Magician: Master

by Raymond E. Feist

  Cook listened closely, then said, “Why should an emissary of Crydee slip into the city? Why not come in with banners flying and receive a state welcome?”

  “Because Black Guy’d just as soon toss him into a cell as not, you stupid bastard.”

  Cook’s head snapped around: Amos was sitting up against the wall, groggily shaking his head. “I think you busted my skull, Cook.”

  Aaron Cook looked hard at Amos. “You know me?”

  “Aye, you wooden-headed sea rat, I know you. I know you well enough to know we’re not speaking another word until you go fetch Trevor Hull.”

  Aaron Cook rose from the table, an uncertain expression on his face. He motioned to one of the men by the door, who also looked discomforted by Amos’s words. The man nodded to Cook and left the room. Minutes later he returned, followed by another man, tall, with a shock of grey hair, but still powerful looking. A ragged scar ran from his forehead through his right eye, which was milky white, and down his cheek. He took a long look at Amos, then laughed aloud and pointed at the captives. “Untie them.”

  Amos was lifted by two men, then untied. As his ropes were loosened, he said, “I thought they’d hung you years ago, Trevor.”

  The man clapped Amos on the back. “And I you, Amos.”

  Cook looked questioningly at the new arrival, while Arutha was untied and Martin revived with a cup of water thrown in his face. The man called Trevor Hull looked at Cook and said, “Have your wits fled, man? He’s grown a beard and cut his famous flowing locks—lost some on top and put on a few pounds as well—but he’s still Amos Trask.”

  Cook studied Amos a moment longer, then his eyes widened. “Captain Trenchard?”

  Amos nodded, and Arutha looked on in astonishment. Even in far Crydee they had heard of Trenchard the Pirate, the Dagger of the Sea. He’d had a short career, but a famous one. It was reputed even Quegan war galleys had turned and fled at sight of Trenchard’s fleet, and there wasn’t a town along the coasts of the Bitter Sea that did not fear his marauders.

  Aaron Cook extended his hand. “Sorry, Captain. It’s been so many years since we last met. We couldn’t be certain you weren’t part of some plot of Radburn’s to locate us.”

  “Who are you?” asked Arutha.

  “All in good time,” answered Hull. “Come.”

  One of the men helped the still-groggy Martin to his feet, and Cook and Hull led them to a more comfortable room, with chairs enough for all. When all were sitting, Amos said, “This old rogue is Trevor Hull, Captain White-eye, master of the Red Raven.“

  Hull shook his head sadly. “No longer, Amos. Burned off of Elarial she was, three years ago, by imperial Keshian cutters. My mate Cook here and a few of my boys got to shore with me, but most of the crew went down with the Red Raven. We made our way back to Durbin, but things are changing, what with the wars and all. Came to Krondor a year ago and have been working here since.”

  “Working? You, Trevor?”

  The man smiled, his scar wrinkling, as he said, “Smuggling, in fact. That’s what brought us together with the Mockers. Not much can happen in Krondor along those lines without the Upright Man’s permission.

  “When the Viceroy first came to Krondor, we started running up against Jocko Radburn and his secret police. He’s been a thorn in our side from the first. This business of guards sneaking about dressed as common folk, there’s just no honor in it.”

  Amos muttered, “I knew I should have cut his throat when I had the chance. Next time I won’t be so damned civilized.”

  “Slowing down a bit, Amos? Well, a week ago we got word from the Upright Man he had a precious cargo to leave the city. We’ve had to bide our time until the right ship was ready. Radburn’s very anxious to find that cargo before it leaves Krondor. So, you see, it’s a most delicate situation, for we can’t ship it until the blockade’s lifted, or we find a blockade captain we can bribe. When we first caught wind you three were asking questions, we thought it might be some grand plot of Jocko’s to find that cargo. Now we’ve cleared the air, I’d like to hear the answer to Cook’s question explained. Why should an emissary from Crydee fear discovery by the Viceroy’s men?”

  “Listening in, were you?” Amos turned to Arutha, who nodded. “This is no simple emissary, Trevor. Our young friend is Prince Arutha, son of Duke Borric.”

