Arutha turned and saw Anita sitting opposite him, her hood thrown back, her face clearly visible in the blaze of light from the wharf. Her gaze was caught by the spectacle on shore, and she seemed unaware of her discovery. Arutha quickly pulled her cloak hood about her face, snapping her from her glamour, but he knew the damage was done. He looked back again and saw Radburn ordering his men after the fleeing Mockers, retreating down the docks. He stood there alone, then turned away, vanishing in the gloom by the time the longboat reached the Sea Swift.
As soon as they were all aboard, Amos’s crew cast mooring lines and scrambled aloft to set sails. The Sea Swift began to move from the harbor.
The promised gap in the harbor blockade appeared, and Amos set course for it. He was through before any attempt to cut them off could materialize, and suddenly they were outside the harbor, in the open sea.
Arutha felt a strange elation as it struck him they were free of Krondor. Then he heard Amos swear. “Look!”
In the faint light of the false dawn, Arutha saw the dim shape where Amos pointed. The Royal Griffin, the three-masted warship they had seen when coming into the harbor, was at anchor beyond the breakwater, hidden from the view of any in the city. Amos said, “I thought her out with Jessup’s fleet. Damn that Radburn for a crafty swine. She’ll be on our wake as soon as he can get aboard.” He shouted for all sails to be set and then watched the retreating ship behind. “I’d say a prayer to Ruthia, Highness. If we can steal enough time before she gets under way, we still may be free. But we’ll need all the good fortune the Lady of Luck can spare.”
The morning was clear and cold. Amos and Vasco watched the crew work with approval. The less experienced men had been replaced by men handpicked by Trevor Hull. They did their work quickly and well, and the Sea Swift raced westward.
Anita had been shown to a cabin below, and Arutha and Martin stood on deck with Amos. The lookout reported the horizon clear.
Amos said, “It’s a close thing, Highness. If they’ve gotten that brute of a ship underway as quickly as possible, we’ve only stole an hour or two on them. Their captain may choose the wrong course, but seeing as we’re trying to stay free of Jessup’s sea ambush, they’re a good bet to follow close to the Keshian coast, and risk running into a Keshian warship, rather than losing us. I’ll not feel comfortable until we’re two days free of pursuit.
“But even if they started at once, they’ll only make up a small distance each hour. So until we know for certain they have us in sight, we’d all do with a bit of rest. Go below, and I’ll call you should anything occur.”
Arutha nodded and left Martin followed. He bid Martin a good rest and watched as the Huntmaster entered the cabin he shared with Vasco. Arutha entered his own cabin and stopped when he saw Anita sitting on his bunk. Slowly he closed the door and said, “I thought you were asleep in your own cabin.”
She shook her head slightly, then suddenly she was across the short space separating them, her head buried against his chest. Sobs shook her as she said, “I’ve tried to be brave, Arutha, but I’ve been so frightened.”
He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then gently placed his arms around her. The self-reliant pose had crumbled, and Arutha now realized how young she was. Her court training and manners had served her well in maintaining poise among the rough company of the Mockers over the month, but her mask could no longer withstand the pressure. He stroked her hair and said, “You’ll be fine.”
He made other reassuring sounds, not aware of what he was saying, finding her closeness disturbing. She was young enough to make him judge her still a girl, but old enough to make him doubt that judgment. He had never been able to banter lightly with the young women of the court like Roland, preferring a straightforward conversation, which seemed to leave the ladies cold. And he had never commanded their attention the way Lyam had, with his blond good looks and his laughing, easy manner. On the whole women made him uncomfortable, and this woman—or girl, he couldn’t decide which—more than usual.
When the tears subsided, he ushered her to the single chair in the cramped cabin and sat upon the bunk. She sniffed once, then said, “I’m sorry, this is so unseemly.”
Suddenly Arutha laughed. “What a girl you are!” he said with genuine affection. “Were I in your place, smuggling myself from the palace, hiding amid cutthroats and thieves, dodging Radburn’s weasels and all, I’d have fallen apart long since.”
