Magician’s End (35 page)

‘I agree,’ said Geoffrey. ‘How long before we will be relieved?’

‘I wish I could guarantee a time,’ answered Jim, ‘but there are other parts to this that need to be in place and I have no control over the time. But if everything goes according to plan, expect a ship flying a huge green banner sailing into sight within two weeks. Can you hold?’

Geoffrey smiled. ‘If they’re not very good, we can hold for two weeks, maybe longer.’

‘Salador hasn’t endured a war on its doorstep in two generations. Arthur has never fought in a battle, let alone supervised one. And the gods watch over fools.’ He put his hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder. ‘Two weeks, and with the gods’ blessing, not one hour more,’ said Jim. Then he hurried from the ramparts. As far as Geoffrey knew, Jim Dasher was the Crown’s agent, on his way to mount a fast horse to Bas-Tyra. But Jim planned on travelling much faster than that.

Once he was out of sight, Jim took out the Tsurani travel orb Ruffio had given him and toggled it. He was instantly inside his own quarters in the palace at Rillanon, and moved to the door.

Sentries had been posted outside, and they came to attention. ‘I need you no longer,’ he said. ‘Dismissed.’ They saluted and moved smartly down the hallway. He had stationed pairs of guards on four-hour rotations, instructed to let no one disturb him except for his grandfather – who wouldn’t – two days before. He hadn’t been in the room, but none of the guards who had stood post knew that.

Jim hurried to his grandfather’s quarters to let him know that the siege of Silden had commenced. He had a plan, one that if successful could keep the Kingdom of the Isles from tearing itself apart. Jim was no idealist, and by no means viewed his nation as any sort of paragon of human governance, but he knew it was the best this world had ever seen. And he would die before he would see the Kingdom of the Isles reduced to a nest of petty monarchies like those in the Eastern Kingdoms.

There were two great powers for progress on Midkemia, in Jim’s mind: Roldem, which had raised the arts to the level of honours previously reserved for rich nobility. The other was the Isles, where the rights of the common man were held as unquestioned.

Yes, those rights were often abused or ignored, but in no other nation did a commoner have the legal right to petition the king. It was a fragile concept, this Great Freedom, as it was called, this idea that no matter what their station in life, each person had a basic right to personal freedom, but it was unique to the Kingdom of the Isles, and it was something for which Jim Dasher Jamison would risk his life on a near-daily basis.

Jim reached his grandfather’s quarters and looked enquiringly at the guard on the door. ‘He’s awake, sir,’ said the guard.

Jim knocked once, and when he heard his grandfather’s voice, entered. The old duke looked his age and more. He was pale and thinner than Jim ever remembered seeing him. Like every grown man and woman with elderly parents and grandparents, Jim knew he would eventually see them die – and Jim was no stranger to death, often as a result of his own direct action – but the reality of seeing the most powerful and unswerving man he’d ever known reduced to a pale echo of himself had struck Jim hard.

‘What news?’ said his grandfather without preamble.

‘Salador is assaulting Silden, even as we speak, or will be as soon as Arthur moves his pavilion a little further out of range of the trebuchet Geoffrey sneaked in behind the gates of the city.’

‘Geoffrey?’

‘Du Gale, Duke Reginald of Silden’s nephew.’

‘Ah, that Geoffrey. For a moment I was concerned it was Geoffrey, Baron Montcorbier – that man’s an idiot. I know du Gale. Smart lad. Has a future.’ He pushed himself away from his desk with a sigh. ‘Assuming any of us has a future.’

Jim moved to assist his grandfather, who waved him away. ‘I need to get some proper clothes on, boy. Can’t fight a war in my nightshirt.’

Jim smiled and called for servants. They quickly attended to the old duke and when he was dressed, he beckoned his grandson to his side. ‘I’ve sent word to what’s left of this family of ours.’

There were several members of the Jamison family scattered around the Kingdom, although only Jim had taken service with his grandfather. Jim’s father had chosen early in his life to go into business with traders to the Eastern Kingdoms, and Jim’s cousin Richard had taken service in Krondor as a soldier, working his way up to being Prince Edward’s Knight-Marshal, but there were more distant members of the clan, as his grandfather liked to call them.

‘Richard will give his life for Edward, of that I have no doubt. But some of those others …’ He sighed. ‘I made it clear they were to sit on their hands and do nothing to aid Oliver or his allies, else they’ll answer to me.’

