Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Legends - Jimmy the Hand

VIP免费
2024-12-20 0 0 1.39MB 398 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
Jimmy
The Hand
By
Raymond E Feist
&
Steve Stirling
Book 3 Of
The Legends Of The Riftwar Series
V3.0 Scanned & proofed by Allflippedup 23/03/04
ONE
Escape
Men cursed as they grappled.
Jimmy the Hand slipped eel-like between knots of fighting men on
the darkened quayside. Steel glittered in torch- and lantern-light, shining
in ruddy-red arcs as horsemen slashed at the elusive Mockers who
strove to hold them back. Only seconds more were needed for Prince
Arutha and Princess Anita to make their escape, and the fight had
reached the frenzied violence of desperation. Screams of rage and pain
split the night, accompanied by the iron hammering of shod hooves
throwing up sparks as they smashed down on stone, to the counterpoint
of the clangour of steel on steel.
Bravos and street-toughs struggled against trained soldiers, but the
soldiers’ horses slipped and slithered on the slick boards and stones of
the docks and the flickering light was even more uncertain than the
footing. Knives stabbed upward and horses shied as hands gripped
booted feet and heaved Bas-Tyran men-at-arms out of the saddle. The
harsh iron-and-salt smell of blood was strong even against the garbage
stink of the harbour, and a horse screamed piteously as it collapsed,
hamstrung. The rider’s leg was caught in the stirrup, crushed beneath his
mount, and he screamed as the horse thrashed, then fell silent as ragged
figures swarmed over him.
Jimmy fell flat under the slash of a sword, rolled unscathed between
the flailing hooves of a war-horse scrabbling to find better footing,
tripped one of the men-at-arms who was fighting dismounted against
three Mockers, then dashed down the length of the dock, his feet light
on the boards.
At the end of the quay he threw himself flat on the rough splintery
wood to hail the longboat below:
‘Farewell!’ he called to the Princess Anita.
She turned toward his voice, her lovely face little more than a pale
blur in the pre-dawn light. But he knew that her sea-green eyes would
be wide with astonishment.
I’m glad I came to say goodbye, he thought, an unfamiliar sensation
squeezing at his chest below the breastbone. It’s worth a little risk to
life and limb.
He grinned at her, but nervously; the fight with Jocko Radburn’s men
was heating up and his back felt very exposed. It wouldn’t be long
before the Mockers broke and ran; stand-up fights weren’t their style.
Another, taller figure stood in the longboat. ‘Here,’ Prince Arutha
called. ‘Use it in good health!’
A rapier in its scabbard flew up to his hand. He snatched it out of the
air and rolled over, just in time to avoid a kick from one of Radburn’s
bully-boys. Jimmy rolled again as the man pursued him, heavy-booted
foot raised to stamp on him like an insect. Letting the sword go he
reached up and grabbed toe and heel with crossed hands, giving it a
vicious twist that set the bully roaring and twisting to keep it from being
broken. That put him off-balance, and a kick placed with vicious
precision toppled him screaming into the water. His gear dragged him
under before the echoes of his scream could die.
‘Time to go!’ Jimmy panted.
Rolling up to his feet, Jimmy yanked the rapier from its scabbard and
looked about for a worthy target-preferably one blocking the best
escape route. Below, he could just make out the rhythmic splashing of
the oars counterpoint the chaos of the battle all around him. Farewell, he
said again in his heart. Then, as a pile of baled cloth blazed up: Ooops!
Lanterns began to appear on the boats around them, and watchmen
from the surrounding warehouses came running, while from all around
men called out: ‘What passes?’ and ‘Who goes there?’ And a growing
shout: ‘Fire! Fire!’
A man in the black and gold of Bas-Tyra snatched a lantern from
one of the watchmen and marched toward the end of the dock, giving
Jimmy an idea of whom to attack. The soldier grinned at the sight of the
thin, ragged boy before him.
‘Brought me a new sword, have you?’ he said. ‘Looks like a good
one. Too good for gutter-scum whose whiskers haven’t yet seen a
razor. My thanks.’
