Nicholas finally managed to doze when a creak of the door opening brought him instantly awake. “Huh?” he said as he drew his sword noisily from the scabbard.
“Don’t,” said a female voice. Someone sat on the bed next to him.
“Abby?” asked Nicholas, reaching for a light.
“She’s with Marcus in the rope locker,” said the voice. “They’re…getting reacquainted, let’s say.” He struck spark and brought the lantern to life, and discovered the Ranjana sitting next to him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, irritated at the intrusion.
“We need to talk,” she said. She wore a silk gown that clung to her curves, and her hair had been done up with gold and pearl pins, accenting her dark curls.
“About what?” he asked.
“This place we’re going? You’re really a Prince?”
Nicholas said, “Ranjana—what is your name?”
“Iasha.”
“Iasha, I am a Prince. My uncle is King. My brother will be King after him.”
The girl looked down as if embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble. I have been talking to the one called Margaret. I really had no idea there had been so much killing and suffering, or that you’d come so far to find the one called Abigail.”
Nicholas sighed, lying back against the bulkhead, his arm behind his head. “When I began this journey, I would have told you how much I loved Abigail. That all seems silly now.”
“Love is never silly,” said Iasha.
“Well, I didn’t mean to say it was. But thinking what I felt was love is silly.”
“Oh?”
“Was that all you came here to say, that you’re sorry?”
“Yes—no.” She sighed. “When I said I loved you, it was to keep from being sent back to Kilbar.”
“Somehow I figured that out,” said Nicholas, his irritation showing.
“But I was not lying when I said it would be my life.”
“Your father would really kill you or sell you for something the Overlord plotted?”
She sighed deeply again. “No, it’s because of something I did. Or rather, the Ranjana did.”
“What?” asked Nicholas, his face showing his confusion.
“I am not the Ranjana of Kilbar.”
“Who are you?”
“I am her maid, Iasha. The other maids are in on the ruse, as well.”
“You’d better explain this to me,” said Nicholas.
“The Ranjana had no desire to be the fifteenth wife of the Overlord of the City of the Serpent River. She has been in love with a minor prince of Hamsa since they were children together. So she bribed Andres Rusolavi, the broker, to substitute me for her and send us south, while she made her way to Hamsa to marry her prince in secret. There is almost no communication between Hamsa and the City of the Serpent River, so my lady got her prince, I would be another pretty face for the Overlord and would live in luxury, and the other maids would be rewarded for their silence by me.”
Nicholas made an aggravated sound. “So it was another ruse?”
“I am afraid so, my Prince. Now I must throw myself upon your mercy and beg you not to sell myself and the others into slavery.”
Nicholas fixed her with a narrow gaze. “Somehow I think you’ve already been told by Margaret that we don’t have slavery in the Kingdom.”
There was a faint smile at the corner of the girl’s lips, but all she said was “Oh?”
Wiping his gritty eyes with his hands, he said, “I’d better check on Amos.”
As he attempted to sit up, she leaned forward and her soft lips met his. He sat motionless a moment, then, when she pulled back, he said, “What was that for?”
“Because while I do not love you, my brave captain, I think you are a kind man and would treat a maid as well as a Ranjana.”
Nicholas said, “Fairly spoken, lady.” He stood up. “But somehow it’s going to be a while before I take much of what anyone from your land says at face value.”
She stood up in turn. “Tell me of this Kingdom of yours.”
Nicholas said, “I can show you after I check on Amos. Come along.”
He picked up the lantern and led her into Amos’s room, where the injured Admiral lay sleeping. Nicholas paused a moment, looking down at Amos, who was still pale.
“Will he live?” asked the girl quietly.
“I certainly hope so,” answered Nicholas. “He’s to wed my grandmother when we return. We—my family—love him very much.” He stared down at Amos’s still features a long moment.
