Read Online Jimmy and the Crawler by Raymond E. Feist - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Raymond E. Feist
Tags: Fantasy
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three had indeed jumped and broken an ankle or leg. The others had most likely grabbed the eaves, hung from them, then dropped.
James looked for a place to go to ground, as he had no desire to lead these three back to the Jade Monkey.
He found what he was looking for in some low, overhanging eaves above a stack of timber. He stepped on the wood carefully, trying not to lose his balance or make a sound, reached up and leapt. Grabbing the eaves, he pulled himself over, and moved back so that he could not be seen from the street.
James had become frustrated at not being able to clearly identify anyone in the city who might be part of any criminal organization, so he had decided it was time to cause a fuss. Playing the part of a thief newly come to Durbin, he feigned drunkenness at several of the taverns near the docks, dropping hints along the way that he was in possession of something of value and needed the services of what was known in the criminal parlance as a ‘fence’, a dealer in stolen property.
One burly dockworker followed him from one inn to two others and finally, when James appeared to be close to insensible from drink, told him he knew of a fellow, and would bring him if James stayed put. James nodded, instantly recognizing this for what it was, an attempt to abduct him and force him to tell the bullyboy and his lads where the valuables were stashed.
He recognized an ambush; he just didn’t know what he faced. He waited in the tavern, having scouted it thoroughly before entering, and thus knew there were at least three escape routes, depending on how he was attacked. He was adept at sipping a little ale and spilling a lot when no one was looking, and no one was likely to notice a spreading pool of ale at his feet under the stale straw that covered the floor.
After less than an hour, the man had returned and gestured for James to follow him outside for the introduction to the fence. Two steps outside and he knew exactly what the situation was: three men closing up on him, one following him out of the inn, one from each side. So he leapt atop a parked cart and onto the roof of the building across the street and took off, not looking to see if he was being followed, expecting that he would be. And indeed, moments later he had heard grunts of exertion and curses behind him, and knew he was off on a chase he knew well.
Lying flat on the rooftop, he waited to see if his two remaining pursuers were smart enough to work out he had lost them, and backtrack. James hoped so, for he needed to follow them, and have them lead him back to whoever employed them. If they gave up the hunt somewhere else in the city, all this exertion would have been for naught.
Then a flickering shadow on the rooftop across the street caught his eye. He waited, not moving, to see what was there. He almost willed the gloom to reveal what it masked while he kept track of his pursuers by ear. He could hear their footfalls echoing into the distance and when he could no longer hear them, he waited to hear them return.
A boy’s lifetime of being a thief had taught James patience far beyond his years; if need be, he could lie motionless for hours, ignoring the plague of distractions that a less practised man would find maddening: an itch to scratch, the desire to shift position, hunger and even thirst. On more than one occasion his life had depended on that skill.
Time dragged on but James was convinced there was someone hidden in the blackness across from him, almost certainly just on the other side of the roof’s peak, sheltered against the remote possibility that an observer might catch sight of him. That gave James pause, and worse, a dread certainty that he knew who was mere yards from his hiding place. And if he was right, he prayed to Ruthia the Goddess of Luck he had not been seen pulling himself up on the roof moments before he had spied that movement. Then he thought if he had been seen, most likely he would be dead.
After another
James looked for a place to go to ground, as he had no desire to lead these three back to the Jade Monkey.
He found what he was looking for in some low, overhanging eaves above a stack of timber. He stepped on the wood carefully, trying not to lose his balance or make a sound, reached up and leapt. Grabbing the eaves, he pulled himself over, and moved back so that he could not be seen from the street.
James had become frustrated at not being able to clearly identify anyone in the city who might be part of any criminal organization, so he had decided it was time to cause a fuss. Playing the part of a thief newly come to Durbin, he feigned drunkenness at several of the taverns near the docks, dropping hints along the way that he was in possession of something of value and needed the services of what was known in the criminal parlance as a ‘fence’, a dealer in stolen property.
One burly dockworker followed him from one inn to two others and finally, when James appeared to be close to insensible from drink, told him he knew of a fellow, and would bring him if James stayed put. James nodded, instantly recognizing this for what it was, an attempt to abduct him and force him to tell the bullyboy and his lads where the valuables were stashed.
He recognized an ambush; he just didn’t know what he faced. He waited in the tavern, having scouted it thoroughly before entering, and thus knew there were at least three escape routes, depending on how he was attacked. He was adept at sipping a little ale and spilling a lot when no one was looking, and no one was likely to notice a spreading pool of ale at his feet under the stale straw that covered the floor.
After less than an hour, the man had returned and gestured for James to follow him outside for the introduction to the fence. Two steps outside and he knew exactly what the situation was: three men closing up on him, one following him out of the inn, one from each side. So he leapt atop a parked cart and onto the roof of the building across the street and took off, not looking to see if he was being followed, expecting that he would be. And indeed, moments later he had heard grunts of exertion and curses behind him, and knew he was off on a chase he knew well.
Lying flat on the rooftop, he waited to see if his two remaining pursuers were smart enough to work out he had lost them, and backtrack. James hoped so, for he needed to follow them, and have them lead him back to whoever employed them. If they gave up the hunt somewhere else in the city, all this exertion would have been for naught.
Then a flickering shadow on the rooftop across the street caught his eye. He waited, not moving, to see what was there. He almost willed the gloom to reveal what it masked while he kept track of his pursuers by ear. He could hear their footfalls echoing into the distance and when he could no longer hear them, he waited to hear them return.
A boy’s lifetime of being a thief had taught James patience far beyond his years; if need be, he could lie motionless for hours, ignoring the plague of distractions that a less practised man would find maddening: an itch to scratch, the desire to shift position, hunger and even thirst. On more than one occasion his life had depended on that skill.
Time dragged on but James was convinced there was someone hidden in the blackness across from him, almost certainly just on the other side of the roof’s peak, sheltered against the remote possibility that an observer might catch sight of him. That gave James pause, and worse, a dread certainty that he knew who was mere yards from his hiding place. And if he was right, he prayed to Ruthia the Goddess of Luck he had not been seen pulling himself up on the roof moments before he had spied that movement. Then he thought if he had been seen, most likely he would be dead.
After another
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