The King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Marcus said, “But the Sunset Islands pirates have been quiet for years.”

  Amos nodded. “Someone’s stirred them up. That’s the other thing that bothers me.”

  “What?” said Martin.

  “If every black heart who lived in the Sunset Islands since I was a boy came ashore, and they brought their grannies and their grannies’ cats with them, they couldn’t mount a force of more than five hundred. We’re talking more than twice that, including some trained Tsurani assassins and maybe some genuine Durbin slavers and a Quegan renegade.”

  Martin nodded. “So where did all those raiders come from, and who sent them?”

  “Could this Render be behind it?” asked Nicholas.

  Amos shook his head. “Not unless he’s changed more than I think he has in the last thirty years. No, this caper was put together by someone with bigger ideas than Render’s. And it cost money, too. Getting those Tsurani assassins through the rift from Kelewan…someone was bribed, probably people on both sides. And the Durbin slavers demand guarantees. If every pretty girl and boy taken was sold at the top of the market, they’d probably not break even on what it cost to underwrite this venture.”

  Martin said, “We need to leave.”

  Amos nodded. “It will take a few days to ready the ship.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Nicholas.

  Amos said, “The Sunset Islands. That’s where we’ll pick up their trail, Nicholas.”

  —

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Martin asked Harry and Nicholas to come outside with Marcus and Amos. When they were clear of casual listeners, Martin said, “Nicholas, I’ve decided that you and Harry will stay here in Crydee. Knight-Lieutenant Edwin will need help, and when a ship gets here from Tulan or Krondor, you can return to your father’s court.”

  Martin turned away as if that was the end of it, but Nicholas said, “No.”

  Martin said, “I wasn’t asking you for agreement, Squire.”

  Nicholas paused a long moment, holding his uncle’s gaze, then took a deep breath and said, “Highness, or Prince Nicholas, Lord Martin.”

  Marcus snorted and said, “You’ll go where Father sends you—”

  Nicholas didn’t shout, but his tone was cold and angry as he said, “I will go where I please, Master Marcus.”

  Marcus stepped forward as if about to strike Nicholas, when Amos said, “Stop this!” Marcus halted and Amos said, “Nicky, what are you thinking of?”

  Nicholas looked from face to face, then, fixing his gaze on Martin, said, “Uncle, you swore an oath, and so did I. When I was given my office on my fourteenth birthday, I vowed to protect and defend the Kingdom. How could I claim to have upheld that vow if I ran home now?”

  Martin said nothing, but Amos said, “Nicholas, your father sent you here to learn something about the differences between the frontier and the royal court, not to go chasing slavers across the ocean.”

  Nicholas said, “My father sent me out here to learn to be a Prince of the Kingdom, Admiral. I am as much a Prince of the Blood Royal as Borric and Erland, and I am bound as much as they are to see to the safety and well-being of our subjects. At my age, Borric and Erland had already been fighting a year on the frontier with Lord Highcastle.” Looking at Martin, he said, “I wasn’t asking your permission to go with you, my lord Duke. I was giving you a command.”

  Marcus’s mouth opened and he was about to speak, but Martin’s hand upon his shoulder restrained him. Softly he asked, “Are you certain, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas looked at Harry. The once fun-loving boy from Ludland was dirty from days of working in the sooty town, and his eyes were dark with fatigue circles, but he nodded once.

  “I am certain, Uncle,” said Nicholas.

  Martin gripped Marcus by the shoulder and quietly said, “We are bound by our oath….” Then he added, “Your Highness.”

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he turned to follow his father. Amos waited until they were gone, then snapped, “I thought I’d raised you to be smarter than this, Nicky.”

  Nicholas said, “Margaret and Abigail are out there somewhere, Amos, and if there is any way to find them, I will.”

  Amos shook his head. Glancing around the destroyed town in the moonlight, he sighed in resignation. “I love you like my own grandson, Nicky, but given a choice, I’d rather have a little magic than a wet-behind-the-ears Prince giving orders on this voyage.”

