JIMMY FROWNED.
Prince Patrick had just leaned over to whisper something in Francie’s ear and she blushed as she laughed. The Duke of Silden pointedly chose to ignore this breech of etiquette. The Dukes of Rodez, Euper, Sadara, and Timons glanced over and returned to their conversations. Their daughters, all resplendent in their finest gowns, allowed their gazes to linger a bit longer before returning their attentions to the various young courtiers at the table.
Dash had to tum away so as not to laugh at his brother’s unhappiness.
The hall at Castle Darkmoor was now overtaxed in the opinion of the Prince’s Master of Ceremony, a dour man named Wiggins. He had been a clerk in the court of Krondor, but had occasionally helped with state functions for the old Master, Jerome. Because of that small advantage, he had been named to the office on Patrick’s resurrection of the court in Darkmoor. He resembled nothing as much as a very nervous bird as he fluttered about the room, from one noble to the next, attempting to insure everyone’s needs were met, despite shortages of food, ale, and wine.
Mathilda, Dowager Baroness of Darkmoor, sat on the left of the Duke of Silden. While no longer young, she still possessed a court-bred ease and charm, learned while growing up among the powerful eastern nobles. The Duke, a widower, was an obvious target for a woman of her breeding. He appeared mildly interested.
Dash cast a glance back at his brother and saw that Jimmy was attempting to be interested in something said by the daughter of an eastern Earl; which one he couldn’t remember. She was a pretty enough girl in a vapid way, and Dash’s amusement at his brother’s frustration turned to sympathy. Francie was clearly the most interesting young woman in court, if not the most beautiful, and the time Jimmy had spent with her over the last couple of weeks had awakened something; at the very least, a proprietary impulse if not something deeper.
Dash knew that neither he nor his brother would be free to follow their heart’s call as long as they were in service to the crown. They were too highly born, being the sons and grandsons of Dukes. Jimmy would most likely advance to a similar high office, and Dash would probably end up an Earl if he continued in service.
Which meant neither son would have a great deal to say in the matter of whom they would wed. That detail would be up to their father to a lesser extent, and the King’s pleasure to a greater extent. Factionism in the Kingdom was a way of life, and keeping the two realms closely allied an ongoing problem. The East had the population, the wealth, and the political strength. The West had the natural resources, the potential for growth, and all the problems of a frontier: enemies, disorder, and constant difficulty governing. Marrying off the eligible daughters of one realm to the sons of the other was a time-honored method of keeping the two realms close, and no more eligible son existed than the future King.
Francie glanced over at Jimmy and smiled at him, then returned her attention to Patrick. Dash leaned over and said, “We should ask Father.”
“Ask him what?” Jimmy turned, looking confused.
“Who the King wants his son to marry. You don’t think for a moment that hasn’t already been decided, do you?”
Jimmy considered this, then smiled. “You’re probably right. If Father doesn’t know, then no one does.”
Jimmy waited until Duke Arutha looked his way, then motioned with his head. Arutha nodded, then rose and came around to stand behind Baroness Mathilda. He whispered something to the Prince, who waved him away with a smile, and moved around to where his sons stood. They bowed toward the Prince, who wasn’t looking at them, then walked from the table.
Once the three were outside of the hall, Dash observed, “We’re going to have to start turning away nobles if they continue to show up.”
Arutha said, “More are coming. The court here in Darkmoor is to be as visible and noisy as we can make it. We will find rooms for as many who arrive as possible, first here, then in the nearby city. The rest will be quartered outside the wall, in pavilions and campaign tents. There is to be a month of public celebration.”
Jimmy’s mouth opened in disbelief. “This can’t be true?”
“It is,” said Arutha.
Jimmy said, “But we have to finalize our deal with Duko—”
“That’s been accomplished. We sent him terms and he replied this morning.”
“What arrangement has been agreed to?” asked Dash.
Arutha motioned that they should walk. He headed out toward the central courtyard of the castle. The halls were thronged with pages, servants, and guards, attending the needs of a score of visiting nobles. “Within a month’s time, our former enemy will become Duke of the Southern Marches.”
“Lord Sutherland!” exclaimed Jimmy. “That’s incredible.”
“Patrick would rather not give him anything, and the King would prefer to name him Baron of Land’s End or something equally … local. I persuaded them both otherwise.”
“Why, Father?” asked Dash.
“Because Duko has, to all effects, a personal army of close to twenty-five thousand men. He may dream of something more noble than his previous calling as a sword-for-hire, but most of his soldiers have no allegiance to the Kingdom. I convinced the King that he might be the only hope for us to keep those men under control and make them Kesh’s problem rather than our own.”
