The King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  But he knew who would: the same merciless enemy that had seized control of the Assassins’ Guild in Krondor, subverting it to their own ends, and who had perpetrated the greatest fraud in the history of Midkemia in raising the standard of the legendary Murmandamus to cause the nations of the north—the dark elves, or moredhel, and goblins—to invade the Kingdom. Only they would kill six masters of the Durbin Slavers’ Guild, and Amos knew why. No living man knew where the Pantathian serpent priests lived, only that they dwelt in some distant land across the sea.

  Anthony paced around inside, his face impassive despite the carnage. The dead prisoners had been too weak to continue on and had had their throats cut.

  Nakor said, “There is only one girl, see, over here.”

  They hurried to look and Anthony said, “This is Willa. She served in the kitchen.”

  Nakor pointed to another corpse, a man who had died with his pants down around his ankles. “This was a bad man. He tried to take this sick girl before he killed her,” he said as if he could read the past, “and someone else killed him for trying.” The little man shook his head. Glancing around the large room, he said, “To herd children in here as if they were cattle is cruel; to leave them here for days with the dead and dying is inhuman.”

  Amos said softly, “No one said those behind this were human, Isalani.”

  Anthony kept pacing around the building as if looking for something. As Amos was about to order their departure, Anthony found a few scraps of clothing, torn from a tunic or dress. He picked them up and inspected them. Suddenly his eyes widened as he held one that had been used as a bandage, from the blood upon it, and he said, “Margaret!”

  Amos said, “How do you know?”

  The magician said, “I just know. She wore this.”

  Marcus examined it. “Is she hurt? Look at the blood.”

  Anthony shook his head. “I think…she used this as a bandage on someone else.”

  “How do you know?” asked her brother.

  “I…just know,” he repeated.

  Amos glanced around. “This raid was planned well in advance and every contingency planned for. Most of the raiders may have come from Kesh or somewhere else, but there must have been at least a hundred people from Freeport in on it.” Leaving the building and returning to the boat, he said, “The problem’s going to be finding one who was involved, and who will talk. Whoever ran this caper probably paid well, and”—he pointed to the half-naked man who’d had his throat cut—“we saw how quickly they dispense punishment. Few will be willing to betray these masters.” To Marcus he said, “You’ve got to find that girl again and see what else she knows.”

  They were silent all the way back to Freeport harbor.

  —

  THEY RETURNED TO the Red Dolphin at sundown. Reaching the room in the back, Amos found Harry waiting for them. “What’s happened?” Amos asked.

  “Render almost challenged Nick today,” said Harry with a grin. “He decided to sup at noon at a different tavern. One of our men spotted him, so Nick showed up and sat nearby. So he left, and we found him at a third tavern, so Nick showed up there. Render started yelling at him. He’s not doing well. Our people have started a lot of gossip about the raids, and the townspeople are starting to wonder if something has gone on; enough people around here knew something was up for the last few months that more and more they’re inclined to believe us and doubt Render.” Harry shook his head. “Given the right circumstances, say if we have a particular hot Sixthday night and someone were to start buying lots of drinks for those inclined to listen to how Render ruined everyone’s business for the next five years, I can imagine they’d riot and haul Render out and hang him without benefit of proof.” Harry’s gleeful expression turned more serious. “I think Render’s had about enough of us. Word on the street is he’ll be sailing tomorrow or the day after to raid along the Keshian shore and he’s looking for extra crewmen.”

  Amos scratched his chin. “Extra crewmen? Then he’ll come after Nicholas tonight if he’s a mind to.” Amos considered, “There’s a couple of ways Render can play this: the smart way would be to sail out late tonight and never return to Freeport. But Render’s never been known for being especially smart; clever and cunning, yes, but not smart.”

  Amos thought a long moment, then went on, “He’ll probably try to take my ship on the way out, if I know that cannibal—that’s why he needs the extra men.” Almost to himself he said, “He’ll kill Nick, put the blame on me, demand I be hung, and get the best warship in the islands all in one night.”

