Another band of workers were hard at work “dirtying her up,” as Amos called it. Loath to see the beauty and discipline of the Royal Kingdom Navy put aside, many of the sailors had to be bullied into scratching off paint, allowing the sea air to turn metal to rust, and generally making the ship look as if only minimal effort had been put into keeping her seaworthy. Amos had no doubt that from any reasonable distance the ship looked very different from the way it had before the overhaul.
Martin, Pug, and Nicholas stood at the top of the wharf, the only place they could watch without interfering. There was still a great deal of debris and litter along the quay from the damage done by the raiders. Amos waved as he approached.
“How goes it?” asked Martin.
Amos said, “She’s starting to look like a rough bitch instead of the fine lady she is.” He turned and inspected the work, rubbing his chin as he studied her. “I could really disguise her if I had another week, but considering that those raiders who saw her were around at night…this should do.”
“It had better,” said Martin.
“When do we leave?” asked Nicholas.
Amos shook his head. “I know you’ve decided to come along, Nicky, but I wish you would change your mind.”
“Why?” he challenged.
Amos sighed. “You know I love you like a grandson, boy, but you’ve got to think like a Prince and not a love-sick child.” He held up his hand before Nicholas could speak. “Spare me. I saw the way you looked at the Lady Abigail the first night you were here. Normally, I’d wish you well and tell you to get the girl bedded as fast as you can, but now it’s serious stakes, Nicky.” He put his hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Nicholas said, “Why?”
“Because you’re the image of your father. He’s not exactly an obscure fellow, you know. He’s been Prince in Krondor for nearly thirty years, and more than one of those cutthroats out in the Sunsets will have clapped eyes on him.”
Nicholas frowned. “I can alter my appearance. I’ll let my beard grow….”
Amos looked pained as he softly said, “Look down, Nicky.”
Nicholas looked down and suddenly knew what Amos meant. The misshapen boot, with the foot it compensated for, was a banner heralding his identity. Amos almost whispered as he said, “That foot is nearly as famous as your father, Nicholas. It’s no secret Arutha’s youngest son is his sire’s get, save for the deformed left foot.”
Nicholas felt his ears and cheeks burn. He said, “I can—”
Martin put his hand upon Nicholas’s other shoulder. “You can’t hide it, Nicholas.”
The boy pulled away from the contact. He looked first at Amos, then at Martin, then at last at Pug. Something in the magician’s expression caught Nicholas’s attention. “What?” he demanded.
Pug looked from face to face, then looked Nicholas in the eyes. Firmly he said, “I can help.”
There was a pregnant pause, and Nicholas said, “What else?”
Pug said, “I can help, but only if you have more courage than I think you do.”
Nicholas bristled. “Show me what to do!” he demanded.
Pug said, “We will need privacy.” He put his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder, pulling him away from the others. To Martin he said, “I am going to take him to the castle. I’m going to need help. Will you ask Nakor and Anthony to join us there?” Martin nodded and Pug firmly led Nicholas away.
The Prince followed the magician silently, until they were almost back at the burned-out castle. Nicholas had a chance to consider his rash demands and the fact that his deformed foot had often been a trigger for unreasonable displays of temper.
At the gate, Pug turned and said, “We’ll wait for the others.”
Nicholas was silent for a while, then let out a long breath as his anger faded. After another silent minute, Pug said, “How do you feel?”
Nicholas said, “The truth?”
Pug nodded. Nicholas looked away at the distant harbor, where little remained that resembled the lovely town he had seen his first evening in Crydee. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” asked Pug.
“Of failure. Of coming along and causing better men than me to fail. Of getting the girls killed. Of…many things.”
Pug nodded. “What do you fear the most?”
Nicholas thought a long moment. “Of not being as good as I should be.”
Pug said, “Then you stand a chance, Nicholas.”
Nothing more was said until Anthony and Nakor approached, walking steadily up the hill. When they reached the gate, Anthony said, “Duke Martin said you asked us to join you.”