He swung a backhand cut at Jimmy, a lazy stroke with more strength
than style. No doubt he imagined that he could easily smash the rapier
from the young thief’s hand and then hack him down.
The finely-made blade was alive in Jimmy’s hand; heavy, but
perfectly balanced, limber as a striking snake. It flashed up almost of
itself and turned the clumsy stroke away with a long scringgg of metal
on metal. The guardsman grunted in astonishment as the redirected
force of his own stroke spun him around, then shouted in pain as Jimmy
danced nimbly aside and slashed at him.
More by luck than skill, the sharp steel caught the guardsman on the
wrist, parting the tough leather of his gauntlet and cutting a shallow
groove in the flesh beneath. With a gasp, the man shook his wrist and
took a step back, disbelief visible on his coarse features even in the
darkness.
Jimmy laughed in delighted surprise. Clearly not everyone had
Arutha’s skill with the blade. The hours he’d spent training with the
Prince while waiting for Trevor Hull’s smugglers to find a ship for
Arutha and that old pirate, Amos Trask, to steal for their escape had
paid off. Jimmy felt as if the soldier moved at half Prince Arutha’s
speed. He laughed again.
That laugh galvanized the soldier into action and he struck out at the
young thief with blow after powerful blow.
Like a peasant threshing grain, Jimmy thought-he had little
experience of matters rural, but a deep contempt for rubes.
The blows were hard and fast, but each was a copy of the one
before. Instinct led him to raise the rapier, and the cuts flowed off steel
blade and intricate swept guard; he had to put his left palm on his right
wrist more than once, lest sheer force knock the weapon out of his
hand. But he knew he was moments away from dodging to his left,
thrusting hard and taking the soldier in the stomach. Arutha had always
cautioned patience in judging an opponent.
An instant later Jimmy’s back met the side of a bale; glancing to
either side he realized he’d been neatly trapped in a short, dead-end
passage of piled cargo. The man before him grinned and made teasing
thrusts with his sword.
‘Caught like the little sewer rat you are,’ he growled.
The man raised his sword and Jimmy readied himself to execute his
move, confident he would be through with the soldier in another
moment. Then, suddenly, a pair of grappling bodies hurtled by, each
man with a hand on the wrist of the other’s knife-hand, stamping and
cursing as they whirled in a circle like a fast and deadly country dance.
They tumbled into the Bas-Tyran man-at-arms, throwing him forward
with a cry of surprise. Jimmy didn’t hesitate. He felt a mild instant of
regret that he couldn’t execute his fancy passing thrust, but he couldn’t
ignore such an easily acquired target. Jimmy stabbed out, and felt the
needle point of the rapier sink through muscle and jar on bone, the
strange sensation flowing up through the steel and hilt to shiver in his
shoulder and lower back.
The man dropped his lantern with a cry that turned into a screamed
curse as the glass shattered. The splattered oil blazed high, driving the
wounded soldier back. He dropped his weapon and began to beat at
spots of flame on his clothes, while Jimmy climbed the pile of bales like
a monkey.
‘You should know better than to corner a rat!’ he called over his
shoulder as he bounded down the back of the pile and struck the
ground running.
He heard someone whistle the code to withdraw and saw Mockers
streaming into alleys and side-streets like wisps of fog scattering before
a high wind. Jimmy raced to join them, but before he ducked into an
alley he turned to look out into the bay. Trevor Hull and his smugglers
were diving into the water, some swimming under the docks while
others made for longboats standing by in the water. Beyond them,
Jimmy could make out the form of the Sea Swift turning toward the
broken blockade line, canvas fluttering free and catching the light like
ghost-clouds in the dark; he raised his arm to wave. He knew it was
useless; the Princess would have been hurried below to safety as soon
as she’d been brought aboard. But he could no more have resisted that
wave than he could have not spoken that one last word to her.
The young thief turned and ran down the alley, as light on his feet as
