Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Iasha said, ‘Your cousin is a very unusual woman. I’ve seen many rich and noble women, and she’s unlike any other.’

  Nicholas sighed as he nuzzled her neck. ‘Too bad you couldn’t have known her mother.’ He found it difficult to picture Briana. A wistful feeling passed through him.

  ‘What is it?’ Iasha asked.

  Nicholas shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. People die, you mourn them, then you get on with life. That’s the way it is.’ More brightly he said, ‘It’s good you’re learning the King’s Tongue.’

  Iasha smiled. ‘If I’m to find myself a rich husband, I’ll need to know it.’

  Nicholas sat up. ‘Husband?’

  Iasha said, ‘Eventually. Your wife might not wish to have your mistress nearby. And neither one of us imagines for a moment your father would allow us to wed.’

  Nicholas sat up and started to protest; then he realized she was saying nothing he hadn’t already considered himself. He discovered he just didn’t like hearing her say it.

  ‘Your feelings are hurt,’ she said, half-mocking. She stood up. ‘Let me make you feel better,’ she said as she untied the belt around her shift, allowing the fabric to fall around her ankles.

  Nicholas grinned as she came back to him and settled into his arms.

  The pursuing galley had not been seen for a week, and Amos judged it had finally succumbed to the long passage. He came up on deck and took a deep breath of sea air. It was early spring again.

  Amos went to Nicholas’s side on the quarterdeck and said, ‘One of these days I may ask for my command back.’

  ‘Any time.’

  Amos clapped Nicholas on the shoulder. ‘You’re doing a fine job.’

  Nicholas said, ‘I’d feel better knowing where that other ship is.’

  Amos said, ‘If that captain knows his craft, they’re south of the Frigate Rocks, about a week south of Three Fingers Island. They’ll turn there and make directly for the Straits of Darkness.’

  ‘We’re going to cut them off?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Amos. ‘This ship is almost as fast as the real Eagle, and the real Gull was only slightly slower than that. It’s a difficult choice, and we didn’t know the southern waters as well as their captain.’ He rubbed his hand, and said, ‘But no man knows the northern waters like I do, and once on the Bitter Sea, I’ll use every current and eddy, every wind and comber to push us along. We’ll take them, have no doubt.’

  Nicholas asked, ‘When is the earliest we might see them?’

  ‘Now,’ said Amos. ‘We could have overtaken them anywhere along the route, depending upon where their captain starts his eastward run.’

  Two hours later, the lookout called, ‘Sail ahoy!’

  Nicholas ordered as much canvas on as possible and every man jumped to push the ship through the water as quickly as could be done. After a while the lookout called, ‘I mark her, Captain. It’s the Royal Gull!’

  Amos shouted, ‘All hands to stations!’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘No?’ asked Amos.

  ‘We’ll not attack her yet.’

  ‘Why not, for the gods’ sake?’ asked Amos.

  Ghuda came up on deck, Praji and Vaja behind him, and Nicholas addressed all of them. ‘We have no idea how many men they’re carrying. And we don’t have surprise. I’m not going to move in on her until we’ve passed the Straits of Darkness and we’re almost home.’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Harry, climbing up from the main deck.

  Nicholas said, ‘Because I’m not going to let one of those creatures reach Krondor. If I have to, I’ll lash the ships together and burn them both. If we have to swim home, I’d rather have it a short distance to friendly shores.’

  Amos swore. ‘Well, we’ll have to dog them, and I hope their captain doesn’t have a lot of imagination.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Pass the word, we’re going to run if she turns to fight.’

  Amos said, ‘I don’t like it –’

  ‘Those are my orders,’ said Nicholas. ‘We’ll take her only if she turns toward the Free Cities or Kesh. Otherwise, we’re going to follow her home.’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ Amos said, saluting. His expression was a mixture of doubt and pride.

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR •

  Battle

  NICHOLAS WATCHED.

  The counterfeit Royal Gull was trimming sail, slowing in a provocative invitation for the Eagle to attempt to overtake it. Amos stood on the quarterdeck. He had become a fixture there for the last two weeks, but he still hadn’t requested a return of command from Nicholas.

