Wrath of a Mad God Read Online Free PDF Page B

these bears, only they weren’t rightly bears, more like big furry owls.”
    “Big furry owls,” said Servan, open astonishment now on his face. Jommy could barely contain himself, all cold wet misery forgotten in the moment.
    “Well, as I was saying, it was an odd place, far outside the Sunset Isles. She was gathering eggs for some elf magic. But anyway, she and I managed to fend off the creatures long enough to let my bloody companions pass by the cave, then we slipped out and got to a safe spot.”
    “How did you ever get home?” asked Jommy.
    Jim grinned. “She had this magic stone, some elf thing, and once we were where she could do some magic, it took us to Elvandar.”
    “Elvandar? Is that near Cloud Land?” Servan asked, invoking the name of a mythical land from children’s tales.
    Jommy said, “Elvandar’s real, Servan. I know people who’ve been there.”
    “Next you’ll be telling me you know some elves, too.”
    Jommy smiled. “Not personally, but I know people who do.”
    “Well,” said Jim. “As I had helped save the girl and all that, the Queen and her husband feted me with a supper, gave me their thanks, and told me I was welcome any time I wanted to come calling. Then they helped me get to the outpost at Jonril—theone up in Crydee Duchy, not the one in Kesh it’s named after—and from there I got back to Krondor.”
    “Amazing,” said Jommy.
    “More than amazing,” said Servan, shivering again. “Unbelievable.”
    Jim reached inside his tunic and pulled out a leather cord around his neck bearing a beautifully carved trinket. “The Queen herself gave me this,” he said. “She said any elf would recognize it and I would be named Elf-friend.”
    Both Jommy and Servan leaned forward to inspect the trinket more closely. It was a pattern of interlocking knots, carved in what looked to be bone or ivory, and there was something about the design and shape that seemed more than human.
    Suddenly serious, the thief said, “I’m a lot of things, lads: rogue, adventurer, thief, and, when needs be, downright murderous thug, but no man has ever called Jimmyhand a liar.”
    “Jimmyhand?” asked Jommy.
    “My…professional name, as it were. After a famous old thief, from back in the day, Jimmy the Hand. Some say I’m a lot like him. Others say he might have been my great-grandda—but I think that was my mum trying to make me feel special. So, when I was a wee tyke I’d say, ‘I’m Jimmyhand,’ ’cause I never quite got the ‘the’ part right. So it stuck. I’m rightly named Jim Dasher.”
    In the time he had spent with Caleb and his family at Sorcerer’s Isle, Jommy had heard a fair number of “back in the day” stories from the old-timers, not a few of which revolved around the notorious Jimmy the Hand, a thief who according to legend became an agent of the Prince of Krondor, then later was given a noble title, rising to the rank of Duke of both Rillanon and Krondor, the two most powerful offices in the Kingdom after the King.
    Jommy studied the thief. He hardly knew him, but found him agreeable company; his outrageous stories were a welcome relief from the tedium of days spent waiting for an enemy who might never appear. He had no doubt Jim was every bit as dangerous as he claimed to be, but there was a quality under thesurface that Jommy had learned to recognize at an early age out on the road alone: an instinct about who he could trust and who he couldn’t. He nodded, then said, “Jim, I’ll never call you a liar until the day I catch you out.”
    Jim stared at Jommy for a long moment, then the grin returned. “Fair enough.”
    Servan turned his attention back to the distant beach they had been assigned to watch. “How much longer?”
    “As long as it takes,” said Jommy.
    “Which won’t be much longer,” said Jim, pointing off into the rainy gloom. “Boat coming.”
    “How can you—” began Servan, then he saw it, a tiny dark speck that grew larger by the