  Aaron Cook’s eyes went wide, and the man who struck Arutha paled. Trevor Hull nodded understanding. “The Viceroy’d pay handsomely to get his hands upon the son of his old enemy, especially when it came time to press his claim in the Congress of Lords.”

  “What claim?” said Arutha.

  Hull leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’d not know, of course. We only heard the news a few days ago ourselves, and it’s not common knowledge. Still, I’m not free to speak plainly without permission.”

  He rose and left the room. Arutha and Amos exchanged questioning glances, then Arutha looked toward Martin. “Are you all right?”

  Martin carefully touched his head. “I’ll recover, though they must have hit me with a tree.”

  One of the men grinned in a friendly, almost apologetic way. Patting a wooden billy in his belt sash, he said, “He’s a hard one to bring down, that’s for certain.”

  Hull returned to the room, followed by another. The men in the room rose, and Arutha, Amos, and Martin slowly followed suit. Behind Hull came a young girl no more than sixteen years of age. Arutha was instantly struck by the promise of beauty in her features: large sea-green eyes, straight and delicate nose, and slightly full mouth. A faint hint of freckles dusted her otherwise fair skin. She was tall and slender and walked with poise. She came across the room to Arutha, rose up on tiptoes, and kissed him lightly upon the cheek. Arutha looked surprised at this gesture and watched as she stepped back with a smile upon her lips. She wore a simple dress of dark blue, and her red-brown hair hung loosely to her shoulders. After a second she said, “Of course, how silly I am. You’d not know me. I saw you when you were last in Krondor, but we never met. I’m your cousin Anita, Erland’s daughter.”

  Arutha stood thunderstruck. Besides the girl’s disquieting effect upon his composure, with her winning smile and clear gaze, he was doubly surprised to find her in this company of brigands. He sat down slowly, and she took a chair. So used to the informality of his father’s court, he was somewhat surprised when she gave the others permission to sit.

  “How…?” Arutha began.

  Amos interrupted. “The Upright Man’s precious cargo?”

  Hull nodded, and the Princess spoke. Her pretty face clouded with emotion. “When the Duke of Bas-Tyra came with orders from the King, Father greeted him warmly and offered no resistance. At first Father did all he could to aid him in taking command of the army, but when he heard of the things Guy was doing with his secret police and press gangs, Father protested. Then when Lord Barry died and Guy put Lord Jessup in command of the fleet over Father’s objections, and Lord Dulanic disappeared so mysteriously, Father sent a letter to the King, demanding Guy’s recall. Guy intercepted the message and ordered us kept under guard in a wing of the palace. Then Guy came to my room one night.”

  She shuddered. Arutha nearly spat when he said, “You don’t have to speak of such things.” The sudden rage startled the girl.

  “No,” she said, “it was nothing like that. He was very proper, nearly formal. He simply informed me we were to be wed, and that King Rodric was to name him heir to the throne of Krondor. If anything, he seemed irritated by the bother of having to take such a course.”

  Arutha slammed his fist against the wall behind. “That tears it! Guy means to have Erland’s crown and Rodric’s after. He means to be King.”

  Anita looked at Arutha shyly. “So it seems. Father’s not well and couldn’t resist, though he refused to sign the proclamation of betrothal. Guy had him taken to the dungeon until he would sign.” Her eyes teared as she said, “Father cannot live long in such cold and damp quarters. I fe
ar he will die before agreeing to Guy’s wishes.” She continued to speak, her face a mask of control, though tears ran down her cheeks as she talked of her mother and father’s imprisonment. “Then one of my ladies told me a maid knew some people in the city who might be willing to help.”

  Trevor Hull said, “With your permission, Highness. One of the girls in the palace is sister to a Mocker. With everything up in the wind, the Upright Man decided it might be to his advantage to take a hand. He arranged to smuggle the Princess out of the palace the night of Guy’s departure, and she’s been here since.”

  Amos said, “Then the rumor we overheard before we fled the Sailor’s Ease about there being a hunt on for a ‘royal cousin’ was about Anita, not Arutha.”

  Hull pointed at the Prince. “It may be Radburn and his boys still have no idea who you are. Most likely, they jumped on you in the hope you’d turn out to be party to the Princess’s escape. We’re almost certain the Viceroy has no idea she’s gone from the palace, for she fled after he rode out. I expect Radburn is desperate to get her back before his master returns from the war with Kesh.”