  Nicholas had been open about his lack of knowledge in running a ship, but he was an apt student, and between his lifetime of small-boat experience, the time he had worked on the Raptor, and what he could learn from first Pickens and now Amos, he was turning into a first-rate deep-water sailor. Amos had told him that at the rate he was learning, he’d be a first-class cabin boy in a year or two. Nicholas realized the near-legendary captain had only been teasing, but his successes so far were constantly offset by a nagging doubt that his luck was about to run out.

  Amos mused, ‘They’re really not asking for us to engage.’

  Nicholas agreed, ‘They know we don’t want to … yet. But I can’t fathom what they’re up to.’

  Amos called aloft, ‘Anything to the stern?’

  The lookout called back, ‘Nothing, Admiral!’

  They had cleared the Straits of Darkness a week before, and were now due north of Durbin. Nicholas said, ‘You don’t really expect to see anything back there, do you?’

  ‘You never know,’ said Amos. He spat over the rail. ‘The snakes managed enough magic to create those plague carriers and had years to plan this; they probably began this plan the minute Murmandamus died at Sethanon. I wouldn’t put it past them to have a way to get that bitch of a bireme across the ocean.’ He smiled. ‘More to the point, I wouldn’t put it past them to have a ship in reserve somewhere in the Bitter Sea just in case of this sort of turn of events. And their slowing down would make sense if they expect help.’

  Nicholas said, ‘That’s a risk I can appreciate.’

  Just then the lookout called, ‘Sail ahoy!’

  ‘Where away?’ shouted Nicholas.

  ‘Dead to starboard, Captain!’

  Nicholas and Amos both crossed the rail and looked, and after a minute a sail could be seen. ‘She’s coming fast,’ said Nicholas.

  Amos said, ‘Uh-huh. Keshian cutter. Privateer out of Durbin. Time to run out the colors.’

  The imitation Kingdom warship carried a full complement of banners and ensigns, and Nicholas called, ‘Run out the Kingdom banner and the royal ensign.’

  Amos said, ‘Put my pennant out there, too, while you’re at it.’

  Nicholas called out for the Admiral of the Fleet banner to be added, and soon large colorful flags flew from topmast and mizzenmast.

  The Keshian cutter bore down on them, then suddenly veered to port. Amos laughed. ‘That captain sees two Kingdom warships returning from patrol, One with the Admiral of the Fleet and a member of the royal household aboard. He’ll give us a wide berth.’

  The day wore on, and Nicholas kept his interval behind the Royal Gull. The pursuit took on the aspects of a tacking duel in a race, but in this race the purpose was not to overtake, or to fall behind, but to stay within striking distance.

  The Gull put on more canvas near sundown, and Amos said, ‘The bastard’s going to try to run on us in the dark. Hasn’t he figured out I know these waters too well? I know where he must come back to come to Krondor.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t run to Krondor?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘He must,’ answered Amos. ‘He could put into Sarth, or Land’s End, but why bother? Your father is almost certain to be out on the Far Coast, trying to make sense of the mess we’ve left in Freeport. I think that was the purpose for what we thought was a needless raid at Carse, Tulan, and Barran. With that level of des
truction, your father will have pulled most of the fleet out of Krondor and sailed straight to the Far Coast as soon as the Straits cleared. Then he’ll be out to Freeport.’ He calculated. ‘He’s probably deciding to return here or go after us by now.’

  Nicholas said, ‘She’s breaking north!’

  Amos said, ‘I think it’s a feint. Wait a moment, run out sails, follow, and as soon as it’s dark and she can’t see us, turn back to this line for Krondor. I’ll bet you all I’ve got we’ll see them no farther than a mile away at dawn tomorrow.’

  Nicholas said, ‘I know better than to take that bet.’ Putting his hand on Amos’s shoulder, he asked, ‘Something to eat?’

  ‘Why not?’ answered Amos.

  The old Admiral was still a little unsteady on his feet by the end of the day; however, Anthony judged him fully recovered from the sword wound. His strength would return slowly, but he would be fit and well by the time they reached Krondor. Muttering as they descended the ladder to the main deck, Amos said, ‘If we were sailing a straight line, we could be home in another four days. But this tacking around, like a boat race in the harbor, it’s a serious waste of wind.’