  Marcus said, “So what do we do?”

  Amos said, “Why, we let him try.” He told Harry, “Go find Ghuda, Nick, and as many of the men as you can and have them come by here.”

  Harry was off. Amos said to Anthony, “Start looking for those who might know something about that building where the captives were held; they might have brought their own carpenters from wherever they hail from, but they probably didn’t lug all the lumber along. And don’t get yourself into trouble.”

  Anthony and Marcus left, and Amos said, “I wonder how the magician knew that cloth was Margaret’s?”

  Nakor grinned. “He’s a magician. Besides, he’s in love with her.”

  Amos said, “Really? I took him for something of a bloodless sort.”

  Nakor shook his head. “He’s shy. But he loves her. It’s why he can find her at the right time.”

  Amos narrowed his gaze. “You being mysterious again, Isalani?”

  Nakor shrugged. “I’m going to take a nap. It will get very noisy around here later.” He tipped back his chair until he leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. A moment later he was snoring softly.

  Amos glanced at the sleeping little man and said, “How does he do that?”

  —

  THE SHIP GROANED and Margaret said, “Listen!”

  Abigail looked over with faint interest. “What is it?”

  Margaret said, “We’ve changed course. Don’t you feel the difference in the way the ship is handling?”

  “No. So what?” asked Abigail in flat tones. Even with the larger accommodations, a cabin of their own because of their rank, and good food, the girl couldn’t shake her dark moods. She still wept uncontrollably at times.

  Margaret said, “We were on a southerly heading, and I expected we should turn toward the east, to run the Straits of Darkness. But we’re turning to starboard”—Abigail looked blank—“to the right! We’re heading southwest!”

  Abigail shook her head in confusion. Then a spark of interest fanned in her eyes. “What’s that mean?”

  Feeling fear without any leavening of hope, Margaret whispered, “We’re not going to Kesh.”

  —

  THE WHORES LAUGHED loudly as men shouted across the room in greeting or friendly insult. Nicholas drained his seventh or eighth glass of wine. Across the room, Render sat with five of his men, whispering. Nicholas and the pirate captain had been glaring across the room at each other for almost an hour, and Ghuda and Harry had urged Nicholas loudly to stop drinking. He’d ignored them. An hour earlier he had began to utter threats against Render. At first they had been barely heard by those not standing next to him, but for the last five minutes, everyone close by could clearly hear him.

  Suddenly Nicholas lurched to his feet and staggered across the room toward Render’s table. Ghuda and Harry were slow to react and reached him only as three of the five men with Render stood, their hands on their sword hilts.

  “I’m going to cut your heart out, you murderous swine!” shouted Nicholas, and the room fell silent. “Before the gods, I swear you’ll pay for what you did.”

  Render glared at the young man as Ghuda and Harry pulled him back. One of Render’s companions shouted, “Take that drunk away before we put him out of his misery.”

  Ghuda said evenly, “You could try. It might prove amusing.” His calm expression and the array of weapons clearly displayed upon his person prevented fur
ther threats.

  Render stood and pointed an accusing finger. “Everyone has heard. This man has threatened me repeatedly. If any trouble begins, it’s his doing and Captain Trenchard is responsible! I vow before everyone here that I will only raise my hand in self-defense!”

  Nicholas began to struggle, trying to get at Render, but Ghuda and Harry restrained him. They half dragged, half carried Nicholas out of the tavern. Aiding their friend down the boulevard, they reached the Red Dolphin and went inside. Carrying Nicholas up the stairs, they entered the room at the far end of the hall.

  Inside, Nicholas pulled himself upright and Harry said, “How are you?”

  “I’ve never drunk so much water so fast. Where’s the night pot?”

  Harry pointed to the pot, and Nicholas relieved himself. “Do you think we can trust the barman?”

  “No,” said Ghuda, “but I paid him sufficient gold and threatened him enough that he’ll say nothing for a day or two.”

  Nicholas said, “Now we wait.”