  Nicholas said, “Pug!”

  Amos said, “What about him?”

  Reaching inside his tunic, the boy said, “He gave me this in case we needed him.”

  Amos said, “Well, I can’t think things could be much more needy than they are now.”

  Nicholas gripped the talisman in his right and repeated Pug’s name three times. The little metal amulet warmed in Nicholas’s hand, but that was the only sign magic was being employed.

  A moment later, Nakor came out of the inn. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “You felt that?” asked Harry.

  “Felt what?”

  “The magic.”

  “Bah. There is no magic,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I saw Martin and Marcus come into the inn, and they did not look happy.”

  Amos said, “The correct military term is ‘pulling rank.’ Our young Prince here has decided he’s going with us, no matter what his uncle or I say.”

  “He’s supposed to,” said Nakor.

  “What?” asked Harry.

  The Isalani shrugged. “I don’t know why, but without Nicholas, whatever waits for us out there will prevail.”

  “He is the son of the Lord of the West,” said a voice from behind.

  They all turned to see Pug step out of shadows. He was dressed in a dark brown robe with a hood, which he pulled back to reveal a face etched with concern. “I was going to ask why you’ve summoned me.” He glanced around the charred landscape. “But I think that’s obvious.”

  —

  PUG AND MARTIN spoke for a long time, out of earshot of the others. Amos had called Martin back out of the inn at Pug’s request. Now he and the others who had witnessed Pug’s arrival waited to see what would happen next.

  Harry said, “Do you think he can wish them back here?”

  Nakor said, “He is a very powerful man. But I don’t think wishes have much to do with it. We shall see.”

  Pug and Martin returned to where the others were standing and Pug said, “I am going to attempt to locate Margaret and her friend.” He glanced around. “I need some space around me. Please stay here.”

  He moved away from the inn toward a large open area in front of it that had been earmarked as a new marketplace. Now it was merely a weed-covered lot, with a large rock protruding from the middle. Pug stepped up on the rock and held his hands up over his head.

  A faint sensation, like a distant humming, struck Nicholas and he glanced at Harry, who nodded that he also felt it. After a long minute, Anthony came from inside the inn and joined the others. Softly the young magician said, “Is that Pug?”

  Nakor nodded. “He’s looking for the girls. It’s a very good trick if he can do it.”

  The sense of vibration increased, until Nicholas felt as if something were crawling over his skin. He resisted the urge to scratch.

  Anthony said, “What’s that?”

  Nicholas squinted toward where the magician pointed and he saw a faint red light in the distance, about a handspan above Pug’s head. It seemed to be growing brighter.

  After a moment Nakor shouted, “Get down!”

  When Anthony hesitated, Nakor pulled on his sleeve, forcing him down, and then he was likewise yanking on Nicholas’s arm. “Get on the ground! Cover your eyes! Don’t look! Now!“

  They did as he asked, and Nicholas looked up to see the red light approaching at terrifying speed.

  Nicholas felt Nakor’s hand upon his head, forcing his face into the soil. “Don’t look! Cover your face!”

  Suddenly, in the
darkness, Nicholas felt heat. A searing sensation struck his head and shoulders, as if he lay before a suddenly opened furnace or oven. The impact of the heat sucked the breath from his lungs. He almost opened his eyes, save for Nakor repeating his warning.

  Then the heat passed. “Look!” Nakor shouted.

  Pug stood transfixed, surrounded by a sizzling nimbus of red energies, white sparkles of lightning seeming to explode along the surface as tiny flecks of silver danced inside. Nakor was on his feet and running toward him.

  The others were only a few steps behind. When Nakor was an arm’s length from Pug he halted and held out his arms in warning for the others not to get too close.

  Pug was immobilized inside the red energies, a statue with his arms upraised. Nakor walked completely around the strange envelope of red light and shook his head.

  Amos said, “What is this?”

  Anthony said, “Very powerful magic, Admiral.”