  Nicholas agreed. ‘I’m anxious to have this over with, but I think we know that the chances of those murderous dogs accommodating our desires are slim.’

  From above, the lookout shouted, ‘Smoke, Captain!’

  ‘Where away?’

  ‘Dead astern!’

  Nicholas and Amos hurried back up on deck and squinted against the setting sun. A plume of smoke rose like a tattered flag and Amos said, ‘That Keshian cutter found someone.’

  ‘Yes, but who?’ asked Nicholas.

  Amos’s prediction had been apt. When dawn broke, the Royal Gull was less than a mile away, slightly to the north of them. Nicholas watched as the ship slowly grew larger, then ordered the helm ported, so their own speed fell off. The tacking duel really slowed their pace, and Amos came up on deck.

  He climbed to the quarterdeck and said, ‘Something new?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘They’re doing nothing that makes sense, except slowing down. I wonder if they’re going to turn and attack?’

  Amos looked at the other ship. ‘If they’re going to, they’ll be turning about … now!’ The other ship turned.

  ‘All hands on deck!’ shouted Nicholas. ‘Mr Pickens, turn to port and see if we can be heading out on the upwind leg before they get turned around and their sails trimmed.’

  Nakor came running up on deck, shouting, ‘There’s something! There’s something!’

  Nicholas said, ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the little man, hopping back and forth from foot to foot. ‘There’s a trick here. I can feel it!’

  Anthony came up an instant later and said, ‘Nicholas, something strange is happening to us. I can sense it.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what it is?’ asked Nicholas.

  Abruptly there was a sound like a giant cloth ripping, and a ringing like a chime, but loud and sustained, hanging in the air and grating on the nerves, like the shriek of broken chalk on a slate board.

  Nicholas felt his skin break out in chill bumps, and his breath came short. Then Anthony pointed. ‘Look!’

  Through a shimmering haze on the horizon, the droman materialized. ‘It’s a trick!’ shouted Nakor. ‘They’ve hidden the ship from our eyes, and the other ship has slowed us down!’

  Anthony said, ‘A spell of masking.’

  Amos said, ‘Now we know who that Keshian freebooter encountered late yesterday.’

  ‘And who won.’ Nicholas judged the position of the two ships. ‘Make ready for battle!’ he called. ‘Mr Pickens, bring her back to starboard. We’re taking the Gull.’

  Orders were passed, and Ghuda and Praji formed their mercenary companies, one in the rigging, the other on deck. Those prisoners from Crydee who were fit carried weapons, but most of them also carried ropes and grapples. Sailors above frantically reversed the set of sails they had begun trimming for a turn to port, and now were lengthening sheets they had just shortened, while others quickly pulled in those that they had just let out.

  Marcus and Calis were climbing to archers’ platforms in the rigging, with a half-dozen other archers. They picked their targets and began firing, their longbows able to reach farther than any other bows on either ship. Sailors on the Gull dived for cover, and when Calis killed the helmsman, the ship turned and wallowed.

  The Eagle bore down on its sister ship, and Amos called ranges for Nicholas, judging the closing distance and angle with a practiced eye. At the center of the deck, Margaret, Brisa, and Iasha, with some of the townswomen and boatmen, quickly set fire pots to burning, fanning coals to life.

  ‘Hard aport!’ shouted Amos, and Pickens spun the wheel as fast as he could. The Eagle decended on the Gull, and men on both decks braced themselves for a ramming collision. But as the bow of the Eagle seemed ready to pierce the railing of the Gull, the Eagle turned ponderously to the left. Spars on the bowsprit and braces on the fore channel shattered, sending wooden splinters flying through the air like missiles. Then the hulls struck, a glancing blow, but with enough force that one soldier was thrown from his perch in the rigging of the Eagle, and another was left dangling from the ropes, while his sword clattered on the deck below.

  A full score of men stood ready to greet the attackers, and Nicholas shouted, ‘Nakor, if you have any tricks to help, now’s the time!’

  Nakor reached into his black rucksack and pulled out something that looked like a ball of smoke, black churning in his hand. Then Nicholas saw it was a swarm of some kind of insects.