Nicholas turned to the chart locker and put down the lantern. He inspected the charts that the Pantathians had provided for the original captain. Between them and Amos’s log, he hoped he could plot their way home. He selected one chart that showed the Bitter Sea and unrolled it. Pointing to Krondor, he said, “This is where I lived.”
She squinted. “I cannot read, Captain. What do these lines say?”
Nicholas began to speak of Krondor, and showed her how far they had sailed from the City of the Serpent River and what that looked like on the map. The girl gasped. “So vast a land to be owned by one man.”
“Not owned,” he corrected. “I’ll have to explain it to you in detail later, but my uncle is King because it is his birthright, but he also has obligations to protect those who live here. In my country, nobility is not just a privilege but also a responsibility. We rule but we also serve.”
He explained a little of his family, and when he was done, the girl said, “So you will not be given a city to rule?”
Nicholas shrugged. “I don’t know what my father and uncle plan for me. A state marriage, I expect, to a Princess of Roldem or of Kesh. Or to an important Duke’s daughter.” He said, “I may be sent to Rillanon and serve in my brother’s court when he becomes King.”
“Where is this Rillanon?”
He unrolled another map and laid it out next to the first, to show her the Kingdom Sea. “This island here”—he pointed—“is the home of my people. That is where we began and why we are called the Kingdom of the Isles.”
“You must show me this Rillanon,” said the girl, slipping her arm through his. He flushed at the feel of her breast against his arm.
“Ah, perhaps,” he said, disengaging himself and putting away the charts. “I think, however, you’ll have no trouble finding someone to show you just about anything you want to see.”
She pouted and Nicholas felt his heart skip. “I am but a poor maid. What man of rank would look twice at me?”
Nicholas grinned. “Any number, I dare say. You are certainly beautiful.”
She brightened. “You really think me beautiful?”
Trying to make light of it, he said, “When you’re not trying to claw Marcus’s eyes out or shrieking like a wounded cat.”
She smiled, covering her mouth with her hand. “That is how the Ranjana acts, my captain. I sought to act as she would, to make my impersonation convincing.”
Suddenly it became silent, as Nicholas realized he didn’t have any idea what to say next. The girl stood looking up at him, illuminated by the soft glow from the lantern. Their eyes met and she stepped forward and kissed him again. This time his body took over, and without thought, he pulled her tightly against him.
They stood making soft sounds for a moment, when a voice said weakly, “Nicky, can’t you and your girly find a cabin of your own?”
Nicholas turned. “Amos!”
He took two steps toward Amos and turned to Iasha. “Go get Anthony!” he said, and the girl hurried out to find the magician.
“Help me sit up,” Amos said.
Nicholas let Amos grip his arm while getting more comfortable, then adjusted the pillows behind him.
“Well, Ghuda owes me five golden sovereigns,” said Amos.
“Why?” asked Nicholas.
“I bet him that girl would convince one of you young lechers to bring her with us. So you’re the one bedding he
r?”
“No, I’m not sleeping with her,” said Nicholas.
“Gods, son, what’s wrong with you?” He coughed and said, “Ah, damn me, but I hurt.”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” said Nicholas.
“You’re not the first to tell me that,” said Amos. “Now, what’s happened since I got stuck?”
Nicholas filled him in, and by the time he was done, Anthony appeared. The healer examined Amos and said, “You’ll do well to stay in bed awhile. I’ll have someone bring you some broth. That belly wound is dangerous, so you’ll have to watch what you eat for a while.”
“Would you think a little wine was in order?” asked Amos with a weak smile.
“A small glass with the broth,” said Anthony. “It will help you sleep better.”
Anthony left and Nicholas said, “Tomorrow, we—”
“Have to kill those things below,” said Amos. “Yes, I was wondering why you waited.”
“It’s hard, Amos. I know what Nakor and Calis have told me, and what Margaret and Abigail said, but they look like people; they look like friends from Castle Crydee.”
