Kingdom Of Royth rb-9 Read online

  A passing rain squall had given them several more days’ worth of water and one of the sailors had set several lines over the side for fish. Brora estimated that with reasonable luck with the weather they would reach shore within three weeks. They were unfortunately farther south than merchant ships on the east-west route usually sailed, so it was not too likely that they would be picked up. But they were in no immediate danger, except for the possibility of more pirates or storms. Blade went to sleep that night in a resigned but relaxed frame of mind.

  So it was an agreeable surprise when he was awakened the next morning by cries from the sailors.

  «A ship! A ship!»

  As always, Blade was fully awake in an instant. He sat up, turned, and looked at the approaching ship. It was already hull-up, and even at a distance he could see that it was enormous, with three tall masts each carrying three square sails and a fourth mast with a single triangular lateen sail perched aft. The high-sided hull gleamed with gilding and dark blue and red paint.

  «That’s a ship of Royth, sure enough,» muttered Brora. «A royal warship, indeed.» He looked vaguely disturbed as he said that.

  «Is that unusual?» asked Blade.

  «Nay, nay. Royth has a good fleet, tho’ no as large as it ought to be, for the safety o’ her coasts and shipping. But ye seldom see a royal warship sailin’ by herself in these waters. Ay well, there’s naught to be gained by frettin’ over what we can’t help.» He turned away to rummage a signal rocket out of its tarred-canvas casing in the bottom of the boat, leaving Blade to wonder again what those cryptic remarks might mean. Brora, he had already discovered, was a man who was very sparing with words.

  If Brora had intended to imply that the ship might be a pirate’s prize, he was wrong. The signal rocket arched up and went off in a flurry of green smoke. A few minutes later another rocket rose up in reply from the ship as she came about. Half an hour later they were alongside her. Blade stared up at the immense height of her sides to the peak of her tallest mast, where a black banner with five red castles in a circle on it flapped limply in the light breeze. Bearded faces lined the rails, most of them topped with leather or metal helmets, and Blade saw the glint of spear points and sword blades.

  Somebody stuck a black-bearded face farther over the railing and yelled down:

  «Ahoy, the boat! Who be ye?»

  «Survivors of Krim’s Blacksnake. She and Malfor’s Trident met pirates not far from here six days a-gone. Both burned, but we sank one pirate and burned t’other three.»

  Cheers exploded from the deck above at Brora’s words. Beardface was silent, though, and shouted back:

  «Can ye prove this? We know not if’n ye be pirates yourselves, set adrift to be picked up and betray us from wi’in.» The cheers died, to be replaced by apprehensive grumbling.

  «WHAAAAT?» exploded Brora. «By Druck’s seaweed-covered prick, I’ll skin ye for that! Know ye not Brora Lanthal’s son?»

  More muttering and grumbling. Then the crowd of faces at the railing gave way as a tall gray-haired man stepped into view and stared down at the boat with piercing black eyes. He wore a black tunic with the same five red castles on the chest as Blade had seen on the ship’s banner. Blade had the sensation of being under an abnormally keen and intelligent scrutiny.

  Brora took one look at the man and quickly knelt. «My Lord Duke! This then be your ship?»

  «Yes, but why I am aboard it and it is here is a story best told before fewer ears.» The duke glared about him and Blade saw most of the heads abruptly disappear. «Captain, I know this Brora Lanthal’s son. He and any with him have my countenance as honest men.»

  «But m’lord-«began the bearded face who had first spoken.

  «Captain, I am still a Grand Duke of Royth,» said the duke coldly. Blade saw the captain’s mouth shut abruptly. Moments later a rope ladder sailed over the railing and dropped down the side of the ship. And a few moments after that, Blade, Brora, and the other ten men from the boat were standing securely on the ship’s deck, just forward of the mainmast.

