Prince Thief

by David Tallerman

  I eased my head above the summit. No one was looking my way, but that wasn’t quite the relief it might have been – for ahead, staring out towards the shore, two shadowy figures stood guard. We wouldn’t be taking the boat without a fight.

  I ducked back, held up two fingers to Malekrin, pointed to left and right.

  “Why can’t the monster fight them?” Malekrin whispered.

  “He’s not a monster,” I muttered, “and he doesn’t like fighting.” Ignoring Malekrin’s look of incredulity, I added, “Can you handle the one on the left?”

  “Without my knife?”

  I took it from my pocket, handed it to him. “But don’t hurt them,” I mouthed. “Let’s not make things worse than they are.”

  “It might be nice to know who I’m fighting.”

  “Bad people. That’s all you need to know.”

  “And what about Seadagger?”

  I suppressed a groan. I couldn’t care less about his stupid Seadagger, but it would hardly do to have Saltlick drifting out to sea. Of course an anchor was too much to ask of so small a boat. I looked around for a protrusion to tie off against on the larger vessel, found nothing.

  Damn it, this plan was getting more out of hand by the minute! For a long moment, I fought to resist suggesting that we simply sail on, head for Altapasaeda alone. Estrada, Navare and Alvantes’s guardsmen could surely look after themselves.

  Only, they were outnumbered, many of them had been hurt in the shipwreck – and more than that, I imagined myself trying to explain to Saltlick what I’d done, saw vividly the anger and disappointment in his face. Even if I could live with the thought of abandoning Estrada, there was no way I could bear that look.

  I glanced round for a weapon. Seeing the mallet Malekrin had used earlier, I slipped it into a pocket. “Give me the rope,” I whispered, “and be ready.”

  Malekrin passed the thick mooring rope to me, and with much discomfort, I clenched it between my teeth. Then, not giving myself any more time to think about it, I grasped the upper edge of the larger boat and swung myself up.

  Again, though I’d moved as silently as I was able, I was certain I’d come face to face with two angry palace guardsmen – but as I rolled down the other side, they were still stood in the prow, staring away from me. I spat out the rope and looped it round the nearest rower’s bench, tying a hasty knot. Then I gave the cable a tug, wishing I’d thought to establish the signal before I went.

  Thankfully, Malekrin understood. In an instant he’d clambered to join me, moving soft and fast as a greased cat. Evidently, sailing wasn’t the only hobby he’d occupied himself with back home – for no one moved like that unless they’d spent time getting into places others wanted them kept out of. I gave him a nod of approval, which he ignored.

  Taking the mallet from my pocket, I wished I’d given Malekrin the man on the right. I’d picked the bigger of the two for myself, and not only was he better armed, he was infinitely more disposable.

  Too late now – and at least I still had the element of surprise. I started towards my man; felt more than saw Malekrin move on my left. My eyes flicked from my diminutive weapon to the nape of my opponent’s neck, and I wondered what chance the one had against the other. An arm’s length away, I readied my swing, took one more brief step...

  Something creaked beneath my foot – and though it sounded exactly like every other creak that cursed boat had made, nevertheless the man before me turned his head a fraction. Adjusting too late, I swiped his temple, lost my grip, and watched the mallet spiral towards the sea.

  The splash of its final impact was masked by the crunch of his fist against my jaw.

  He was fast, I had to give him that – though my appreciation of his athleticism was dulled by pain, first from his punch then my head smacking timber, as I lost my footing and tumbled back. I tried to regain my feet, reconsidered when I realised that would only put my face back in the way of his fist. That brief indecision cost me dearly; before I knew it, his hand was around my throat and dragging me to my feet, his other clenched and drawn back for another blow...

  “Get off him!” Malekrin had his knife to the second man’s throat. “Or your friend gets the closest shave of his life.”

  I cringed. Had he really said that? I fought the urge to apologise: he’s young, you see, his quipping needs some work. Under the circumstances, however, I was prepared to let it go – for the man I’d been fighting, or rather being savagely beaten by, now had his hands off me and above his head.

