Amos pushed himself from the rail. “I’ve much to do before I turn in, Martin, but I’ll say one more thing. You’ve plotted a lonely course. I do not envy you your journey upon it Good night.”
“Good night.” After Amos had returned to the quarterdeck, Martin watched the familiar stars in the sky. All the companions of his solitary travels through the hills of Crydee looked down upon him. The constellations shone in the night, the Beasthunter and the Beasthound, the Dragon, the Kraken, and the Five Jewels. He turned his attention to the sea, staring down into the blackness, lost in thoughts he had once imagined buried forever.
“Land ho!” shouted the lookout.
“Where away?” answered Amos.
“Dead ahead, Captain.”
Arutha, Martin, and Amos left the quarterdeck and quickly made their way to the bow. As they stood waiting for land to heave into sight, Amos said, “Can you feel that trembling each time we breast a trough? It’s that keelson, if I know how a ship’s made, and I do. We’ll need to put in at a shipyard for refitting in Krondor.”
Arutha watched as the thin strip of land in the distance grew clearer in the afternoon light. While not bright, the day was relatively fair, only slightly overcast. “We should have time. I’ll want to return to Crydee as soon as Erland’s convinced of the risk, but even if he agrees at once, it will take some time to gather the men and ships.”
Martin said, dryly, “And I for one would not care to pass the Straits of Darkness again until the weather is a bit more agreeable.”
Amos said, “Man of faint heart. You’ve already done it the hard way. Going to the Far Coast in the dead of winter is only slightly suicidal.”
Arutha waited in silence as the distant landfall began to resolve in detail. In less than an hour they could clearly make out the sights of Krondor’s towers rising into the air, and ships at anchor in the harbor.
“Well,” said Amos, “if you wish a state welcome, I’d better have your banner broken out and run up the mast.”
Arutha held him back, saying, “Wait, Amos. Do you mark that ship by the harbor’s mouth?”
As they closed upon the harbor, Amos studied the ship in question. “She’s a beastly bitch. Look at the size of her. The Prince’s building them a damn sight bigger than when I was last in Krondor. Three-masted, and rigged for thirty or better sail from flying jib to spanker. From the lines of her hull, she’s a greyhound, no doubt. I’d not want to run up against her with less than three Quegan galleys. You’d need the rowers, for those oversized crossbows she mounts fore and aft would quickly make a hash of your rigging.
“Now we know why those Quegan galleys were so far from home. If the Kingdom’s bringing warships like this to the Bitter Sea, Queg’s—”
“Mark the banner at her masthead, Amos,” said Arutha.
Entering the harbor, they passed near the ship. On her bow was painted her name, Royal Griffin. Amos said, “A Kingdom warship, no doubt, but I’ve never seen one under any banner but Krondor’s.” Atop the ship’s highest mast a black banner emblazoned with a golden eagle snapped in the breeze. “I thought I knew every banner seen on the Bitter Sea, but that one is new to me.”
“The same banner lies above the docks, Arutha,” said Martin, pointing toward the distant city.
Quietly Arutha said, “That banner has never been seen on the Bitter Sea before.” His expression turned grim as he said, “Unless I say otherwise, we are Natalese traders, nothing more.”
“Whose banner is that?” asked Amos.
Gripping the rail, Arutha replied, “It is the banner of the second-oldest house in the Kingdom. It announces that my distant cousin, Guy, the Duke of Bas-Tyra, is in Krondor.”
TWENTY-FOUR - Krondor
The inn was crowded.
Amos led Arutha and Martin through the common room to an empty table near the fireplace. Snatches of conversation reached Arutha’s ears as they took their seats. On close inspection the mood in the room was more restrained than it had first appeared.
Arutha’s thoughts raced His plans for securing Erland’s help had been crushed within minutes of reaching the harbor Everywhere in the city were signs that Guy du Bas-Tyra was not simply guesting in Krondor, but was now fully in control. Men of the city watch followed officers wearing the black and gold of Bas-Tyra, and Guy’s banner flew over every tower in the city.
When a dowdy serving wench came, Amos ordered three mugs of ale, and the men waited in silence until they were brought When the servingwoman was gone, Amos said, “We’ll have to pick our way carefully now.”
Arutha’s expression remained fixed. “How long before we can sail?”
“Weeks, at least three. We’ve got to get the hull repaired, and the keelson replaced correctly. How long will depend on the shipwrights. Winter’s a bad time: the fair-weather traders haul out their ships, so they’ll be fit come spring. I’ll begin inquiries first thing tomorrow.”
“That may take too long. If needs be, buy another.”