  Nakor made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Ha! There is no magic. This is a very loud warning: stay away!” He nodded, and said, “And more.”

  Martin said, “What else?”

  “You have more trouble than we thought.” He started walking back toward the inn.

  “Are you going to leave him there?” asked Harry.

  “What do you want me to do?” said Nakor. “There’s nothing I can do for Pug that he’s not already doing for himself. He’ll be fine. It’s just going to take some time for him to get out of that trap.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait?” said Nicholas.

  “You can if you want,” answered Nakor. “But I’m cold and I want something to eat. I’m sure Pug will come inside when he’s done.”

  “Done with what?” asked Amos, following after.

  “Whatever it is he’s doing in there. It wouldn’t take him so long to get free if that’s all he wanted to do. He’s doing something else, I’m certain.” With that, the little man reached the door to the inn and opened it. The others followed behind, save Anthony, who elected to wait nearby and observe.

  —

  PUG MOVED THROUGH shadow. He had extended his senses to the southwest, toward those islands Amos had claimed would be the most likely place for Margaret and her companions to be held. He had found the islands quickly, for there was a large town, and the energies of the people there were like a bonfire on an otherwise deserted beach.

  Then an alarm had sounded. Some warning sense told him he was under attack. He put up his mental defenses as the red energies struck. The defenses were more than equal to the task. Pug did not resist the attack, beyond protecting himself. He could have destroyed the imprisoning magic, but to do so would have clearly warned the caster that he was free. He chose to investigate instead.

  As with all such sendings, there was a trail of magic from source to target. Pug examined the feel of it, the direction from whence it came, and how it was constructed; then he created his shadow.

  It was not really a shadow, but that was how Pug envisioned it, how he conceived the entity. The shadow was a construct of magic, a non-real creature that existed only as a conduit for Pug’s consciousness. He suspected his intuition had him think of shadow, for he would hide this creature in those dark and formless places along the track of magic, where the caster of the hostile spell would be unlikely to notice such a being.

  Once the shadow was formed, he sent it creeping up the trail of magic, hiding in non-places, blending into dark voids along the trail. The search would take time, but he would be more likely to discover the source and identity of this attack.

  Pug began his search.

  —

  IT WAS NEAR dawn when Pug suddenly stepped free of the light. Anthony dozed nearby, a cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders and over his head. He quickly came fully awake as he saw Pug stagger away from the light. The cocoon remained in place, the white sparkles flashing across the red; inside, a shadow, resembling Pug as he had stood there moments before, remained.

  Anthony rose and gripped Pug by the arm. “Are you all right?”

  Shutting his eyes a moment, he said, “Just tired.” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Inspecting the red energies that still stood like a ruby obelisk, he asked, “Where are the others?”

  “Inside,” said Anthony.

  Pug nodded, touching the red light with a finger as he studied the shadow form of himself. “This will do for a while,” he said. He turned and began walking toward the inn.

  As Anthony fell in beside him, Pug asked, “Do I know you?” Anthony introduced himself and Pug said, “So then you’re my replacement?”

  Anthony blushed. “No one can replace you, master.”

  “Call me Pug,” said Pug. “If time permits, remind me to tell you what a miserable failure I was when I lived here in Crydee.” Anthony could only smile weakly, his expression showing he didn’t believe it. “I’m serious,” Pug said. “I was a terrible magician at first.”

  Pug opened the door and Martin was instantly awake. Marcus and the others roused quickly with a shake or word. Harry got up stretching and yawning and said, “I think I still have coffee. I’ll see.” He moved sleepily toward the bar.

  Pug squatted next to Martin and said, “I think Amos’s surmise is correct. The raid was a mask for something else.”

  “What was that red light out there?” asked Martin.

  “A very clever trap.”

  Nakor nodded. “A warning, no?”

  Pug said, “Yes, that as well.”

  Martin said, “Margaret and the others?”