  CHAPTER 4

  The man in black turned out to be the Grand Duke Khystros, younger brother to King Pelthros of Royth. Blade was sufficiently self-assured to feel no uneasiness at confronting such a high-ranking individual in his burlap loincloth and sunburned skin. And Khystros had a relaxed, no-nonsense manner that set everybody else at ease, from Brora on down to the youngest ship’s boy among the survivors.

  After a few sharp questions, Khystros ordered the first mate to take the other survivors forward and see that they were fed, clothed and attended. Then he led Blade, Brora, and the captain down into his own cabin aft. There he dismissed the waiting attendants. With his own hands he rummaged clothing, shoes, and salves out of huge brassbound chests racked along one wall of the cabin. After that, he sat down in a light folding chair of delicately carved wood and black canvas, fixed Brora with an inquiring glance, and said:

  «Well, Brora Lanthal’s son. I judge you have a tale to tell. I’m listening.»

  Brora had been as nervous as a patient in a dentist’s waiting room at the prospect of being questioned by such an exalted person. But under Khystros’ calming influence, he told his story completely, quickly, and well. The duke mostly listened in silence, only injecting a question now and then. When Brora had finished, the duke nodded his thanks and turned to look at Blade.

  «Well, Master-Blahyd?» He pronounced it in two syllables, and Blade realized that he would have to go through this Dimension answering to this mispronunciation.

  «That’s close enough, sir.»

  «No doubt. You claim to be a footloose mercenary from the south-a rather vague place of origin, I must say. Are there many like you-in the ‘south’?» The duke’s skepticism about Blade’s story was evident in his voice.

  Blade knew he had only a split second to decide how to answer. Khystros’ keen wits would detect the slightest hesitation on his part, and then the fat would be in the fire. He put the thought aside, took a deep breath, and said, «Not many, sir. I’m better than most.»

  «One rather hopes so,» said the duke drily. «If the south-or wherever you hail from-is swarming with fighting men who can kill a dozen Neral pirates singlehandedly, a southern army could gobble up all the Four Kingdoms and the island of Neral as easily as a cat gobbles up a mouse. However, that’s not our concern now.» He turned his head slightly. «Alixa! Some wine for our guests, if you please.»

  The woman who came out of the curtained doorway at the rear of the cabin was obviously Khystros’ daughter. The family resemblance was unmistakable. She was as tall as her father, only a few inches shorter than Blade, who was well over six feet, and as slim and fine-boned as a thoroughbred horse. The face framed by great masses of blueblack hair was high-cheeked, with a broad mobile mouth now curved in a welcoming smile and large gray eyes that were appraising Blade with frank interest. She was silent as she sped about the cabin, taking down leather wine bottles and chased silver cups, filling the cups, and handing them to the three men. Then she folded herself gracefully down onto a cushion by the door and listened while her father explained to Blade the sad situation of the Kingdom of Royth and of himself as well.

  The pirates of Neral were indeed waxing stronger and fiercer each month and year, as Brora had said. Never before, in fact, had so large a force as the four galleys that had attacked Blacksnake and Trident been seen so far south. It was good that the pirates had paid so heavily for their victory. Perhaps this would make them think before sending a squadron so far afield again.

  But it would take far more than one affair of mutual slaughter to beat back the threat from Neral forever. The pirate island was the base for some two hundred warships plus supporting vessels, manned by some fifty thousand or more fighting men and women. But there was more than the sheer military might of the pirates involved in their threat. In fact, that might was seriously flawed by the pirates’ lack of training and experience in land warfare.

  But wha
t if their road were smoothed for them by treachery? That was another story. And there was treachery afoot in Royth itself. Khystros had no proof of this certain enough to lay before King Pelthros. But he knew to his own complete satisfaction that Count Indhios, High Chancellor of the Kingdom of Royth, was in the pay of the Neralers. It was obvious that if the pirates could take, by force or treachery, one of the Four Kingdoms and add its resources to their own, they would become the rulers of the Ocean and arbiters of the fate of all who lived by it or traveled on it. The stakes in the game they were playing were enormous, but so was the prize they might win.

