Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Thinking quickly, Nicholas said, ‘Just making sure I understand all the stakes of the game.’

  ‘What of the precious gifts that accompanied the Ranjana?’

  ‘They are all safe,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘I shall send a wagon and guards to recover my master’s wares.’

  Nicholas held up his hand. ‘I would prefer it if you would wait a little. I don’t think anyone who saw us arrive suspected we had anything to do with all the murder upriver, but you can never be sure. If we are being watched, I don’t want to advertise that we found any treasure or the Ranjana. Let them think the girls with us were our camp followers.’ When Anward looked at him suspiciously, Nicholas said, ‘You have my word; when the Ranjana leaves here, she takes all her gold and jewels with her.’

  The factor rose, saying, ‘I will employ caution, but I shall set about seeking information about who is truly responsible for this misery. You will be here awhile?’

  ‘A few days.’

  Bowing in respect: ‘I bid you good day, Captain.’

  When Tuka didn’t follow him, Ghuda said, ‘You got the heave-ho?’

  The little wagon driver shrugged. ‘It was so, Sab. I am discharged from service for failing to protect my master’s cargo, but for having returned with the news of the Ranjana’s presence here in the city I am not being beaten or killed.’

  Marcus said, ‘I take it work is hard to come by around here?’

  Amos said, ‘It must be, for workers to put up with such treatment.’

  ‘Very hard, Sab,’ answered Tuka. He looked genuinely downcast as he added, ‘I may have to turn to thievery to eat.’

  Nicholas couldn’t help but smile at the little man’s comic pose. ‘I don’t think you have the knack for it.’ Tuka nodded in agreement. Nicholas went on, ‘Tell you what. You’ve done us some good service, so why don’t you work for us while we’re in the city. We’ll make sure you don’t starve.’

  Tuka’s face lit up. ‘Encosi has need of a wagon driver?’

  ‘Not so you’d notice,’ said Nicholas. ‘But I do need someone who knows his way around this land, and we don’t know a lot of people here. What did they pay you?’

  ‘A Serpent River copper pastoli a week and my food, and permission to sleep under the wagon.’

  Nicholas frowned. ‘I’m not familiar with local currency.’ He dug a few coins out of his pouch, one of those taken from Shingazi’s Landing. Laying them on the table, he asked, ‘Which is the pastoli?’

  Tuka’s eyes widened at the coins. ‘This one, Encosi.’ He pointed to the smallest copper coin in the bunch.

  ‘What of the others?’ asked Ghuda.

  If Tuka thought it strange that mercenaries didn’t understand the worth of the local coins, he said nothing. ‘This is the stolesti,’ he said, pointing to a larger copper piece. ‘It is being worth ten pastolis.’ He went through the others, the twenty-stolesti silver kathanri, and the golden drakmasti, or, simply, a drak. The rest were coins from other cities, and Tuka explained that so much alien currency was in use it was common to pay by type of coin and weight as much as by official value; most merchants had their own touchstones and no money changers as such existed. Nicholas tossed him a stolesti and said, ‘Go buy yourself something to eat and a clean tunic.’

  The little man bowed furiously and said, ‘Encosi is most generous.’ He hurried out of the common room.

  Marcus said, ‘I thought the poor in the Kingdom didn’t have much, but that’s poor.’

  Ghuda said, ‘They pay wagon drivers about a tenth of what they make in Kesh.’

  Nicholas frowned. ‘Trade was never a strong subject of mine, but my guess is that all the fighting and disruption of trade means few jobs, and a great deal of pressure to make profit.’ He shrugged. ‘Cheap labor.’

  Ghuda nodded.

  Amos said, ‘Which means one good thing.’

  ‘What?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘Bribes will go further here,’ he said with a grin. ‘And it means we’re not simply well off with Shingazi’s treasure, we’re rich, very rich.’

  Nicholas said, ‘That’s good, but it doesn’t get us any closer to finding the prisoners.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Amos.

  Nicholas said, ‘Where are Harry and Brisa? They should have been back by now.’ He had sent them back into the bazaar to see if Brisa could make contact with the local thieves and beggars. ‘And where the hell is Nakor?’

