‘How can that be?’ Leopold said, nervously looking for assistance.
Daneel stood and breathed back on his pipe, before putting his fingers to his lips and letting out a shrill, smoke-filled whistle. Several armed men hurried along the side of the ship towards him.
‘Get rid of this,’ Daneel told them and the men dutifully plucked up Tulan’s body and carried it away. ‘We can’t dump bodies in the water, can we?’ Daneel said to Leopold. ‘Not after all the good work we’ve done cleaning up the bay.’
‘If you are a Truthseeker, why have you not killed Samuel? Why let me know? Are you going to kill me, too?’ The last question caught in his throat, and his voice warbled feebly.
‘I wouldn’t kill you, Your Majesty. What a silly notion. I am telling you I am a Truthseeker because there is no point lying. I know you are helpless. Now you know the truth, I trust you realise the seriousness of your situation and will begin behaving properly. And as for killing Samuel ... well, I couldn’t kill him, could I? Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I wouldn’t know how. I tried once, long ago, but didn’t have much luck. Never seemed much point trying again.’
‘Does he know?’
‘Of course,’ Daneel admitted. ‘He knows everything. But we’ve been acquaintances long enough not to let such a matter come between us.’
Leopold shook his head with confusion. ‘How can this be? Why hasn’t he done something?’
‘Why don’t you ask him and find out; otherwise,’ he leant forward and whispered loudly across the space between them, ‘it’s better if you keep this to yourself.’ He stood straight again. ‘My interest is in protecting you and those aboard. If no one else sneaks aboard, we shall have no more problems, shall we? And one more thing. Don’t forget my prior advice: if you’re going to lie, you’d better start doing a better job of it.’
Leopold backed away, desperate and distraught that he had caused the death of Tulan. He was sure that Samuel knew everything: that Leopold had sought to trap him, that Tulan was waiting to sneak aboard. But why would he side with a Truthseeker, an enemy of magicians? It made no sense.
Scrambling along the edge of the ship, Leopold hurried down from the top of the aft deck and found his cabin. In the darkness, he sensed Salu and Toby resting in their beds, and he latched the door firmly and disrobed to his underclothes. As he lay in his bed, he kept his father’s sword near, fingers pressed upon its hilt. He knew it would not help him against Samuel or indeed anyone, given his feeble skills, yet it calmed his nerves.
His chest heaved as he tried to still his frantic thoughts. He had killed Tulan, he thought, as good as if he had stabbed the man himself. No. Samuel had killed him. Daneel had held the blade, but Samuel was the one responsible. Another innocent had fallen victim to the magician’s insidiousness. Leopold was sure this was part of Samuel’s scheme to drag them across the world to a foul end. But why? he asked himself. How did it all connect?
The sun was rising and he found no answers. Exhaustion smothered his thoughts and despite his intentions otherwise, sleep took him swiftly into its folds.
****
Once everything had been triple checked, the signal was given for the Farstride to depart. Every ship that could still float was gathered around the bay, full of as many people as they could carry, waving and cheering as the mighty ship commenced its epic voyage. The fleet was considerably diminished from the earlier battle, for many ships had been scavenged for parts and materials for both the Farstride and the palace.
The Farstride’s enormous masts filled with cloth one after another, pale blossoms expanding upon the slender branches of Spring, filling the empty spaces above the deck with their taut curvature. Each sturdy hemp sail was rolled out carefully and in order, from the largest at the base to the smallest up high—each one doing its part to harness the wind and send the vessel on her way.
The ship heaved herself out of the bay into the ocean proper, leaving the cheering throngs securing the capital—the last remnants of a mighty civilisation, cowering in the ruins of Cintar. A few craft followed on the waves, escorting them away from the coast and out of sight of the city. Slowly, each one peeled away and returned to land, until the Farstride was driving westwards alone across the high seas.