  —

  NEAR DAWN, A band of men crept into the common room of the Red Dolphin. A bar boy slept under a table and he came instantly awake. It was his job to guard the commons and alert the innkeeper should guests arrive at odd hours or beggars or thieves enter.

  Seeing men with ready swords, the boy pulled himself back under the table and huddled against the wall. He was not about to raise an alarm with this many armed cutthroats nearby.

  As the intruders reached the far door, every door in the hallway swung open and more armed men leaped out. The sound of steel against steel rang through the halls and the fight was on in earnest.

  Nicholas and Ghuda held the door at the far end of the hall, and two of the attackers made halfhearted attempts to move toward them, but the presence of armed men in the doorways between deterred them. Then a shout from the far end of the hall, at the top of the stairs, cut through the sounds of fighting. “Halt! In the name of the Sheriff, stop fighting!”

  The men trapped in the hallway turned, and several attempted to fight their way down the stairs. They were quickly overwhelmed by a dozen men wielding billy clubs and swords, who killed two of them and overpowered the rest. Those still in the hallway drew into a cluster, and from the center a voice called, “We will not resist!”

  Nicholas smiled at Ghuda. “That’s Render,” he said with grim satisfaction.

  Amos and Harry emerged from one door, with William Swallow one step behind. Anthony, Marcus, and Nakor came out of another room. They followed Render’s men down the stairs to where more than a dozen of Patrick Duncastle’s men waited to take them all into custody.

  Amos approached the boy under the table and gave him a gold coin. “You did well. Tell your master that I thank him for the use of the inn.”

  The boy left, and Amos pushed Render into the large room at the back of the commons. Four of the captains of Freeport sat at the table and looked at Render as he knelt before them.

  William Swallow followed Amos into the room. “It’s true, as Amos said. Render and his men came up with murderous intent.”

  Taking his place at the table, Swallow said, “You know the law, Render. Your ship is forfeit and you’re consigned to the hole.”

  “No!” shouted Render. “I was tricked.”

  Amos said, “Before you drag this garbage out of here, there are some things I need to ask him. You may be interested in his answers.”

  Swallow looked at the other captains, all who were in port save Captain Dread, and they nodded. Amos said, “Who paid you to raid the Far Coast?”

  Render spat at Amos, who responded by striking him in the face with a gloved fist. Render struck the floor hard and lay there with blood running down his chin. Kneeling next to him, Amos said, “I haven’t the time to be gentle with you, Render, and am even less possessed of the inclination. If we toss you into the street and let it be known that you’ve destroyed the commerce along the Far Coast for the next five years, that you’ve worked on behalf of Durbin slavers, and cut the other captains and their crews out of the booty, how long do you think it would take for the citizens of Freeport to tear you apart?”

  Render’s eyes grew wide, but he said nothing. Amos said, “Think of the whores who’ll see no gold now that shipping from Crydee, Carse, and Tulan has stopped. Think of the men of Freeport who will have no ships to prey upon. Think of the honest merchants who will have no markets closer than Elarial or the Free Cities.”

  Swallow said, “Amos, we’ve heard the rumors; is it really true?”

  Amos said, “It’s true, William. This bastard led more than a thousand men against the Far Coast last month and burned Castle Crydee to the ground. The fortress at Barran was destroyed, and Carse and Tulan were raided—we don’t know how badly, but we assume the worst. You’ll have little trading and no raiding in the Duchy for years to come.”

  William Swallow stood, his face white with anger. “You fool!” he shouted at Render. “You’ll bring the Kingdom’s war fleet down on us! And for what?”

  Render was silent, but Amos took him by one long earlobe, and twisted the fetish there. As the man squealed in pain, Amos said, “For either more gold than he could honestly steal in a lifetime—you’d best send men to inspect the hold of his ship—or…”

  Amos grabbed the pouch at Render’s belt and looked inside. A snake ring fell upon the floor among coins and gems. Holding it up, Amos showed it to William Swallow. “Have you seen its like?”

