Rise of a Merchant Prince by Raymond E. Feist

turning as he moved between the wagons, and when he had the wagons between himself and the source of the arrow fire, he stood and ran into the woods. Only two years of combat and intense training saved his life, for another bandit had moved opposite the first and tried to impale Roo on his sword point. The only thing he accomplished was to die silently; Roo hardly broke stride as he ran him through, dodging sideways into the dark woods in case there was another bandit close by.
    Silence greeted him as he paused to consider his next move. He slowed his breathing and looked around. The sun had set less than an hour before and the sky to the west might still hold some glow, but under the thick trees it could have been midnight. Roo listened. A moment later he heard another arrow flight, and he moved.
    Circling as quietly as he could through the darkness, he ran swiftly to the place where he thought the bowman might be hiding. At this point he was convinced he was being besieged by a pair of poor bandits, trying to pick off the two guards so they could plunder whatever cargo ventured along the small road far from the King’s justice.
    Roo waited. After a few more moments of silence, he heard someone stirring in the brush ahead of him and he acted. As quick as a cat on a mouse, he was through the brush and on top of the other bandit. The struggle was quickly over. The man attempted to drop his bow and pull a knife when he sensed Roo’s approach from behind.
    The man died before the knife was out of his belt.
    â€œIt’s over,” said Roo.
    A moment later, Duncan and Tom appeared, wraithlike in the gloom. “Just two of them?” asked Duncan.
    â€œIf there’s another, he’s halfway to Krondor,” said Tom. He had obviously fallen hard, as he was dirty from boot to the top of his head on his left side, and he had a bruise on his left cheek. He held his right arm across his chest, holding tight to his left biceps, and flexed the fingers of his left hand.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” asked Roo.
    â€œFell damn hard on this arm, I guess,” answeredhis father. “It’s all tingly and numb.” He seemed short of breath as he spoke. Blowing out a long note, he added, “Some time of it, that was. Not ashamed to admit I was scared for a bit.”
    Duncan knelt and rolled over the bandit. “This one looks like a ragpicker,” he said.
    â€œFew honest traders and only a few more dishonest ones brave this route,” said Tom. “Never been a rich outlaw I heard of, and certainly not around here.” He shook his hand as if trying to wake up a sleeping limb.
    Duncan came away with a purse. “He might not have been rich, but he wasn’t coinless, either.” He opened the purse and found a few copper coins and a single stone. Walking back into the light of the campfire, he knelt to inspect the gem. “Nothing fancy, but it’ll fetch a coin or two.”
    Roo said, “Better see if the other one is dead.”
    He found the first man he had encountered lying facedown in the mud, and when he rolled him over, discovered a boy’s face on the corpse. Shaking his head in disgust, Roo quickly found the boy without even the rude leather pouch the other bandit had possessed.
    He returned to the wagons as Duncan put down the bow he had taken from the first bandit. “Pretty poor,” he said, tossing it aside. “Ran out of arrows.” Roo sat down with an audible sigh.
    â€œWhat do you think they’d be doing with all this wine?” asked Duncan.
    â€œProbably drink a bit,” said Tom. “But it was the horses and whatever coin we carry, and the swords you have and anything else they could sell.”
    Duncan said, “We bury them?”
    Roo shook his head. “They’d not have done the same for us. Besides, we’ve no shovel. And I’m not about to dig their graves with my hands.” He sighed. “If