She drew a small handkerchief from her sleeve and delicately wiped her nose. Then she smiled at him. “Thank you for saying that, but I think you’d have done better. Martin has told me a lot about you over the last few weeks, and you are a rather brave man by his accounts.”
Arutha felt embarrassed by the attention. “The Huntmaster has a tendency to overboast,” he said, knowing it to be untrue, and changed the subject. “Amos tells me if we don’t sight that ship for two days, we’ll have won free.”
She lowered her eyes. “That’s good.”
He leaned forward and brushed a tear from her cheek, then, feeling self-conscious, pulled his hand away. “You will be safe with us in Crydee, free from Guy’s plottings. My sister will make you a welcome guest in our house.”
She smiled faintly. “Still, I am worried about Father and Mother.”
Arutha tried his best to lay her fears to rest. “With you safely gone from Krondor, Guy cannot gain by causing your parents harm. He may still force a consent to marry from your father, but Erland could do no harm by giving it now. With you out of reach, it’s a hollow betrothal. Before this is all done, we shall have an accounting with dear cousin Guy.”
She sighed, and her smile broadened. “Thank you, Arutha. You’ve made me feel better.”
He rose and said, “Try to sleep. I’ll use your cabin for the time being.” She smiled as she went to his bunk. He closed the door behind him. All at once he felt little need for rest and returned to the deck. Amos stood by the helmsman, eyes fixed astern Arutha came to stand at his side. Amos said, “There, on the horizon, can you see it?”
Arutha squinted and made out a faint white speck against the blue of the sky. “Radburn?”
Amos spat over the transom. “My guess. Whatever start we’ve had is being slowly eaten away. But a stern chase is a long chase, as the saying goes. If we can keep far enough ahead for the rest of the day, we might blip them at night—if there’s enough cloud cover so the moons don’t mark our passage.”
Arutha said nothing, watching the faint speck in the distance.
Throughout the day they had watched the pursuing ship grow slowly in size. At first the tiny speck grew with maddening slowness, but now with alarming speed. Arutha could see the sails clearly defined, no longer a simple blur of white, and he could see a hint of a black speck at the masthead, undoubtedly Guy’s banner.
Amos regarded the setting sun, directly ahead of the fleeing Sea Swift, then watched the following ship. He shouted to the watch aloft, “Can you mark her?”
The lookout cried down, “Three-masted warship, Captain.”
Amos looked at Arutha. “It’s the Royal Griffin. She’ll overtake us at sundown. If we had but ten more minutes, or some weather to hide in, or she was just a trifle slower . . .”
“What can you do?”
“Little. In a broad reach she’s faster, fast enough that we can’t shake her with any sort of fancy sailing. If I tried to turn to a beam reach just as she came near, I could put a bit of space between us, for we’d both lose speed, but she’d fall off faster for a time. Then as soon as they trimmed sails, they’d overhaul us. But that’d send us southward, and there’re some fairly nasty shoals and reefs along this stretch of coast, not far from here. It’d be chancy. No, she’ll come in somewhat to the windward. When she’s alongside, her taller masts will cut our wind, and we’ll slow enough for them to board without so much as a by-your-leave.”
Arutha watched the closing ship for another half hour Martin came on deck and watched as the distance between the
two ships shrank by a few feet each minute. Amos held the ship tight to the wind, driving her to the limit of her speed, but still the other closed.
“Damn!” said Amos, nearly spitting from frustration. “If we were running east, we’d lose them in the dark, but westward we’ll be outlined against the evening sky for some time after the sun sets. They’ll still be able to see us when we’ll be blind to them.”
The sun sank and the chase continued. As the sun neared the horizon, an angry red ball above the black-green sea, the warship followed by less than a thousand yards.
Amos said, “They might try to foul the rigging or sweep the decks clear with those oversized crossbows, but with the girl aboard, Radburn might not risk it for fear of injuring her.”
