Krondor: The Assassins - Book II of The Riftwar Legacy
By: Raymond E. Feist
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is the outgrowth of a lot of imaginations besides my own. I am
indebted to the following people: John Cutter, Neal Halford, Bill
Maxwell, Andy Ashcraft, Josh Kulp, Craig Bollan, and Erik Wycheck at
Dynamix, 7th Level, and Pyrotechnix, for creating interesting characters
and situations for the games, Betrayal at Krondor and Return to Krondor,
which provided characters, situations, and ideas that coalesced into
this novel.
Also, and as usual, I stand in debt to the imagination and creative
support given me by the usual suspects, also known as the Friday
Nighters. Without them, Midkemia wouldn't exist and I would have had to
find another job.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all the editors who have put up with,
inspired, corrected, and aided me, to the ends of improving the work and
making me look good: Adrian Zackheim, Nick Austin, Pat Lobrutto, Janna
Silverstein, Malcolm Edwards, and my current guides: Jennifer Brehl and
Jane Johnson.
Also, to Peter Schneider, who has done far more on my behalf than he
realizes.
My deepest thanks to them all.
Raymond E. Feist
Rancho Santa Fe, CA
May, 1999
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE: Departures 1
CHAPTER ONE: Escape 12
CHAPTER TWO: Krondor 32
CHAPTER THREE: Reception 54
CHAPTER FOUR: Surprises 76
CHAPTER FIVE: Secrets 94
CHAPTER SIX: Confusion 111
CHAPTER SEVEN: Ambush 128
CHAPTER EIGHT: Attack 148
CHAPTER NINE: Decisions 163
CHAPTER TEN: Revelation 179
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Stealth 195
CHAPTER TWELVE: Improvisation 211
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Concealment 229
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Murders 252.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Desperation 275
CHAPTER SIXTEEN Discovery 292
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Misdirection 305
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Unmasking 322
EPILOGUE: Encounters 341
Prologue
Departures
Lines of soldiers marched along the ridge. The baggage train had been
broken into two segments, the first of which was now departing with the
wounded and the dead who would be cremated with honors back in Krondor.
Clouds of dust rose from the trail as wheels rolled and boots tramped
toward home, the fine powder mixing with the acrid smoke from campfires
as they were extinguished. The rising sun streamed through the haze,
orange and pale gold, lances of color in an otherwise gray morning. In
the distance birds sang, ignoring the aftermath of battle.
Arutha, Prince of Krondor and ruler of the Western Realm of the Kingdom
of the Isles, sat on his horse, taking a moment to enjoy the majesty of
the sunrise and the serenade of the birds as he watched his men heading
home. The fighting had been blessedly short but bloody, and while
casualties were lighter than anticipated, he still hated to lose even
one solider under his command. He let the beauty of the vista before him
soothe his frustration and regret for a few moments.
Arutha still resembled the youthful man who had come to the throne of
Krondor ten years befor...

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