  “Good choice,” I told him, successfully hiding my embarrassment. “My partner means business.”

  I darted to grab a length of rope from the stern and hurriedly bound his feet and hands, my heart hammering all the while lest he realise how illusory our advantage was. Once I had him secured, I turned my attention to Malekrin’s man. And only once I had them both safely trussed did I dare to consider breathing normally again. We had their boat – and I had the infamous Bastard Prince. My plan was actually working.

  At no point had it occurred to me I’d make it this far, and I hardly knew what to do next. I moved to the prow, looked out towards the shore. Compared with when I’d last been here, there was quite a camp beneath the cliffs now: two large tents, presumably stowed in the boat for just such a crisis, sat side to side of a wide fire pit hemmed with stones, from which a lazy thread of smoke lost itself in the slate grey sky.

  As the blood rush from my brief tussle began to subside, I realised it was clear what I had to do. I’d try to make contact with Estrada, assuming she was alive to be made contact with. As much as the idea of bartering Malekrin had a certain appeal, it might yet prove unnecessary; if Navare and his guardsmen swam out here and secured the boat, we might make our escape without trading either words or blows with the palace soldiers.

  Ready to put my plan into action, I spared once last glance for the camp on the shore. I could still see no one, and now that fact sent a vague chill of doubt through me. Did the lack of a sentry mean there was nobody left to guard against? Had I returned too late?

  Then I realised someone was there – and likely had been all along.

  He’d been standing against one of the tents, indistinguishable in the gloom. I’d only noticed him now because he’d moved a little. As I watched, he did so once more – and I knew with cold certainty that he was looking back, straight at me. He took a full step forward then, outlined before the glimmer of firelight, and bellowed, “Who in the hells are you?”

  That he was even asking suggested he’d missed the recent scuffle. Did that mean I could bluff my way out of this? But by the time I’d thought it, a second figure had joined the first, appearing so far as I could judge from the mouth of the second tent. They took half a dozen more quick steps, hurrying towards the line where pale surf scoured the ash grey beach.

  “Easie? Is that you?”

  The voice was familiar as it was inexplicable. “Estrada?”

  “How did you get there?” she called back. “And who’s that with you?”

  The questions barely registered. I was too busy looking for anyone aiming a bow or holding a sword in her direction; for any hint at all that she was being threatened by the man behind her. Yet, as my brain began to process what Estrada had said, it struck me that hers wasn’t the tone of someone being intimidated – more that of a woman annoyed at being woken at too early an hour.

  Then her question finally sunk in, and I realised she was referring to Malekrin, who’d moved up beside me without my noticing. “This is Malekrin,” I called back. Catching the scowl he threw me, I added, “Though his many friends call him Mal.” I refrained from pointing out that we knew him by an altogether different name; that news could wait until I understood what was going on here.

  “And what are you doing?” cried Estrada.

  “I’m... We’re... That is...” I coughed into my fist, not sure why I felt so embarrassed when I’d clearly just done something terrifically heroic. “What we’re doin
g is that I’ve just captured their boat,” I concluded, with all the bravado I could manage.

  “Oh, Easie.” Even at such a distance, I recognised all too well the embarrassment in Estrada’s voice. “I think you need to come ashore right now...”

  On Estrada’s insistence and against my better judgement, we freed the two palace guardsmen, neither of whom showed much in the way of gratitude. It seemed best to make a hasty exit, so we recovered Malekrin’s boat – in which Saltlick, astonishingly, was still fast asleep – and rowed hastily for the shore.

  There, I presented Malekrin to Estrada and finally woke Saltlick, who was both befuddled and overjoyed to see her. Introductions and reunions complete, Estrada took me aside, a little way from the camp, to where a hard-faced and vaguely familiar man stood waiting. “Easie, meet Commander Ondeges,” she said, “captain of the Palace Guard in Altapasaeda.”

  Ondeges looked me up and down. “The thief,” he observed, “who stole into the palace.”

