had their wares on display and shoppers were making their way around the stalls, inspecting the goods offered for sale.
He moved down High Street, avoiding the jam of wagons and carts at several intersections. Idly he thought that one good use of the constables would be to stand at the intersections sorting out the traffic mess in the morning. By mid-day things would have died down a bit, but right now there were at least half a dozen fights brewing as teamsters, farmers, and delivery men all shouted insults at each other.
James ducked through the heavy press of citizens and travelers and reached the next corner to find that a fight had erupted.
Two wagons had obviously become tangled when a cart had overturned, causing a horse to shy, back up, then flip over its wagon. Two city constables were hurrying across and just as James reached the scene, someone shoved him aside shouting,
‘‘Make way!’’
James staggered into a young woman who was carrying a basket of grain, which was dumped in the street when she fell.
She shrieked angry demands for repayment. He obliged with a muttered apology, and turned to defend himself from the next stupid thug.
It turned out to be Captain Guruth, commander of the City Guard. He was a burly man with a black beard, dark eyes, and a deep voice with a naturally threatening tone, which was used effectively as he roared, ‘‘What is going on?’’
Instantly the onlookers quietened, but the two combatants 87
R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T
continued their fisticuffs. Two guardsmen hurried past their captain and set to with spear butts just as the constables arrived to lend a hand. Quickly the two struggling men were subdued and the captain turned once, surveying the crowd. ‘‘Everyone!
Get about your business or we’ll find a place for you in the palace dungeon!’’
Quickly the crowd dispersed and Guruth turned to James.
‘‘Squire?’’ he said, his tone indicating he expected an explanation for James’s presence at the scene of this altercation.
James was feeling set-upon, what with being shoved aside by the guardsmen, and being addressed in that particular tone, as if he were an intruder in the city of his birth. ‘‘I’m on the Prince’s business,’’ he said, dusting himself off.
The captain offered a gruff laugh, deep and short, then said,
‘‘Well, then, you’d best be about it, while I sort out this mess.’’
‘‘Actually, my mission concerns yourself and the sheriff. If you’d be so kind as to accompany me to his office,’’ said James, walking away without seeing if the captain followed.
James heard the captain issue orders for his men to let the constables take care of the matter and to fall in. The sound of boots on stone in regular rhythm told James that the captain and his men were close behind. He picked up the pace slightly, ensuring that the captain and his men would have to step lively to keep up with him. The sheriff’s office was not too far from the scene of the altercation, near the Old Market Square.
The office served as the entrance into the city jail, which was below ground, a large basement divided by bars and doors, making eight cells, two large ones, and six cells used to isolate prisoners from the general jail population. At almost any time of the day or night, half a dozen drunks, petty thieves, brawlers, 88
K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S
and other troublemakers would be found locked up, waiting the pleasure of the Prince’s magistrate.
The two floors above were occupied with living quarters for the deputies who did not have families in the city. Sheriff Wilfred Means looked up from a table he used as a desk and said, ‘‘Captain, squire,’’ with a polite nod of his head. ‘‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’’ The expression on his face showed it was anything but a pleasure. The conflicts between the City Watch and the City Guard had created enough friction between the sheriff and the captain to
He moved down High Street, avoiding the jam of wagons and carts at several intersections. Idly he thought that one good use of the constables would be to stand at the intersections sorting out the traffic mess in the morning. By mid-day things would have died down a bit, but right now there were at least half a dozen fights brewing as teamsters, farmers, and delivery men all shouted insults at each other.
James ducked through the heavy press of citizens and travelers and reached the next corner to find that a fight had erupted.
Two wagons had obviously become tangled when a cart had overturned, causing a horse to shy, back up, then flip over its wagon. Two city constables were hurrying across and just as James reached the scene, someone shoved him aside shouting,
‘‘Make way!’’
James staggered into a young woman who was carrying a basket of grain, which was dumped in the street when she fell.
She shrieked angry demands for repayment. He obliged with a muttered apology, and turned to defend himself from the next stupid thug.
It turned out to be Captain Guruth, commander of the City Guard. He was a burly man with a black beard, dark eyes, and a deep voice with a naturally threatening tone, which was used effectively as he roared, ‘‘What is going on?’’
Instantly the onlookers quietened, but the two combatants 87
R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T
continued their fisticuffs. Two guardsmen hurried past their captain and set to with spear butts just as the constables arrived to lend a hand. Quickly the two struggling men were subdued and the captain turned once, surveying the crowd. ‘‘Everyone!
Get about your business or we’ll find a place for you in the palace dungeon!’’
Quickly the crowd dispersed and Guruth turned to James.
‘‘Squire?’’ he said, his tone indicating he expected an explanation for James’s presence at the scene of this altercation.
James was feeling set-upon, what with being shoved aside by the guardsmen, and being addressed in that particular tone, as if he were an intruder in the city of his birth. ‘‘I’m on the Prince’s business,’’ he said, dusting himself off.
The captain offered a gruff laugh, deep and short, then said,
‘‘Well, then, you’d best be about it, while I sort out this mess.’’
‘‘Actually, my mission concerns yourself and the sheriff. If you’d be so kind as to accompany me to his office,’’ said James, walking away without seeing if the captain followed.
James heard the captain issue orders for his men to let the constables take care of the matter and to fall in. The sound of boots on stone in regular rhythm told James that the captain and his men were close behind. He picked up the pace slightly, ensuring that the captain and his men would have to step lively to keep up with him. The sheriff’s office was not too far from the scene of the altercation, near the Old Market Square.
The office served as the entrance into the city jail, which was below ground, a large basement divided by bars and doors, making eight cells, two large ones, and six cells used to isolate prisoners from the general jail population. At almost any time of the day or night, half a dozen drunks, petty thieves, brawlers, 88
K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S
and other troublemakers would be found locked up, waiting the pleasure of the Prince’s magistrate.
The two floors above were occupied with living quarters for the deputies who did not have families in the city. Sheriff Wilfred Means looked up from a table he used as a desk and said, ‘‘Captain, squire,’’ with a polite nod of his head. ‘‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’’ The expression on his face showed it was anything but a pleasure. The conflicts between the City Watch and the City Guard had created enough friction between the sheriff and the captain to
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