Caleb came up on deck, wearing an oil-soaked canvas cloak similar to the one Talon had on. Chilled sea spray washed over the bow, but Caleb paid it no attention. He came to stand beside Talon and said nothing, content to take in the view.
Roiling swells and spindrift vanished into the fading light of day, as dark grey clouds edged in black raced by above. In the distance they could see flashes of lightning. At last Caleb said, “We should reach Krondor ahead of the storm, but only just.’’
Talon nodded. “I think I could be a sailor,” he said after a while.
“The sea calls many men,” Caleb observed.
They remained silent for the rest of the afternoon, until half an hour before darkness, when the lookout above called, “Land ho!’’
The captain of the ship came forward to greet them. “Gentlemen, we shall reach Krondor after dark. We’ll heave to in the lees of the breakwater and shelter against the storm, then at first light, I’ll signal the harbormaster and we’ll enter the sound. It should be a noisy, but safe night.’’
Talon nodded. He felt a strange anticipation at seeing this city. He had read about it in the history of Rupert Avery, and in other books.
Caleb put his hand on Talon’s shoulder and signaled that they should go below. Talon turned and led the way.
Reaching their cabin—which was barely big enough for the two bunks, one above the other—they doffed their wet cloaks and sat down, Talon on the upper bunk, Caleb on the lower.
“We have some time before supper,” said Caleb. “I know you have rehearsed your story.’’
“Yes,” Talon replied. He was to tell anyone who asked that he was a hunter from the woodlands near Crydee, which might explain his slight accent. As there was limited travel between Krondor and the Far Coast city, it was unlikely they’d encounter anyone who was familiar with that distant town. And if they did, Caleb would take the lead, since he knew that area.
“Caleb?”
“Yes, Talon?’’
“Why are we traveling this way?” He had wanted to ask since they had left the island.
“To broaden your knowledge,” said Caleb. “It is much like any other thing, traveling; being told this or that about a place is one thing, but doing it is another. You will see a thousand sights, and many will be different from what I see.’’
“Where are we going?’’
“From Krondor we find a caravan and travel to Malac’s Cross, the border between the Western and Eastern Realms of this Kingdom. From there we shall secure horses and travel to Salador. Both cities will offer you many opportunities for learning.”
“Fair enough, but what are we to do when we reach Salador?’’
“Study,” said Caleb, lying down upon his bunk. “Now, be still so I can take a nap until they call for supper.’’
“Study,” Talon muttered. “It seems to be my life.’’
“And as such, it’s a fair one. Now be quiet.’’
The boat nestled alongside the quay as a dockhand fended it off the stonework, then tied off the bowlines. Talon stepped ashore, followed by Caleb. A man wearing an armband bearing a crest depicting an eagle flying over a mountain peak approached, looked them up and down, and spoke in a bored manner. “Where are you from?’’
“Crydee,” said Caleb.
“You arrived on a Keshian ship.’’
“It was the first one leaving the Far Coast when we decided to come this way,” Caleb replied in an affable manner.
“Well, if you’re Kingdom citizens, that’s fair enough.” The man walked on, leaving Caleb and Talon alone.
“That’s it?” said Talon.
“It’s an era of peace, so they say.” Caleb motioned for Talon to follow him. “At least here in the west. King Ryan has pledged his daughter in marriage to the nephew of the Empress of Great Kesh, and the Emperor of Queg has a cousin who is wed to King Ryan’s younger son. Trading with the Free Cities is brisk, and the Governor of Durbin is keeping his ‘privateers’ on a short leash. Hasn’t been a major conflict in seven years.’’
As they climbed the stone steps from the quayside to the road above, Caleb added, “It’s in the east where things are balanced on a razor’s edge, and that’s where you’ll find yourself subject to far more intense scrutiny than here.’’
They walked down a street toward the center of the city. When Talon craned his neck, he could see a castle to the south of the harbor. “That’s where the Prince lives?’’
“Prince Matthew, son of King Ryan. King Patrick’s been dead for less than two years and Matthew is still a youngster, less than fourteen years of age.” Caleb said, “But he’s not the power in the city, anyway.’’
“Who is?’’
“Two brothers, the Jamisons. James is Duke of Krondor, as his grandfather was before him, and they say he’s nearly as wily as his legendary grandpa. His younger brother Dashel is a rich businessman. It’s said whatever James doesn’t control, Dashel does. They’re dangerous men, by any measure.’’
“I’ll remember that,” said Talon.