was a man of dark hair and intense features. Patrick, the new Prince of Krondor, was somewhere between his two uncles in appearance, darker of skin than both, but his hair was a middle brown in color. He seemed to have something of Erland’s powerful build and Nicholas’s intensity.
‘No,’ said Roo, ‘you’re right; not much by way of ceremony.’
Erik nodded. ‘Then again, by now they all know there’s not much glory in any of this. The Prince and his uncle are probably both anxious to hear what news Calis and Nicholas have.’
Roo sighed agreement. ‘None of it good. It’s all bloody business and it’s going to get worse.’
A friendly slap to the back caused both Roo and Erik to turn. Robert de Loungville stood behind the two young men, grinning in a way that up until recently made both men expect the worst, but this time they knew he was merely showing the more affable side of his nature. He kept his receding hair cropped close to his skull, and he needed a shave. ‘Where to, lads?’
Roo jingled a purse of gold tucked into his tunic. ‘I think a good glass of ale, the tender touch of a bad woman, and then I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.’
Erik shrugged. ‘I’ve been thinking, and I want to take up your offer, Sergeant.’
‘Good,’ said de Loungville, sergeant of Calis’s company. He had offered Erik a place in the army, but in a special command being formed by Calis, Prince Nicholas’s mysterious and not-quite-human ally. ‘Come by Lord James’s office at midday tomorrow. I’ll leave word at the palace gate you’re to be admitted.’
Roo studied the men on the dock. ‘Our Prince is an impressive-looking man.’
Erik said, ‘I know what you mean. He and his father both look the sort who have been in some serious places.’
De Loungville said, ‘Never let their rank fool you, lads. Erland and our King, and their sons after them, spent their time along the northern borders fighting goblins and the Brotherhood of the Dark Path.’ He used the common name for the moredhel, the dark elves who lived on the far side of the mountains known as the Teeth of the World. ‘I heard that the King got into some serious business down in Kesh once, a run-in with slavers or some such thing. Whatever it was, he came out of it with a good opinion of the common man, for a king.
‘We haven’t had a court-bred king since King Rodric, before old King Lyam took the throne, and that was before I was born. These are tough men who’ve spent some time soldiering, and it’ll take a few more generations before any in this family becomes soft. The Captain will see to that.’ There was something in his voice that hinted at strong emotions; Roo glanced at the sergeant and tried to glean what it was, but de Loungville’s expression had returned to a broad grin.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Erik of Roo, his best friend since childhood.
Roo said, ‘Just how funny families can be.’ He pointed to the group on the dock, listening carefully to Nicholas.
Erik said, ‘Notice our Captain.’
Roo nodded. He knew Erik meant Calis. The elflike man stood off to one side, with just enough distance between himself and the others to be apart, yet close enough to answer questions when asked.
Robert de Loungville said, ‘He’s been my friend for twenty years. He found me serving with Daniel Troville, Lord Highcastle, and dragged me away from the border wars to go to the strangest places a man can imagine. I’ve been with him longer than any man in his company, eaten cold rations with him, slept beside him, watched men die in his arms, even had him carry me for two days after the fall of Hamsa, but I can’t say I know the man.’
Erik asked, ‘Is it true he’s part elf?’
De Loungville rubbed his chin. ‘I can’t say I know the truth of that. He told me his father came from Crydee originally; a kitchen boy, he claims. He doesn’t talk about his past much. Mostly he plans for the future, and takes barracks rats like you two and turns them into soldiers. But it’s worthwhile. I wasn’t much more than a barracks rat myself when he found me. Worked up from that to my grand station today.’ He said the last with an even broader grin, as if he were nothing more than a common sergeant and that remark a joke, but both Erik and Roo had been told he carried high court rank in addition to his military rank. ‘So I never asked too many personal questions. He’s very much what you might call a “right now” sort of fellow.’ De Loungville’s voice lowered, as if Calis might somehow overhear from down on the dock, and his expression turned serious. ‘He does have those pointy ears. Still, I never heard of any such being – half-man, half-elf – yet he can do things no other man I know can do.’ He grinned again as he said, ‘But he’s saved all our hides more times than I can count, so who’s to care what his line is? Your station at birth means nothing. A man can’t change that. What’s important is how you live.’ He slapped both young men on the shoulder. ‘You were worthless dogmeat when I found you, fit only for starving crows, but look at you now!’
Erik and Roo exchanged looks, then laughed. Both were wearing the same clothing they had worn when escaping the destruction of the city of Maharta, oft patched, stained beyond cleaning, reducing both men to the appearance of common street thugs.
Roo said, ‘We’re two men in need of some fresh clothing. Save Erik’s boots, we look the part of ragpickers.’
Erik glanced down and said, ‘And these need mending.’ The boots were all he had left from the Baron of Darkmoor’s legacy, a grudging admission to Erik of his paternity, along with not denying Erik the right to call himself ‘von Dark-moor.’ The boots were riding boots, but Erik had walked enough to wear the heels down to nearly nothing, and the leather was weather-beaten and cracked.
Sho Pi, an Isalani from the Empire of Great Kesh, came up on deck from below, carrying his own travel bag. Behind him came Nakor, also an Isalani, and the man Sho Pi had decided was destined to be his ‘master.’ He appeared old, but moved with a spry step and quickness that both Erik and Roo knew well. He had instructed them in hand-to-hand combat, and Roo and Erik knew that the odd little man, as well as Sho Pi, was as dangerous unarmed as most men were with weapons. Roo was convinced he had never seen Nakor move as fast as possible, and wasn’t sure he would welcome such a demonstration. Roo was a gifted student of the open-handed school of fighting practiced in the Isalani provinces of Kesh, only surpassed by Sho Pi and Nakor in Calis’s company, but he knew either man could easily defeat him with a quick killing blow.
‘I am not going to have you trailing around behind me, boy!’ insisted the bandy-legged Nakor, yelling over his shoulder. ‘I haven’t been to a city in nearly twenty years that wasn’t being burned to the ground or overrun by soldiers or otherwise unpleasant in some fashion, and I intend to enjoy myself awhile. Then I’m going back to Sorcerer’s Isle.’
Sho Pi, a head taller than Nakor, and in possession of a full head of dark hair, otherwise looked like a much younger version of the wiry little man. He said, ‘Whatever you say, Master.’
‘Don’t call me master,’ insisted Nakor, putting his own travel bag over his shoulder. Moving to the rail he said, ‘Erik, Roo! Where are you going?’
‘To get a drink, a whore, and new clothing, in that order,’ said Roo.
‘Then I’m going home to see my mother and friends,’ said Erik.
‘What about you?’ asked Roo.
‘I’m going with you,’ Nakor said,
