“What?” said Roo. “We? Visit?”
Erik said, “We need to see how things are in Sarth before we turn northward. We need to come back with a detailed report before Owen takes the army and moves to crush Nordan in Sarth. We’ve sent scouts around the area, and most of them have come back, but we can’t tell how strong the deployment is inside the town. We need to get inside and look around.”
Roo looked his boyhood friend in the eye, and said, “When you say ‘we,’ you’re speaking of the Kingdom army, right?”
“No, I mean you and I need to get in there and scout.”
Roo said, “No!”
“You must,” said Erik. “You’re the only man we know who has a plausible enough story that can get us into Sarth without getting our throats cut.”
“What story?”
“You’re a well-known Kingdom merchant who has openly traded with Queg and the Free Cities. You’re reputed to put a profit above everything else. If you were to sneak into Sarth—especially with your friend Vinci ready to corroborate your story—even if we get apprehended, you’ll be convincing in your role as the greedy merchant anxious to set up trade before his competition does.”
“We?”
“I’m going, too,” said Erik.
Roo still looked unconvinced. “So you’ll be standing beside me on the gibbet again? Only this time there won’t be any Bobby de Longville to haul us to our feet and explain we’re being reprieved to serve the crown.
“No, thank you. I’ve done my service and been pardoned for my crimes.”
“You want to see any of the money the crown owes you, ever again?”
“It’s my most ardent hope.”
“Then I’d consider this, Roo.”
He glanced around. “This isn’t the place to talk. Come to the castle tonight and seek me out in my quarters. I’ll explain more then.”
Roo said, “For the sake of our friendship, I will, but I’m not going on any more stone-headed missions, Erik.”
The smuggler’s boat sailed silently up the coast, hugging as close inshore as possible, without shoaling out on the reefs which dotted the shoreline between Krondor and Ylith.
Roo and Erik had ridden to within a half-day’s walk of the coast, just beyond a checkpoint Duko had established, and escort riders had taken die horses back to Owen Greylock’s forward position. An unofficial channel of communication was already in operation, and even though few outside of the Prince’s immediate circle knew of the coming change in loyalties on Duke Duko’s part, there were rumors of change in the wind.
Most of them planted by Duke Arutha’s agents.
The current one being carefully fostered was that the Kingdom couldn’t mount an offensive this year against the invaders in the North, due in the main to Kesh’s threatening presence on their southern flank. Additionally, it was rumored, the Prince would be leaving soon for the East, to get married in the royal palace at Rillanon, leaving the command in the West to Owen Greylock, with express orders to hold where they were, defend where necessary, but to seek no offensive.
Roo had been astonished by the scope of the deception. He had been told by Erik that Arutha’s agents were already in Krondor, quietly undertaking the transfer of power, with as little fanfare as possible. It was Erik’s passionate hope that by the time the Armies of the West were ready to redeploy, not only would the enemy be taken by surprise, but they would have been lulled into a state of complacency.
A crewman whispered, “We’re nearly there. Get ready.”
Roo said, “Are you sure this is necessary?”
“Absolutely,” said Erik.
The Captain ordered sail lowered and a small boat was put over the side. Neither Erik nor Roo were sailors, but Erik felt competent enough to row a boat into a quiet fishing village without calling too much attention to themselves.
The boat was lowered and Erik and Roo shimmied down ropes to get into the skiff, and by the time Erik had the oars in the oarlocks, the smuggler had his sails up and was putting out toward deeper water. The current here ran southeast, and Erik was forced to work to keep on course, trying to come in at a fishing village in a sandy cove just south of Sarth.
Roo said, “Are you all right?”
Erik pulled hard and the boat seem to jump forward. “Everything’s fine.”
The sound of breakers wasn’t loud, as the surf was relatively calm, but it still picked the boat up as the combers ran up on the shore, turning into breakers. Erik pulled and the boat seemed to be climbing a hill, only to slide backward a bit as the wave broke just in front of them.
Suddenly the bow of the boat dipped and Roo glanced over his shoulder and realized he was looking at water. “Erik!” he shouted as the wave crashed down upon him, drenching him to the skin in moments.