Nine hundred, eight hundred yards, the Royal Griffin came on, rolling inexorably toward them. Arutha could see figures, small silhouettes in the rigging, black against sails turned blood-red by the setting sun.
When the pursuing ship was five hundred yards behind, the lookout shouted, “Fog!”
Amos looked up. “Where away?”
“South by west. A mile or more.”
Amos sped for the bow and Arutha followed. In the distance they could see the sun setting, while off to the left a hazy white band stretched across the top of the black sea. “Gods!” shouted Amos. “We have a chance.”
Amos shouted for the helmsman to come to a southwest heading, then sprinted for the stern, Arutha behind him by a step. When they reached the stern, they saw the turn had halved the distance between the ships. Amos said, “Martin, can you mark their helmsman?”
Martin squinted, then said, “It’s a bit gloomy, but he’s not a difficult mark.”
Amos said, “See if you can take his mind off holding course.”
Martin uncovered his ever-present bow and strung it. He drew out a cloth-yard shaft and sighted on the pursuing ship. He waited, shifting weight to compensate for the rolling of the ship, then let fly. Like an angry bird, the arrow arched over the water, clearing the stern of the following ship.
Martin watched the shaft’s flight, then quietly hummed an “Ah” to himself. In a single fluid motion he drew out another arrow, fitted it to the bowstring, pulled, and released. It followed the path of the first, but instead of clearing the rear of the other ship, struck in the transom, quivering mere inches from the helmsman’s head.
From the Sea Swift they could see the Royal Griffin’s helmsman dive for the deck, releasing the tiller. The warship swung over and began to fall away. Martin said, “A little gusty for fine shooting,” and sent another arrow to strike within inches of the first, keeping the tiller unmanned.
Slowly the distance between the ships began to widen, and Amos turned to his crew. “Pass the word. When I give the order for silence, any man who drops so much as a whisper is fish bait.”
The warship wobbled behind a minute, then swung back on course Martin said, “Looks like they’ll keep a little less broad to us, Amos. I can’t shoot through sails.”
“No, but if you’d oblige me by keeping those lads in the bow away from their ballista, I’d be thankful I think you irritated Radburn.”
Martin and Arutha saw the ballista crew readying their weapons. The Huntmaster sent a flurry of arrows at the pursuing ship’s bow, one arrow following the last before it was halfway to the target. The first struck a man in the leg, felling him, and the other men dove for cover.
“Fog dead ahead, Captain!” came the shout from above.
Amos turned to the helmsman. “Hard to port.”
The Sea Swift angled to the south. The Royal Griffin came hard after, now less than four hundred yards behind. As they changed course, the wind died. Approaching the fog bank, Amos said to Arutha, “The winds fall off to less than a bilious fart in there; I’m reefing sails, so the sound of flapping canvas doesn’t give us away.”
Abruptly they entered a wall of grey, murky fog, quickly becoming black as the sun sank over the horizon. As soon as the warship vanished from sight, Amos said, “Reef sails!”
The crew hauled in sails, quickly slowing the ship. Then Amos said, “Hard to starboard, and pass the word for silence.”
Suddenly the ship became graveyard quiet. Amos turned to Arutha and whispered, “There’s currents here running to the west. We’ll let them carry us away from here and hope Radburn’s captain is a Kingdom Sea man.
“Tiller to midships,” he whispered to the helmsman. To Vasco, he said, “Pass the word to lash down the yards. And those aloft are to remain motionless.”
Suddenly Arutha became aware of the quiet. After the clamor of the chase, with the fresh north wind blowing, the ropes and sheets singing in the yards, the canvas snapping constantly, this muffled fogbank was unnaturally silent. An occasional groan of a yard moving, or the snap of a rope, were the only sounds in the murk. Fear dragged the minutes out in the seemingly endless vigil.