Dash got a calculating expression. “If he’s a Duke … This means he answers to the Prince, and not to you.”
“I have my hands full. And if Patrick has direct control over Duko, he may come to trust him.”
Jimmy smiled. “Yet you will be advising the Prince on all matters pertaining to the Southern Marches.”
Arutha nodded. “And it keeps other political issues in balance.”
Jimmy and Dash both knew that meant Duko would be permitted to appoint his own captains to key locations along the southern borders, probably gaining titles for them. There were presently more offices than nobles to fill them due to the high mortality rate of the recent war in the West. Eastern nobles would already be pestering the King for some of those titles – more to the point, the taxes their lands brought. None of those, however, would be willing to venture to the West to directly rule them. Absentee rulership was not an alien concept in the Kingdom, but it was frowned upon in the West. There were too many problems—Queg, Kesh, the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, among others—to leave the administration of a Barony, let alone an Earldom or Duchy, to a bailiff or seneschal. A few key offices would be given to western nobles’ second or third sons, so that Duko wouldn’t be able to build a structure beneath him of only personal retainers.
Jimmy said, “Let me change the subject.” He indicated the young women dotting the room. “Is there anything we should know …”
“About what?” queried Arutha.
Dash said, “Has Patrick made a decision on who is going to be the next Princess of Krondor?”
Arutha glanced around, seeing if anyone was listening. “Our two most recent queens were from Roldem. Borric, and Lyam before him, were anxious to fix alliances in the East.” He put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You have the blood of Roldem in you. You know your mother’s people. They are vain and proud of their heritage and think of themselves as a people apart. This is why we have seen so little of your mother.” There was a bitter note in Arutha’s voice neither son had heard before.
They both knew their parents’ marriage had been arranged by their grandfather, Duke James, and had been as advantageous to the Kingdom as the two marriages of the last two kings to Roldem’s royal daughters. Dash and Jimmy’s parents had always been able to maintain a pose of wedded happiness in public, though the boys both knew the marriage was far from ideal. Only now were they learning just how strained the relationship between their parents truly was.
Dash said, “So it must be a Kingdom bride?”
Arutha nodded. “The King has said so, to me, in private. And it must be an eastern noble’s daughter. Preferably one from a Duke with a great deal of influence in the Congress of Lords.”
“Brian Silden,” said Jimmy.
“Borric has determined to let his son have the privilege of liking the woman who is to bear Isle’s future King. So there are five likely candidates for the position of Princess.”
Jimmy said, “Have you any inkling of who Patrick will ask to wed?”
Arutha regarded his son closely, and said, “Francine will be our next queen. All that remains is the timing. Patrick and she have been friends since childhood. He genuinely enjoys her company. There have been far worse foundations for state marriages in our time.”
Jimmy looked stricken.
Dash said, “Are you all right?”
Jimmy glanced from his father to his brother. “I just didn’t … realize.”
Arutha said, “What? Are you in love with her?”
Jimmy looked at his father and said, “I’ll never know.” Without another word he turned and walked away.
Arutha looked at Dash, who said, “Let him have some time to himself.”
“I didn’t realize,” said Arutha.
“He didn’t either,” said Dash. “That’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“Taking things for granted.” Looking at his father, he said, “Did Grandfather ever ask you if you wanted to serve the crown, Father?”
Arutha looked as if this question was equally perplexing as what he had just witnessed. After a pause, he said, “No, of course not.”
“Why ‘of course not'?”
“Because I was just a boy. I began, much as you did, running errands for him, then I was given work with the Royal Pages, then the Squires.”
“But when you became a man, did he ask if you might wish to do something else?”
Arutha looked at Dash and said, “No. He never did.”
“Did you ever consider you might have had a happier life if he had?”
Arutha was silent a moment, then said, “That may be the oddest question I’ve ever heard, son.”
Dash shrugged. “I’m full of very odd questions these days.”
“Why did you ask that?”
“Because I’m not certain I wish to continue in service to the crown.”
“What?” said Arutha. His tone was a mix of surprise and disbelief. “What would you do?”
Dash shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps return to Mister Avery’s employ. He is a very wealthy man.”
Arutha laughed. “On paper. The King may make good on repaying him by the time his grandchildren are running Avery and Jacoby.”
Dash smiled. “If I know Roo, he’ll find a way to amass another fortune before that.”
