The King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  The ship swung to the south of the rocks that lined the cliff base below the castle, and soon they approached a small inlet. The boys, Ghuda, and Nakor heard Amos call out, “Reef all sails! Drop anchor.”

  Within minutes the ship had stopped, and Amos came forward. “Well, who’s going ashore besides these two?” he asked, indicating Nakor and Ghuda.

  Nicholas said, “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Amos—er, Captain.”

  Amos seemed to squint with one eye at the boy as he said, “Well, then it seems your father was even less forthcoming with you than with me. All he said was I was to heave to at Sorcerer’s Isle for a bit, so you could visit your cousin Pug. I thought you’d know all about this.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I’ve not seen him since I was very young; I hardly know the man.”

  Nakor said, “You come.” He pointed at Harry. “You too.” To Amos he said, “You I don’t know about. I think you come also, but I’m not sure. Ghuda comes with me.”

  Amos stroked his beard. “Arutha said to do as you asked, Nakor, so I’ll tag along.”

  “Good,” said the little man with a grin. “Let’s go. Pug is waiting.”

  Harry said, “He knows we’re here?”

  Ghuda shook his head. “No, he’s fast asleep and hasn’t noticed this great ship approaching for the last half day.”

  Harry had the decency to blush as Nicholas laughed. Amos turned to his crew, many of whom hung in the rigging, watching the flashing lights of the distant castle, and shouted, “Lower a boat!”

  —

  THE BOAT GROUND into the sand and two sailors jumped out and pulled it ashore. Nicholas and Harry climbed out and waded through the ankle-deep water as Nakor, Ghuda, and Amos followed.

  Nakor immediately headed for a path that led up to a ridge overlooking the cove. Amos called, “Where are you going?”

  Nakor kept walking as he turned and said, “That way,” pointing up to the top of the path.

  Ghuda looked at the others, shrugged, and began to follow. The boys hesitated an instant, then also started walking up the path.

  Amos shook his head and turned to the sailors. “Return to the ship. Tell Mr. Rhodes to keep a sharp eye out; we’ll signal from here when we want the boat to pick us up.”

  The two sailors saluted and pushed the boat back, while the two who were still sitting in it unshipped a pair of oars and started pulling against the breakers. The two at the bow leaped into the boat and soon there were four sailors pulling hard to get back to the relative safety of their ship.

  Amos trudged after the other four to find them waiting at the top of the path. Another path diverted from the one that led to the castle, and Nakor started walking down that one.

  Amos said, “The castle’s over that way, Keshian.”

  “Isalani,” answered Nakor. “Keshians are tall, dark people who run around without most of their clothing. And Pug is this way.”

  Ghuda said, “Best not to argue with him, Admiral,” as he followed. The others fell into step and followed Nakor down into a small defile, then upward to another ridge. From the top of the second ridge they could see down into a small vale. It was overgrown with brush and thick with ancient trees. The path seemed to vanish at the edge of the woods at the base of the hill.

  Ghuda said, “Where are you taking us?”

  Nakor almost skipped as he walked, tapping his walking stick on the path. “This way. It’s not far.”

  The boys hurried along, almost running, and soon were beside the Isalani. “Nakor,” said Nicholas, “how do you know Pug is here?”

  Nakor shrugged. “It’s a trick.”

  As they reached the edge of the forest, they encountered daunting-looking undergrowth and trees set so close together that passage seemed impossible. “Where now?” asked Harry.

  Nakor grinned. “Look.” He pointed at the path with his staff. “Look here. Don’t look up.”

  He started walking slowly, turning around so he was moving backward, dragging the point of his staff upon the ground. The boys followed after, keeping their eyes fixed upon the tip of the staff as it stirred dust in the pathway. They moved slowly, and after a moment Nicholas realized that they should now be stuck in heavy undergrowth but in fact the pathway was still clear. “Don’t look up,” said Nakor.

  Gloom surrounded them, but they could clearly see the path where the staff touched it. Then suddenly there was light, and Nakor said, “You can look now.”

