Rise of a Merchant Prince (44 page)

Erik knew that Bobby was going to ask the man if he preferred a quick death at the hands of his comrades, or if he wished to risk being left alone to whatever fate brought him, hoping that Calis's company would return this way and be able to pick him up. Erik knew which choice he would have made, or at
least he thought he did, and wondered how de Loungville could volunteer for such a task.

Then, as the other wounded and the archers descended the ramp, Erik realized that he knew exactly why Bobby could do it. He had seen the horrors of the Pantathians and their allies firsthand, and a well-thrust knife blade and a single moment of hot pain was far better for one of your companions than the lingering agony you would suffer if captured.

A strangled grunt of pain told Erik how the man had chosen. De Loungville returned, his face set in an unreadable mask, and he said, “Form up the column.”

Erik gave the order and the men got ready to move on.

Roo sighed.

He had left the palace and walked home, thinking the entire way about the best manner to approach Frederick Jacoby. If the old man was more like the quiet Randolph, an accommodation might be reached. If he was like the volatile Timothy, the feud would almost certainly continue until one house or the other was destroyed.

Roo entered his home. The only noise came from the kitchen, where Rendel and Mary readied fond for the day. The upstairs hallway was still, and he knew he'd find his wife and children still sleeping. He wondered at the hour, and realized he had no idea what time it was. From the light, no later than eight of the clock.

He pushed open the door to the room Karli slept in with the baby, and found her asleep. He now considered waking her, but decided to wait until the baby demanded feeding. Roo walked softly to the bedside and studied his wife and son in the dim light coming through the curtains.

In the shadows, Karli looked very young. Roo suddenly felt terribly old and sat down in the rocking chair Karli used to soothe the baby when he was fussy. He didn't sleep as well as his sister had, and cried more often.

Roo ran his hand over his face, feeling fatigue in his bones. His eyes were gritty and his mouth had a bitter taste in it: too much coffee and a hint of bile from killing men.

Roo closed his eyes.

Some time later the baby's cry woke him. Karli sat up and said, “What is it?” She saw her husband in the chair. “Roo?”

“I must have fallen asleep.”

“Why didn't you go to bed?” she asked.

“I have something to tell you,” he answered as she began to nurse the hungry child.

“What?”

“The men who killed your father are dead.”

She didn't react.

After a moment he said, “They attempted to ruin me, and I found out in time. We fought . . . and they're dead. I just came from the palace and a long discussion of these events with the Duke.”

“Then it's over,” she said.

“Not quite,” said Roo.

Karli stared at him a moment. “Why not?”

“The two men have a father.” He took a deep breath. “Your father had an old rival, Frederick Jacoby.”

She nodded. “They were boys together, in the Advarian community up in Tannerus.” Her voice softened. “I think they were friends once. Why? Did he have Father killed?”

“No, his son Timothy ordered it. I think his brother Randolph may have helped, or at least he knew about it and didn't do anything to prevent it.”

“So those men are dead?”

“Yes.”

“But Frederick is still alive,” observed Karli. She looked sad, as if on the verge of weeping. “So you have to kill him, too?”

Roo said, “I don't know. I need to make some sort of peace with him if I can.” He stood up. “And I should go do it now. The Duke insists.”

Roo started around the bed, then paused and turned. He leaned over and kissed the back of the baby's head, then kissed Karli on the cheek. “I probably won't get home until supper. And what I really need is sleep.”

She reached out with her left hand and gripped his right. “Be careful.”

He squeezed her hand in reply and left the room. He called down to Mary to have his coach brought around, went to his room, quickly washed up and changed his tunic. Then he went downstairs and out the door. His coach was there, and as he entered, he saw another figure waiting inside for him.

Dash nodded in greeting. “Feeling better?”

“Tired,” said Roo. “What brings you here?”

“Grandfather thought it prudent if I tagged along. Mr. Jacoby might have servants or other members of his household who are going to take the news of the brothers' death badly.” He pointed to the sword that lay across his knees.

Roo nodded. “You know how to use that?”

“Better than most,” Dash said without boasting. They rode along in silence until the coach pulled up
before the Jacoby residence. Dash followed Roo out of the carriage and to the door. Roo hesitated a moment, then knocked. A young woman opened the door a few moments later. She was pretty in an unspectacular way—dark hair and eyes, strong chin and straight nose. “Yes? May I help you?” she asked.

