Yet Roo was pleased to see Krondor, for now he was a free man. He glanced one last time at his work, ensuring that the sail was properly reefed, and moved quickly along the foot-rope with a sure balance learned while crossing treacherous seas for nearly two years.
Roo considered the oddity of facing his third spring in a row without a winter. The topsy-turvy seasons of the land on the other side of the world had contrived to provide Roo and his boyhood friend, Erik, with such a situation, and Roo found the notion both amusing and oddly disquieting.
He shinnied down a sheet, reaching the top of the mizzenmast ratline. Roo didn’t particularly like top work, but as one of the smaller and more nimble men in the crew, he was often told to go aloft and unfurl or reef the royals and topgallants. He scampered down the ratline and landed lightly on the deck.
Erik von Darkmoor, Roo’s only friend as a boy, finished his task of tying off a yard brace to a cleat, then hurried to the rail as they sped past other ships in the harbor. A full two heads taller and twice the bulk of his friend, Erik made with Roo as unlikely a pair as any two boys could have been. While Erik was stronger than any boy in their hometown of Ravensburg, Roo was among the smallest. While Erik would never be called handsome, he wore an open and friendly expression that others found likable; Roo had no illusions about his own appearance. He was homely by any standards, with a pinched face, eyes that were narrowed and darting around as if constantly looking for threats, and a nearly permanent expression that could only be called furtive. But on those rare occasions when he smiled, or laughed, a warmth was revealed that made him far from unattractive. It was that roguish humor and willingness to brave trouble that had attracted Erik to Roo when they were children.
Erik pointed and Roo nodded at those ships moving away from their own as the Freeport Ranger was given right of way to the royal docks below the palace. One of the older sailors laughed and Roo turned to ask, “What?”
“Prince Nicky’s going to irritate the Harbormaster again.” Erik, his hair almost bleached white by the sun, looked at the sailor, who had blue eyes that stood out in stark contrast to his sunburned face. “What do you mean?”
The sailor pointed. “There’s the Harbormaster’s launch.” Roo looked to where the man pointed. “He’s not slowing to pick up a pilot!”
The sailor laughed. “The Admiral is his teacher’s student. Old Admiral Trask used to do the same thing, but he’d at least allow the pilot up on deck so he could personally irritate him by refusing to take a tow into the dock. Admiral Nicky’s the King’s brother, so he doesn’t even bother with that formality.”
Roo and Erik glanced upward and saw that old sailors were standing by waiting to reef in the last sails on the Admiral’s command. Roo then looked to the poop deck and saw Nicholas, formerly Prince of Krondor and presently Admiral of the King’s Fleet in the West, give the signal. Instantly the old hands pulled up the heavy canvas and tied off. Within seconds Roo and the others on the deck could feel the ship’s speed begin to fall off as they neared the royal docks located below the royal palace of the Prince.
The Ranger’s motion continued to drop off, but to Roo it felt as if they were still moving into the docks too fast. The old sailor spoke as if reading his mind. “We’re pushing a lot of water into the quay, and that’ll push back as we come alongside the docks, slowing us down to almost a full stop, though she’ll make the cleats groan a bit.” He made ready to throw a line to those waiting on the dock ahead. “Lend a hand!”
Roo and Erik each grabbed another line and waited for the command. When Nicholas shouted, “Cast away!” Roo threw to a man on the dockside, who caught the rope expertly and quickly made it fast to a large iron cleat. As the old sailor said, when the line went taut the iron cleats seemed to groan as the wooden docks were flexed, but the bow wake returned from the stone quay and the huge ship seemed to settle in with a single rocking motion, as if it sighed in relief that it was good to be home.
Erik turned to Roo. “Wonder what the Harbormaster will say to the Admiral.”
Roo glanced aft as the Admiral made his way to the main deck, and considered the question. The first time Roo had seen the man had been at Erik’s and Roo’s trial for the murder of Erik’s half brother, Stefan. The second time he had seen him had been when the survivors of the mercenary company to which Roo and Erik belonged had been rescued from a fishing smack outside the harbor of the city of Maharta. Having served under the Admiral on the voyage homeward, Roo’s opinion was “He’ll probably say nothing, go home, and get drunk.”