a cat and almost as keenly aware of his surroundings. He might not be a
great swordsman-yet-but fleeing through the darkened alleys of
Krondor was a skill he’d mastered thoroughly long before he reached
the ripe old age of thirteen.
As he dodged through the byways of the city, his thoughts turned to
the time he had spent with the Princess and Prince during the last few
weeks. The Princess Anita was what girls were supposed to be and in
his experience never were. For a boy raised in the company of whores,
barmaids and pickpockets, she was . . . something rare, something fine,
a minstrel’s tale come to breathing life. When he was near her he
wanted to be better than he was.
It’s well she’s gone, then, he thought. A lad in his position couldn’t
afford such noble notions.
Besides, he thought with a wry grin, she would one day marry Prince
Arutha-even though he didn’t know it yet-so Jimmy had no business
having such feelings for her. Not that having no business doing things
had ever stopped him.
I suppose if she has to marry, and princesses do, he’s the one I’d
want her to.
Jimmy liked Arutha, but it was more than that. He respected him and
. . . yes, trusted him. The Prince made him see why men would follow a
leader, follow him to war on his bare word, something he’d never
thought to understand. Jimmy’s experience had been solely with men
who commanded through fear or because they could deliver an
advantage to those who followed. And Jimmy served at the pleasure of
the Upright Man, who did both those things.
Jimmy ran his hand along the scabbard of Arutha’s rapier, his now,
and smiled. Then he grew suddenly solemn. Being with them had
brought something special into his life, and now it was over. But then,
how many people in the Kingdom got this close to princes and
princesses? And of those, how many were thieves?
Jimmy grinned. He’d done better than well in his acquaintance with
royalty: two hundred in gold, a fine sword, including lessons on how to
use it, and a girl to dream about. And if he missed the Princess Anita,
well, at least he’d got to know her.
He headed for Mother’s with a jaunty step, ready for a light meal
and a long sleep.
Best to sleep until Radburn cools off, he thought. Though that
might mean he’d have to sleep until he was an old man.
Jimmy neared the large hall called Mother’s, or Mocker’s Rest,
carved out among the tunnels of the sewers. To a citizen of the upper
city it would have looked gloomy enough: the drip of water and the
glisten of nitre on ancient stone. But it would have been little more than
another junction of tunnels in the city’s sewer system, a bit larger than
usual, but nothing remarkable. To the average citizen of the upper city,
the eyes watching Jimmy approach the entrance to Mother’s would
have gone unseen, and the daggers clutched in ready hands would have
been undetected, unless at the last, fatal instant, they were driven home
to protect the secret of Mocker’s Rest.
To Jimmy it was home and safety and a chance to rest. He pushed
on a stone, and a loud click preceded the appearance of a small
opening, as a door fashioned of canvas and wood, cleverly painted to
look like rock, swung wide. He was short enough that he could walk
hunched over while a taller man would have to crawl, and he quickly
traversed the short passage to enter the hidden basement. A Basher
stood watch and as Jimmy appeared, nodded. Jimmy was thus spared a
lethal welcome. Any unknown head coming through that passage had
roughly a second to intone the password, ‘There’s a party tonight at
Mother’s’ before finding his brains splattered all over the stone floor.
The room was huge, carved out of three basements, all with stairs
leading up to three buildings owned by the Upright Man. A
whorehouse, an inn and a merchant of cheap trade-goods provided a
variety of escape routes, and Jimmy could find all of them blindfolded,
as could every other Mocker. The light was kept dim at all hours of the
day or night, so that a quick exit into the sewers wouldn’t leave a
Mocker without sight.
Jimmy nodded greetings to a few of the beggars and urchins who
were awake; most slept soundly, for there were still many hours until
dawn. They would all be in the market minutes after sunrise on a normal
