halted the
dog-cart and stood up, waving. ‘That I do, Jimmy the Hand!’

‘And no
offence, Master Coe, but I will sleep better if we never cross paths
again!’

Coe laughed.
‘Fare thee well, youngster!’

They both stared
after him for a long time, as the hooves faded into the distance,
beating a tune that echoed back from cliffs to sea. ‘Do you
think he’ll get home safely?’ asked Coe.

Flora laughed.
‘And with gold in his pockets, too, I’ll guarantee.’

‘Gold?’

Urging the horse
forward, she grinned. ‘He’ll dodge Bram and Lorrie and
the kids in the wagon, circle around through the woods, then revisit
the manor on his way back home. If Bram returns to find a silver
candlestick or any of Lady Elaine’s jewels still there, then I
don’t know Jimmy.’

Jarvis Coe
laughed and moved his horse in beside the cart. ‘I hope that
boy finds a different calling in life. It would be a shame to see him
end his days at the end of a rope.’

Flora laughed
again. ‘That’ll never happen, Master Coe. I don’t
know what will happen to him, but I’ll wager my life that no
hangman will ever get his rope around the neck of Jimmy the Hand!’

They rode on.

The Daymaster
looked up.

A half-sized
door—one which most members of the Mockers didn’t know
about—swung open. It was hidden in the stonework, disguised by
the dark edges and the dim light, one had to know it was there to
find it.

A small figure
loomed up out of the darkness. The corner of the huge basement under
the brothel known as Mother’s or Mocker’s Rest was
reserved for the Daymaster or Nightmaster and their immediate
subordinates and given wide berth by most other Mockers until they
were called in.

The Daymaster
suppressed a chuckle. ‘Well, young Jimmy the Hand,’ he
observed, ‘back so soon?’

‘I had
cause,’ Jimmy said. ‘Enough time has passed, hasn’t
it?’ he added, taking a wooden chair across the table from the
Daymaster.

‘That
depends,’ said the Daymaster. ‘There’s still a
swarm of crushers out and about looking to find out who did what over
at the castle. Duke Guy is back in triumph from routing the Keshians
in the Vale of Dreams, and no one has heard of the crew of the
Royal
Griffin,
so must be thinking ol’ Jocko Radburn got himself
drowned, if that’s not a pipe-dream. Del Garza has managed to
shift most of the blame for everything on to Radburn.’ He
lowered his voice, as if not wishing to be overheard, which was
somewhat theatrical, since they were alone deep in the bowels of
Mother’s. ‘Rumour is Prince Erland lies dying and Guy was
fit to be tied learning that the Prince had been tossed in the
dungeon, but del Garza laid that one at Jocko’s feet, too, so
it looks as if no one will suffer much for it. Except the Prince, of
course. So, things are a bit quieter, but you’d still better
have something for the Upright Man to salve his anger, given all the
trouble you caused at the castle.’

Jimmy reached
into his tunic and pulled out a small pouch. ‘Two hundred gold
sovereigns,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Will that help?’

The Daymaster
nodded so that his jowls jiggled as he spoke. ‘That’s a
right good start. It’ll keep him from tossing you in the bay, I
suspect, but you’d better have something more to add to the
kitty else you’re still going to the Bashers for coming back
early.’

Jimmy sat back
in the wooden chair and beamed.

The Daymaster
couldn’t help but return the infectious grin. ‘There’s
something up that sleeve of yours, young Jimmy, I have no doubt.
Let’s have it.’

‘Remember
Gerem the Snake?’

‘Gerem
Benton? For certs. What about him?’

‘He was
running a gang of thief-catchers for the old Baron of Land’s
End.’

The Daymaster
sat back. ‘Thought old Gerem was dead.’

Jimmy said, ‘I
think he wanted it that way when he left Krondor. Had his own little
operation down there, and his thief-catchers were pretty much running
things. They arrested anyone dodgy who came to Land’s End, but
ran their own dodges on the side, so the Baron’s men thought
they needed to keep Gerem around. I tumbled the new Baron to the scam
and he rewarded me with the gold. So, I just put him and his mob out
of business.’