  Ghuda shrugged. ‘Nakor? He’ll show up. He always does.’

  Nakor entered the palace. A few minutes earlier, he had spotted a band of monks heading there just as he was wondering how he might get inside. Taking note of their attire, yellow and orange robes, cut short at knee and elbow, with a black sash across the shoulder, he quickly improvised. He fell in step behind the last monk, turning his rucksack around so that it looked as if he carried a bundle, with a black sash over his shoulder, and instantly he was another monk from the order of Agni – which he knew was the local name for Prandur, the fire god – and walked boldly into the palace past a pair of Red Slayers at the doors.

  He glanced out of the corner of his eye at one as he passed, and compared him to Amos’s description of Murmandamus’s Black Slayers during the Riftwar. Amos, the only member of the company who had seen one, had told Nicholas and the others about them after finding the helm at Shingazi’s Landing. These Red Slayers were motionless, covered from neck to boots in red chain mail. Their helms entirely covered their heads, with two narrow eyes slits. Atop the crest a dragon crouched, his wings descending to form the sides of the helm. The dragon’s eyes were either onyx or sapphires, Nakor couldn’t be certain, and he wasn’t about to take a closer look. Each guard wore a red tabard with a black circle in the center, in which a golden serpent with a red eye formed an S.

  The entrance to the palace was a long passage through what Nakor assumed was a massive outer wall. Then they were under open sky and crossing an ancient bailey, to enter the central palace proper. They climbed some steps to a broad entranceway, between high columns that held an out-thrusting third story aloft. Atop that was a low battlement with defensive arrow slits. Nakor noticed that the attempt at some sort of classical style hadn’t completely abandoned the concerns of defense. On the whole, he judged the Overlord’s abode a particularly ugly place.

  They marched into the great hall, where others were already assembled. Conventional soldiers lined the hall, dressed in black with the same serpent design on their tabards, as a dozen orders of clerics had gathered ahead of the Fire Monks. A hundred or so wealthy-looking men, some traders by their fashion, and the others important captains of mercenary companies, milled around the formal assembly of monks and priests.

  Nakor fell a step behind the last monk of Agni as they took up their position to one side of the giant courtyard. They lined up so that Nakor was even with two guards standing before giant columns of carved marble. He glanced to the right and left, then took a step backward, putting himself behind the two guards. He turned and smiled in a friendly fashion to a merchant who was watching him, then gestured for the man to take his place, as if he might get a better view. The man smiled his thanks and stepped forward to occupy Nakor’s former spot. Nakor ducked into the shadow of a column to observe the ceremony.

  Across the room, a number of men and women entered between large curtains to the rear of a high dais; the last was an impressive figure, clearly six inches over six feet tall. He was heavily muscled but not fat, looking more on the lean side if anything. His face was long and would have been handsome if there had not been something cruel in the eyes and the set of the mouth, evident even from Nakor’s distant vantage point. There was no doubt this was the Overlord. He wore a simple purple toga, cut short at the knees, which displayed his powerful physique to good effect. He raised a gloved hand and whistled. An answering shriek sounded from high above in the vault of the hall and the flap of wings accompanied the descent of an eagle. Nakor looked at the black b
ird, a young golden eagle. Though young, the bird was big enough that only the strongest man could hold it long upon his wrist. Yet the Overlord bore the creature with ease.

  Entering next were two women, both dressed in provocative fashion. One was blond, wearing a halter top of silk embroidered with gold thread and rubies. Her only other clothing was a sheer white skirt that hung from the hipbone, gathered up to reveal one long leg as she walked, and held in place by a giant ruby and gold pin. Her hair was pulled behind her head with a gold clasp and fell to her shoulders. She had pale skin and, Nakor assumed, blue eyes, but he couldn’t tell at this distance. She was by any standard a strikingly beautiful woman, if too young for Nakor’s taste. She moved close to the tall man’s side, but kept a pace behind.

