Jimmy said, “This civil war sounds a nasty sort of business.”
Arutha sat forward. Wiping his forehead, he looked up from under damp locks. “We’ve not had one in two hundred fifty years, since the first Borric slew his half brother, Jon the Pretender. Compared to what this would be, with all the East marshaled against the West, that was only a skirmish.”
Amos looked at Arutha with concern upon his face. “History’s not my strong suit, but it seems to me you’d do best by your father keeping him in ignorance of this turn of events until the Tsurani spring offensive is finished.”
Arutha exhaled a long, low breath. “There’s nothing else for it. We know no aid will be forthcoming for Crydee. I can best decide what to do when I return. Perhaps in council with Fannon and the others we can work out some defense for when the Tsurani come.” His tone was one of near-resignation. “Father will learn of Guy’s plotting in due time. This sort of news is too hard to keep. The best we can hope for is he’ll not hear of it until after the Tsurani offensive. Perhaps by then the situation will have changed.” It was obvious from his tone he didn’t think that likely.
Martin said, “It may be the Tsurani will choose to march against Elvandar, or carry the battle to your father. Who can say?”
Arutha leaned back and became aware of Anita’s hand resting gently upon his arm. “What a choice we have,” he said quietly. “To face the possible loss of Crydee and the Far Coast to the Tsurani or to plunge the Kingdom into civil war. Truly the gods must hate the Kingdom.”
Amos stood. “Trevor tells me he has a ship. We can sail in a few days. With luck, the straits will be clearing when we arrive.”
Lost in the gloom of his own personal defeat, Arutha barely heard him. He had come to Krondor in such confidence. He would win Erland’s support for his cause, and Crydee would be rescued from the Tsurani. Now he faced an even more desperate situation than had he stayed home. Everyone left him alone, save for Anita, who spent silent minutes just sitting at his side.
—
DARK FIGURES MOVED quietly toward the waterfront. Trevor Hull led a dozen men with Arutha and his companions down the silent street. They hugged the walls of the buildings, and every few yards Arutha would cast a backward glance to see how Anita fared. She returned his concern with brave smiles, faintly perceived in the predawn darkness.
Arutha knew that over a hundred men moved down adjacent streets, sweeping the area of the city watch and Radburn’s agents. The Mockers had turned out in force so Arutha and the others could safely quit the city. Hull had carried word the night before that for a considerable cost the Upright Man had arranged for one of the blockade ships to “drift” off station. Since learning the true situation, including Guy’s plan to become Prince of Krondor, the Upright Man had given over his not inconsiderable resources to aid the Prince’s and Anita’s escape. Anita wondered if anyone outside the Guild of Thieves would ever learn the mysterious leader’s true identity. From what chance remarks Arutha had overheard, it seemed only a few within the Mockers knew who he was.
With Guy on his way back to the city, Jocko Radburn’s men had increased their searching to a near-frenzied pitch. Curfew had been instituted and homes randomly entered and searched in the middle of the night. Every known informant in the city, and many of the beggars and rumormongers as well, had been dragged off to the dungeons and questioned, but whatever else Radburn’s men accomplished, they did not learn where the Princess was hidden. No matter how much the denizens of the street feared Radburn, they feared the Upright Man more.
Anita heard Hull speaking quietly to Amos. “She’s a blockade runner, called the Sea Swift, and she’s well named. There’s no faster ship left in the harbor, with all the big warships out with Jessup’s fleet. You should make good time westward. The prevailing winds are northerly, so you’ll have a broad reach most of the way.”
Amos said, “Trevor, I’ve sailed the Bitter Sea a bit. I know how the winds blow this time of year as well as any man.”
Hull snorted. “Well then, as you say. Your men and the Prince’s gold are all safely aboard, and Radburn’s watchdogs don’t seem to have a notion. They still watch the Wind of Dawn like a mouser a rathole, but the Sea Swift is left alone. We’ve arranged for false papers to be posted with a broker, announcing she’s for sale, so even if there was no blockade, they’d not imagine she’d be leaving harbor for some time.”
They reached the docks and hurried along to a waiting longboat. There were muffled noises, and Arutha knew the Mockers and Trevor’s smugglers were disposing of Radburn’s watchmen.
Then to the rear, shouts erupted. The clamor of steel broke the still of the morning, and Arutha heard Hull shout, “To the boat!”
The pounding of boots upon the wood of the docks set up a racket as Mockers came swarming out of nearby streets, intercepting whoever sought to cut off the escape.
They reached the end of the dock and hurried down the ladder to the longboat. Arutha waited at the top of the ladder until Anita was safely down, then turned. As he stepped upon the top rung, he heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching and saw horses crashing through the press of Mockers, who fell before the onslaught. Riders in the black and gold of Bas-Tyra hacked down with swords, to break free of those seeking to slow them.
Martin shouted from the boat, and Arutha hurried down the ladder. As he reached the boat, a voice from above shouted, “Farewell!”
Anita looked up and saw Jimmy the Hand hanging over the edge of the dock, a nervous grin on his face. How the boy had managed to join them when everyone thought him safely back at the hiding place, Arutha couldn’t guess. Seeing the unarmed boy gave the Prince a momentary start. He unbuckled his rapier and tossed it high. “Here, use it in good health!” As quick as a striking serpent, Jimmy caught the scabbard, then vanished.
Sailors pulled hard against the oars, and the boat sped away from the docks. Lanterns appeared upon the wharves as the sound of battle became louder. Even in the predawn hour, many cries of “What passes?” and “Who goes there?” came from those set to guard ships and cargo in the harbor. Anita watched over his shoulder, trying to see what was occurring behind. More lanterns were being brought, and a fire erupted on the docks. Large bales of something, stored under canvas, exploded into flames.
Those in the boat could now clearly see the fight. Many of the thieves were escaping down city streets, or leaping into the icy water of the harbor. Arutha couldn’t see the grey-haired figure of Trevor Hull anywhere, or the small one of Jimmy the Hand. Then clearly he saw Jocko Radburn, dressed in a simple tunic, as before. Radburn came to the edge of the dock and watched the retreating boat. He pointed at the fleeing longboat with his sword and shouted something lost in the clamor.
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 slip 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 coul
d 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.”
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