day. But today would be anything but normal. With the Prince and
Princess safely away, reprisals would be the first order of business. The
City Constables and the Royal Household Guard had been easy enough
to cope with over the years, but this secret police installed by Guy du
Bas-Tyra since he took the office of Viceroy was another story. More
than one Mocker had been turned snitch to them and the mood of the
room reflected it. While there was a quiet sense of triumph at having
aided Princess Anita’s escape, the benefit was long-term; the Upright
Man thought about things that way, Jimmy understood. Some day
Princess Anita would return to Krondor-or at least Jimmy hoped
so-and those who supported her and her father, Prince Erland, now had
a debt to the Upright Man that he would contrive to collect in the most
beneficial fashion.
But that was all for the future, for the Upright Man; for the common
thief, pickpocket, or whore, there was no benefit this day. Instead, the
city above would be crawling with angry spies and informants, looking
to identify those who had embarrassed Jocko Radburn, head of the
secret police. And he was not a man to embarrass without
repercussions, Jimmy understood.
The escape of the Princess had been a secret undertaking, with only
a few in the Mockers and among Trevor Hull’s smugglers knowing who
was being spirited out of the city. But once the fight erupted, more than
one Mocker saw the Princess’s face and her hallmark red hair and by
sunrise the rumours of her escape would be making the rounds of the
markets, inns and shops.
Most would feign ignorance of the deed, but everyone would know
the reason for the sudden crackdown by Bas-Tyra’s soldiers and secret
police.
Jimmy moved to the far wall and picked up some rags, a whet-stone
and a small vial of oil from the storage box near the weapons lockers.
Such thoughts made his head swim. He was a boy of unknown
age-perhaps fourteen, perhaps sixteen, no one knew-and such
considerations were intriguing to him, yet he knew he didn’t fully
understand all of it. Politics and intrigue were attractive, but in an alien
way.
He made his way to a secluded corner to clean his rapier. His rapier,
and a gift at that! There had been few of those in his life, making the fine
weapon all the more precious. It would take the finest craftsman half a
year to fashion such a thing of deadly beauty; it was as different from the
crude, heavy weapons of ordinary soldiers as a war-horse was from a
mule.
He pulled the blade from the scabbard again and realized to his
dismay that he’d put it away bloody. He quirked his mouth wryly. Well,
he’d never had such a thing before: he couldn’t be expected to
remember every detail of its care immediately. On closer inspection he
realized that the scabbard was held together with ivory and brass pins,
and could be taken apart for cleaning and oiling.
His pleasure in his gift went up a notch, if that was possible. This was
a prize!
‘Loot like that’s to be turned in for sale, so’s we can make proper
shares,’ Laughing Jack said. He reached for the sword and Jimmy slid it
and himself away from Jack’s hand with an eel-like motion.
‘It’s not loot,’ he said. ‘It’s a gift. From Prince Arutha himself.’
‘Oooh, you’re getting gifts from princes these days are ye?’ Jack
had never actually been known to smile; his nickname had been
bestowed on him by Jimmy as a joke.
But he sneers better than anyone else I’ve ever met, Jimmy
thought.
摘要：

JimmyTheHandByRaymondEFeist&SteveStirlingBook3OfTheLegendsOfTheRiftwarSeriesV3.0Scanned&proofedbyAllflippedup23/03/04ONEEscapeMencursedastheygrappled.JimmytheHandslippedeel-likebetweenknotsoffightingmenonthedarkenedquayside.Steelglitteredintorch-andlantern-light,shininginruddy-redarcsashorsemenslash...

展开>> 收起<<
Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Legends - Jimmy the Hand.pdf

共398页,预览80页

还剩页未读， 继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

相关推荐

更多
立即下载
分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：398 页 大小：1.39MB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-20

开通VIP享超值会员特权

  • 多端同步记录
  • 高速下载文档
  • 免费文档工具
  • 分享文档赚钱
  • 每日登录抽奖
  • 优质衍生服务

作者详情

相关内容

更多

热门标签

人际关系 配电装置 动力学连接体 力的合成 高考理综 全宋诗作者索引 公务员考试
/ 398
评分 收藏
分享
立即下载 VIP免费下载
客服
关注