  Instead of a heavy forest, they stood before a large rambling estate, with a few well-tended fruit trees around the edges. On the other side of the estate, sheep grazed, and a half-dozen horses ambled across a large meadow. Nicholas looked back and saw Amos and Ghuda glancing about as if lost. Nakor said, “They were too slow. I’ll go get them.”

  From behind, a voice said, “There’s no need.”

  Nicholas turned and saw a man in a black robe, slightly shorter than himself, looking at the three with a quizzical expression. The Prince’s eyes widened, for the man could not possibly have been there a moment before. The man moved his hand, and suddenly Amos and Ghuda were staring with eyes wide. “I’ve removed the illusion,” said the man.

  Nakor said, “I told you: it was a trick.”

  The man looked over the two boys and Nakor, then studied Amos and Ghuda as they approached. After a moment his bearded face relaxed and years seem to fall away as he said, “Captain Trask! I had no idea.”

  Amos strode up to him and stuck out his hand. “Pug, it’s good to see you once more.” As they shook, Amos remarked, “You look no different than you did after the Battle of Sethanon!”

  There was some humor in Pug’s voice as he said, “I’ve been told that. Who are your companions?”

  Amos motioned for Nicholas to step forward. “I have the pleasure of presenting your cousin Prince Nicholas.”

  Pug smiled warmly at the boy and said, “Nicky, I haven’t seen you since you were little more than a baby.”

  Amos continued, “This is Harry of Ludland, his Squire, and these two are Ghuda Bulé and—”

  Before he could finish, Nakor said, “I am Nakor, the Blue Rider.”

  Unexpectedly, Pug laughed aloud. “You! I have heard of you.” With genuine amusement he said, “You are all welcome to Villa Beata.”

  He motioned for them to follow as he led them toward the strangely designed home. A large central building, white, with a red-tile roof, was surrounded by a low white stone wall, which sheltered a garden of fruit trees and flowers. In the center of the garden, a fountain fashioned of marble in the form of three dolphins sent up a cheerful spray. Off in the distance, they could see outbuildings.

  Stepping forward so he walked at Pug’s side, Nicholas said, “What is Villa Beata?”

  “This place. In the language of those who built it, it means ‘blessed home,’ or so I was told. And so I have found.”

  Amos turned to Nakor and asked him, “How did you know not to go to the castle?”

  The little man grinned and shrugged. “It’s what I would do.”

  Pug said over his shoulder, “If you had gone to the castle, you would have found it deserted, save for some lively traps in the tallest tower. I find it preserves my privacy to keep alive the legend of the Black Sorcerer. Wards I’ve set there would have alerted me to your trespass, so I would have come to see who called, but you’ve been saved a half day of wasted time.” Looking at Nakor, he said, “We should talk before you leave.”

  Nakor nodded vigorously. “I like your house. It makes sense.”

  Pug nodded in turn.

  Reaching the gate through the low wall, he held open the gate for the others, letting them all pass through before he followed after. “Be warned, not all my servants are human, and some may startle you. But none here will do you harm.”

  As if illustrating this point, a tall creature appeared at the main entrance of the house. Ghuda’s sword was half out of his scabbard before he remembered himself and put it away. The cre
ature appeared to be a goblin, though taller than any Ghuda had ever seen. Goblins were usually smaller than men, but not by much. This creature’s blue-green-tinged skin was smooth, and his eyes were huge and round, with black irises on yellow. He also possessed a finer cast of features than any goblin Ghuda had fought, though he did have the heavy brow ridge and comically large nose common to goblin kind. But his clothing was of fine weave and cut and he carried himself with an air that could only be called dignified. He smiled, showing long teeth that came close to being fangs. He executed a courtly bow and said, “Master Pug, refreshments are ready.”

  Pug said, “This is Gathis, who acts as seneschal of my house. He will provide for your comforts.” Looking skyward, he said, “I think our guests will dine and spend the night. Make rooms ready.” Turning to the five visitors, he said, “We have ample room, and I think a relaxed evening would be appropriate.” He added to Nicholas, “Highness, you do resemble your father at your age.”

