Wrath of a Mad God by Raymond E. Feist Page B

irritated by the fact that notes kept appearing mysteriously from some future date—warning of threats, instructing them on actions to take—she was annoyed that they were always cryptic, and it was never clear as to how, exactly, to deal with the information provided. Moreover, she was truly annoyed that her husband had taken years to tell her about them, and had told Nakor before her!
    Caleb read the note. There were three lines of text above his father’s signature:
    Listen to Miranda.
    Give this to her.
    Prepare to evacuate.
    Milamber.
    “Prepare to evacuate?” asked Caleb. “He’s telling the Emperor to prepare to evacuate…what? The Palace? The Holy City?”
    Frustrated, Miranda shook her head. She knew in the pit of her stomach that she stood a very real chance of never seeing her husband again, and with equal certainty she knew what the note meant. “No,” she said, emotion making her voice hoarse. “He means, prepare to evacuate the world . He’s telling the Emperor the Tsurani will have to leave Kelewan.”

CHAPTER 5
CAPTIVES
    K aspar lay doubled over in pain.
    An elf stood over him ready to strike him again if Kaspar resisted the order to move. Servan reached down to assist the General to his feet and Kaspar’s look showed he had no intention of forgetting this elf any time soon. He had tried to prolong the first break during the long march and for his trouble had received the butt end of a staff in the stomach.
    The elf who had first spoken to them now approached Kaspar and his men. “We have no time to waste. You humans are slow. We must hurry: we still have a steep climb to Baranor.”
    “Baranor?” asked Kaspar.
    “Our home,” said the elf. “We need to be there before sundown and for that reason you cannot tarry.”
    Nursing his sore side, Kaspar threw one more dark look at the elf who had struck him and said, “Your friend made that abundantly clear.”
    The elf who had struck him stood glaring at Kaspar, his blue eyes fixed on the former duke.
    Speaking without looking back at Kaspar, the leader of the elves said, “Sinda thinks you should all have been killed at the water’s edge. It would make things simpler.”
    Jommy muttered, “Sorry for the inconvenience,” as he helped one of the wounded soldiers back to his feet.
    “No inconvenience,” the leader said. “We can still kill you if we must. But I have instructions that you’re to be brought to Baranor to be questioned.”
    “Instructions from whom?” asked Kaspar, still nursing his side where the staff butt had struck.
    “Our leader.”
    Kaspar said nothing, but from his expression, Jommy could tell that the General was maybe thinking of a way to escape, though Jommy thought that an impossibility, even if they had twice the number of men. Jommy had come to the conclusion that the half dozen or so elves with the long wooden staves were magicians or sorcerers, or whatever they called elf magic-users.
    He looked behind him and saw Jim Dasher glancing around. Jommy didn’t have to read minds to know what was on the thief’s: he was noting hiding places and escape routes. Jommy didn’t think much of the notion of fleeing—though if anyone could elude these elves in their own forest, it might be Jim; Jommy was still wondering how he had apparently arrived out of nowhere to kill that magician on the beach.
    Still, if he reached the beach it would be another week before a longboat was sent to resupply Kaspar’s forces, and if he tried to work his way around to the hidden cove to the north where Kaspar’s ships lay at anchor, it would take more than a week on foot. Then there was the almost impossible swim out to where Kaspar’s ships were at anchor, through rough waters and rocks, not to mention sharks and other predators. Jommy wondered if the enterprising thief was thinking of such a madplan. And if he got there after the resupply boat found the camp empty, he might reach the anchorage in time to watch the ships sailing