  The other was equally beautiful, though older. Her hair was black, but her skin was almost as fair as the first’s. She wore a short red vest, partially open in front, showing an ample glimpse of a high bosom. Her skirt was cut in similar fashion to the other woman’s, but black. Her jewelry was no less ornate, sapphires and gold, though her skirt clasp was set with a single emerald. She joined a black-robed man who pushed back the robe’s hood, revealing his face. He had a bald head and wore a gold ring through his nose. She took the man’s arm.

  A herald called, ‘Gather and attend, O holy men and women. Our gracious Overlord requires your counsel, for a feast is needed. He takes a wife, the Ranjana of Kilbar, and would have ceremony and celebration during the next End of Spring Festival.’

  The expression of the young blonde showed she was not in the least pleased at this announcement, but she kept her place quietly behind the Overlord.

  The herald called, ‘The Lady Clovis.’

  All eyes shifted to the dark-haired woman as she spoke. ‘My lord Dahakon asks that you all bless this union and prepare those ceremonies that you deem appropriate for such a state occasion.’ The man whom Nakor took to be Dahakon stood motionless and silent.

  Very interesting, thought Nakor.

  The Warlord began to speak, and Nakor listened carefully. He moved slowly behind the row of columns that supported a gallery above the hall and followed it down to the corner. There he ducked deeper into the darkness and slowly made his way toward the dais, to get a better look.

  Harry and Brisa entered the inn. They made their way through the crowded room and Harry indicated to Nicholas that he should join them in one of the back rooms. Nicholas motioned for the others at his table to remain, and followed them into the hall.

  They entered Nicholas’s room and Brisa whispered. ‘We’ve found where the prisoners have been taken.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Nicholas softly.

  Harry said, ‘That estate we saw across the river.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Harry grinned. ‘Brisa took the better part of the day and half the evening, but we finally found one of the Ragged Brotherhood –’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Thieves,’ said Brisa. ‘That’s what they’re known as. Not much to speak of, mostly beggars and a few pickpockets. All the really good thieves work alone or are hunted down by the Overlord’s men and killed.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Harry, go get Calis and Marcus.’

  Harry left, and while he was gone, Nicholas asked, ‘Anything else of interest?’

  Brisa shrugged. ‘I don’t know much about cities. I’ve lived all my life in Freeport, and that’s nothing to judge by, but if there’s a more miserable pesthole on the planet than this place, including Durbin, I’ve never heard of it.’

  She frowned, and Nicholas asked, ‘What?’

  ‘Just … something one of the beggars said. While I was getting on his good side, convincing him I wasn’t one of the Overlord’s “Black Roses”, he said he only thieved where it was permitted.’

  ‘Permitted?’

  ‘Later I asked another thief what he meant, and was told that there’s sort of an unofficial set of rules about where you can get away with thieving and where you’re likely to find yourself in the cage.’ She shivered. ‘Nasty way to go. You hang there getting frozen at night, roasted during the day, can’t quite sit or stand, seeing everyone down in the square going about their business and always feeling like somehow it’s not real.’

  ‘You sound as if you’ve thought a lot about this,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘Show me a thief who hasn’t thought about getting caught, and I’ll show you a stupid thief.’ She made a face. ‘Truth to tell, we’re all stupid. We think about getting caught, but none of us ever think we’ll get caught.’

  Nicholas smiled slightly. ‘That’s pretty self-critical.’

  Brisa shrugged. ‘I’ve been around Harry too much lately.’ She grinned. ‘He’s trying to reform me.’

  Just then the door opened and Harry, Calis, and Marcus entered. Nicholas told Calis and Marcus what he had been told, then said, ‘Wait until late tonight, and see if you can get across the river without being seen. I don’t know how close you can get to that place unobserved –’

  Calis said, ‘I can get very close.’

  ‘– but see if you can obtain any idea where our people are being held.’

  Calis said, ‘If I go alone, I can do it much better.’

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow. Then he remembered the game in the forest, and glanced at Marcus.

  ‘He probably can,’ said Marcus. He looked at Calis, who was regarding him with a sardonic smile. ‘Oh, very well. He can.’

  Nicholas paused, then said, ‘Go with him halfway. I want someone close enough to give him some help if he’s coming away from that place in a hurry.’

