Jimmy regarded Locklear, who stood with an open expression of curiosity on his face over Laurie’s behaviour. Seeing no need to comment to the other youngster, Jimmy remained silent.
Gardan took his place before the procession, his shoulders hung with a heavy black mantle. He signalled, and a single drummer began a slow tattoo upon a muffled drum. Without spoken order, the procession set out on the fourth beat of the drum. The soldiers moved in silent lockstep, while the carriages rolled forward. Suddenly the grey stallion bucked and an extra groom again had to hold the animal in place. Jimmy shook his head. He had an old familiar feeling: all the pieces of some odd puzzle were about to fall into place. Then slowly a smile of understanding spread across his face.
Locklear observed his friend’s change of expression. “What?”
“Now I know what Laurie’s been up to. I know what’s going on.” With a friendly slap to Locklear’s shoulder, he said, “Come on, we’ve got a lot to do and little time to do it.”
Jimmy led Locklear through the secret tunnel, the guttering torch sending flickering shadows dancing in every direction. Both squires were dressed for travel and carried weapons, packs, and bedrolls. “You sure they’ll not have someone at the exit?” asked Locklear for the fifth time.
Impatiently Jimmy said, “I told you: this is the one exit I never showed anyone, not even the Prince or Laurie.” As if trying to explain away this transgression of omission, he added, “Some old habits are harder to break than others.”
They had gone about their duties all afternoon; after the squires had all retired, they had stolen away to where they had hastily stashed their travel packs. Now it was close to midnight.
Reaching a stone door, Jimmy pulled a lever and they both heard a click. Jimmy put out the torch and put his shoulder to the door. After several hard shoves, the protesting door moved, age having made it reluctant. They crawled through a small door - disguised as stonework - in the base of the wall beyond the Prince’s marshalling yard, on the street closest to the palace. Less than half a block up the road stood the postern gate, with its attendant sentries. Jimmy tried to push the door shut, but it refused to budge. He signalled to Locklear, and the younger boy shoved in concert. It held, then with a sudden release slammed shut with an audible crash. From up by the gate came an inquiring voice. “Here now, who’s out there? Stand and be identified.”
Without hesitation Jimmy was off, Locklear half a step behind. Neither boy looked back to see if chase was being offered, but kept their heads down as they dashed along the cobblestones.
Soon they were lost in the warren of streets between the Poor Quarter and the docks. Jimmy halted to gain his bearings, then pointed. “That way. We’ve got to hurry. The Raven leaves on the midnight tide.”
Both boys hurried through the night. Soon they were passing shuttered buildings near the waterfront. From the docks came the sound of men shouting orders as a ship made ready to depart.
“It’s pulling out,” yelled Locklear.
Jimmy didn’t answer, only picking up his pace. Both squires reached the end of the dock as the last line was cast off, and with desperate leaps they reached the side of the ship as it moved away from the quay. Rough hands pulled them over and in a moment they stood upon the deck.
“Here now, what is this?” came an inquiring voice, and a moment later, Aaron Cook stood before them. “Well, then, Jimmy the Hand, are you so anxious for a sea voyage you’d break your neck to come aboard?”
Jimmy grinned. “Hello, Aaron. I need to speak to Hull.”
The pock-faced man scowled at the squires. “That’s Captain Hull to any aboard the Royal Raven, Prince’s Squire or not. I’ll see if the captain has a moment.”
Shortly the squires stood before the captain, who fixed them with a baleful expression as he studied them with his one good eye. “Deserting your post, eh?”
“Trevor,” Jimmy began, but as Cook scowled, he amended, “Captain. We need to travel to Sarth. And we saw from the ships’ list in the Port Authority you’re beginning your northward patrol tonight.”
“Well now, you may think you need to travel up the coast, Jimmy the Hand, but you’ve not rank enough to come aboard my ship with no more than a by-your-leave, and you didn’t even have that. And despite the public notice - for the benefit of spies, you should know - my course is westerly, for I’ve Durbin slave runners reported lying at sea ambush for hapless Kingdom traders, and there’s always Quegan galleys nosing about. No, you’ll be ashore with the pilot once we’ve cleared the outer breakwater, unless you’ve a better reason than simply wanting free transportation.” The former smuggler’s expression revealed that while he might feel affection for Jimmy, he’d brook no nonsense aboard his ship.
Jimmy said, “If I might have a word with you in private.”