  Arutha studied the Princess, feeling a strong desire to do something on her behalf, a desire beyond the consideration of foiling Guy. He shunted aside the strange tug of emotions. He asked Trevor Hull, “Why does the Upright Man wish to contend with Guy? Why isn’t he turning her in for a reward?”

  Trevor Hull looked to Jimmy the Hand, who answered with a grin. “My master, a most perceptive man, saw at once his own interests were best served by aiding the Princess. Since Erland has been Prince of Krondor, the business of the city runs smoothly, an environment conducive to the success of my master’s many undertakings. Stability profits us all, you see. With Guy here, we’ve his secret police about, upsetting the normal commerce of our guild. And whatever else, we are most loyal subjects of His Highness the Prince of Krondor. If he does not wish his daughter to marry the Viceroy, we do not wish it as well.” With a laugh, Jimmy added, “Besides, the Princess has agreed to pay twenty-five thousand gold sovereigns to our master should the guild get her free of Krondor, to be delivered when her father returns to power, or some other fate places her upon the throne.”

  Arutha took Anita’s hand and said, “Well, cousin, there is nothing else to be done. We must take you to Crydee at the first chance.”

  Anita smiled, and Arutha found himself smiling back. Trevor Hull said, “As I said before, we were waiting for the right opportunity to smuggle her from the city.” He turned to Amos. “You’re the man for this, Amos. There’s no better blockade runner on the Bitter Sea—excepting myself, of course, but I’ve other matters to take care of here.”

  Trask said, “We can’t leave for a few weeks yet. Even if the blockade was lifted, my ship’s in desperate need of refitting. And if we left now, we’d have to sail about until the weather in the straits breaks. With Jessup’s fleet at sea ambush, that would be risky. I’d rather hide here awhile, then a quick run west, through the straits, and up the Far Coast with no delay.”

  Hull slapped him on the shoulder. “Good, that will give us time. I’ve heard of your ship; the boys tell me it’s little better than a barge. We’ll find you another. I’ll send word to your men when the time is right. Radburn’ll most likely leave your crew alone, hoping you’ll turn up. We’ll slip them aboard the new ship a few at a time at night and replace them with my own boys, so Radburn’s men won’t notice anything unusual aboard.”

  He turned to Arutha. “You’ll be safe enough here, Highness. This building is one of many owned by the Mockers, and none will get close without our having ample warning. When the time is right, we’ll get you all free of the city. Now we’ll take you to your room, so you may rest.”

  Arutha, Martin, and Amos were shown to a room down the hall from the one where they had met Anita, while the Princess returned to her own quarters. The room they entered was a simple affair, but clean. All three men were tired. Martin fell heavily on one pallet and was quickly asleep. Amos lowered himself slowly, and Arutha watched him for a moment. With a slight smile he said, “When you first came to Crydee, I thought you a pirate.”

  Struggling to remove a boot, Amos said, “In truth, I tried to leave that behind me, Highness.” He laughed. “Perhaps it was the gods working their revenge upon me, but you know, for fifteen years, man and boy, I was a corsair and a captain, then when I try my hand at honest trading for the first time, my ship is captured and burned, my crew slaughtered, and I find myself beached as far from the heart of the Kingdom as you can get and still be in it.”

  Arutha lay down upon his pallet. “You’ve been a good counselor, Amos Trask, and a brave companion. Your help over the years has earned you a good deal of forgiveness for past wrongdoings, but”—he shook his head—“Trenchard the Pirate! Gods, man, there’s so much to forgive.”

  Amos yawned and stretched. “When we return to Crydee, you can hang me, Arutha, but for now please have the good grace to keep silent and put out the light. I am getting too old for this foolishness. I need some sleep.”

  Arutha reached over and covered the wick of the lamp with a snuff. He lay back in the darkness, images and thoughts crowding his mind. He thought of his father and what he would do were he here, then wondered how his brother and sister were. Thoughts of Carline caused him to think of Roland, and to speculate how the fortifications of Jonril were progressing. He forced aside the buzzing thoughts and let his mind drift. Then before sleep took him, he remembered Anita, as she rose up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and felt again a not entirely comfortable churning within. A faint smile crossed his lips as he fell asleep.