Arutha put his hand on Dash’s shoulder and said, “If you wish to be released from service to the crown, I can manage that. But please wait until after we get Fadawah out of Ylith. We have few enough competent men to serve.”
“I’ll agree to that.” Lowering his voice, Dash asked, “What comes next?”
“Publicly, a very large engagement party next week. During which Patrick secretly goes to Ravensburg, where he’ll meet Duko, who will kneel before him and swear fealty. Then the newly appointed Duke of the Southern Marches will return to the city and a hopefully quiet movement of soldiers will be underway. Those mercenaries who’ve been kept outside the walls will be allowed in. Many will be hired to man the garrison as others leave to find work along the Keshian border. By the time Patrick’s wedding is over and he returns to Krondor, the city will be firmly in our hands, without having alerted Fadawah too far in advance that he’s lost his southern command.”
Dash’s expression turned suspicious. “Where in all of this is the Duke of Krondor? Why aren’t you leading Patrick into his palace in triumph?”
“I’m needed elsewhere a while longer. There are things to be done only I can see through to the end.”
Dash said, “Forgive me if I say that sounds decidedly odd.”
“Odd or not, it’s true. Now go find your brother and see if he really is in distress. If so, go get him drunk and find a tavern wench to take his mind off of Francine.”
Dash said, “I’ll try,” and went off in search of his brother.
Arutha watched his younger son depart and stood lost in thought for a moment, then he turned and headed back to the banquet hall. There was still much that had to be arranged before any of the plans he had set in motion could continue on to fruition.
Erik von Darkmoor and Rupert Avery sat at a table in the Charging Boar, one of Darkmoor’s better taverns, when Jimmy and Dash entered. Jimmy looked drunk already, and Erik stood and signaled across the crowded common room. “Over here!”
Dash saw him and led a somewhat off-balance Jimmy over to the table. “Join us!” said Roo cheerfully.
A plump barmaid came by, and Erik indicated a round of ale for the four of them. Dash said, “No, thanks. He’s had enough.”
Erik looked surprised, but said nothing as he waved away the barmaid.
“What brings you out of the palace, young nobles?” asked Roo.
“We needed a change of air,” said Jimmy, his voice edged in bitterness.
Roo glanced at Erik, and Erik said, “Something sounds amiss.”
Dash leaned over, and in conspiratorial tones said, “A woman.”
Erik laughed, and when Jimmy’s expression darkened, put up his hands in supplication. “I make no jest, young Jimmy. It’s just … unexpected.”
Roo nodded. “We would have wagered neither of you would ever be seeking solace in an ale jack because of a woman.”
Jimmy said, “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” agreed Roo.
Both brothers knew of Roo’s involvement with Sylvia Esterbrook, the daughter of a Keshian agent who had played Roo like a flute, causing him to cheat on his wife, compromise his own business, and the welfare of the Kingdom. He had been, by all reports, a model husband since then, but they understood his lessons had been hard-learned.
“So who’s the girl?” asked Erik.
“The Duke of Silden’s daughter,” replied Dash.
“Ah,” said Erik, as if he understood. “She’s not interested, or … otherwise engaged?”
Dash looked around the room, “The latter, but it’s not widely known.”
Erik apparently understood the context of the remark. He stood up. “I’ve got to return to the castle.” He turned toward Roo and said, “Give my best to Karli. And the children.”
“And my affections to Kitty,” returned Roo.
After he had left, Roo said, “I should be getting along, too. I’ve got a lot to do in the morning. I’ve got a shipment of wagons bringing grain for Nakor’s temple due in at first light.”
Jimmy said, “I haven’t seen Nakor since Pug stormed out of Patrick’s court. Where is he?”
“He’s smart enough to know when to get out of sight,” answered Roo. “He’s been down at his temple the last couple of days.”
Roo nodded. “I have on more than one occasion felt like sleeping anywhere but at home. I understand. If you need, come by the house. We have room if you don’t mind sleeping under a wagon.” He laughed. “Well, young lords, good night.”
The barmaid came by again and said, “Would you like something before we close for the night, young sirs?”
Dash said, “Thank you, but no. We’ll be on our way.”
Jimmy said, “I’m not going back to the palace.”
“Fine,” said Dash. “But at least let’s walk some, so you can pass out in a more agreeable place.”
Jimmy’s expression brightened. “I know! Let’s go see Nakor!”
For lack of any better suggestion, Dash agreed. The two brothers left the tavern, and Dash kept one hand on Jimmy’s arm, half-guiding, half-supporting as he stumbled along.
