Free A Crown Imperiled by Raymond E. Feist Page B

arrive?’
    ‘Not such a coincidence, I’m on an errand for my mother. I carry word to young Lord Martin that those sent to us from Crydee to care for are safe in Elvandar.’
    Composing herself, Miranda asked, ‘Why come this way? Why not take the straighter course south across the River Boundary to Crydee?’
    ‘Because Martin is not in Crydee, he’s here in Ylith.’
    ‘They have kept you waiting here?’ She indicated the inn with a quick wave of her hand.
    ‘They haven’t,’ said Calis. ‘I saw Martin yesterday and paused here on my way north.’
    Miranda said, ‘Because you had never spent a night in an overcrowded ale house with too many strangers who haven’t bathed in weeks?’
    Calis grinned and Nakor laughed. The Prince of Elvandar said, ‘Whatever you may be now, some things about you are exactly as I remember them.’ He looked across the room to the far corner. Where the bar ended, a small additional room had once been added; there was a step leading down to a pair of tables that had been placed together for a large group. All of the chairs had been moved to allow a band of workers to sit together, save one. A figure wearing a dark cloak sat in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, surveying the room. He was staring directly at Calis.
    ‘Ah,’ said Miranda taking in the figure’s hair and ears. ‘One of yours?’
    ‘Hardly,’ said Nakor. ‘So, you were curious about that dark elf and decided to linger?’
    Calis nodded. ‘I was curious to see what a moredhel was doing in Ylith.’
    ‘And no doubt he’s curious to know what a prince of Elvandar is doing in Ylith,’ said Nakor.
    Miranda glanced at the figure half-hidden in shadows and said, ‘How did you know he was moredhel?’
    ‘It’s in our nature to recognize our own kind, and those who are not. He travels as an ocedhel, one of the elves from across the sea, but his disguise is flawed.’
    Nakor peered at the figure for a bit and sat back. ‘I can see nothing.’ He squinted, then shook his head. ‘Under the table?’
    Calis nodded. ‘The boots.’
    Nakor laughed. ‘Trust a moredhel to be unwilling to sacrifice his boots.’ Then the little man’s expression turned serious. ‘Or his sword, I expect. Though I wager you’ll have to kill him to get a good look at it.’
    ‘How do you know so much of dark elves?’ Miranda asked Nakor.
    ‘I travel,’ was his answer.
    Again Miranda was struck by the absurdity of their two sets of memories. Belog had never travelled further than the distance from the archivists’ quarters to Dahun’s palace and back, until he had left the city and encountered Child. Nakor had travelled to every distant part of Midkemia and worlds beyond.
    ‘He does looks like a traveller from across the sea, like Calis’s wife,’ granted Nakor. Miranda had rescued Ellia and her sons during the war of the Emerald Queen, across the sea in Novindus and had taken them to Elvandar, where they had met Calis.
    Calis said, ‘His tunic, trousers and cloak are simple enough, and he wears no armour, but that’s a bad bow: it’s cracked and has been re-glued and banded with leather, so he’s no archer. And he wears fine boots of a craft common to the Dark Brotherhood.’ He used the human name for the moredhel. ‘Those are unmistakable, and from what I can see, well-made. He’s important, perhaps even a clan chieftain.’
    ‘Well, that does raise the question of what he’s doing here,’ said Miranda.
    ‘Renegade?’ asked Nakor of Calis.
    Calis shrugged. ‘Rare, but not unheard of, although they rarely venture this far south; there are too many places between here and the northland for a moredhel to die alone. The few who are expelled from their clans are usually found in the east, among humans who traffic in weapons, drugs, and slaves.’
    ‘A spy, then?’ said Miranda, obviously intrigued by the speculation.
    ‘If he is, he’s a bad one,’ said Nakor, standing up. ‘Well, the best thing to do