Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Margaret stared at the small table covered with fruits and cheese, bread and meats, with a chilled pewter flagon of wine. Despite her hunger, she said, ‘What do you want?’

  With a smile that held no friendliness, the man said, ‘Information, milady. And you will give it to us.’

  The lookout shouted, ‘Land ho!’

  Amos looked up, shielding his eyes against the setting sun. ‘Where away?’ he called.

  ‘Two points off the port bow!’ came the reply.

  Amos hurried down the companionway to the main deck and crossed to the forecastle. He climbed the companionway to come to the bow, where Nicholas and the others watched. They had slowly been gathering there since noon, as Amos had said he expected to see the first of the Sunset Islands before too long.

  ‘It’s been more than thirty years,’ mused Amos. ‘No wonder I was off.’

  Nicholas smiled. ‘Two points is off?’

  Amos waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘It should lie dead ahead. Now I have to swing wide to the south, to compensate.’

  ‘Is this a problem?’

  ‘No, but it offends my sense of elegance.’ He called up to the lookout. ‘Do you see a single peak?’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ came the reply. ‘A twisted mountain with a peak like a broken blade.’

  ‘Good,’ said Amos. Calling back to the helm, he shouted, ‘Five points to port, Mr Rhodes!’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ came the reply.

  Harry said, ‘Captain, exactly who lives here?’

  Amos sighed, as memories came flooding back to him. ‘Originally, there was a pitiful Keshian garrison, a bunch of dog soldiers with Imperial officers and a couple of small ships. When Kesh pulled out of the province of Bosania – Crydee and the Free Cities of Yabon – they evidently forgot about the little garrison.

  ‘Years went by, and no one knows if the soldiers revolted and killed their officers or if the officers led them, but about the time Nicholas’s great-grandfather was attempting to conquer Bosania, this happy little band of cut-throats started raiding. They usually hit trading ships out of Keshian Elarial and the Far Coast, heading to or from Queg, the Kingdom, and Kesh.’

  Marcus said, ‘They’ve raided Tulan from time to time.’

  Harry said, ‘Why hasn’t the King or the Emperor of Kesh gotten rid of them?’

  ‘Ha!’ laughed Amos. ‘Do you think they’ve not tried?’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Look at that island ahead.’ He pointed to the peak. ‘Past that are another dozen large islands and a hundred tiny ones. This area is part of a long series of islands that stretches to the far west, ending in a great archipelago.’ Harry looked blank. ‘A vast chain of islands, more than a thousand of them, a month’s sailing from here. Some are huge, perhaps a hundred miles across. No one knows who lives on most of them. Others, like Skashakan, are too well-known. That’s where our friend Render was shipwrecked.

  ‘There are perhaps five hundred islands spread out between here and the archipelago, some no more than sandbars, and only one harbor deep enough for a ship like this: Freeport.

  ‘If a single Kingdom warship sails into view, it finds a very hot reception at Freeport. Remember those pinnaces they used to raid Crydee? They draw no more than five feet of water; so if we bring a fleet, by the time we pull into Freeport, everyone’s packed up and left. We can burn the town to the ground – both Kesh and the Kingdom have done so at different times – and they build it all right back up after we leave.

  ‘No, the Freeport pirates are like cockroaches: you can kill them by the score, but you can’t get rid of them.’

  Turning away, he shouted to the first mate, ‘Assemble the crew, Mr Rhodes!’

  As Amos made his way to the quarterdeck, the first mate shouted, ‘All hands on deck!’

  The order was passed, and quickly the crew gathered on the main deck, Nicholas and his companions listening from the foredeck. Amos surveyed the crew. ‘Men, you’re all known to me, save for you soldiers from Crydee who agreed to come along, and you were handpicked by the Duke. I trust you all. If I had doubts, you would not be here.

  ‘From this moment, you are men of the Kingdom no longer. You are pirates, fresh in from Margrave’s Port. If you’ve never been there, ask those who have; it’s a small enough town and not much to see. If you can’t remember the description, keep your mouth shut when we reach Freeport.’

