“Because you’re greedy, like me. If you cut my throat, you’ll never get that galley safely out of these rocks. Besides, even if Bear lives, it’ll be too late,” said Knute. ‘We’ll all be safely gone.”
They reached the galley and quickly climbed aboard, other longboats and a few swimmers reaching the ship at the same time. The ship creaked as the longboats were hoisted aboard. Men scrambled up ropes while others lowered nets to haul the riches taken from the Ishapian ship. The crew moved with an efficiency rarely seen, spurred on by equal shares of avarice and the fear that Bear would suddenly appear. Finally they lashed the cargo to the center deck and Knute said, “Get underway!”
“Where are we going?” asked one of the pirates who had rowed Knute to the galley.
“To a rendezvous down the coast. I’ve got some men waiting for us who will offload this cargo, then we row this galley out to sea and sink it.”
“Why?” asked another man as the crew gathered around Knute.
“Why?” echoed Knute. “I’ll tell you why, fool. That ship we took was the property of the Temple of Ishap. In a few days the entire world is going to be looking for the men who sank it. Bear’s got that ward against priests, but we don’t. We’ll divide up our shares and go our separate ways, tonight!”
“Sounds good,” said one of the sailors.
“Then get to the oars! The slaves are half dead and I want us split up and every man on his own by sunrise!” shouted Knute.
Just then, Bear’s voice cut through the storm. “It’s mine!! I had it in my hands!”
All eyes turned to the sinking ship, and against a lightning flash they could see Bear standing at the rail. Slowly, he climbed atop it, shook his fist as the retreating galley, and leaped into the water.
Like a spur to a horse, the sight of Bear plunging into the water as if to swim after them caused the sailors to spring to action. Below, the hortator’s drum began to sound as slaves were unchained and pushed aside by frantic pirates. Knute paused a moment to look where Bear had stood outlined against the lightning flashes. For an instant Knute could have sworn Bear’s eye had been glowing red.
Knute shuddered and turned his mind away from Bear. The man was terrible in his anger and his strength was unmatched, but even Bear wouldn’t be able to storm into the Prince’s city and find Knute.
Knute smiled. The men waiting for him were expecting a ship full of riches and a dead crew. Poisoned wine and ale waited below, and Knute would pass it out minutes before reaching the rendezvous. By the time the cargo was offloaded and aboard the wagons, every pirate and slave below would be a corpse. His own men would also be departed, but that was an unfortunate circumstance he couldn’t avoid. Besides, it meant more for him and those driving the wagons.
All his life he had waited for an opportunity like this and he was going to be ruthless in taking advantage of it. None of these men would lift a finger to help Knute, he knew, if his life was at risk, so what did he owe them? Honor among thieves might exist with the Mockers, where the Upright Man’s bashers ensured honorable behavior, but on a ship like Bear’s, the rule was strictly survival by strength, or by wits.
Knute shouted orders and the ship heeled over as it turned against the waves, striking for a safer course away from the rocks of Widow’s Point. Soon the ship was clear of the last of the underwater rocks, and the rowers struck a steady pace. The little pilot moved to the stern of the galley and looked over the fantail. In a brief flash, for an instant, he thought he saw something in the water. It was a swimmer, following after the ship with a powerful stroke.
Knute’s eyes strained as he peered through the darkness, but nothing more was glimpsed of the swimmer. He rubbed his eyes. It must be the excitement, he thought, the chance to at last be rich and out from under the heel of men like Bear.
Turning his mind to the future, he again grinned. He had made deals before. He would pay off the wagoners, have them killed if necessary, and by the time he reached Krondor, every silver coin, every golden chain, every sparkling gem would be his.
“Where are we going?” asked a pirate.
“Captain,” said Knute.
“What?”
“Where are we going, Captain? Knute repeated, coolly.
The pirate shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, and said, “Where are we going, Captain? How far down the coast are your men?”
Knute grinned, knowing that this man - like every other man in the crew - would happily let him play at command up to the minute they’d cut his throat if they thought he would make them rich. He played along. “We’re meeting a gang at the beach north of Fishtown, outside of Krondor.”
“Fishtown it is!” said the man, quickly adding, “Captain!”
Throughout the night the crew rowed, and when dawn was less than two hours away, Knute called one of his most trusted crewmen over. “How are things?”