  “If this is about those bath oils someone vindictively hid in my bag,” I said, as the memory clicked into place, “then I’m afraid I lost them when you shipwrecked us.”

  Estrada’s expression turned to one of mortification. “I hope this won’t jeopardise our arrangement?” she asked Ondeges.

  To my surprise, Ondeges’s reply was to offer me his hand. “Just now,” he said, “my interests lie more in the future than the past.”

  I shook, striving not to wince as his fingers clenched around mine. “You’ve come to... an understanding then?” I managed. “One that doesn’t involve trying to kill each other, I mean?”

  “We’ve reached an agreement,” Estrada said. “Commander Ondeges has certain questions regarding the events of recent days that he’d like answering before any more blood is shed.”

  It was Ondeges’s turn to look uncomfortable. “My first loyalty was to Prince Panchetto,” he said. “After that…”

  He let the sentence trail away, but I thought I’d understood. “Isn’t Ondeges a Castovalian name?” I asked.

  Ondeges nodded. “My family live in Altapasaeda. So do the families of many of my men. If I’m to tell them to raise arms against their own people, it’s an order I need to hear from the King himself.”

  Taken aback as I was by Ondeges’s honesty, it was easy enough to appreciate his position. Ludovoco had appeared from nowhere and in no time at all had supplanted his command, not to mention plunging Altapasaeda into chaos and potential war; and was it any coincidence that Ondeges had been sent on this mission to the middle of nowhere while Ludovoco stayed behind? No, it was clear why Commander Ondeges might have questions in need of answers; I was only impressed that someone in his position would have sense enough to ask them.

  Rather than say that, however, I settled for something more diplomatic. “I’m sorry about the… ah, misunderstanding. The one where we tied up your men and tried to steal your boat, I mean.”

  Ondeges’s mouth creased into a smile; for a moment he looked younger, less careworn. “I’m sure it’s not a mistake you’ll make twice,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” And with that and a nod towards Estrada, he turned back towards the camp.

  I watched him go, my thoughts awhirl. Despite everything Ondeges had said, I hadn’t quite let go of the notion that this might be some sort of ambush. Then again, I’d seen firsthand what an insufferable bastard Ludovoco was. Whatever doubts Ondeges might have had about his fellow commander’s presence in Altapasaeda, they were exactly the kind of weakness a skilled ambassador like Estrada could play on.

  Which led me to one inescapable conclusion: “I rushed back here for nothing, didn’t I?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you since yesterday,” replied Estrada. She had the decency to sound a little guilty.

  “That’s gracious of you. Do you realise Saltlick ran himself half to death?”

  “I’m sorry, Easie,” she said. “I didn’t know this would happen.”

  “Really? No idea at all?”

  Estrada gave an awkward half shrug, a gesture that spoke volumes in itself. “I had to try talking. If it meant avoiding fighting and more people being hurt, of course I did. I had no way to know Ondeges would listen.”

  “So, in a sense,” I said, “we were really just the backup plan?”

  “Not at all. We still needed you to get help for Altapasaeda.”

  Shit! I’d been so quick to castigate Estrada for sending me on yet another fool’s errand that I’d forgotten just how horribly I’d botched that part of my mission. Of course, thanks to my actions, there was a fair chance Kalyxis actually would have sent some of her warriors our way – but it was safe to assume that helping us would be the last thing on their minds. Perhaps I wasn’t in a position to be hurling criticisms after all.

  Then again, when had that ever stopped me? “That didn’t go so well,” I said. ‘“How would it, when Mounteban sent us into a trap? Well, of course he did, he’s Mounteban. Only a moon-eyed imbecile would think to trust him for even a second.”

  Estrada glared at me. “Just tell me what happened.”

  “Kalyxis saw us coming is what happened. We weren’t there to recruit help for Altapasaeda; we were delivering its crown to her. And if any alliance comes out of it, I doubt very much we’ll be on the guest list.”

  Estrada winced sharply as I spoke, as though the reality of what had happened were a knife drawn across her flesh. “Damn it!” she said, and then, “Damn you, Castilio!” She turned away, took a deep and shuddering breath. “We have to hurry. We need to get back to Altapasaeda.”