  He glanced from face to face. ‘Soon you’re going to be facing men who’ve killed your fellow sailors and soldiers, your friends and families. You will want to strangle the bastards, but you can’t. Freeport is governed by laws as strict as those in Krondor, but it’s a far rougher justice. The Sheriff of Freeport is the law in the town, and the only appeal from his rule is to the Council of Captains, and that’s rare. Disputes are settled by the blade, and brawling is not permitted. So if you meet the bastard who killed your brother, smile at him and know that sooner or later his day will come.

  ‘We are not here for revenge. We are here to find Duke Martin’s daughter, and the other boys and girls who were stolen from Crydee. We’re here to find your children, or the children of your friends.

  ‘If any man here thinks he cannot keep his temper, then do not go ashore. For I swear I will hang the man who starts a brawl, and if we fail in rescuing the children, he’ll burn in hell, too.’

  His warning was unnecessary, for these men were determined to rescue every prisoner or die in the attempt. Amos smiled. ‘Good. Now, the first bastard among you who calls me Admiral will be whipped fore-to-aft, clear?’

  With laughter among the men, one called out, ‘Aye, Captain!’

  With a broad grin Amos said, ‘I’m Captain Trenchard! The Dagger of the Sea! I’ve sailed the Straits of Darkness on Midwinter’s Day! My ship’s the Raptor and I’ve taken her into the Seven Lower Hells, drunk ale with Kahooli, and sailed home again!’ The men laughed and cheered at the boast. ‘My mother was a sea dragon, my father was lightning, and I dance a sailor’s jig on my victim’s skulls! I fought with the war god, and kissed death herself. Men tremble at my shadow and women swoon at my name, and no one lives who can call me liar! I’m Trenchard, the Dagger of the Sea!’

  The men laughed and cheered and applauded. Amos said, ‘Now, break out the Black Ensign, and every man to his place. We’re being watched this very minute.’ He pointed to the distant peak.

  ‘Day watch below!’ shouted Rhodes. ‘Night watch aloft!’

  One of the men went below and returned with a large black banner that had been sewn to Amos’s specifications in Crydee. They ran it up the stern mast, where it flapped in the breeze.

  Nicholas looked at the flag, a skull of white on a black field, and behind the skull a long dagger pointing downward at an angle, with a ruby drop suspended from the tip. Nicholas looked at Harry, Calis, and Marcus and found them staring at the standard. Nakor grinned, while both Anthony and Ghuda remained impassive.

  Harry said, ‘What’s odd is that … he wasn’t acting, was he?’

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘I think Amos would say he had a rough childhood.’

  Ghuda said, ‘I thought I knew him back at the palace.’ Nicholas said, ‘Yes?’

  Ghuda said, ‘I was in Li Meth once when he raided. Saw him from the other side of the barricade.’ Ghuda shook his head. Old memories.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the approaching island, which the ship would pass to the left. ‘I saw a glint up there a while back.’ He indicated the peak.

  ‘Lookout,’ said Marcus.

  ‘No doubt,’ said Ghuda.

  ‘I wonder what sort of reception we’ll get in Freeport?’

  ‘We’ll soon know,’ answered Nakor with his usual sunny demeanor.

  They reached the harbor mouth as the sun began to set. Amos had reefed all sails save the topgallants, and the Raptor moved majestically into Freeport. The harbor was a wide oval of coral-bound beaches, with a steeply rising mountain close behind, which towered like a giant black-stone hand, cupping the harbor
against a sky turned orange and purple, with black, grey, and silver clouds, as it hid the setting sun. Ringing the harbor were buildings, rudely built, with thatch roofs. Lanterns and torches burned at every quarter, as Freeport began its night activities.

  Ghuda said, ‘I’ve heard of places like this island.’

  Nicholas said, ‘What do you mean?’

  Ghuda said, ‘See how that peak rises in an almost perfect circle around the harbor?’

  Nicholas said, ‘Yes?’

  This used to be the heart of a volcano.’

  Nakor nodded. ‘Very big volcano.’ He seemed delighted by that fact. ‘Almost a half-mile across inside!’

  Lights began to spring up on the mountainside, and Nicholas watched with fascination as it became a glittering panorama. A warm breeze greeted them as the ship moved slowly into the center of the harbor. Seven other ships of varying size, from two almost the equal of the Raptor to two very small trading ships, swayed at anchor on the gentle swell of the harbor. Reaching the best position he could, Amos ordered the last sails reefed and called for the anchor to be dropped. A gentle breeze blew across the harbor, carrying the faint scent of spices and perfume to tantalize the senses. Distant voices echoed from farther inland, but the harbor was almost silent.