  Swallow looked at it and passed it to the other captains. All said they’d not seen it before. Nicholas asked, “Is he a hired servant or a willing pawn?”

  Amos grabbed Render’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “He doesn’t have the courage of conviction to be a religious fanatic. He’s a bought servant.”

  Swallow said, “Amos, we thank you for the warning. We must prepare for the Kingdom’s revenge.” Pointing his finger at Render, he said, “You will be hung at dawn! And every man in your crew will be sold!”

  Amos said, “Do what you will with the men, but I need Render.”

  “For what?”

  “To find those whose bidding he does.”

  Swallow said, “We can’t let him go, Amos. If we do, what’s the Captains’ Covenant worth?”

  Amos shrugged. “It’s worth what it always was: little. It’s a truce bought by fear, and it’s always balanced against greed. There was never enough profit for a captain to break the covenant, until someone showed up with more gold than Render’s got sense.” He glanced around the room. “And speaking of those who have no sense, where’s Peter Dread?”

  Swallow said, “He was told to be here.”

  Amos sighed. “Send word to find him. I suspect there were two idiots involved in that raid. Was Dread around during the raid last month?”

  “We thought he was looking for prey in the Bitter Sea,” answered Morgan.

  “Find him before he warns his masters that you’re on to them,” insisted Amos. “I’ll make you a bargain.”

  “What bargain?” said Swallow.

  “If you let me find out what I need to know from Render, I’ll promise that no reprisal fleet reaches Freeport.”

  Swallow’s eyes narrowed. “How can you do that?”

  Amos said, “Because I’m the King’s Admiral of the Western Realm.”

  The five captains exchanged glances. “So,” said Scarlet, “you were more than trading your services for pardon when you were chasing me off the Quegan coast.”

  Amos nodded. “Let me give you the full of it, and then you decide. We have no time for, nor any interest in, putting a stop to your enterprise here. We’re after the daughter of Duke Martin and others taken from Crydee. Someone put Render and Dread on this caper and sent along a thousand raiders, including Tsurani assassins and Durbin slavers.” He told them what he knew of the raid and finished by saying, “So we have more urgent matters than putting an end to your livelihood.”

  Swallow said, “What’s to keep us from hol
ding you here as hostages, Amos?”

  “Because the only way we can keep Arutha from sending his fleet to burn your city to the ground is by getting his niece back in one piece and returning her to the Kingdom, you idiot!” Amos bellowed. “Do I have to paint you a picture?”

  Nicholas said, “And we can make it worth your while.”

  Swallow said, “How?”

  Nicholas said, “Commerce was never one of my better subjects, but I do know that you’ve gained wealth because what you provide is needed.” He looked at the five captains. “For a year, no reprisals will come against Freeport. Then a Kingdom ship will come here. Any who remain will be granted full pardon for past crimes, so long as they swear fealty to the Kingdom and do not transgress the law. Any who choose otherwise are free to leave with guaranteed safe passage and start somewhere else in the meantime.”

  “What’s in it for us?” challenged Scarlet.

  “Peace of mind, for one thing,” said Marcus.

  Ghuda said, “And protection from Kesh and Queg should they start thinking you’d look good on the map as part of their realm.”

  Swallow said, “Kesh, Queg, the Kingdom, it makes little difference. Governors and tax agents, and laws and the like. It’ll be the death of our way of life.”

  Nicholas said, “Partly. No more raiding.”

  Amos grinned. “We’re both getting a little on in years to be chasing merchant ships like they were maidens at the Midsummer’s festival and we were cocky lads, William.”

  Swallow nodded. “True, but what’s the reason to stay, Amos? If we become another Kingdom port…”

  Nicholas said, “What if Freeport continued to operate without duties? What if a trader could come here and deliver cargo legally without needing to pay tariff or tax to the Kingdom?”

  Swallow said, “Some would continue to come here, even though it’s the long way around from Queg to Krondor, for certain cargoes with high profits.”

  Amos said, “The King will never sit still for that, Nick.”