Pug nodded. “Nicholas is going to try something, and he’ll need our help.”
Nakor nodded, but Anthony said, “I don’t understand.”
Nicholas said, “Pug’s going to fix my foot.”
Pug said, “No.”
Nicholas said, “But I thought—”
Pug held up his hand. “No one else can fix your foot, Nicholas.”
Nakor added, “Except you.”
Pug nodded. “All we can do is help. If you really want us to.”
Nicholas said, “I don’t understand.”
Pug said, “Come along, and we’ll explain.”
They entered the burned-out entry hall and moved down the hall to the northern tower, then climbed the charred stone stairs. At the first doorway, Pug said, “This was once my room, and my master Kulgan lived above me.”
Anthony said, “This is my room…or was until last week. I took it rather than the one above because of the odd chimney”—he pointed to a hole in the wall where metal had run down the wall—“there. Kept the room warm.”
Pug nodded. “I had it built.” He glanced around the room, and for a moment Nicholas, Nakor, and Anthony could see that memories were returning to him. At last Pug said, “Then it’s doubly fitting.” He motioned for Nicholas to enter and said, “Sit by the window. Take off your boots.”
Nicholas sat on the blackened floor and removed his boots. Pug sat opposite him, ignoring the soot that clung to his robe and hands; Nakor and Anthony stood on either side. Pug spoke. “Nicholas, you must understand something about your own nature, something you share with most people.”
“What?”
Pug said, “Most of us move through life with little chance to learn much about ourselves. We know some things we like and some things we dislike, we have a few ideas about what makes us happy, and we die in ignorance regarding anything profound within ourselves.”
Nicholas nodded.
Pug continued. “There are reasons things happen like your foot being deformed at birth, reasons that are often impossible to understand. There are a lot of theories, especially when you speak with the priests of the various temples, but no one knows for certain.”
Nakor said, “It may be your foot is a lesson for you in this lifetime, Nicholas.”
Pug nodded. “So many believe.”
Nicholas said, “What can I learn from a deformed foot?”
Pug said, “Many things: limits, overcoming adversity, humility, pride.”
Nakor added, “Or nothing.”
Pug said, “I know your father tried to have your foot cured when you were a small child. Do you remember?”
Nicholas shook his head. “A little, but not much. Only that it hurt.”
Pug put his hand upon Nicholas’s. “I thought so.” His brown eyes made contact with Nicholas’s and his voice became soothing. “You must know that you are the only one with the power to heal what is flawed within you. Do you understand fear?”
Nicholas felt his eyes growing heavy and he said, “I don’t know….Fear?”
“Fear holds us and binds us and keeps us from growing, Nicholas.” Pug’s voice took on an insistent quality. “It kills a small piece of us each day. It holds us to what we know and keeps us from what’s possible, and it is our worst enemy. Fear doesn’t announce itself; it’s disguise
d, and it’s subtle. It’s choosing the safe course; most of us feel we have ‘rational’ reasons to avoid taking risks.” He smiled reassuringly. “The brave man is not the one without fear but the one who does what he must despite being afraid. To succeed, you must be willing to risk total failure; you must learn this.”
Nicholas smiled. “Father once said something like that.” His words were becoming slurred, as if he were drunk or half-asleep.
“Nicholas, had you wished to be healed as a child, the priests and magicians and healers would have made your foot well. But something in you held to your fear; something in you loves your fear and binds it to you as a mother or lover. You must confront that fear and banish it; you must embrace it and let it devour you. Only then will you know your fear; only then can you heal yourself. Are you willing to try?”
Nicholas found he couldn’t speak, so he nodded as his eyes grew too heavy to keep open. He let them close.
From a distance, Pug said, “Sleep. And dream.”
—
NICHOLAS FLOATED IN a dark, warm place. He knew he was safe. Then a voice came into his mind.
Nicholas?
Yes?