Leopold stood at the bow, watching the vessel push through the waves, throwing translucent sheets of spray to each side, edged with strips of foam. The wind was tight in the sails and they made good speed from the start. The ship was surprisingly swift for her size and further improvements had been applied after her short maiden voyage to Cintar, gaining small but precious efficiencies.
As the mainland disappeared, Leopold felt the nervousness of all small-boat fishermen being out of sight of land, and as the hours passed, the air of adventure faded, and those not needed on deck wandered away. The horizon remained a featureless membrane separating two shades of blue, nothing else in sight. Leopold returned to his room.
Salu was there with Toby. This time, the boy was on his knees and elbows on the floor, watching a marble slowly roll around of its own accord, following the rolling of the ship, slight as it was. The hole in the wall had been patched with remarkable workmanship. The replaced section was obviously a mismatch for the wall around it, yet an impressive repair under the conditions.
Pfft! thought Leopold. What kind of an emperor am I? Stuffed inside a tiny cabin with two idiots, unable to give any meaningful commands, and tied to the mercy of a deranged magician. Everyone on board is mad. That was the problem, he mused. He was the only sane one aboard. Perhaps he should lose all good reason like the rest for his misery to end.
Leopold’s thoughts were interrupted by the barely audible muttering from opposite him.
Salu was sitting on his bunk, knees together and head down staring at his feet, his staff clutched in his hands. His mouth moved constantly, a subtle murmuring escaping. Leopold, determined to hear what the old fool was saying, sat opposite and listened intently.
When no words came, Leopold offered his own. ‘I wanted to thank you for trying to save me from the witch.’ It had been some time since the day of that battle, and he had not the opportunity to speak with Salu since. He waited for a response or recognition from the old man; none came. ‘You must understand me, or otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to save me. Samuel must think you have some value if he has not yet abandoned you. Tell me, what goes through your head?’
Again, no change: the perpetual muttering continued and Leopold shifted to beside him, leaning closer to hear what was said. All he heard was incomprehensible—meaningless fragments of words, random sounds and grunts. Frustrated, Leopold returned to his bunk for a nap.
****
The ship sailed on without event and there was no sign of Samuel in the days to come. He was in his cabin and had left word not to be disturbed. Leopold was thankful for that, for no magician was a good magician.
The Farstride drove westwards across the limitless expanse of water—at times remarkably flat, at others the waves became rolling mountains. Their vessel weathered any tempest and after two weeks of sailing, they met the northernmost tip of the Spice Islands, and followed their crescent-shaped path into the south.
The northern islands were mostly unpopulated, but as they crawled southwards, they reached the larger, inhabited isles famous for their unusual spices and goods. Regular Amandian vessels took a month or more to reach these shores, hopping between land as they must. The Farstride could break away from the shallows and carve across the deepest, roughest seas without worry, saving precious time.
The people here had always been low in number, but they had grown especially timid since the Darkening—since strange and murderous creatures had begun prowling the skies and crawled from the seas.
Islanders shared the dark hair and olive skin of Lady Wind, but their hair was tight and frizzy instead of straight and they retained the large facial features of Amandia. They gladly traded fresh fruits and vegetables with the ship, eager to return inland t
o their hidden homes, to be safely out of the open away from possible attack. They had abandoned their seaside villages and towns, in favour of the sheltered depths of the forests.
The Farstride stayed a night offshore, dropping anchor for a well-deserved rest, and to check how the ship had dealt with its first few weeks of travel. They needed the respite to investigate problems with the pumps and water seeping into the hull. It was easily fixed. The engineers were only thankful the problem had been found early.
King Pantu and his family came down from the jungle that evening to light a giant bonfire and lay on a feast. His people played their drums and tightly stringed ju-ju’s and sang harmoniously the night through. The King had recently taken on his role after his father—also King Pantu—had been slain with many of the town warriors, defending the village from a horde of amphibious lizards that emerged from the ocean with a taste for human flesh. Samuel had declared no such dangers in the near vicinity, and that had been enough cause for a celebratory banquet.