  Nicholas said, “You knew my father when he was my age?”

  The youthful-looking Pug nodded. “Well. I shall tell you of it sometime.” To the entire party he said, “Come. Refresh yourselves. I must see to some matters of urgency, but I will join you after you have rested.” So saying, he vanished through the door to the house, leaving them in the care of Gathis.

  The odd-looking creature spoke with a sibilance due in the main to a large assortment of teeth, but his words were courtly. “If you have any needs, gentlemen, please inform me and I shall endeavor to meet them at once. Please, come this way.”

  He led them into a spacious entry hall, facing a large set of doors opening upon a very large central garden. To the right and left, corridors stretched away. He led them to the left, down to the first corner, then to the right. A portico extended from a door on their left, connecting another large building to the main one. Leading them to the next building, Gathis said, “These are the guest quarters, gentlemen.”

  Ghuda again almost had his sword out as a troll came ambling out through the doorway, carrying a large bundle of linens. The creature wore a simple tunic and trousers, but it was without a doubt a troll: humanlike in form, short, with tremendously broad shoulders and arms hanging nearly to the ground. The face was apelike, with large fangs protruding over the lower lip, and deep black eyes set back under a massive brow ridge. Without any fuss, the creature moved to the side and bowed slightly to the guests, letting them pass.

  Gathis said, “That is Solunk, who is the porter here. If you need fresh towels or hot water, pull the bell cord and he will answer. He cannot speak your Kingdom tongue, but he understands it enough to answer your requests. If you should have any needs he cannot understand, he will fetch me.” He showed them all to rooms in the building, and left each to himself.

  Nicholas found himself in a well-appointed if not overly ornate room. A simple bed with a thick comforter dominated one corner, beneath a large window looking out at the smaller buildings behind the great house. He glanced through and saw a man and another creature, similar to Gathis but not as large, carrying firewood into what appeared to be a cookhouse.

  Nicholas turned to examine the other contents of the room, a simple writing desk with a chair, a large wardrobe, and a chest. Opening the chest, he saw fresh linens, while the wardrobe revealed a small array of clothing of varying cut, color, and weave, and several sizes, as if any number of guests might have left one or two items behind.

  There was a knock at the door and Nicholas opened it to find Solunk, the troll, standing before the portal. He motioned to a large metal tub two men carried, and then to Nicholas. The boy understood and nodded, opening the door wide. The two men entered, and Nicholas couldn’t help but stare. Both were dressed only in red trousers, and their skin was black, but unlike the dark-skinned people of Krondor and Kesh, these men were not merely dark. They were black as if their bodies had been painted with lampblack or paint. They also showed no hair upon their heads and faces, and their eyes were a startling pale blue, with no visible white, against the sooty skin.

  They set the tub down in the center of the room and left. The troll opened the wardrobe and without hesitation selected a pair of trousers and a tunic that appeared the proper size for Nicholas. He then rooted around in the chest, beneath the linens, and produced a pair of undertrousers and hose. The two men of unusual color returned with large buckets and filled the tub with hot water, leaving a towel, brush, and a bar of scented soap.

  The troll made an inquiring noise and pantomimed scrubbing Nicholas’s back. Nicholas said, “No, thank you. I can manage.”

  With a satisfied-sounding grunt, the troll motioned for the others to leave and followed them out, closing the door behind.

  Nicholas shook his head in silent amazement, then stripped off his very dirty clothing and got in the tub. The water was hot, but not too hot, and he lowered himself gently into it. When he was sitting, he indulged himself in a long sigh and leaned back. He savored the luxury of the hot bath after a week in the close quarters aboard ship. From down the hall he could hear Harry singing to himself as he began to bathe and decided he should get on with scrubbing himself before the water cooled too much. Shortly he was covered with lather and softly humming a countermelody to Harry’s more rambunctious vocalizing.