Jimmy groaned. His head pounded and his eyes felt as if they were glued shut. His mouth tasted as if someone had tossed in table scraps a week earlier and left them to ripen.
“Would you like some water?”
Jimmy forced his eyes open and instantly wished he hadn’t, as the pounding in his head increased in intensity. Hovering over him was a woman’s face, and as his eyes focused, he saw the rest of her swim into shape. He lifted his head and got his right arm under himself and reached out with his left hand.
She placed a water cup in it and he drank. Suddenly he knew it was a bad idea: his heart began to thunder and his skin flushed, and perspiration began to bead on his brow. He knew he was experiencing the worst hangover of his life, and eventually the water would be necessary, so he forced himself to drain the cup. “Thanks,” he said in a hoarse whisper, handing the cup back.
“Your brother’s in there,” she said, pointing to the office Nakor used as his personal quarters when staying at the temple.
“Do I know you?” croaked Jimmy.
“I don’t think so,” said the young woman, with a faint smile. “I know you, however. You’re the Duke – the old Duke’s grandson, aren’t you?”
Jimmy nodded. “James, son of Duke Arutha, and yes, Lord James was my grandfather. They call me Jimmy.”
“You can call me Aleta.” She studied his face. “A woman?”
He nodded. “I guess.”
Glancing him over, she observed, “Well, you’re not much to look at now, but I’ve seen you in a couple of the taverns I’ve worked, and when you’re not drunk or hung over, you’re not a bad-looking fellow. I don’t expect you hear ‘no’ very often.”
“It’s not that,” he said, rising slowly. “I just found out she’s marrying someone else.”
“Ah,” said Aleta, as if she understood. “Does she know?”
“What?”
“That you’re killing yourself with ale over her?”
“No. We were friends as children …” He squinted at her. “Why am I telling you this?”
She smiled. “Because you need to?”
He took another drink of water. “Thank you. I think I’ll see what my brother is doing.”
He walked on shaky legs through a warehouse bustling with activity. When he was almost to the door of Nakor’s office, the large outer doors to the warehouse swung open and filled it with light. Jimmy turned to see a wagon being driven up to and then into the entrance, with other wagons behind it.
The door to the office opened behind Jimmy, and Nakor came rashing out. “Roo!” he shouted as he passed Jimmy. “You’re here with the food!”
Dash followed and stopped next to his brother. “Are you alive?”
“Barely,” croaked Jimmy. “What happened?”
“You attempted to drown yourself in ale. You failed.”
“I know, but how did we get here?”
“Father sent me after you and told me to get you drunk and in the arms of a tavern wench.”
“Seems you succeeded with half the order.”
“Well, there were a couple of ladies willing to accommodate, but you seemed in no mood.”
“I’m a mess,” said Jimmy. “I don’t really know how I feel about all this.”
Dash shrugged. “Maybe that’s the best. We’ve both known since childhood we were to have no say in who we wed. With Father being Duke of Krondor, it’s too important we wed for the good of the state.”
“I know, but I feel so …”
“What?”
Jimmy sighed. “I don’t know.”
“It isn’t about Francie, you know,” said Dash.
“No?”
“No,” said Dash. “If she’s the Queen there’s nothing to keep the two of you apart; the Gods know the court is well practiced in looking the other way. No, it’s something else. It’s about you and what you really want.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think I do, really, but it’s about you.” He looked at the wagon. “I still half expect to see Jason on one of those wagons,” Dash said reflectively.
Jason had been an employee of Rupert’s Bitter Sea Company when Dash had served there, and had been feeding information to Rupert’s rival, Jacob Esterbrook, because of his misguided love for Jacob’s daughter. He had died in the war.
As the first wagon entered the warehouse, Jimmy said, “Tell me, who’s that girl?”
“Which one?” Dash asked.
“That one over there, who gave me water. She said her name was Aleta.”
“Then you know more of her than I,” said Dash. “Why don’t you ask Nakor.”
“There’s something odd about her. Nice, but odd.”
Dash said, “There’s Luis!” He hurried past Jimmy to the second wagon, where Luis de Savona sat next to a woman Dash didn’t recognize. Luis jumped down, and Dash said, “Luis! It’s good to see you again.”
Luis shook hands with Dash and said, “It’s good to see you again, young Mr. Jamison. I was grieved to learn of your grandparents’ death.” Luis had spent the winter in Salador, overseeing Roo’s holdings in the East while Roo had worked in Darkmoor.