Roo found he could barely bring himself to speak. He didn't know what to say. After a moment's hesitation, he said, “My name is Rupert Avery.”

The woman's eyes narrowed. “I know your name, Mr. Avery. It is not one spoken with affection in this house.”

“I can imagine,” Roo said. He took a deep breath. “I suspect it will be even less so when you discover what brings me here. I would like to speak to Frederick Jacoby.”

“I'm afraid that's impossible,” said the young woman. “He doesn't see visitors.”

Roo's expression betrayed something, for after a moment the woman said, “What is it?”

Dash said, “Pardon me, ma'am. Who are you?”

“I'm Helen. Randolph's wife.”

Roo closed his eyes and then took a deep breath. “I fear I have grave tidings for you and for your father-in-law.”

The woman's knuckles where she gripped the door whitened. “Randy's dead, isn't he?”

Roo nodded. “May I come in, please?”

The woman stepped back and it was clear she was close to fainting. Dash moved and took her by the elbow, keeping her upright. Just then two children ran into the entry hall, complaining over a childish inequity. She separated the two of them, a boy and girl, looking to Roo to be about four and six.
“Children,” she said, “go to your room and play quietly.”

“But, Mother,” said the boy, irritated at his complaint being ignored.

“Go to your room!” she said sharply.

The boy looked injured by the command, but the girl just skipped away, counting their mother's deafness to the boy's grievance a victory in the eternal sibling war.

When the children were gone, she looked at Roo and said, “How did Randy die?”

Roo said, “We had cornered Randolph and Timothy at the docks—they were trying to make off with gold they had taken from me—and Timothy tried to attack me. Randolph pushed him aside, and was killed by a crossbow bolt fired at Timothy.” Trying to think of anything that might lessen the sting the woman felt, he said, “It was over quickly. He was acting to save his brother.”

Helen's eyes filled with tears, but her tone was one of anger. “He was always trying to save his brother! Is Tim alive?”

“No,” said Roo softly. He took a deep breath. “I killed him.”

As the woman turned, Dash said, “It was a fair duel, ma'am. Timothy died with weapons in his hand, tryng to kill Mr. Avery.”

“Why are you here?” said the woman. “Are you here to gloat over the fall of the house of Jacoby?”

“No,” said Roo. “I'm here because Duke James asked me to come.” He sighed, feeling more tired than he had ever felt in his life. “I had nothing against your husband, or you or your father, ma'am. It was only Tim I had issue with. Tim arranged to
have my partner—my father-in-law—killed. Tim was trying to ruin me.”

Helen turned her back on them. “I have no doubt of that, Mr. Avery. Please follow me.”

She led them through a large hallway, and Roo saw that the house was much larger than one might think from the street, being very deep in its plan. Then they entered a garden at the rear of the house, surrounded by a large stone wall. An old man sat alone in a chair, bundled in heavy robes, with a large quilt over his knees. As they approached, Roo saw his eyes were blinded by cataracts, and then that part of his face was motionless. “Yes? Who's there?” he said, his speech slurred and his voice weak.

Helen raised her voice. “It's me, Father!” To Roo she said, “He's hard of hearing. He had a seizure two years ago. He's been like this ever since.”

She turned to face Roo. “It's your chance, Mr. Avery. All that's left of the once-great trading house of Jacoby is a blind, half-deaf crazy old man, a woman, and two children. You can kill us all now and put an end to this feud.”

Roo put up his hand and his expression was one of total helplessness. “Please. I .. . I have no wish to see any more suffering for either of our families.”

“No suffering?” she said, as again tears came. “How am I to make do? Who's to run the business? Who will care for us? It would be far kinder for you to pull your sword and put us all out of our misery.” She began to cry in earnest, and Dash stepped forward and let her lean against his shoulder as she sobbed.

“Helen?” said the old man, his speech slurred by the affliction of his seizure. “Is something amiss?”

Roo went and knelt by the old man. “Mr. Jacoby?”

“Who is this?” he said, reaching out with his left arm. Roo saw that his right lay motionless in his lap. Roo took the left hand and said, “My name is Rupert Avery.” He spoke loudly.

“Avery? Do I know you, sir?” asked the old man. “Knew a Klaus Avery when . . . no, that was Klaus Klamer. What was the Avery boy's name?”

