Hull exchanged glances with Cook, then shrugged. Jimmy spent a full five minutes whispering with the old captain. Then suddenly Hull laughed, a genuinely amused sound. “I’ll be scuppered!”
A moment later he approached Aaron Cook. “Have these lads taken below. As soon as we clear harbour, I want full sail. Make course for Sarth.”
Cook hesitated a minute, then turned to a sailor and ordered him to take the boys below. When they were gone, and the harbour pilot over the side in his longboat, the first mate called all hands aloft and ordered all sails out and set a northern course. He cast a glance rearward where Captain Hull stood next to the helmsman, but the captain only smiled to himself.
Jimmy and Locklear stood at rail’s edge, waiting. When the boat was ready, they boarded. Trevor Hull came to stand beside them. “Sure you don’t want to put back to Sarth?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I’d rather not be seen arriving aboard a Royal Customs ship. Attracts too much notice. Besides, there’s a village near here where we can buy horses. There’s a good place not a day’s ride beyond there where we all camped last time. We can watch any who pass. It’ll be easier to spot them there.”
“As long as they haven’t passed already.”
“They only left a day before we did, and we sailed every night while they had to sleep. We’re in front of them.”
“Well then, young lads, I’ll wish you the protection of Kilian, who in her kinder moments watches over sailors and other reckless sorts, and of Banath, who does the same for thieves, gamblers, and fools.” In more serious tones, he said, “Take care, boys.” Then he signalled the boat lowered.
It was still gloomy, as the coast fog had not been pierced yet by the sun. The longboat was turned toward the beach and the rowers pulled hard. Swiftly they headed in, until the bow of the longboat scraped sand, and Jimmy and Locklear were ashore.
The innkeeper hadn’t wished to sell his horses at first, but Jimmy’s serious attitude, his posture of authority, and the way he wore his sword, coupled with ample gold, changed his mind. By the time the sun had cleared the forest to the east of the village of Longroad, the two young men were mounted, well provisioned, and on their way up the road between Sarth and Questor’s View.
By midday they were in place, at a narrow point in the road. To the east an upthrust of land, covered with heavy foliage, prevented anyone from passing, while to the west, the land dropped away quickly to the beach. From their vantage point, Jimmy and Locklear could see any travellers coming up the road or the beach.
They built a small fire against the damp and settled in to wait.
Twice in the three days that followed, they had been menaced. The first time had been by a band of unemployed bravos, mercenary guards, on their way south from Questor’s View. But that band had been discouraged by the determination of the two young men, and the probability they had nothing to steal besides the two horses. One man tried to take a horse, but Jimmy’s speed with a rapier dissuaded him. They left rather than spill blood over such trivial booty.
The second encounter had been considerably riskier, as both youngsters had stood side by side with weapons drawn, protecting their horses from three disreputable-looking bandits. Had the road agents had more numbers, Jimmy was certain the youths would have been killed, but the men had fled at the sound of approaching riders, which turned into a small patrol from the garrison at Questor’s View.
The soldiers had questioned Jimmy and Locklear and had accepted their tale. They were travelling as sons of a minor squire, who was due to meet with them soon at this location. The boys and their father would then continue on south to Krondor, to follow after the Prince’s funeral procession. The sergeant in charge of the patrol had wished them safe passage. . Late in the afternoon, the fourth day after arriving, Jimmy spotted three riders coming down the beach. He watched for a long moment, then said, “There they are!”
Jimmy and Locklear quickly mounted and rode down the gap in the cliff to the beach. They halted, their mounts pawing the sand, as they waited for the riders to approach.
The three riders came into view, slowed, then approached warily. They looked tired and dirty, most likely mercenaries from their weapons and armour. All wore beards, though the two dark-haired men’s were short and newly growing. The first rider swore an oath at the sight of the two youngsters. The second shook his head in disbelief.
The third rider edged his horse past the first two and came to halt before the boys. “How did you . . .?”
Locklear sat with his mouth open, in stunned silence. In everything Jimmy had told him, this was the one thing the Senior Squire had not mentioned. Jimmy grinned. “It’s a bit of a story. We’ve a little camp up on the headland if you want to rest, though it’s by the road.”