  “Damn right we do. But first, you need to tell me what these terms you’ve agreed with Ondeges are.”

  “I surrendered,” she said, still not looking at me. “Those are the terms. I surrendered and Ondeges makes sure no one gets hurt.”

  I glanced after Ondeges, now busy organising the dismantling of his small camp. He struck me as the honourable type, but once we got back to Altapasaeda, it would be Ludovoco calling the shots, not him. How much would Ondeges’s word be worth then?

  My eyes wandered further, to where Malekrin stood kicking pebbles at the water’s edge, far enough away from the work to make it clear he had no interest in helping. “Maybe we’ve got grounds for renegotiation now,” I said.

  Estrada had followed my gaze. “I’m not even going to ask how you managed to steal the Bastard Prince.”

  “Ah. I thought you might recognise the name.” When she finally turned back to look at me, I offered her a weak grin. “The truth is, it was Malekrin’s idea more than mine. Turns out he doesn’t much like being a figurehead in his grandparents’ war.”

  “Does he know who he’s dealing with?” Estrada asked.

  “You mean, does he know he’s just landed in the lap of the Altapasaedan Palace Guard? No. And I think that until we know where this is going, we should keep it that way. The same goes for Ondeges.”

  Estrada nodded thoughtfully. “You might have given us a chance after all, Easie. But until I understand Ondeges’s loyalties a little better, I think you’re right. We have a slim advantage now; let’s try and keep it until we need it.”

  As if he’d somehow heard what we’d said, despite the distance and the tumult of waves and the rasping screech of seabirds, Malekrin left off his idle kicking and turned to scowl at us. Then he looked away, back out to sea.

  I thought about Kalyxis. I thought about what I’d seen of the King during my brief, unpleasant time in Pasaeda. I thought about how alike they’d seemed in many ways, the similarities of nature that perhaps had drawn them together all those years ago for their brief, disastrous fling – an affair that in due term had unleashed an infant Moaradrid upon the world. All three of them had seemed to me propelled by hatred, utterly disregarding of the little people who happened to stray into their paths. How much of this conflict between Panchessa and Kalyxis was for the reasons they stated, the goals they threw out to their followers? And how much of it was just to
sate whatever darkness drove them?

  “You know,” I said, “I think it might take more than one barbarian brat to head off this particular war.”

  Just as Estrada had told me, her hope for mine and Saltlick’s return had been the only thing keeping the now combined party of freebooters, city guardsmen and palace soldiers from starting back to Altapasaeda.

  Thus, while the tide receded and the morning sun rose above the waves, the shoreside camp was hurriedly dismantled and stashed aboard. Navare and his people even worked alongside the palace contingent, though there was obvious distrust and not the slightest camaraderie evident between the two factions.

  However, just as my mood began to lift a little at the prospect of leaving Shoan behind, Ondeges strode over to where I was waiting with Saltlick and Malekrin. “I’m sorry,” he said, without preamble, “but there isn’t room for you three on board ship.”

  I looked at him with vague horror, and a pained sense of inevitability. So much for Estrada’s truce and my good impressions of Ondeges; here was where the truth came out. We were to be stranded, a handful of discarded pieces in whatever malevolent game the man was playing.

  But what Ondeges actually said was, “I suggest you take the giant in that rowboat of yours. We’ve rope enough spare to tow you behind us.”

  Malekrin gave him a foul look. “That ‘rowboat’ is...”

  I dug an elbow hard into his ribs and, in the moment that bought me, finished, “...just the right size, as it turns out, for the giant, the boy and I.”

  Because given a choice between three more days of cramped discomfort and being abandoned on this miserable shore, I knew which option I found more appealing.

  As it turned out, Ondeges was right. Unpleasant as it was to be crammed back into Malekrin’s so-called Seadagger, I doubted we had it worse than anyone else. If our ship had been somewhat under-crewed on the journey here, its sister vessel was distinctly cramped with twice the number aboard.