Read Online Krondor the Assassins by Raymond E. Feist - Free Book Online Page B

especially almost a week-long horseback ride abetted by mystical herbs to ward off fatigue, had taken its toll.
    As he reached the corner of two halls, he found a page and instructed the youth to awaken him one hour before the supper bell rang. James reached his room, went inside, and within minutes was fast asleep.
    The musicians struck up a tune and Arutha turned to his wife and bowed. Less formal than the royal court in Rillanon, the Prince’s 63

    R A Y M O N D E . F E I S T
    court in Krondor was no less bound by traditions. One such was that no one began dancing before the Prince and Princess.
    Arutha was an adept dancer. That didn’t surprise James. No one could be as nimble when wheeling a sword as the Prince of Krondor and not have a superb sense of balance and exquisite timing. And the dances were simple. James had heard that the court dances in Rillanon were complex, very formal things, while here in the far more rustic west the court dances were similar to those performed by farmers and townspeople throughout the Western Realm, just executed with a bit more restraint and less noise.
    James watched Arutha and Anita nod as one to the music master. He held up his bow and nodded to his musicians, a collection of stringed instruments, a pair of percussionists, and three men playing flutes of various sizes. A sprightly tune was struck up and Anita stepped away from Arutha, while holding his hand, and executed a twirling turn, which caused her ornate gown to flare out. She ducked skillfully under his arm, and James thought it was a good thing those silly large white hats the ladies wore this season were considered daywear only. He considered it improbable she could have got under Arutha’s arm without knocking it off.
    The thought struck him as amusing and he smiled. Jerome, standing nearby said, ‘‘Something funny, James?’’
    James’s smile vanished. He had never liked Jerome, that distaste going back to their first encounter when James had arrived in court. After Jerome’s first—and last—attempt to bully him, James had knocked down the older boy, informing him pointedly that he was Prince Arutha’s personal squire and not about to be bullied by anyone. James had emphasized the message with the point of a dagger—Jerome’s own—deftly picked 64

    K R O N D O R : T H E A S S A S S I N S
    off his belt without Jerome noticing, and the message had never needed to be repeated.
    Jerome had remained wary of James from that day on, though he had occasionally tried to bully the younger squires. Since becoming de Lacy’s apprentice, and in all likelihood the next Master of Ceremonies, Jerome had outgrown his bullying behavior, and a polite truce had arisen between himself and James. James still considered him a fussy prig, but judged him far less obnoxious than he had been as a boy. And at times he was even useful.
    James said, ‘‘Just an odd thought about fashion.’’
    Jerome let a slight smile show itself before turning somber once more. He did not pursue the remark, but his slight change of expression indicated he appreciated James’s observation.
    The court was at its lavish best, with every guest adorned in the height of Krondorian fashion. James found these annual shifts in taste odd and occasionally ridiculous, but bore up under them stoically. This year the guards’ uniforms had been changed, at the Princess’s request, as the old gray tabards were now considered too dull.
    The honor guard along the walls wore light brown tunics—somewhere between copper and gold—marked with a black eagle soaring over the peak of a mountain. James wasn’t sure he liked the break with tradition, but noticed the Prince’s scarlet mantle of office still bore the old crest.
    Another group of guests arrived and filtered into the ballroom.
    Leaning toward Jerome, James quietly asked, ‘‘The usual guests?’’
    Jerome nodded. ‘‘Local nobles, rich merchants, a few soldiers of rank who have earned our