Roo said, “No, I don't think I've had the honor of meeting you before. But I . . . knew an old friend of yours. Helmut Grindel.”

“Helmut!” said the old man with a grin. Saliva dribbled from the side of his mouth.

Helen composed herself, and with a thank-you pat to Dash's shoulders, she came and used a handkerchief to wipe the old man's chin.

“He and I grew up in the same town, did you know that?” said the old man. “How is he?”

Roo said, “He died recently.”

“Oh,” said the old man. “That's too bad. I haven't seen him for a while. Did I tell you we grew up in the same town?”

“Yes, you did,” said Roo.

With delight, the old man said, “Do you by chance know my boys? Tim and Randy?”

Roo said, “I do, sir.”

The old man picked up Roo's hand slightly, as if for emphasis. “If you're one of those rascals who is always stealing apples from our tree, don't admit it!” he said with a laugh. “I've told Tim to keep the other boys out of that tree! We need those apples for pie! My Eva bakes pies every fall!”

Roo looked at Helen, and she whispered. “He
gets confused. Sometimes he thinks his sons are still children. Eva was his wife; she's been dead thirteen years.”

Roo shook his head and released the old man's hand. He said, “I can't.”

“Tell him?” asked Helen.

Roo shook his head no.

“Randy?” said the old man, motioning to Roo. Roo leaned over to put his head next to the old man's. Whispering, the old man said, “Randy, you're a good lad. Look out for Tim; he's got such a temper. But don't let the other boys steal the apples!” He reached out with his good hand and patted Roo on the shoulder.

Roo straightened up and spent a few moments watching the old man, who was again lost in whatever dreams or memories he spent his days within. Roo stepped away and said to Helen, “What purpose? Let him think his sons still live, for the gods' mercy.”

He thought of the coming fleet and the destruction that would be upon Krondor within a few years, and said, “Let us all have a few years of pleasant dreams.”

Helen led them away from the garden and said, “I thank you for that small gesture, sir.”

“What will you do?” said Roo.

“Sell the house and business.” She started to weep again. “I have family in Tannerus. I'll go to them. It will be hard, but we'll endure.”

Roo said, “No.” He thought about the boy and girl and his own two children, then said, “I do not think the children need suffer for the . . . mistakes of their fathers.”

“What do you propose?” asked Helen.

“Let me take charge of Jacoby and Sons. I will not take a copper of profit from the company. I will operate it as if it were my own, but when your son is old enough, it will be his to control.” Roo glanced around the house as they walked toward the entrance. “I never spoke more than a word to' Randolph, but it seems to me your husband's only flaw was to love a brother too well. It was only Tim with whom I had dispute.” Taking the woman's hand, he said, “Let it end here, now.”

The woman said, “You are generous.”

Roo said, “No. I am sorry. More than you will ever know. I'll have my solicitor draw up a contract between you as surviving widow of Randolph Jacoby and the Bitter Sea Company to operate Jacoby and Sons until such time as either you wish to dispose of the property or your son is ready to take control.

“If you need anything, anything at all, you only have to ask.” He pointed to Dash. “My associate will come fetch you this afternoon and take you to the temple. Have you other relatives who should come with you?”

“No. They live out of the city.”

“I would bid you a good day, Mrs. Jacoby, but that would seem an empty sentiment. Let me depart by saying I wish we had met under different circumstances.”

Holding back more tears, Helen Jacoby said, “So do I, Mr. Avery. I even suspect had circumstances been otherwise, you and Randolph could have been friends.”

They left and entered the carriage. Dash said nothing and Roo put his right hand over his face.
After a moment, he began to weep.

Calis signaled and the column came to a halt. They had encountered small commands of the Pantathians over the last three days. Calis judged they had moved twenty miles north of where they had encountered the large well in the heart of the mountain. Several times they had found more signs of struggle and destruction. Occasionally they encountered Saaur corpses, but as of yet they hadn't seen a single living lizard man. Having faced them once, Erik was grateful for that small boon.

Erik fought against a growing sense of futility. The galleries seemed to wander under the mountains forever; he remembered maps back at the palace that suggested this range might be as much as a thousand miles long. If the Pantathian home realm wasn't as closely confined as Calis's theory proposed, they would be dead long before destroying the snake men's nest.