Dash said, “I appreciate that.” He then noticed the woman as she climbed down off the wagon. “Mrs. Avery?” he said in wonder.
Karli Avery had been a plain-looking, pale and plump woman. The woman who was stepping before him was slender, tanned, and while still not pretty, had an alive, expressive face that commanded attention. “Dash!” she said, taking his hands and kissing his cheek. “How are you?”
“I’m just fine, Mrs. Avery, but you … you look so different!”
She laughed. “There’s been a great deal of work and not much food all winter. Loading and unloading wagons, learning to drive them, caring for the children. Spending days in the sun; it all changes a person.”
“Quite so,” observed Dash. Jimmy approached, and Dash said, “You remember my brother, don’t you?”
Both said hello to Jimmy, and Dash said, “What of the children, and Mrs. Jacoby?”
“All back in Salador, under Helen’s care,” said Karli, “only it’s no longer Mrs. Jacoby. She’s Mrs de Savona now.”
Dash laughed and playfully struck Luis in the arm. “You got married!”
Roo walked over with Nakor at his side. “He most certainly did.”
Nakor congratulated his old companion, and said, “I hope you’re at last happy.”
Luis smiled. “As happy as I’m likely to be, you odd little man.”
“That will have to do,” said Nakor. To Roo he said, “Did you get my grain and my statue maker?”
Roo said, “I haven’t found the sculptor yet, but here’s your grain.”
“Did the wagon makers prove useful?” asked Nakor as he began inspecting the contents of the two wagons. Other wagons were arriving outside.
Roo said, “Very. I’m of a mind to be early into Krondor; there may be a very large number of skilled artisans and craftsmen among the invaders. If I can recruit them …”
Jimmy and Dash exchanged glances. Jimmy asked, “How do you know they’ll be free to work, considering there’s a war going on?”
Roo laughed. “I’m not without my sources, and I knew Patrick was going to cut a deal with Duko about an hour after you did.”
“Sources?”
“Your father,” said Roo, laughing. “He’s not quite as evil-minded as your grandfather, but your father is no slouch when it comes to making sure he has all his resources ready. Besides, I’m the largest single debt-holder on the Royal Treasury, so he has to keep me apprised of what’s going on.”
Jimmy said, “Well, then, I expect you’ll recover your losses before you’re through.”
Nakor said, “If he doesn’t get himself killed first.”
Roo threw Nakor a dark look. “I’m not volunteering for any more hare-brained missions, you can bet. From now on I’m a conservative family man, a businessman who will stay home and look after his holdings.”
From nearby another voice said, “After we take care of a little job.”
All eyes turned to see Erik von Darkmoor standing nearby. “I came looking for all of you; how convenient I find all of you together.” To Dash and Jimmy, he said, “Report to your father, now, gentlemen.”
The brothers didn’t hesitate, and started for the door. As Jimmy passed the young woman who gave him water, he said, “Thanks again.”
She nodded and smiled and said nothing.
Erik turned to Nakor. “Can you reach Brother Dominic?”
Nakor nodded. “He’s due back from Rillanon, soon. He’s supposed to be bringing me word as to the Temple of Ishap’s willingness to support our efforts here. I suspect he is either in Salador or on the road from Salador to here.”
“I’ll send a patrol eastward, looking for him. If he somehow gets here before they find him, please let Duke Arutha know.”
Nakor nodded. “Why, if I may ask?”
“You can ask,” said Erik. “I can’t answer. You’ll have to ask Duke Arutha.”
Nakor said, “I might.”
To Roo, Erik said, “I need to speak with you.” He glanced at Luis and Karli, saying, “Excuse me, please.”
He led Roo to a distant comer of the warehouse-turned-temple, and when they were alone, he said, “Who do you have still working for you in Sarth?”
Roo asked, “What makes you think I have anyone working for me in Sarth?”
Erik said, “Roo, it’s me you’re talking to. Now, who do you have still working for you in Sarth?”
Roo said, “John Vinci. He acts as an independent trader; he specializes in bringing in contraband from Queg. That’s why it’s not widely known he works for me.”
“Good. We need to visit with him.”
“What?” said Roo. “We? Visit?”
Erik said, “We need to see how things are in Sarth before we turn northward. We need to come back with a detailed report before Owen takes the army and moves to crush Nordan in Sarth. We’ve sent scouts around the area, and most of them have come back, but we can’t tell how strong the deployment is inside the town. We need to get inside and look around.”
Roo looked his boyhood friend in the eye, and said, “When you say ‘we,’ you’re speaking of the Kingdom army, right?”