Most of the Farstride’s crew and passengers had been allowed ashore, filling the beaches and eating from the roast boar spaced along the beach, cooked on beds of hot coals. Leopold had questioned the lack of frugality in such a desperate time; King Pantu was adamant that with half the village lost and the same on the nearby islands, the wild boar populations had soared. A feast was the perfect excuse to cull their numbers.
The ladies smiled and danced for the gallant crew and their men folk played and sang: an enjoyable evening for all.
‘Has your stomach settled?’ Leopold asked of Jessicah as she nibbled at her meal, for she had not coped well with sea travel over the last few days and her nausea was testament. They were seated at the edge of the forest, where the grass met the sand, forming a natural step on which to sit.
‘Better,’ she said. ‘I’m glad to be back on land; although, I was getting used to the rolling at sea. Now it feels like the island is moving.’
‘What about everything else?’
‘Do you mean up here?’ She tapped the side of her head and Leopold nodded. ‘Better, too. Also settled.’
‘That’s good.’
Jessicah had experienced nightmares since leaving the coast of Amandia. Samuel thought it may be Rei fighting for control, yet he could do nothing to address it. He had recommended a concoction of crushed herbs boiled in water to help her sleep and thankfully that was working.
Leopold was about to speak with her more, when she spied Captain Orrell further down the beach in a huddle with a handful of his men.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, rising to her feet, not taking her eyes off the man. ‘I need to speak with the good captain.’
‘Of course,’ Leopold said and she walked away with her bare feet crunching upon the sand. He watched her leave, pained she had chosen the captain’s company over his and that she was not interested in him in the slightest, smitten with a man who looked old enough to be her father.
She was the only one Leopold felt comfortable talking with, but he could not rein in his envy. Samuel had taken away his father, killed Tulan, and Captain Orrell would take away Jessicah. Stories often spoke of the hard lives of great leaders, and he was beginning to understand how they felt.
As Leopold was sitting and picking at his pork bone with his teeth, absorbed in his thoughts, someone walked up to be on the sand beside him. The fellow was upon Leopold before he noticed, silent were his footsteps.
‘I haven’t seen such a celebration in quite a while,’ the man mentioned with a deep and friendly voice, sitting beside him with a smile.
Leopold made the effort to look up, and was genuinely surprised. The newcomer’s skin was dark; darker than the islanders—resembling a rich and earthy soil—with a short grey-stubbled beard. He was not part of the crew, his clothes were simple civilian wear, yet he also did not wear the colourful island wrap-around the locals preferred. He must have come from the ship, though with such a large crew and so many people aboard, it was no wonder Leopold did not recognise him.
‘Do I know you?’ Leopold asked.
‘Not at all, Emperor Leopold,’ the man said warmly.
He had a rising-falling accent Leopold had not previously encountered—dissimilar to Lady Wind’s hesitant, fluttering words, different again to Daneel’s lilting tone.
‘Well, not yet,’ the stranger continued. ‘Let me introduce myself. My name is Lomar, once called Lord Lomar and before that Lomar the Great. Further back I had even more titles besides. I prefer simpler names these days. Simpler is usually better. I find that, especially as I grow older.’ The man paused, waiting for a reaction from Leopold. ‘I see you have not heard of me? That is a good sign. It means Samuel has not been cursing my name in front of you.’
Leopold choked as he realised who he was speaking with. He had heard Samuel speak the name of Lomar—Poltamir’s servant.
Soldiers were laughing and having second helpings of dinner by the bonfire. Leopold looked towards them nervously, his dinner forming into a hard ball in his stomach, soured by his fears.
‘Oh, I see my name is familiar after all. Call to them if that will make you feel better; I’m not really here, so it will not achieve much.’ The man waved his hand through the sand at his side and it passed through like water. ‘See?’
‘You’re not here?’ Leopold asked, realising he was still holding his pork bone against his chin. Setting it aside, he wiped the grease from his lips with the back of his hand. By not being here, he hoped that also meant the man could not hurt him. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘With you? Nothing. I come for a civilised chat. Samuel is hunting me and he will find me. I wanted to forewarn you of what will come.’