  “They are where Amos suspects,” observed Pug. “I can’t say exactly, because I was attacked just as I located them. I can only say that it’s a large room, and dark. Perhaps a warehouse. I had a sense of their mood. They are all terribly frightened and there’s a strong sense of despair.” Then Pug smiled. “Though your daughter has a great deal of anger, too.”

  Martin couldn’t hide his relief. “I had feared…”

  Pug nodded. “At least last night she was well.”

  “Who tried to trap you?” asked Nakor.

  “I don’t know.” Pug looked thoughtful. “The attack didn’t come from where the girls are. It came from someplace a great deal farther away, and it was fashioned by someone of no mean skill and power. It was sent in response to my looking for the captives.”

  Nakor sighed. “So whoever sent it is telling you to mind your own business.”

  Pug nodded. “My shadow construct outside will collapse soon. I plan on being far from here when it does, so when they attack again, I will not draw their wrath on anyone else. I can defend myself, but I’m not sure how many of you I can project if they broaden or intensify their assaults.”

  Nakor chewed his lip. “So we shall have to go without you.”

  Martin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t follow.”

  “The warning,” said Nakor. “Pug is being circumspect. He doesn’t want to upset you further.” Looking at the bearded magician, he said, “You’d better tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” asked Martin.

  Pug shook his head as Harry approached with a tray of mugs filled with hot coffee. He passed them out, and after a sip, Pug said, “I don’t know how our colorful friend here could know, but there was a warning attached to this attack: if I try to follow the prisoners, if I use magic to aid their escape, if anything should reveal pursuit from the Kingdom, the girls and boys will be killed, one at a time until those who follow withdraw. They are not merely captives; they are also hostages.”

  Amos blew out his cheeks as he exhaled slowly. “Which means that if they see a sail on the horizon and a Kingdom flag, they’ll start cutting throats.”

  Pug said, “Exactly.”

  “How did you know?” Harry asked Nakor.

  The Isalani shrugged. “I didn’t. I assumed. It was logical they would know Pug was kin to the Duke and might come after his daughter. Threatening to kill the prisoners is a logical choice.”

  Anthon
y said, “But who cast the spell?”

  Pug said, “It is alien. I’ve never seen its like.” Looking at Martin, he added, “If anything proves Amos is correct that this is no mere raid for slaves, that spell does.”

  Nakor nodded, and his usually bright face turned glum. “These slavers have very powerful allies, Lord Martin.”

  The room fell silent.

  Then Amos’s face slowly brightened as a truly impressive grin manifested itself in the grey and black of his beard. “I have it,” he said with obvious glee.

  “What?” asked Martin.

  “I know how we can sail into Freeport and not have the prisoners harmed.”

  “How?” asked Pug.

  Now grinning like a boy who had just found a new toy, Amos said, “Gentlemen, as of today, you’re all buccaneers.”

  —

  WORKERS FURIOUSLY CRAWLED over the Royal Eagle. Following Amos’s instructions, they were doing everything he could imagine to change the appearance of the ship. Amos worried that some of those who had escaped the attack on the ship up at Barran might remember her, and if she was recognized before reaching the safe haven of Freeport, the enterprise might end in disaster.

  A pair of carpenter’s apprentices were altering the figurehead, changing the eagle to a hawk. Amos had yelled at them for hours until they were ready to quit, but at last he judged the bird different enough to serve. He then ordered the white and gold figurehead painted an ominous black, with red eyes. The name Royal Eagle had been scraped off the bow and stern, and a painter was trying to hide all signs of the removal.

  Yards were relocated wherever possible, and spars were shifted. A false rail was added amidships; it wouldn’t stand close inspection, but Amos was not planning on having visitors aboard. From the dockside, it looked like part of the original structure, as did a pair of ballista platforms that had been located in the bow and were now placed one on each side of the ship. Archers’ platforms had been removed from the masts, as only Kingdom warships used them. In their place, rope and canvas slings—where crossbowmen could sit and fire down upon enemy crews—were hung between the masts. The bowsprit was hoisted and reblocked, so a man could now stand in the bow under it.