“But they’re not” was all Amos said. “You’re a Prince of the Blood Royal, like your father and brothers, and you have a duty. Often that means taking life to protect your own. It’s not fair, or right, or even just, only necessary. That’s the way of it.”
Nicholas nodded. “I’ll let you sleep. Tomorrow I’ll need you to decipher those scratches in your log so we can find our way home.”
Amos said, “Tomorrow.” Already he looked ready to go back to sleep. “One thing.”
“What?”
“That little girl. Don’t let her get too close.”
“I thought you said there was something wrong with me….”
Amos said, “No, I don’t mean bedding her. She could probably teach you a thing or three. No, just remember who you are and where your destiny lies. You’re free to love who you may, but the King will tell you who you’re to wed.”
Nicholas nodded. “I’ve been told that all my life, Amos.”
“Just remember that when she’s got you by the short handle. Most men can’t think well then; don’t make promises.” Then he grinned and Nicholas was looking at the old Amos. “Just because you can’t allow her to take control of your life doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy letting her try.”
Nicholas blushed. “Good night, Amos. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He returned to his own cabin and remembered he’d left the lantern in Amos’s. In the dark, he stripped off his shirt and trousers, and sat on the bed. He leaped to his feet when something moved. Iasha’s voice said, “Get under the covers. It’s cold in here!”
He hesitated, then slipped in beside the girl. He felt warm skin against his own. He was motionless a moment, unsure of what to do next, when her lips found his. He responded, and then he laughed.
“What?” she asked, her tone a mix of amusement and concern. “You think me funny?”
“No,” said Nicholas. “Just thinking of something Amos told me.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you later,” he said, kissing her again.
—
HARRY SAID, “THEY’RE still back there, Captain.”
Nicholas had just come up on deck, to a blue sky and fresh breeze. “How long can they keep this up? They can’t be carrying provisions for a long voyage.”
“Maybe they don’t care,” said Harry. “You done with the cabin?” With the women on board, the officers and nobles had been doubling up in quarters, so Pickens and a new bosun’s mate, Gregory, shared the midshipman’s bunk. Harry and Nicholas were also on opposite watches—Harry had command at night—and slept in what had been the first mate’s cabin. The Ranjana, Margaret, Abigail, and the maids were supposed to be sleeping in the two small cabins for passengers or guests on Kingdom ships, but Nicholas wondered if the girls were making the same sorts of arrangements he and Harry had.
Harry said, “You’ll be a little more convincing as a commander if you wipe that stupid grin off your face.”
Nicholas said, “Grin?”
Harry nodded. “I know the feeling.” He smiled as he nodded toward Brisa, who was crossing the deck.
“Look, this is a funny time to say this, considering…”
“Considering what?”
Nicholas blushed. “What happened last night, but we should try to be circumspect about these sleeping arrangements.”
Harry said, “Why? I’ve got Brisa, you’ve got the Ranjana, Marcus has Abigail, Anthony is with Margaret; seems like it’s worked out pretty reasonably.”
“Explain that to the other forty-nine men on this ship,” Nicholas said. Harry glanced at a knot of mercenaries sitting on a hatch cover and watching Brisa walk by. “Our own men we can trust; they’re professional soldiers and sailors of the King. But hired knives? I want a watch on how much wine and ale are dispensed at meals and an ear out for trouble. We’ve got three months or more of crossing the ocean ahead of us.”
Harry sighed. “You’re right. I’ll say something to the others.”
“The real problem is going to be the maids,” said Nicholas. “A little wordplay is one thing, but a knife fight over one of them, that could be disastrous.”
Harry said, “I understand. I’ll pass the word to stay alert.”
A curse from below brought Nicholas’s attention to the main deck, where Amos stood waving off Anthony’s solicitations. “You may be the healer, but it’s my body and I damn well know when I need some fresh air! Get away!” He slapped weakly at Anthony’s offer of help and gripped the rail.
Nicholas hurried down and said, “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I’ve been bedridden long enough to smell like the bottom of last night’s ale mug. I need some air and some clean clothes.”