  After a long, refreshing bath, Nicholas dressed and found the clothing laid out for him to fit almost as well as his own. He pulled on his boots and left the room. The hall was empty and he thought about disturbing the others; Harry still filled the air with his less than stunning voice.

  He decided to wander a bit and explore. He entered the main house, passing through the main hallway, and turned through a doorway into the central garden. Like the one before the house, this garden was dominated by fruit trees and flowers, with small paths crossing from four central doors of the square, forming a cross. At the intersection of the two paths was set a fountain similar to the one before the house, and nearby was a small white stone bench. Pug sat there, speaking with a woman.

  As he approached, Nicholas saw Pug look up and rise. “Highness, I have the pleasure of presenting a friend, the Lady Ryana.” Turning to his companion, he said, “Ryana, this is Prince Nicholas, son of Arutha of Krondor.”

  The woman rose and curtsied with precision, startling green eyes fixed upon the boy. Her age was unguessable, being somewhere between the late teens and early thirties; her features were finely chiseled, “aristocratic” being the only word that Nicholas could think of; in her presence he felt that he was the lowborn and she the noble. But beautiful as she was, there was something in her manner and movement that could only be called alien: her hair was not blond but truly gold and her skin was ivory, yet almost glinted in the sunlight. Nicholas hesitated a moment, then bowed correctly, saying, “M’lady.”

  Pug said, “Ryana is the daughter of an old friend, come to study awhile with me.”

  “Study?”

  Pug nodded, indicating that Nicholas should sit where he had, while Pug sat upon the edge of the fountain. “Many of those here are servants or friends, but some are also students of mine.”

  Nicholas said, “I thought you had built the academy at Stardock as a place of study.”

  Pug smiled slightly, and there was a hint of irony in his voice as he said, “The academy is like most other human institutions, Nicholas, which means that as time passes, it will become more set in its ways, more concerned with ‘tradition,’ and less willing to grow. I’ve seen firsthand the results of such attitudes, and don’t wish to see them repeated. But I have a limited influence at Stardock. It’s been seven years since my last visit, and eight since I lived among the magicians there. I left soon after my wife died.” He looked at the sky, lost in thought. “My old friends Kulgan and Meecham are gone as well. My children have grown and are married. No, there are few at Stardock I feel compelled to visit.”

  He waved his hand in an encompassing gesture. “Here I will take any who is worthy, and some are from other wor
lds. I doubt some you’ve already met would be welcome down there.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “I guess.” Attempting to be polite, he spoke to Ryana, “M’lady, are you from one of those distant worlds?”

  Her voice carried alien notes. “No, I was born near here, Highness.”

  Nicholas felt his skin crawl for reasons he could not put voice to. The woman was unusually beautiful by any standard, yet it was a beauty of another kind, something he could not be touched by. He smiled, for he could not think of another polite thing to say.

  Pug seemed to sense his discomfort, so he said, “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit to, Nicholas? I was rather pointed in my request to your father that I be left undisturbed here.”

  Nicholas blushed. “I really don’t know, Pug. Father said Nakor insisted, and for some reason Father felt compelled to honor his request. I’m on my way to Martin’s court at Crydee, to squire there for a while and…I guess get hardened on the frontier.”

  Pug smiled, and again Nicholas felt calmed by the smile. “Well, it’s rough compared to Krondor, but Crydee is hardly the frontier. The town is twice the size it was when I was a boy, I have been told. And the Jonril garrison is now a major town. There’s a growing duchy out there. I think you’ll like it.”

  Nicholas smiled and said, “I hope so,” without a great deal of conviction. He attempted to keep his expression even, but for the last couple of days he had been visited by an unexpected homesickness. The novelty of the journey had worn off, and now the tedious voyage, with nothing to do but sit in his cabin or pace the deck, was taking its toll.

  “How are things at your father’s court?” asked Pug.

  Nicholas said, “Quiet. And busy. The usual. No wars or plagues or other crisis, if that’s what you mean.” Looking at Pug’s face, he saw a questioning look. Nodding, Nicholas said, “Your son is now Knight-Marshal of Krondor.”