‘Do I want to hear what you have to say?’
‘I don’t know,’ the man said, raising his brow, his forehead folded into creases. ‘Do you?’
Leopold again looked to the armed men, those few dozen strides away. ‘I suppose I do. Any enemy of Samuel’s is a friend of mine.’
‘Excellent!’ Lomar said, shifting about to make himself comfortable, though the sand did not move beneath him. ‘I have time to tell you a thing or two. Young Samuel will already be scouring for me, feeling something is not right and wondering what it could be. I wish I could see him, swearing and hunting about.’
‘Young Samuel?’ Leopold had to ask.
‘Well, he’s young to me,’ Lomar said with a chuckle. ‘I had roamed the world for half a century before he was born and watched him grow into a man. I helped make him the person he is today.’
‘So you’re to blame,’ Leopold stated, and Lomar laughed good-naturedly.
‘I am.’
‘What is it you want?’ Leopold asked suspiciously. ‘Why did you take his son and cause this infernal mess?’
The uninvited guest smiled, broadly and gladly. ‘That is not easily explained. There are many reasons, and reasons within reasons, the first of which being that if I had not stolen that child, we would not be here now. Cang’s plan would have inadvertently caused the death of us all.’
‘Even if true, you still didn’t return the child.’
‘No,’ Lomar admitted frankly, ‘because there are plans at work, schemes to make rights of many wrongs.’
‘More than that, I’m sure.’
‘You’re right,’ he stated, giving no more away.
‘But why?’
‘I didn’t do anything because I want to. I had to. When you come to be a great leader as I’m sure you will, Leopold, you will learn the meaning of sacrifice. I do not have time to go into my reasons. I want to tell you this. Samuel is using you. As sure as a drunkard values his tankard until its contents have been emptied, Samuel will discard you when he sees fit—when your purpose has been extracted from you.’
‘I assumed that,’ Leopold said. ‘Another magician, Tulan, wanted me to catch Samuel, but Samuel ended up catching him. He was killed in cold blood.’
‘Tulan?’ Lomar said with concern. ‘Such
a shame. I knew him well. I didn’t know he had lasted so long. There are so few left now. Almost down to the last.’
‘Did you really know him?’ Leopold asked interestedly.
The man’s smile was bright against his dark skin. ‘Of course. For many years.’
‘Then would you help me be rid of Samuel?’ he asked, lowering his voice.
‘Hmm,’ Lomar said thoughtfully. ‘Samuel will get what is coming to him in good time; no need to rush.’
‘I can help you!’ Leopold said. ‘I want him dead—more than anything. He killed my father and he’s dragging us on this god-forsaken journey. He’ll never let me go home. He’ll kill us all.’
‘Don’t worry. Samuel will be taken care of when necessary. Don’t try anything for now. As you’ve found, he is too powerful for you. Even I would have trouble facing him directly. He has dark beings inside him that grant him exceptional power when he requires it. Did you know?’
‘He told me. That is why he keeps close to his casket—to keep them at bay.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Lomar said. ‘A surprising turn. He can prove very resourceful. This is why everything must be left to the correct time and place. Leave him to me.’
‘So what should I do?’ asked Leopold. Of course, he was not willing to trust this Lomar fellow—he would not trust any magician. He would see what this man could offer.
‘Samuel is bound for Poltamir, to find his son, but the Demon King has already escaped. Poltamir does not have him.’
‘How did he escape?’
‘That does not matter!’ the tall magician snapped. He composed himself immediately, clearing his throat and lowering his voice. ‘Samuel will find him, I am sure of it. When he does, I want you to let me know.’
‘How will I do that?’
‘Say something special—some key words. I cannot watch over you all the time, but I can listen discretely for certain things. Say it exactly as I tell you and I shall hear it, wherever you may be.’
The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) Page 20