Are you ready?
A sense of puzzlement. Ready?
Ready to know the truth.
A stab of panic and the dark place was no longer warm. After a time he said, Yes.
Blinding light seared him and he floated in a room. Below him he saw a little boy sobbing in the arms of a redheaded woman, and her lips moved. He couldn’t hear her, but he knew what she said; he had heard it before. She said that as long as she was there, nothing would ever hurt him.
A flash of anger struck him. She lied! Many times he had been hurt. The image faded and suddenly there was the boy again, this time a few years older, walking awkwardly down the long hall that led to his room. Two pages walked by, and when he had passed, they whispered. He knew they were speaking about him, mocking his deformity. He ran to his room, tears flowing down his cheeks. He slammed his door behind him and vowed he would never leave his room again. He was consumed with anger, rage, and pain, and he cried alone until a page came to tell him that his father was coming.
Pulling himself off his bed, he washed his face in the basin on the nightstand. By the time the door opened again, the boy had composed himself; he knew his father didn’t like to see the boy cry. Arutha beckoned for the boy to come along for some function in the great hall, and the boy complied. An affair of state demanded his attendance, and he forgot his vow never to leave the room. But it was a vow he had made hundreds of times and would make hundreds of times again, since he was only six years old.
The image faded and he stood before two tall young men, with hair the same color as his mother’s. They mocked him, teasing, pretending they couldn’t see him or calling him “monkey,” and he fled from them, again stabbed by chilling pain.
Other pictures presented themselves: a sister too consumed with the business of being a young princess to have time for a younger brother. Parents whose time was dictated by politics and protocol, who couldn’t always be there for a shy and frightened child. Servants who were dutiful, but who felt no affection for the youngest son of their liege lord.
Over the years many images had etched themselves in Nicholas’s mind, and as he returned to the present, he heard Pug’s voice. “Are you ready to face your pain?”
Panic struck Nicholas. He mumbled, half-asleep, as he said, “I thought…that’s what I was…doing.”
Pug’s voice was soft and reassuring. “No. You were remembering. Your pain is with you now. You must root it out and face it.”
Nicholas felt a tremble run through him. “Must I?”
“Yes,” answered a voice, and he fell deeper into the dark emptiness.
A voice came to him. It was soft and warm and familiar. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t, then suddenly he could see. A young woman with golden hair moved toward him, through a vaguely defined hallway. Her gown was translucent, hinting at a ripe fullness beneath the thin cloth. Her features resolved as she reached out to him, and he said, Abigail?
She laughed, and he felt the sound rather than heard it. I’m whoever you wish me to be. The sensual feel of her voice sent a thrill through him. Then he felt like crying, for something about the young woman was terrifying as well as seductive.
Suddenly his mother stood before him, but as he had known her when he was very little. Soft white arms reached down to pick him up, and she cradled the little boy to her bosom, murmuring reassuring sounds in his ear. He felt her warm breath on his neck and he felt safe.
A warning note sounded, and he pushed away. I’m no child! he shouted, and under his hand a firm breast filled his palm. Soft blue eyes stared into his and ripe lips parted. He shoved Abigail away and shouted, What are you?
Suddenly he was alone in the darkness, a chill running through his body. No answer was forthcoming, but he knew there was another presence in the murk. He tried to see, but there was nothing in the gloom, yet he knew he was not alone.
By force of will he steeled himself and his voice rang in his own ears: What are you?
From a great distance away, he heard Pug’s voice. “It’s your fear, Nicholas. It’s your reason for holding to it. See it as it really is.”
Nicholas felt a constriction in his chest and felt afraid. “No,” he whispered.
Suddenly something was close to him; that distant presence was now a hovering menace. Something was coming that could harm him; something was approaching that was able to rip away his defenses and destroy him!
A gathering darkness surrounded him, pressing in and confining him. He pulled one way, then another, but as he struggled, the pressing in on all sides restricted his movement, until he was rendered immobile.