Nakor appeared from belowdecks, and said, “Anthony, Captain.” Seeing Amos, he said, “Admiral! Good to see you.”
“Good to see your silly grin, too,” said Amos.
To Nicholas, Nakor said, “Those creatures have all fallen asleep. The drug should last for some time, but with inhuman things, you can’t know. We must do it now.”
Nicholas closed his eyes a moment, then said, “Do it.”
Nakor signaled to Ghuda, who led the work gang. They slid aside the cargo hatch and moved a large cargo net with small bags of lead ballast tied to it into position over the hold. Nakor nimbly jumped to the net and hung there while it was lowered. Time dragged on while they silently waited, for only Nakor would go into the lower cargo deck, to load the thirty unconscious creatures into the net. He claimed he was the least likely candidate to become infected because of some tricks he knew, and without knowing how the plague was spread, Nicholas couldn’t disagree with his judgment.
Then a shout came from below, and Ghuda signaled. The men on the hoist pushed on the wooden spokes that extended from the capstan, and the cargo net rose slowly up until it cleared the deck. Nakor was hanging on the outside of the net and jumped down to the deck as it cleared the hold. It moved higher, until it was above the rail, and two men hauled on boom lines to swing it over the water. The bodies within looked peaceful, sleeping young men and women.
Then, without waiting for any order, Nakor took a knife and cut the line to the net, releasing it. With a splash it struck the water, and Nicholas watched in mute revulsion while those inside the ropy web sank out of sight without a sound as the ballast pulled them toward the bottom of the sea.
Anthony put his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder and said, “It had to be done. There was no other way. Keep in mind those creatures were created to die.”
“It doesn’t make murder any easier,” Nicholas said softly.
Anthony said, “I’m going down to the lower deck with Nakor. Between us, we can cleanse it of any possible illness left behind. Then the mercenaries will have a place to sleep besides the main deck.”
Nicholas nodded.
Am
os said, “What about that ship that’s following us?”
Nicholas said, “Praji called it a droman. It’s like a Quegan bireme with a catapult and ballista; it’s also got a ram and boarding ramp. Single lateen sail off a mainmast, and I think there’s a spanker behind, though it never got close enough to see.”
“The captain’s brave or mad. That’s no deep-water ship. A storm hits, and they’ll be rowing for their lives.”
“Remember who we’re dealing with,” said Nicholas.
Amos nodded. “I know better than you, boy. I’ve seen their butchery on a scale you can only imagine.” He glanced upward and said, “The men seem to be taking care of their duties.”
“Pickens is turning out to be a good first mate, and Harry’s learning as we go.” Nicholas smiled. “So am I.”
“Sometimes it’s the best way. Pickens always was a good seaman; it was his love of too much drink while in port that kept him in the forecastle.” Glancing back to where Pickens stood, Amos said, “We get through all this and he stays sober in port, I’ll make the promotion permanent.”
Amos staggered a little and had to grab the rail. Nicholas said, “All right. That’s enough. Back to bed. I’ll gladly return command to you when you’re ready, but that’s not for a while yet.”
As Nicholas helped Amos back to his cabin, Amos said, “Nicky, do me one favor, will you?”
“What?”
“When we get home, don’t mention this business to your grandmother. No need to upset her.”
Nicholas said, “I think she might notice that puncture wound in your stomach, Amos.”
“I’ll come up with a good story by then,” he said weakly.
Nicholas helped him back into his bunk, and before he could leave the cabin, Amos was fast asleep.
—
TIME WORE ON. Nicholas’s fear about friction between the men with women present seemed unfounded, as long as the pursuing war galley could be seen. For hours there would be no sign of the droman, then it would reappear just before sunset, or to be back at dawn. Without sight of the Royal Gull, it might have been easy to grow lax and think the voyage might end without a struggle, but the black shape on the horizon behind them always reminded them a fight was close at hand.