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 protect 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.’
Anthony 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.
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 lovesick 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 Fulgan 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 the 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 imp
ossible 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 disguised, 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 on 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.
Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer Page 58