  Marcus said, ‘For so many lights, it’s very quiet.’

  Ghuda said, ‘I think they’re waiting to see if we’re under false colors.’

  When the ship was anchored, Amos called for a longboat to be lowered, and the crew hustled to obey. He barked insults and threats, and Nicholas was surprised at the harshness of his remarks until he realized that Amos was putting on a performance for the benefit of anyone onshore who was listening.

  Ghuda said, ‘A word to you both.’ Marcus and Nicholas both turned and the mercenary said, ‘I’ve traveled a fair bit and seen many places like this; we’re strangers and will not be trusted. There will be no benefit of the doubt. You’d better agree on names for yourselves, for there is no dispute you’re related.’

  Nicholas and Marcus exchanged looks, and finally Nicholas said, ‘I hold title to the estates near the villlage of Esterbrook. I’ve visited several times.’

  Ghuda nodded. ‘Marc and Nick of Esterbrook it is. Who was your father?’ he demanded suddenly.

  With a wry smile, Marcus said, ‘Mother didn’t know.’

  Ghuda laughed and slapped him playfully on the back. ‘You’ll do, Marc.’

  ‘Who was your mother?’ he asked Nicholas.

  ‘Meg of Esterbrook,’ said Nicholas. ‘She’s a serving woman at the only inn there, run by a man named Will, and she’s still a handsome woman who can’t say no to a man.’

  Ghuda laughed again. ‘Well said.’

  Making their way to the main deck, they joined Amos, who was putting on a first-rate display of his knowledge of invectives and insults. A couple of soldiers were playing along, swearing colorfully for the benefit of any onlookers on the docks.

  As they sat in the longboat, Amos said, ‘You boys have your stories set?’

  Nicholas said, ‘Marc is my elder brother. We come from Esterbrook. We don’t know our fathers.’

  Marcus said, ‘Nick is a little slow, but we put up with him for Mother’s sake.’

  Nicholas gave his ersatz brother a frown and said, ‘This is only our second voyage. We signed on with you in …’ He hesitated, then added, ‘Margrave’s Port.’

  Pointing at Ghuda and Nakor, Amos said, ‘You two are who you are.’ Then he rubbed his chin. Looking at Anthony, who appeared very uncomfortable in trousers and tunic, with a large floppy hat on his head, Amos mused. ‘What are we to claim you are?’

  ‘Your healer?’ suggested Anthony.

  Amos nodded. ‘Are there things you need?’

  Anthony was grim as he said, ‘There are any number of herbs, roots, and other goods that I can use to heal wounds. I can do a convincing job of shopping in the town.’

  ‘Good,’ said Amos. To Calis he said, ‘Playing a hunter from Yabon should offer little difficulty.’

  The elfling nodded. ‘I speak the Yabon tongue should there be a need.’

  Amos grinned. ‘Now, should anyone ask, all you know is that I’m Trenchard, and I’ve recently returned to the Bitter Sea. I may have sailed for Kesh or the Kingdom before that, but no one is certain. You know better than to ask.’

  They all nodded and fell silent as two sailors rowed them toward the dock. After a few minutes they reached a low landing, where a half-dozen boats were secured. No one was in sight as they tied up and came ashore, walking up the stone steps to the top of the wharf.

  Suddenly a voice called out, ‘Halt! Identify yourself!’

  Peering into the gloom, Amos bellowed, ‘Who wants to know?’

  A single figure emerged from between two buildings. He was a bald-headed man with a sharp beak of a nose, slender but broad-shouldered. His face was set in an expression of amusement, and he spoke in a deep and pleasant voice. ‘I wish to know.’ He waved vaguely around him. ‘And a few friends, as well.’ A dozen armed men moved to surround the party.

  Amos whispered, ‘Stand easy,’ as crossbows were leveled.

  The bald man walked purposefully to stand before Amos and said, ‘You fly a well-known banner, friend, though it’s one not seen in these waters for over thirty years.’

  Suddenly Amos exploded in laughter. ‘Patrick of Duncastle! They haven’t hung you yet?’ Then he slammed his fist into the man’s face and the fellow flew backward through the air to land on the hard stones of the wharf. Amos stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger. ‘And where are those twenty golden royals you owe me!’

