They stood on the dock, in the darkness of morning before the sunrise. Arutha and Roland waited by the gangway. Arutha said, “Take care of everything, Swordmaster.”
Fannon stood with his hand upon his sword, still proud and erect despite advancing years. “I will, Highness.”
With a slight smile Arutha said, “And when Gardan and Algon return from patrol, instruct them to take care of you.”
Fannon’s eyes blazed as he shot back. “Insolent pup! I can best any man of the castle, save your father. Step down from the gangway and draw your sword, and I’ll show you why I still wear the badge of Swordmaster.”
Arutha held his hands up in mock supplication. “Fannon, it is good to see such sparks again. Crydee is well protected by her Swordmaster.”
Fannon stepped forward and placed his hand upon Arutha’s shoulder. “Take care, Arutha. You were always my best student I should hate to lose you.”
Arutha smiled fondly at his old teacher. “My thanks, Fannon.” Then his manner turned wry. “I would hate to lose me, also I’ll be back. And I’ll have Erland’s soldiers with me.”
Arutha and Roland sprang up the gangway, while those on the dock waved good-bye. Martin Longbow waited at the rail, watching as the gangway was removed and the men upon the quay cast off lines. Amos Trask shouted orders, and sails were lowered from the yards Slowly the ship moved away from the quayside into the harbor. Arutha watched silently, with Roland and Martin beside, as the docks fell behind.
Roland said, “I was glad the Princess chose not to come. One more good-bye would be more than I could manage.”
“I understand,” said Arutha. “She cares for you greatly, Squire, though I can’t see why.” Roland looked to see if the Prince was joking and found Arutha smiling faintly. “I’ve not spoken of it,” the Prince continued. “But since we may not see each other for some time after you leave us in Tulan, you should know that when the opportunity comes for you to speak to Father, you’ll have my word on your behalf.”
“Thank you, Arutha.”
The town slipped by in darkness, replaced by the causeway to the lighthouse. The false dawn pierced the gloom slightly, casting everything into greys and blacks. Then after some time the large upthrust form of the Guardian Rocks appeared off the starboard quarter.
Amos ordered the helm put over, and they turned southwestward, more sails set to bring them full before the wind. The ship picked up speed, and Arutha could hear gulls crying overhead. Suddenly he was struck with the knowledge they were now out of Crydee. He felt chilled and gathered his cloak tightly around him.
Arutha stood on the quarterdeck, sword held ready, Martin to one side notching an arrow to his bowstring. Amos Trask and his first mate, Vasco, also had weapons drawn. Six angry-looking seamen were assembled upon the deck below, while the rest of the crew watched the confrontation.
One sailor shouted from the deck, “You’ve lied to us, Captain. You’ve not put back north for Crydee as you said in Tulan. Unless you mean for us to sail on to Keshian Elarial, there’s nothing south save the straits. Do you mean to pass the Straits of Darkness?”
Amos roared, “Damn you, man. Do you question my orders?”
“Aye, Captain. Tradition holds there’s no valid compact between captain and crew to sail the straits in winter, save by agreement. You lied to us, and we’re not obliged to sail with you.”
Arutha heard Amos mutter, “A bloody sea-lawyer.” To the sailor he said, “Very well,” and handed his cutlass to Vasco. Descending the ladder to the main deck, he approached the seaman with a friendly smile upon his face.
“Look, lads,” he began as he reached the six recalcitrant sailors, all holding belaying pins or marhnespikes. “I’ll be honest with you. The Prince must reach Krondor, or there’ll be hell to pay come spring. The Tsurani gather a large force, which may come against Crydee.” He placed his hand upon the shoulder of the sailors’ spokesman and said, “So what it comes down to is this: we must sail to Krondor.” With a sudden motion Amos had his arm around the man’s neck. He ran to the side of the ship and heaved the helpless sailor over. “If you don’t wish to come along,” he shouted, “you can swim back to Tulan!”
Another sailor started to move toward Amos when an arrow struck the deck at his feet. He looked up and saw Martin taking a bead upon him. The Huntmaster said, “I wouldn’t.”
The man dropped his marhnespike and stepped back. Amos turned to face the sailors. “By the time I reach the quarterdeck, you had better be in the rigging—or over the side, it makes no difference to me. Any man not working will be hanged for the mutinous dog he is.”
The faint cries for help of the man in the water could be heard as Amos returned to the quarterdeck. To Vasco he said, “Toss that fool a rope, and if he doesn’t relent, pitch him overboard again.” Amos shouted, “Set all sails! Make for the Straits of Darkness.”