  He threw it toward the Gull, and the cloud grew, and a loud angry buzzing filled the air as the two ships lurched together. The row of defenders cried out and began swatting at stinging insects.

  Nakor said, ‘It won’t last long. Hurry.’

  Nicholas gave the signal. ‘Now!’ shouted Harry, overseeing the men from Crydee with the grapples, and they threw the heavy three-pronged hooks. Two bounced off the rail and fell between the ships, while another bounced harmlessly off the deck when the man throwing it let go of the rope in his excitement. But the others held, and pulled, and the two ships came together with a grinding crash.

  The men with the grappling ropes quickly tied them off, then drew their weapons to join in the boarding. Each wore a headband of black cloth, at Nicholas’s insistence, so that should any man find himself facing an inhuman copy, he would know he faced a false human, even if the face was that of a brother or friend. Each man had been warned that to lose the headband was to chance being killed by a friend, and if the headband was lost, to fall to the deck and get out of the way.

  Praji’s mercenaries swarmed the deck, while those with Ghuda swung across from the rigging above. Nicholas looked to the main deck and saw that Tuka and his boatmen, and some of the women from Crydee, stood ready. They would either carry hot pitch to be thrown at the next ship, or put out fires that might erupt on the Eagle.

  Nicholas saw that everything was as ordered as it would be, drew his own sword, and took a running leap at the rail. With one foot on the rail of the Eagle, he pushed off and launched himself across six feet of space high above two hulls grinding together, to land on the forecastle of the Gull. Nakor’s stinging bugs were gone, but they’d done their job.

  The ships were lashed together fore-to-aft, and their sails and rigging conspired to force the locked pair of ships to turn in a slow circle. Nicholas cursed the luck that forced him to take the Gull bow to stern. It would make it much more difficult to cut her loose and get away than had they overtaken her from the same direction. He hoped it would not leave them vulnerable to the approaching droman.

  A black-clad officer attacked Nicholas, and the Prince parried the first blow. The man had a tendency to follow a pattern of three blows, and the third time he began the sequence, Nicholas easily took him in the chest with the point of his sword.

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sp; Nicholas glanced around and saw one of his own men being pushed over the side of the rail. Nicholas killed the man doing the pushing, and helped the man regain the deck. They saw they were alone on the foredeck, and Nicholas shouted, ‘Amos, over here!’

  Amos picked up a small cask, the sort used for brandy, and threw it across to Nicholas. Nicholas’s knees buckled, and he let out a woof of exertion as he caught it, but he held on to it.

  To the soldier with him he shouted, Open that small hatchway, and be careful of surprises!’

  The man pushed it aside with his foot, leaning away, and a crossbow bolt shot out. Nicholas didn’t wait; he threw the cask down into the darkness. He heard a satisfying crash of wood and a cry of pain. ‘That’s one!’ he shouted to Amos.

  Amos tossed him another, and he quickly smashed that down after the first; then they pushed the cover closed.

  Picking up his sword, Nicholas looked down at the main deck, seeing that the fighting was spread out across the deck, a no-man’s-land, with no clear-cut line separating the opposing forces.

  Nicholas swung down the ladder, planting his boot in the back of a man facing one of Praji’s mercenaries. The black-clad sailor stumbled forward, and the mercenary quickly killed him.

  Nicholas skirted the fighting until he was moving along the rail closest to his own ship. Ghuda, Praji, and Vaja were holding a clear area of deck, and Nicholas joined them, forcing their way past a small central hatchway. As soon as he was there, Nicholas turned and shouted, ‘Another barrel!’

  Amos and Harry carried a larger barrel and had to rest it on the moving rails of the ships while Nicholas took hold of it. Harry scrambled over and helped his friend pick up the large barrel. It was ten gallons of oil, and with the rolling deck below them, they had a difficult time getting it over the hatchway. Nicholas counted three and they dropped it.

  The oil was lamp oil and wouldn’t burn without a wick under normal conditions, but Nakor had insisted that if the fire around it grew hot enough, it would aid the ship in burning, melting the pitch between the planks of the hull and either burning her to the water line, or causing enough leaks to sink her.