  Calis smiled. ‘Thank you for the concern. I hope it won’t be warranted.’ He told Marcus, ‘We should leave now and take our time reaching that burned-out farmhouse. I can scout from there.’

  They left. Nicholas turned to see Harry standing with his arm around Brisa’s waist in a familiar fashion. ‘Oh?’ he said, eyebrows rising.

  Harry said, ‘Oh, what?’ He noticed he had his arm around the girl and said, ‘Oh!’ as he disengaged himself.

  With a wry smile, Brisa said, ‘Nothing to get excited about, Nicholas. I’m just contributing to Harry’s education.’

  She sauntered out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Harry blushing and Nicholas looking at his friend. ‘I wonder about you,’ said Nicholas.

  Harry’s blush deepened. ‘Well, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and she’s really very pretty if you look past all those terrible clothes and dirt she wears.’

  Nicholas put up his hands. ‘You don’t have to explain.’ He glanced at the door, as if he could see through it. ‘I find that lately Abigail is hard to remember.’ He shook his head. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. We haven’t seen Abigail or Margaret for months and …’ He shrugged again.

  ‘And Brisa in your bed is a little more real than Margaret in your dreams?’ supplied Nicholas.

  ‘Something like that.’ Then he looked as if he was growing angry. ‘But it’s more than that. She’s a decent girl, Nicky. If you or I had it as rough as she’s had it when we were children, we wouldn’t have half her worth. And I know I can get her to stop being a thief.’ Nicholas again put up his hands. Harry said, ‘Besides, Anthony’s in love with Margaret, really in love with her.’

  ‘You figured it out?’

  Harry grinned. ‘Took me a while, but I finally figured out it was one of the two girls he was focusing on when he did that spell. Then I remembered that he was pretty relaxed when he was around Abigail, but Margaret made him fidget like crazy.’

  ‘Where is Anthony?’

  ‘He went looking for Nakor,’ said Harry.

  Nicholas made an aggravated sound. ‘And where is Nakor? It’s been two days now.’

  Harry had no answer.

  ‘I wish they’d stop that,’ said Abigail.

  Margaret nodded. ‘I know. It’s unnerving.’

  The two creatures sat n
earby, mimicking the girls’ movements as they ate dinner. If Margaret cut her meat with a knife, one of the creatures imitated the motion on an imagined plate and table.

  The two creatures stayed a comfortable distance from the girls during the day, never coming closer than arm’s reach. But they constantly studied the two girls and now they were doing these irritating mimicries.

  Margaret pushed aside the empty plate and said, ‘I don’t know why I’m eating so much; we don’t do anything. Yet I don’t seem to be putting on weight.’

  Abigail said, ‘I know. I don’t want to, but I’m not going to be held down and force-fed again.’ She dutifully chewed a mouthful of food and swallowed, then said, ‘And have you ever seen them eat anything?’

  ‘No,’ said Margaret. ‘I thought maybe they were fed after we slept.’

  Abigail said, ‘And I’ve not seen them … you know.’

  Margaret smiled a wry smile. ‘Use the chamber pot,’ she said.

  Abigail nodded. ‘I don’t think they sleep, either.’

  Margaret remembered the one time she had found the creature hovering over her bed and she said, ‘I think you’re right.’

  Margaret stood and turned, and saw the creature she now thought of as hers do likewise. She heard Abigail gasp.

  Turning, Margaret saw that the creature’s body had changed slightly. She was taller, Margaret’s height, and her hips and chest had broadened, while her waist had narrowed.

  Margaret whispered, ‘What is going on?’

  Nicholas looked up as the door to the hostel crashed open. Three armed men barged in, and before any of the soldiers in the common room could react, a half-dozen bowmen followed.

  A large grey-haired man entered after the bowmen, who covered everyone in the room. ‘Who commands here?’ he demanded.

  Nicholas stood up and said, ‘I do.’

  The old man walked over to Nicholas and looked down his nose at him. He shook his head. ‘I commend your bravery to your boy, but you do him no honor hiding him from me.’