Then, like an alarm ringing out, they heard voices and the sounds of a ship. Creeking yards and the snap of canvas as it moved in the faint wind echoed from all quarters. Arutha couldn’t see anything for minutes, until a faint glow pierced through the murk to the rear, passing from northeast to southwest, lanterns from the pursuing Royal Griffin. Every man aboard the Sea Swift, on deck and above, stayed at his station, afraid to move for the noise that would carry over the water like a clarion In the distance they could hear a shout from the other ship, “Quiet, damn it! We can’t hear them for our own noise!” Then it was suddenly still, save for the rippling of canvas and ropes from the Royal Griffin.
Time passed without measure as they waited in the blackness. Then came a hideous grinding sound, ringing like a thunder peal, a tearing, cracking shriek of wood being crushed. Instantly the cries of men could be heard, shouts of panic.
Amos turned to the others, half-seen in the darkness. “They’ve shoaled out. From the sound, they’ve torn the hull right out from under. They’re dead men.” He ordered the helm put over to the northwest, away from the shoals and reefs, as sailors hurriedly set sail.
“A bad way to die,” said Arutha.
Martin shrugged, half-lit by the lanterns being brought up on deck. “Is there a good way? I’ve seen worse.”
Arutha left the quarterdeck, the faint, pitiful cries of the drowning men still carrying across the water, a grisly counterpoint to Vasco’s more mundane shout to open the galley. He closed the door to the companion way and shut out those unhappy sounds. He quietly opened the door to his cabin and saw Anita lying asleep in the faint light of a shuttered candle. Her red-brown hair looked nearly black as it lay spread about her head. He started to close the door, when he heard her say, “Arutha?”
He stepped in, finding her watching him in the dim light. He sat on the edge of the berth. “Are you well?” he asked.
She stretched and nodded. “I’ve been sleeping soundly.” Her eyes widened. “Is everything all right?” She sat up, bringing her face close to his.
He reached out and put his arms around her, holding her close. “Everything is fine. We’re safe now.”
She sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for everything, Arutha.”
He said nothing, suddenly caught up in strong emotion, a protective feeling, a need to keep Anita from harm’s way, to care for her. For long moments they sat this way, then Arutha regained control over his surging feelings. Pulling away a little, he said, “You’d be hungry, I’d think.”
She laughed, an honestly merry sound. “Why yes, as a matter of fact I’m famished.”
He said, “I’ll have something sent down, though it will be plain fare, I’m afraid, even compared to what you were given by the Mockers.”
“Anything.”
He went on deck and ordered a seaman to the galley to fetch something for the Princess, then returned to find her combing her hair. “I must look a mess,” she said.
Arutha suddenly found himself fighting the urge to grin. He didn’t know why, but he was inexplicably happ
y. “Not at all,” he said. “You look quite nice, actually.”
She stopped her combing, and Arutha marveled at how she looked so young one minute, so womanly the next. She smiled at him. “I remember sneaking a peek at you during Father’s court dinner, when you were last in Krondor.”
“At me? What in heaven’s name for?”
She seemed to ignore the question “I thought you looked nice then as well, though a bit stern. There was a boy there who held me up to see. He was with your father’s party. I’ve forgotten his name, but he said he was apprentice to a magician.”
Arutha’s smile faded. “That was Pug.”
“What ever happened to him?”
“He was lost in the first year of the war.”
She put aside her comb. “I’m sorry. He was kind to a bothersome child.”
“He was a kind lad, given to doing brave things, and he was very special to my sister. She grieved for a long time when he was lost.” Fighting back a gloomy mood, he said, “Now, why did a Princess of Krondor want to sneak a look at a distant and rural cousin?”
Anita watched Arutha for a long moment, then said, “I wanted to see you because our fathers thought it likely we would marry.”
Arutha was stunned. It took all his control to retain his composure. He pulled over the single chair and sat. Anita said, “Didn’t your father ever mention it to you?”
For want of anything clever to say, Arutha merely shook his head.
Anita nodded. “I know, the war and all. Things did get quite frantic soon after you left for Rillanon.”
Arutha swallowed hard, finding his mouth suddenly dry. “Now, what is this about our fathers’ plans for . . . our marriage?”
Book 1 - Magician Page 65