Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

Cook studied Amos a moment longer, then his eyes widened. “Captain Trenchard?”

 

 

Amos nodded, and Arutha looked on in astonishment. Even in far Crydee they had heard of Trenchard the Pirate, the Dagger of the Sea. He’d had a short career, but a famous one. It was reputed even Quegan war galleys had turned and fled at sight of Trenchard’s fleet, and there wasn’t a town along the coasts of the Bitter Sea that did not fear his marauders.

 

Aaron Cook extended his hand. “Sorry, Captain. It’s been so many years since we last met. We couldn’t be certain you weren’t part of some plot of Radburn’s to locate us.”

 

“Who are you?” asked Arutha.

 

“All in good time,” answered Hull. “Come.”

 

One of the men helped the still-groggy Martin to his feet, and Cook and Hull led them to a more comfortable room, with chairs enough for all. When all were sitting, Amos said, “This old rogue is Trevor Hull, Captain White-eye, master of the Red Raven.”

 

Hull shook his head sadly. “No longer, Amos. Burned off of Elarial she was, three years ago, by imperial Keshian cutters. My mate Cook here and a few of my boys got to shore with me, but most of the crew went down with the Red Raven. We made our way back to Durbin, but things are changing, what with the wars and all. Came to Krondor a year ago and have been working here since.”

 

“Working? You, Trevor?”

 

The man smiled, his scar wrinkling, as he said, “Smuggling, in fact. That’s what brought us together with the Mockers. Not much can happen in Krondor along those lines without the Upright Man’s permission.

 

“When the Viceroy first came to Krondor, we started running up against Jocko Radburn and his secret police. He’s been a thorn in our side from the first. This business of guards sneaking about dressed as common folk, there’s just no honor in it.”

 

Amos muttered, “I knew I should have cut his throat when I had the chance. Next time I won’t be so damned civilized.”

 

“Slowing down a bit, Amos? Well, a week ago we got word from the Upright Man he had a precious cargo to leave the city. We’ve had to bide our time until the right ship was ready. Radburn’s very anxious to find that cargo before it leaves Krondor. So, you see, it’s a most delicate situation, for we can’t ship it until the blockade’s lifted, or we find a blockade captain we can bribe. When we first caught wind you three were asking questions, we thought it might be some grand plot of Jocko’s to find that cargo. Now we’ve cleared the air, I’d like to hear the answer to Cook’s question explained. Why should an emissary from Crydee fear discovery by the Viceroy’s men?”

 

“Listening in, were you?” Amos turned to Arutha, who nodded. “This is no simple emissary, Trevor. Our young friend is Prince Arutha, son of Duke Borric.”

 

Aaron Cook’s eyes went wide, and the man who struck Arutha paled. Trevor Hull nodded understanding. “The Viceroy’d pay handsomely to get his hands upon the son of his old enemy, especially when it came time to press his claim in the Congress of Lords.”

 

“What claim?” said Arutha.

 

Hull leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’d not know, of course. We only heard the news a few days ago ourselves, and it’s not common knowledge. Still, I’m not free to speak plainly without permission.”

 

He rose and left the room. Arutha and Amos exchanged questioning glances, then Arutha looked toward Martin. “Are you all right?”

 

Martin carefully touched his head. “I’ll recover, though they must have hit me with a tree.”

 

One of the men grinned in a friendly, almost apologetic way. Patting a wooden billy in his belt sash, he said, “He’s a hard one to bring down, that’s for certain.”

 

Hull returned to the room, followed by another. The men in the room rose, and Arutha, Amos, and Martin slowly followed suit. Behind Hull came a young girl no more than sixteen years of age. Arutha was instantly struck by the promise of beauty in her features: large sea-green eyes, straight and delicate nose, and slightly full mouth. A faint hint of freckles dusted her otherwise fair skin. She was tall and slender and walked with poise. She came across the room to Arutha, rose up on tiptoes, and kissed him lightly upon the cheek. Arutha looked surprised at this gesture and watched as she stepped back with a smile upon her lips. She wore a simple dress of dark blue, and her red-brown hair hung loosely to her shoulders. After a second she said, “Of course, how silly I am. You’d not know me. I saw you when you were last in Krondor, but we never met. I’m your cousin Anita, Erland’s daughter.”

 

Arutha stood thunderstruck. Besides the girl’s disquieting effect upon his composure, with her winning smile and clear gaze, he was doubly surprised to find her in this company of brigands. He sat down slowly, and she took a chair. So used to the informality of his father’s court, he was somewhat surprised when she gave the others permission to sit.

 

“How . . . ?” Arutha began.