A suffocating sensation visited him and he gasped, but no air filled his lungs. A sensation of helplessness overwhelmed him and he choked on it. A scream died in his throat and a soft sob came out as tears ran down his face.
Nicholas, said the warm and reassuring voice. Soft hands reached for him and he saw the beautiful features of his mother…no, Abigail, approaching. Just reach for me, said the soft voice.
Then Pug’s voice came to him. “What is it really, Nicholas?”
The women before him vanished, and he was alone in the room in the tower. Behind him the day was gone and the night was upon him, cold and indifferent. He was alone.
He stood and paced around the room, but he couldn’t find the door. Looking out the window, he saw that Crydee was no more. Not even the ashes of the town remained, nor did the rest of the castle; only this single tower stood. Below was a blasted plain of rock and sand, lifeless and without hope. The sea was black, oily waves rolling listlessly to crash with indifference on rocks so sterile that even moss did not grow on them.
“What do you see?” came the distant voice.
Nicholas struggled to speak, and at last he found his voice. “Failure.”
“Failure?”
“Complete and utter failure. Nothing survives.”
“Then go there!” commanded Pug’s distant voice.
Immediately he was out on the blasted plain, and the mournful sound of the lifeless waves rang in the still air. “Where do I go?” he asked the dead sky.
“Where do you wish to go?” asked Pug.
Suddenly he knew. Pointing across the bay toward the west, he said, “There! I want to go there!”
“What’s stopping you?” asked Pug.
Nicholas looked around and said, “This, I think.”
At once Pug stood beside him. “What is your fear, Nicholas?”
Nicholas looked around and said, “This. Utter failure.”
Pug nodded. “Tell me of failure.”
Nicholas breathed deeply and said, “My father…” He found his eyes tearing and his voice tightening. “He loves me, I know.” Letting his pain wash through him, Nicholas said, “But he doesn’t accept me.”
Pug nodded. “And?”
“And my mother, she is afraid for me.”
“And?” asked Pug.
Nicholas looked out across the blackened sea. “She scares me.”
“How?”
“She makes me think I can’t…” He fell silent.
“Can’t?”
“Can’t…do what I need to do.”
“What do you need to do?”
Nicholas cried openly. “I don’t know.” Then suddenly something he had been told by Housecarl Samuel struck him, and his tears turned to laughter. “That’s it! I need to find out what I need to do!”
Pug smiled and suddenly a weight left Nicholas. He looked at Pug and repeated, “I need to discover what it is I need to do.”
Pug motioned for the young man to follow him. “Why do you fear failure so much, Nicholas?”
Nicholas said, “Because my father hates it more than anything else, I think.”
Pug said, “We haven’t much time. Things move apace and I must leave soon. Will you trust me to teach you something?”
Nicholas said, “I guess so, Pug.”
Suddenly Nicholas stood upon a ledge, high above the sea. Below, rocks beckoned and waves slammed against the cliff face. A dizziness struck him and his knees buckled, and Pug’s voice said, “Step forward.”
“Will you catch me?” he asked and his voice sounded very young to his ears.
“Step forward, Nicholas.”
Nicholas did, and suddenly he was falling. He screamed.
The rocks raced to embrace him and he knew he would die. Numbing pain struck him and he groaned as he lay on the unyielding rocks, the waves washing over him.
Gasping as he spit out bitter water, he said weakly, “I’m alive.”
Pug was on the rocks before him, extending his hand. “Yes, you are.”
Nicholas gripped it and suddenly he was back upon the ledge. “Step forward,” Pug said.
“No!” said Nicholas. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Step forward!” commanded Pug.
Hesitating, Nicholas closed his eyes, and stepped forward. Closing his eyes didn’t help, as he sped through the air to slam against the rocks once again. Stunned a moment, he was astonished to discover himself still conscious. Pug was again kneeling before him. “Are you ready?”
The King's Buccaneer Page 18