  But Pelthros was not a strong or decisive ruler. He was exceedingly well-intentioned and concerned about justice, to be sure, but he failed to realize that justice is not always best rendered by putting off decisions. He also had definite abilities as a craftsman-jewelry-making in particular, which he pursued as often as possible, and too often for the good of his realm.

  All this (which Khystros mentioned with an apologetic air, knowing it ill became him to criticize his monarch and brother in such a fashion) had much bearing on Khystros’ situation. When the duke had first broached the notion of the Chancellor’s treachery to Pelthros, he had been told sharply to go back and gather more evidence before he would be allowed to confront a high and long-trusted servant of the crown with such a monstrous charge. That had given Indhios the time he needed.

  The Chancellor in his turn had brought forward cleverly manufactured evidence that Khystros was conspiring to make off with a large portion of the royal taxes by appointing his own subjects as tax collectors. And what was he planning to do with the money? Ah, that was as yet something of a mystery. But certainly Khystros would only need such vast sums of money beyond his already great wealth if he needed to pay a faction among the nobility. For what end, who knew?

  Pelthros was naturally even less willing to arraign his own brother on inadequate evidence than he was his Chancellor. But Indhios had suggested an alternative course of action. Khystros had been reproaching himself ever since for not having suggested it first; he felt his failure showed great want of statecraft.

  On the eastern shore of the Ocean lay the Kingdom of Mardha, the largest though poorest of the Four Kingdoms. What better way to improve relations between Mardha and Royth than by sending King Pelthros’ own honorable brother there as Ambassador, with his daughter and a suitably chosen retinue? In far-distant Mardha, Khystros could perform a valuable service to his Crown, yet have little time and less opportunity for plotting and faction-building.

  «So here I am,» finished Khystros. «I could hardly refuse, because that would have played into Indhios’ fat hands. I did suggest that to be less conspicuous I travel in a small, fast vessel, with only my daughter and a few guards and secretaries. But Indhios convinced my brother that the High King of Mardha sets great store by an imposing show. Were I to appear in anything less than the chief warship of the royal fleet of Royth, with less than a hundred useless mouths in my train, both I and the Kingdom would be forever disgraced in the eyes of the Mardhans. Ah, well, we must eat what is set before us.»

  He looked sharply at Blade again. «Wherever you come from, it seems clear to me that you have no love for the pirates. You are a fighting man such as one meets more often in legend than in fact. And Mardha is a wild land, with its High Kings barely able to keep order even within the walls of their own palaces. What do you say to joining my service as a guard? You deserve more rank than I could give you without arousing jealousy among those who already serve me, for I can see you are born to lead as well as to fight. But in Mardha, anything may happen, and the more trustworthy men I have guarding my back, the better I will feel. Well, Master Blahyd?»

  Blade had to consider the offer only for a moment. He could hardly find a position that offered better opportunities to explore this world than that of a household guard to an important and far-traveling noble. Furthermore, he could make use of his great skill in combat and would have no need to support himself by pretending to other skills he did not possess. And of all the masters he had found it necessary or expedient to serve in his travels, Khystros seemed among the most decent. So he nodded and then added, «What about Brora Lanthal’s son? We are sworn friends.»

  Khystros grinned. «I was about to offer him a place also. Seamaster Brora, you served well aboard the yacht of my wife’s father in your younger days. Will you serve me as well now?»

  «I will, sir.»

  «So be it.» Khystros refilled the wine cups, and they all drank.

  CHAPTER 5

  For over a week the ship, Triumph, sailed east before the light but steady breeze. Brora and the other survivors of the battle were quickly accepted into the crew and assigned duties. Brora became an assistant to the sailing master; others took posts as their skills suggested. Blade, as one of the Grand Duke’s private guard, had no shipboard duties, but exercised regularly in arms with the other guardsmen. They were indeed few. Most of the Grand Duke’s retainers were useless civilian hangers-on, seasick half the time even in the good weather and seldom appearing on deck. Blade shuddered to contemplate what would happen to those poor wretches in the event of a pirate attack.