‘I’m sure they’ll behave,’ said Jim.

‘They’d better. If Oliver wins, anyone named Jamison will be fortunate to be left penniless and alive on the side of the road, because most of us will certainly hang.’

‘That should keep them in line.’

‘One can hope.’ The duke sat down at the desk he had been using for more than thirty years. ‘Let’s talk about something unpleasant.’

‘What?’ asked Jim, with a smile that said,
as if the previous conversation was pleasant
.

‘I’m going to die, boy.’

Jim stayed silent.

‘Maybe not today, or even tomorrow, and even if Oliver doesn’t put my head on a pike outside this city’s gate, sooner or later I’m going to be called to Lims-Kragma’s halls. Here’s the thing of it, Jim.’ He held up his hand as if swearing an oath. ‘As the gods are my witness, when I was young, when your Great-uncle Dash and I were doing all manner of stupid things for our grandfather, I thought I’d live for ever. Even when I was your age, I thought I had a century ahead of me. Now I realize that no matter how long you have, you will always leave things undone, tasks that will fall to others to complete, or that will go unfinished.’

Jim nodded. He had come to that realization early in life, perhaps because of his grandfather’s delight in telling stories about his youth with his twin brother Dash.

‘It comes to this, Jim. You and Richard are the last two Jamisons to matter to the Crown. You’ve had the more difficult road, for too many reasons to recount. But do not believe for a moment your work has gone unnoticed or unappreciated. When this war is done, if we survive, and I am still alive, I will be stepping down. I need to move Montgomery aside and name another to my office. Edward will do as I ask, so if I ask him to name you Duke of Rillanon, he will.’

‘Name Bas-Tyra,’ said Jim evenly. ‘He’s shown his loyalty when he saw through Chadwick and Oliver’s lies, and has four capable sons who can fill in where needed: we’re going to need some new dukes if we win. I am not by nature a man to do what you do, grandfather. I could not sit all day and read reports, endure state functions endlessly, or listen to the prattling of fools on trivial topics because it’s required of me. I cannot do it.’

‘Bas-Tyra is a man for whom I have no small regard,’ said Lord James. ‘One of his ancestors was Duke of Rillanon, as well, so it’s precedented.’

Jim grinned. ‘You just hate seeing the title leave the family after all these years.’

Lord James returned his grandson’s smile. ‘Indeed. Jamison is a name that has earned its place in the annals of the Kingdom.’ He sighed. ‘Though your contributions are far less likely to be found in any volume in the royal library. You’ve had the most thankless of tasks, Jim.’ His voice lowered. ‘Jimmyhand.’ He looked out of the window at the noon sun. ‘Meal-time soon; stay and eat with me.’ He returned his gaze to his grandson. ‘No one has given more, Jim. Don’t think I don’t recognize it. Other men would have succumbed years earlier to the need to remove themselves from your bloody work. Others would have got themselves killed or simply walked away.’

‘That has occurred to me from time to time,’ said Jim.

‘No doubt. No wife, no children, nothing to live on after you.’

‘The Kingdom will live on after me,’ Jim answered quietly.

‘My grandfather, already the legendary Jimmy the Hand by the time I was born, was the first Lord Jamison, first Duke of Krondor, then Duke of Rillanon, and perhaps the wiliest bastard in the history of the Kingdom. He was in love with the Kingdom, Jim. He was in love with Prince Arutha, the father he never had, with Princess Anita, the woman he idolized, with his wife, my grandmother, Gamina, conceivably the only person who ever truly knew his heart and loved him anyway, and he loved her beyond words for that.’

Jim had heard endless stories of his great-great-grandfather before, but he knew his grandfather was trying to make a point.

‘But of all the things he loved – his friends, his family – he ended up loving the Kingdom more. He died for it, and let his wife die with him for it, and do you know why?’

‘No, sir, I do not,’ answered Jim honestly.

‘Because the Kingdom is an idea, an ideal. The first king had this notion that he was there to protect his people, and given how serious about duty the conDoins have been since then, it’s become a family tradition, to uphold the greater good of every subject within the Kingdom’s borders.

‘Now, don’t misunderstand me, Roldem is a lovely place. If I could just hand all of the Isles over to King Carole and let him take on the bother of ruling here, no one would likely notice much difference. And it would probably be the same under that boy of his …’

‘Constantine,’ supplied Jim.