Jimmy thought it
best not to mention that the ‘new Baron’ was a farm boy
who hadn’t yet been approved by the King’s court in
Rillanon, and that the ‘reward’ had come without Bram’s
knowledge as Jimmy had pilfered quite a number of valuables from the
unguarded manor house the night after everyone thought he had left
Land’s End. He had taken what he could carry and easily dispose
of; a brace of silver candlesticks and a handsome dagger owned by one
of Bernarr’s ancestors; and he had agonized for a long time
over which pieces of Lady Elaine’s jewels to lift and which to
leave behind for Bram to give to Lorrie. He was still puzzled by what
Coe had told him about the dead lady’s part in the events of
that last night, but his sense of debt to her outweighed his greed
and so he had stolen only a little from her. He had found eager
buyers before reaching Krondor for the valuables, so by the time he
entered the city he hadn’t had to deal with any of the local
fences.

He had ridden in
wearing a fancy coat and clean shirt, and the guards at the gate were
far more interested in ruffians and thieves trying to leave the city
than in a well-to-do lad from Land’s End arriving for a visit.
He had sold the horse and saddle, so now all he had to show for his
adventure was a fancy hat, coat, and another bag of gold he wasn’t
sharing with the Upright Man.

The Daymaster
studied Jimmy for a long moment, then said, ‘So what you’re
saying is Land’s End is ripe for a well-spotted gang to move
in?’

‘Exactly,’
said Jimmy, trying hard not to look too smug and failing miserably.

The Daymaster
chuckled. ‘Well, I’ll speak to the Upright Man about it.
Seems a good enough price for forgiveness if you brought us an entire
town to run. Nicely situated, too, right there near the border with
Kesh. You head out for your crib and lie low for a couple of days and
if he says no, I’ll send you word on how much longer you have
to hide out. Another month or two, I reckon. But if he says “good
enough”, do you want to head back to Land’s End with the
gang and help set it up?’

Jimmy got up out
of the chair swiftly. ‘No, thanks,’ he answered. ‘I’ll
stick to Krondor. Here, there are only crushers, guardsmen, soldiers
and the occasional merchant with a knife to concern myself with.
Child’s play. Country life is just a little too dangerous for
my liking.’

With that, the
boy thief turned his back on the Daymaster and returned to the
sewers. Jimmy took a deep breath as he slogged down the filthy brick
tunnel, and felt safely back in the place he counted as home. He knew
the Upright Man would make him lay up for another week or so, just to
ensure Jimmy didn’t mistake who was running the city, but he
knew that there were purses to cut, and rooms to burgle and the Guild
always was hungry for its cut. Sooner or later the word would arrive
and Jimmy the Hand would return to his trade. He’d had enough
of aiding princesses and farm girls, battling dark agents of some
unknowable horror.

As he vanished
into the murk, he started to whistle.

‘Why
collaborate?’ I’m often asked.

This is the
third book in the
Legends of the Riftwar
series. For the next
few years I’m going to be concentrating on my solo works, but I
plan on doing more collaborations in the future if I can. My reason
for wanting to do them is twofold.

First, for me,
Midkemia has always been about ‘other voices’. To
understand what I mean, you have to remember that the world of
Midkemia was developed as a role-playing campaign by a number of very
bright people over a number of years while we were students at the
University of California, San Diego, in the late 1970s.

To me, the
personalities of those involved in creating the world had a profound
effect on how I see Midkemia, its diversity and its unique qualities.
When I choose a location in the world to place my work, the nature of
that locale is often something that was decided by someone else years
ago.

So working with
other authors is a chance to bring ‘other voices’ into
play. The first three, William R Forstchen, Joel Rosenberg, and the
co-author of this book, Steve Stirling, are writers whose work I
admire and enjoy. Their styles differ from mine in significant ways,
but we all worked together easily.

The way we
worked was remarkably similar, and very different from the way in
which I worked with Janny Wurts on the
Empire Trilogy.
With
Janny, we would pass chapters back and forth, rewriting several times
until there were places I can’t tell you who wrote what.

With Bill, Joel
and Steve, we agreed upon a general storyline, then I’d turn
them loose. When I got their rough draft, I’d rewrite it,
trying to keep their ‘voices’ intact, while I made sure
the work remained consistent with the world in which we were writing.
We’d e-mail one another or talk on the phone, and along the way
a blended voice would emerge.

For this book,
Jimmy the Hand,
Steve Stirling chose this character as one of
his favourites, and I was happy to do a story about Jimmy’s
‘first’ solo adventure, long before he saved Arutha from
the assassin on the rooftops of Krondor. I think it safe to say that
after having written many books about Jimmy/Lord James, I would have
been unable to return to that character without being burdened by
what I knew lay before him. Steve managed to find the boy who perked
up the last four chapters of the first half of
Magician
and
remind me who he was.