  Blade’s superb physique quickly threw off the minor effects of his five days adrift. The other guards were frankly amazed at what he could do with rapier and dagger, broadsword, battleaxe, or mace. None of them could best him, and few could even stay with him in the canvas-covered arms arena marked out amidships for more than a few minutes at a time. Practice sessions, simple but ample meals, and sleep to throw off the healthy exhaustion of much hard physical exercise took up much of the day. But there was still time for Blade to walk the whitescraped planks of Triumph’s deck, from forward to aft and back again, look up at the sails and masts towering against the searing blue sky, and contemplate his problems.

  Apart from simple boredom, there were two of them. There was Triumph’s captain, and there was the Lady Alixa. Blake had watched the captain’s face during the discussion of the pirate danger. The man was clearly skilled at concealing his emotions. But there had been many occasions during Blade’s years as a secret agent when reading another man’s expression had been a matter of life or death. Blade had trained himself to penetrate disguises and would have sworn the captain was delighted at the news of pirates roaming and ravaging far south of their usual haunts. Furthermore, it seemed entirely plausible to Blade that Chancellor Indhios had bribed or coerced the captain into making sure that Grand Duke Khystros never reached Mardha alive. Whether the captain himself was also in the pay of the pirates and sworn to lead this rich prize like a lamb into the jaws of the wolves was another nasty question.

  Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about his suspicions. He was in the same position as the Grand Duke himself had been in accusing the Chancellor-he had no evidence that would convince a reasonable man. And in a way he was worse off than the duke, since he had no position here that would at least assure him an open, let alone a receptive, ear. He was, he had to face it, nothing but a hired bodyguard. The duke’s favor to him might easily dry up if he started hurling what might well seem wild accusations.

  The problem with Lady Alixa seemed almost equally insoluble. In a word, she had her eyes on him. He guessed that she was a strong-willed, hot-tempered young woman who would not take kindly to a refusal. She would find some way to make even as levelheaded and just a man as her father believe that Blade had seduced or at least insulted her. And there would go his position, if not his head. Yet if he took her, and Khystros found out, wouldn’t the same thing happen? Blade had a reasonably good opinion of himself in general, but he honestly could not see himself as Khystros’ choice of a son-in-law. And this was entirely apart from the fearful complications that such a relationship would involve when it came time for him to return to Home Dimension. He had left lovely women and even children behind him on several of his journeys and did not wish to do so again.

  So he paced the deck and tur
ned steadily browner under the tropical sun that beat down day after day. He learned to identify the seabirds and the great silver and green fish that often paced the ship for hours on end, further toughened his iron physique with more weapons exercise and gymnastics, and occasionally spoke with Khystros. The man seemed to be brooding about something. Blade only hoped it wasn’t his daughter’s regard for the new guardsman that was troubling the Grand Duke. The Lady Alixa took little care to conceal the look in her eyes when they fell on Blade.

  An evening came, when the sun set in a western sky as flawless as ever. But the wind was brisker; flurries of white crowned the rising waves, and the groan and creak of massive timbers and the whine of the wind in the rigging came louder than usual to Blade’s ears as he walked aft. Tonight was his turn to guard the door of the Grand Duke’s suite, a duty rotated among the guardsmen. He wore a boiled leather cuirass and helmet heavy enough to stop most blades but not subject to rusting in the damp sea air. He carried a straight broadsword and a heavy dagger. A long red cloak with a black lining flowed from his broad shoulders to the tops of his sea boots.

  The moon rose, sickle-thin and pale, but the wind held steady. The last light drained from the western sky and the masts and sails faded to vague blurs in the darkness. Blade shifted his weight from one foot to the other for the twentieth time and pulled gently on the well-oiled sword to make sure it rested easily in its scabbard.