  Grinning as he rubbed his jaw, the man said, ‘Why, hello, Amos. I thought you were dead.’

  Amos pushed past two of Patrick’s men, who had their weapons trained on him, and extended his hand. Pulling the man to his feet, Amos threw his arms around him and bellowed loudly as he squeezed him hard.

  Putting the man down, he said, ‘What are you doing in Freeport? I heard you were running weapons to renegades in the Trollhome Mountains?’

  Throwing his arm around Amos’s shoulders, Patrick said, ‘Gods, that was a long time ago, nearly ten years now. I’m Sheriff of Freeport, these days.’

  ‘Sheriff? I thought that evil little Rodezian bastard – what was his name? – Francisco Galatos was Sheriff.’

  ‘That was thirty years ago. He’s dead, and two since him. I’ve been Sheriff for five years now.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘Where have you been these years? Last I heard, you were running weapons from Queg to the Far Coast.’

  Amos shook his head. ‘Speaking of years past, it’s a long story, better told over a mug of ale or wine.’

  Patrick stopped. ‘Amos, things have changed since you were last here.’

  ‘How?’ asked Amos.

  ‘Come with me.’ He motioned for his men to escort Amos’s companions and they all walked from the dock area to a small street that paralleled the waterfront. As they moved along the street, local citizens peered curiously from windows and doorways. A few colorfully painted women called out invitations, contingent on their not being hung first. These remarks were universally met with appreciative laughter.

  Amos said, ‘These hovels don’t seem to have changed much, Patrick. They’re still the same flytraps they always were.’

  Patrick said, ‘Just wait.’

  They reached the top of a broad boulevard and turned the corner. Patrick of Duncastle pointed down the street. ‘Here we are,’ he said.

  Amos halted and took in the sight. For as far as the eye could see, the street was lined with two-and three-story buildings, painted and clearly well tended. From the throng that hurried to and fro along the way, it was obvious Freeport was a busy community. In the distance, they could see the roadway wind up the mountainside.

  Amos said, ‘I don’t believe it, Patrick.’

  Duncastle rubbed his chin absently, on the spot Amos had struck it. ‘Believe it, Am
os. We’ve grown since you were last here. We’re not a small village with a tavern and a whorehouse but a city.’ Turning to walk down the street, he motioned for the others to follow. ‘We’re not quite as law-abiding as those in the Kingdom, but we’re no more corrupt than most of the cities in Kesh, and probably less than Durbin. I’ve got fifty men-at-arms working for me, and we’re well paid to keep order in Freeport.’ Gesturing to buildings on either side, he said, ‘Many of the merchants here do business in the Kingdom, Queg, and Kesh.’

  ‘Without benefit of customs, I expect,’ said Amos with a barking laugh.

  Patrick smiled. ‘Usually. Others, however, are on the square with the customs houses in Kesh and Isles – they stand to lose too much by having their cargoes confiscated when they get to their destinations. And it doesn’t require much to claim that a cargo originated somewhere else – we like to keep Freeport’s part in these transactions quiet. As a result, we do tremendous business in trans-shipping.’ Pointing to one of the many buildings still doing business, he said, ‘You’re looking at the largest independent spice trader north of the city of Kesh itself.’

  Amos laughed. ‘Independent. I like that. As the spice trade in Kesh is an Imperial monopoly, he can’t very well operate legally inside the Empire.’

  Patrick smiled and nodded. ‘But he has his sources inside the Empire, and I suspect he has contacts even inside the Imperial Court. He deals with traders from lands we’ve never heard of, Amos. From the Tsurani world. From Brijana on the far side of Kesh. From places I can’t even pronounce, across seas I didn’t know existed until recently.’ He resumed walking and the others followed.

  They passed building after building, still busy despite the hour. ‘Some of these men you know, Amos,’ said Patrick. ‘Like us, pirates in their younger days, now they find that shrewd commerce turns a better profit at less risk.’

  Nicholas saw a city little different than others he had visited, save that the citizenry seemed more raucous and fractious. A pair of men were arguing loudly, but a pair of the Sheriff’s men silenced their dispute with a curt instruction to move along. The son of the Prince of Krondor could see that by any standard, Freeport was a prosperous town.