“No, I mean you and I need to get in there and scout.”
Roo said, “No!”
“You must,” said Erik. “You’re the only man we know who has a plausible enough story that can get us into Sarth without getting our throats cut.”
“What story?”
“You’re a well-known Kingdom merchant who has openly traded with Queg and the Free Cities. You’re reputed to put a profit above everything else. If you were to sneak into Sarth – especially with your friend Vinci ready to corroborate your story – even if we get apprehended, you’ll be convincing in your role as the greedy merchant anxious to set up trade before his competition does.”
“We?”
“I’m going, too,” said Erik.
Roo still looked unconvinced. “So you’ll be standing beside me on the gibbet again? Only this time there won’t be any Bobby de Longville to haul us to our feet and explain we’re being reprieved to serve the crown.
“No, thank you. I’ve done my service and been pardoned for my crimes.”
“You want to see any of the money the crown owes you, ever again?”
“It’s my most ardent hope.”
“Then I’d consider this, Roo.”
He glanced around. “This isn’t the place to talk. Come to the castle tonight and seek me out in my quarters. I’ll explain more then.”
Roo said, “For the sake of our friendship, I will, but I’m not going on any more stone-headed missions, Erik.”
The smuggler’s boat sailed silently up the coast, hugging as close inshore as possible, without shoaling out on the reefs which dotted the shoreline between Krondor and Ylith.
Roo and Erik had ridden to within a half-day’s walk of the coast, just beyond a checkpoint Duko had established, and escort riders had taken the horses back to Owen Greylock’s forward position. An unofficial channel of communication was already in operation, and even though few outside of the Prince’s immediate circle knew of the coming change in loyalties on Duke Duko’s part, there were rumors of change in the wind.
Most of them planted by Duke Arutha’s agents.
The current one being carefully fostered was that the Kingdom couldn’t mount an offensive this year against the invaders in the North, due in the main to Kesh’s threatening presence on their southern flank. Additionally, it was rumored, the Prince would be leaving soon for the East, to get married in the royal palace at Rillanon, leaving the command in the West to Owen Greylock, with express orders to hold where they were, defend where necessary, but to seek no offensive.
Roo had been astonished by the scope of the deception. He had been told by Erik that Arutha’s agents were already in Krondor, quietly undertaking the transfer of power, with as little fanfare as possible. It was Erik’s passionate hope that by the time the Armies of the West were ready to redeploy, not only would the enemy be taken by surprise, but they would have been lulled into a state of complacency.
A crewman whispered, “We’re nearly there. Get ready.”
Roo said, “Are you sure this is necessary?”
“Absolutely,” said Erik.
The Captain ordered sail lowered and a small boat was put over the side. Neither Erik nor Roo were sailors, but Erik felt competent enough to row a boat into a quiet fishing village without calling too much attention to themselves.
The boat was lowered and Erik and Roo shimmied down ropes to get into the skiff, and by the time Erik had the oars in the oarlocks, the smuggler had his sails up and was putting out toward deeper water. The current here ran southeast, and Erik was forced to work to keep on course, trying to come in at a fishing village in a sandy cove just south of Sarth.
Roo said, “Are you all right?”
Erik pulled hard and the boat seem to jump forward. “Everything’s fine.”
The sound of breakers wasn’t loud, as the surf was relatively calm, but it still picked the boat up as the combers ran up on the shore, turning into breakers. Erik pulled and the boat seemed to be climbing a hill, only to slide backward a bit as the wave broke just in front of them.
Suddenly the bow of the boat dipped and Roo glanced over his shoulder and realized he was looking at water. “Erik!” he shouted as the wave crashed down upon him, drenching him to the skin in moments.
The boat wallowed and turned sideways as Erik fought to keep it pointed at the beach. The boat tipped to the left, then suddenly it flipped, and Erik and Roo both were tossed into the water.
Roo sputtered as he came up, and to his irritation found he was only waist deep in water. He looked around and saw Erik standing a few yards away. The boat, upside down, was being pushed into the sand by the waves.
Wading over toward Erik, Roo was about to comment on Erik’s boat-handling skills when a lantern a dozen yards away was unshuttered. Men stood at the edge of the water, visible in the lantern’s light; torches were lit. Soon, Erik and Roo could see a score of armed men, many with bows or crossbows pointed in their direction, facing them from the dry sand. In the distance, behind them, the faint outlines of the fishing village could be seen.
Roo turned to Erik and said, “Everything’s fine?”