“Well, to be sure, m’lord.”
“Listen to me, Porto. I have allowed you and Astrian and your tall, silent friend Olveris to lead the prince down all sorts of dangerous alleys, because I knew that the two Nabban-men were uncommon swordsmen and could deal with almost any problem that would arise. But this time they will not be with you. The safety of the prince will depend on you alone.”
“Me alone?” Porto looked not just startled but almost horrified. “Surely there will be a troop of guards with him, Lord Pasevalles. What can an old man like me do that all those swords and brave hearts could not?”
“You can pay attention. You can keep an eye on him. That is my trust. Here.” He handed the old man a purse, which Porto took with shaking hands.
“What is it?”
“Look, if you please.”
Porto unknotted the string and tipped out a shiny handful of coins. “Five silver towers!” he said. “For me?”
“And that is but a portion of what you will receive if Prince Morgan comes back safely. I will give you twenty more of those if the prince comes back to the castle sound in mind and body. Also, you will keep the horse I have given you and have twenty-five more silver pieces just like these every year of your life.”
Porto’s mouth gaped. For a long moment he did not speak, but tears trembled on his lower eyelids. “My lord, I cannot think what to say . . .”
“Say nothing, then. Do what I ask and all will be yours. Protect Prince Morgan at all costs. He is vitally important to this kingdom and all of Osten Ard, as everyone knows. Give him your wisdom, but more importantly, give him your attention. Aldheorte Forest and the country that runs beside it is treacherous, with the High Thrithings barbarians on one side of it and only our merciful God knows what lurking in the forest itself. Even the Sithi can be unpredictable, if you do find them. They have killed men before now.”
Porto slowly lowered himself to the floor, creaking like a drawbridge, and prostrated himself at Pasevalles’ feet. “I will serve you so faithfully, Lord, that our prince could have no better companion. For I do love the boy well, you know. He is a good lad, for all that people say about him. He has a good heart in his chest.”
“Well, then, we are agreed. And keeping all of his parts where they belong is my greatest concern, so see that you do watch over him. Not too much drink, either—not for either of you. Am I understood?”
“Like Saint Sutrin himself, preaching to the islanders.”
“Good. When you wish to see your new horse, go to the stables and ask the head groom.”
Porto shook his head in wonderment as he clambered onto his cot again. “All that silver! I had forgotten about the horse. And he will be mine to keep?” At Pasevalles’ nod, the old knight’s weathered face again split in a wide smile. “I will be a rich man when I return. I will be able to hire a squire to tend me. Perhaps I will even seek a wife.”
“All these dreams are nothing if aught happens to the young prince,” Pasevalles said. “Mind what I’ve told you. Recite it to yourself with your morning prayers.”
When the Lord Chancellor took his leave, Porto was still pouring his little fortune in silver coins back and forth from one hand to the other, murmuring happily to himself.
After a long and wearisome climb back up the steps of the seawall, Tiamak had just reached the top when he saw a new ship approaching Erchester’s harbor, just a short distance from the entrance. It was quite a bold, swift-looking vessel, a trading cog by its shape, the castle higher than was usual. Its appointments were painted in bright blues and reds, and it bore a green insignia on its mast that Tiamak thought he recognized, although it seemed unlikely in the extreme that it should be here.
“Ho, there!” he called down to a young harborman cleaning the hinges on the sea gate below him. “Can you make out that ship?”
The fellow turned and squinted out to the Kynslagh. “I do not know her device, my lord!” he called back.
“What is it?”
“A green branch with berries, it looks. Nicely fitted out, too, my lord. A rich merchantman, I’d wager.”
“Gods of my fathers! I cannot believe it.” Tiamak began to make his way across the top of the seawall. After so many steps already, he was not up to climbing back down to the harbor. He would ask to borrow the royal carriage instead and take the roundabout road to the port. If the ship carried the passenger he suspected, he would need the carriage anyway.
? ? ?
By the time Tiamak reached the harbor the Yew Tree had docked and its passenger was being carried down the unusually wide gangplank on a litter. Tiamak watched as four burly sailors struggled beneath the weight of one man, doing their best to keep the litter level, until they could set it down on the dockside stones. He could hardly believe his eyes. He had not expected ever to see this particular passenger again, let alone see him here in Erchester, seventy or eighty leagues from his Abaingeat home.
Tiamak hurried forward. “Viscount Aengas! What a surprise! What are you doing here?”
The Viscount looked up from his conversation with a slender young man who had followed behind the sailors. “Ah, it’s you! But I am a viscount no longer, my friend. I gave the title up—did you not hear, or is Abaingeat too far away for you to care? My younger brother holds the title now, may it give him more joy than it gave me. I am merely Aengas of Ban Farrig again. Well, I suppose I am a baron, so I must be called Lord. You cannot snub me, Tiamak, even in my lessened state! And of course, I remain a factor for the Northern Alliance, which helps to pay for honey and wine.” He turned to the young man at his side. “Give me water, will you, good Brannan?”
“He’s not just a factor,” Brannan said as he produced a drinking skin, then upended it and squirted water into the big man’s mouth. “He’s the most important one.” The youth said it in almost an accusing way, as if his employer’s modesty annoyed him. Tiamak guessed that Aengas might be a difficult master. He had been thrown from a horse some years earlier, taking a terrible fall. Afterwards, his legs were useless and his arms not much better—he could use them, but without much strength or dexterity. But he had retained his sharp wits and sharper tongue. Even before his injury, though, he had not been one of the world’s most patient men.
“But I am still amazed to see you,” Tiamak said. “What brings you here? I just sent you a letter, less than a fortnight ago.”
“Of course you did, man. That’s why I’m here. If you truly have a copy of you-know-what,” he mimed opening a book, “then I really must see it for myself. It is unprecedented!”
Tiamak could only shake his head. “I didn’t expect . . . I never thought you would come.”
Aengas grinned. “Of course you didn’t. Everybody thinks that because a man cannot walk, he is helpless. But you see, my fine Lord Tiamak, that is precisely what gold is for! Those who can pay will achieve startling results! Now, take me to this prodigy, this forgotten tome, this terrifying compendium! I am as hungry to see it as I am hungry in the ordinary way—and trust me, I am mightily hungry in the ordinary way. Is your cook any good?”
“My cook?” Tiamak laughed. “There is no such person. But our castle kitchen is not to be scoffed at. His Majesty, the king, does like his meals. I don’t think you will suffer too terribly while you are here.”
“That,” said Aengas, “does not sound particularly reassuring. It’s a good thing that Brother Brannan here can cook.”
“Brother Brannan? He is a monk . . . ?”
“No longer, my rabbit. He left St. Agar’s Order some years ago, but he learned his way around a refectory and a herb garden first, I’m pleased to say. If he can find a few ways to spice up your infamously bland Erkynlandish fodder, I may survive the next few months.”
“Months? You are staying so long?”
“Of course! It is not just the you-know-what I am here to see, but everything in your late prince’s collection, not to mention all the other volumes you have gathered for the library. It will be most exciting! If I don’t die of starvation first, of course. That is a serious possibility if we stand here working the hinges of our jaws much longer.”
Tiamak shook his head. Generally quiet and soft-spoken himself, he had always found Aengas a little overwhelming. Still, there were few scholars in all of Osten Ard who could touch him for knowledge of ancient books and writing.
“Well?” Aengas demanded. “Shall I have my men shove me into your carriage, or must they carry me all the way up to the castle?”