  —

  ANITA CLAPPED APPRECIATIVELY as Arutha turned aside the point of Jimmy’s sword. The boy thief blushed at his awkwardness, but Arutha said, “That was better.”

  He and Jimmy were practicing basic swordwork, Jimmy using a rapier purchased with some of the gold Arutha had given him. For a month they had passed the time this way, and Anita had taken to watching. Whenever the Princess was around, the usually brash Jimmy the Hand became subdued, and he blushed furiously whenever she spoke to him. Arutha was now certain the boy thief was afflicted by the worst sort of infatuation for the Princess, only three years older than himself. Arutha appreciated Jimmy’s distress, for he also found the girl’s presence a distraction. Still in the first years of womanhood, she nevertheless carried herself with court-bred grace, had wit and education and showed the promise of mature beauty. Arutha found it easier to turn his thoughts to other topics than the Princess.

  The basement where they worked on their sword-play was damp and poorly ventilated, so it soon became close and humid. Arutha said, “That’s enough for today, Jimmy. You’re still impatient to close, and that can be fatal. You’ve plenty of speed, and it’s good you learn young, but you lack arm strength to bash about as many older men do; with the rapier, that can also prove fatal. Remember, the edge is for cutting—”

  “—and the point is for killing,” finished Jimmy, with a self-conscious grin. “I can see how you’d have to be cautious against a man with a broadsword. He could break your blade if you tried to block instead of parry, but what do you do if one of those alien warriors comes at you with that greatsword you described?”

  Arutha laughed. “You find out who can run faster.” Anita’s laughter joined with Arutha’s and Jimmy’s. Arutha said, “Seriously, you must stay to the off-hand side. With the big swords, your opponent gets one swing, then you’ve got an opening—”

  The door opened, and Amos walked in with Martin and Trevor Hull. Amos said, “The worse damn luck—begging the Princess’s pardon. Arutha, the worst has occurred.”

  Arutha wiped the perspiration off his brow with a towel and said, “Don’t stand there waiting for me to guess. What?”

  “News came this morning,” said Hull. “Guy is returning to Krondor.”

  “Why?” asked Anita.

  Amos said, “It seems our Lord of Bas-Tyra rode into Shamata an
d ran his banner up above the walls. The Keshian commander had the good grace to mount one more attack, for the sake of form, then nearly gave himself a ruptured gut racing back home. He left a handful of minor nobles haggling with Guy’s lieutenants over the conditions of armistice until a formal treaty can be drawn up between the King and the Keshian Empress. There’s only one reason Guy can be hurrying back here.”

  Quietly Anita said, “He knows I’ve escaped.”

  Trevor Hull said, “Yes, Highness. This Black Guy’s a wily one. He must have a spy in Radburn’s company. It appears he doesn’t even trust his own secret police overmuch. Luckily we still have people inside the palace loyal to your father, or we would never have learned of this turn.”

  Arutha sat down near the Princess. “Well, then we must soon be gone. It’s either sail for home or toward Ylith to reach Father.”

  Amos said, “Looking at the choices, it seems there is little to recommend one course over the other. Both have dangers and advantages.”

  Martin looked at the girl, then said, “Though I don’t think the Duke’s war camp any place for a young woman.”

  Amos sat down by Arutha. “Your presence in Crydee is not vital, at least not for now. Fannon and Gardan are able men, and should the need arise, I think your sister would prove no mean commander. They should be able to keep things under control as well as you.”

  Martin said, “But you must ask yourself this: what will your father do when he learns Guy does not simply rule in Krondor as Erland’s aide but holds the city completely in his power, that he’s sending no aid to the Far Coast, and that he means to have the throne?”

  Arutha nodded vigorously. “You are right, Martin. You know Father well. It will mean civil war.” There was sorrow on his face. “He’ll withdraw half the Armies of the West and march down the coast to Krondor and not stop until Guy’s head is on a pole before the city’s gates. Then the course will be set. He’ll have to turn east and march against Rodric. He’d never wish the crown for himself, but once begun, he cannot stop short of total victory or defeat. But we’d lose the West to the Tsurani in time. Brucal couldn’t hold them long with only half an army.”