‘Yes, that’s the boy. He’s got three, and I always seem to mix them up. But there’s no Congress of Lords in Roldem, so if Constantine has a monster for a boy, there’s no one to keep him from getting the throne. Roldem’s lords are too much concerned with their own well-being ever to think of what is good for the nation, which is why their politics can be even more bloody than ours. We need close ties with Roldem. We are descended from common ancestry after all, though the Roldemish deny it, of course, but we were sleeping with their daughters and they with ours when we were paddling around these islands in sewn-hide canoes, and everyone knows it. But Kesh? The Eastern Kingdoms?’ He sighed. ‘No, if we let the Kingdom fall into Oliver’s hands we will one day end up like those, or even worse, the city states down in Novindus. So, what choice have we?’

Jim smiled. Of all the people on this world he perhaps loved his grandfather most of all. ‘None, of course.’

‘Exactly!’ said the duke.

‘So what next?’

‘We see if this mad plan of yours works.’

‘I don’t see any alternative.’ He moved to sit next to his grandfather. ‘We’re getting some odd reports from the West.’

‘What now?’

‘Something to do with the elves up in the mountains east of Crydee.’

Duke James waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Let the elves east of Crydee worry about it, then. You’ve studied as much history as I have, and we both know the only reason we have a duchy there is that it was a king’s little brother who conquered that part of ancient Bosania, and that king in particular loved to tweak Great Kesh’s nose. Not that I approved of their latest attempt to take it back without asking first, but the West has always been something of a drain on the Kingdom.’

Jim nodded, though he knew that wasn’t true. A common complaint in the politics of the Kingdom since the conquest of the Far Coast, it was never true. Crydee, the Sunset Islands, and Yabon were all self-sufficient, not costing the Kingdom a copper coin to administer, and moreover they paid a modest, but not trivial, tax every year. The meme was continued by Eastern Realm nobles as a means to keep Western Realm influence in court to a minimum.

‘Where are you heading now?’

‘To Bas-Tyra. Duke Charles needs to be informed of our progress, and then I need to get back to Edward.’

‘All with that magic thing?’

‘I only wish,’ said Jim. ‘I can get here, Krondor, and Roldem in a moment, but if I’m to reach Prince Edward, it will be by fast horse unless there’s an unoccupied magician handy who has the talent to move me with thought. I will be out of the harbour at sunset by fast sloop, up the coast and across to Bas-Tyra. With luck I’ll see their harbour in a week’s time. After speaking with Charles, it’s back to Roldem, then I’ll drop in here to check up on you.’

‘Don’t worry about me, my boy,’ said Lord James, patting a stack of papers. ‘I’ve got Montgomery in check, and if I don’t drop dead before you get back, all will be well.’

‘It’s on the way,’ said Jim.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Lord James said, ‘I’ll be fine. Go find yourself a magician. That fellow you huddle with at times, Ruffio? He was around yesterday for a bit.’

‘Ruffio?’ wondered Jim. ‘What was he doing here?’

‘Had something important to speak to you about, but seemed pressed for time. So he flew off, as he does.’ Lord James narrowed his gaze. ‘I believe he left someone in his quarters with a message for you. Donato by name?’

Jim smiled. ‘I know the fellow. He’ll do admirably. I’ll go find him, then if King Carole can see me and give me what I need—’

‘What is that?’

‘There’s a fast Roldemish messenger cutter in the harbour. If Carole will lend me its use, I can be back here for dinner with you, then be off with the morning tide on Carole’s ship, and overtake Oliver’s fleet before he turns to land north of Salador. I can reach Edward before Oliver even knows he doesn’t hold either Silden or Salador.’ He kissed his grandfather on the cheek, a rare gesture of affection. ‘I haven’t called you Grandpa in a very long while … but I love you, Grandpa.’

The old man gripped his grandson with surprising strength. ‘I love you too, Jimmyhand.’ He patted his Jim’s shoulder. ‘Now go, and if no one else ever knows, remember your grandfather understands what you’ve given to that ideal, the Kingdom.’

Finding himself feeling revitalized in no small way by his grandfather’s words, Jim left his quarters and found his way down a series of backstairs and neglected hallways to a little-used exit where a horse waited for him. He nodded to the groom, one of his agents in the palace, and without word took the reins and mounted. He would head straight for the docks and by sunset he would be clear of the southern point of the harbour, and with a following wind, would be sailing to Bas-Tyra.