The King's Buccaneer by Raymond E. Feist
He began to reach for a book, when caution held that impulse in check. He screwed up his face and stared at the books through fluttering lids, almost closed, but opened just enough to admit light. He didn’t know why this trick worked, but he had discovered that by doing that, he could see certain signs of tricks, or what others insisted was magic.
After a moment he detected the faint blue glow. “Traps,” he whispered. “Not nice.”
He turned his back on the books and crossed to another room. Opening the door, he felt his heart leap as he stared into the eyes of a man sitting in a chair. It was Dahakon!
The man did not stir. Nakor slipped through the door and closed it behind him, and saw the magician’s body was motionless and his eyes were fixed on space. Nakor walked over to him and bent to stare into his eyes. There was something going on in there, he was certain, but whatever it was, he was not paying attention to Nakor.
Then Nakor saw the other Dahakon, and he grinned. He hurried over to the figure that stood motionless against the wall, and he examined it. The thing reeked of spices and fragrances purchased from a seller of colognes and perfumes. Nakor touched its hand and pulled his own away; the thing was obviously dead. Nakor looked into the eyes and considered what he had seen in the previous two rooms. Now he knew where the poor dead man’s skin had gone.
Behind the real Dahakon was a study table, with scrolls and other things of interest, so Nakor sat and began to snoop.
Hours had gone by and he had investigated everything of interest in the room. In the desk he had found a crystal lens, and upon looking through it, Nakor discovered he could see the telltale energies of tricks. The blue nimbus around the books in the next room sprang out, even though he could see only some of them through the open door. And around Dahakon a ruby light shone, a thread of which rose through the ceiling. “Pug?” Nakor whispered, and suddenly things made sense. Nakor knew with certainty what was occupying Dahakon’s attention. With no apology, he put the appropriated lens in his bag.
He got up, hurried past the motionless magician, and began to retrace his steps back to the city. He decided exiting at the burned-out house would save him the irritation of sneaking out of the palace, though he would be forced to swim the river. Feeling sorry for what that would do to his fine new robe, he moved on.
—
MARGARET TRIED TO run, but her feet wouldn’t move. She looked over her shoulder, but couldn’t see what was pursuing her. Ahead she saw her father; she opened her mouth to shout for his help, but she couldn’t make a sound. Panic rose up within her, and she again tried to shout. The thing behind was almost upon her. As terror enveloped her, she opened her mouth.
With a scream she awoke. The noise startled the two creatures in the room and they moved away. Margaret was dripping with perspiration. Her nightdress clung to her body as she pushed aside the bedcovers and moved to Abigail’s bed. She found herself unsteady on her feet, but for the first time in days her mind was clear.
She sat on the edge of Abigail’s bed and shook her. “Abby!” she called, keeping her voice low.
Abigail stirred but wouldn’t awaken. “Abby!” she repeated as she shook her.
Then a hand fell on Margaret’s shoulder and she felt her heart leap. She spun to warn off the creature, but instead of an alien thing, Abby stood behind her. Margaret stood up and pressed her back against the wall, eyes wide with fear. The second Abby was nude, and perfect in every detail. Margaret had bathed with her friend enough to recognize the small birthmark above her navel, and the scar on her knee from when a brother had pushed her down as a child.
Everything about the second Abby was perfect, except for the eyes. They were dead. In a distant whisper, the second Abby said, “Go back to bed.”
Margaret glanced behind her as she moved toward her own bed and saw the second figure was sitting, slack-jawed, in the corner. Margaret’s eyes widened as she saw herself, also nude, across the room. Margaret’s scream tore the night.
20
PLANS
Nicholas looked up.
Nakor entered the inn, still dripping from his swim across the river. The little man crossed the crowded common room and sat down at the table with Nicholas, Amos, Harry, and Anthony. Praji, Vaja, Ghuda, and Brisa sat at the next table. Grinning, he said, “Anything hot to eat?”
Nicholas nodded and said, “Harry, would you get Nakor some food?”
Harry got up, and Nicholas said, “Where have you been?”
“Around. Lots of places. I’ve seen lots of things. Interesting things. But we shouldn’t talk about them here. After I eat.”
Nicholas nodded. Harry returned with a plate of hot food and a mug of ale and the entire company sat in silence watching the little man eat. He showed no discomfort at being the object of so much silent scrutiny. When he was finished, he stood up and said, “Nicholas, we need to talk.”
Nicholas rose and said, “Amos?”
Amos nodded and followed them. They entered Nicholas’s room and Nakor said, “I think I know where the captives are.”
“Calis has found them,” said Nicholas. He repeated what Calis had told him.
“But not Margaret or Abigail,” said Amos.
Nakor nodded vigorously, his face split into a grin. “I know Calis has been there. Saw his footprint. He’s very good. Even a good tracker wouldn’t have seen it, but I was lying hiding and my nose was an inch from it.” He chuckled.
“How did you get into that estate?” asked Nicholas.
“Found a passage from the palace that goes under the river.”
Amos and Nicholas exchanged open-mouthed expressions of amazement, and Amos said, “And how did you get into the palace?”
Nakor told them how he had entered it, and of some of the things he saw. “This Overlord is a strange man. He’s very preoccupied with silly things: ceremonies and pretty girls.”
Amos grinned. “Well, you’re half right: ceremonies are silly.”
Nakor said, “I think he is a tool. I think this Dahakon and his lady friend are those who are controlling things. This Overlord acts like a man whose mind has been tampered with; he serves his role. The woman with Dahakon, she’s very interesting.”
Nicholas said, “I don’t care. What about Margaret and Abigail?”
Nakor shrugged. “They must be somewhere in the big house. I didn’t look. I can go back and see.”
Nicholas shook his head. “Wait until Calis returns. I don’t want you tripping over each other over there.”
Nakor grinned. “We wouldn’t. There are things about him that are very special, and I know how to hide.”
Nicholas said, “Nevertheless, wait until tomorrow. If he’s found them, there’s no need for you to return.”
Nakor’s expression turned serious. “No. I will go back.”
“Why?” asked Amos.
“Because I am the only one who can face Dahakon’s lady friend and live.”
“Is she a witch?” asked Nicholas.
“No,” answered Nakor. “How are we going to get home?”
Amos rubbed his chin. “There are two ships in the harbor, either one of which would do—they are copies of Kingdom ships.”
Nakor said, “This is all very strange. Dahakon is making copies of people.”
“Copies?” asked Nicholas.
“Yes. He made a copy of himself. That’s what I saw when the Overlord was announcing his wedding to the Ranjana. It’s a very good copy to look at, if you don’t get too close, but it’s stupid. It can’t talk, so his lady friend spoke for him. It smells very bad. I think he must make a new one soon.”
“How does he make copies?” asked Amos.
Remembering the room with the corpses, Nakor said, “From dead people. You really don’t wish to know.”
Nicholas said, “But the prisoners aren’t dead.”
Nakor nodded. “That’s the strange part. Different tricks. Dahakon’s a necromancer. The tricks Calis saw are not death tricks, but”—he shru
Amos said, “Well, one thing’s obvious.”
Nicholas said, “Nothing seems obvious to me. What is it?”
“They’re going to take them home.”
“The prisoners?” asked Nicholas.
“No,” said Nakor. “The copies.”
Amos stroked his chin. “But we don’t know why.”
“Spies?” asked Nicholas.
Amos said, “A great deal of trouble for little gain. If the Royal Gull comes sailing into any Kingdom harbor, there’ll be a lot of questions, and those copies aren’t going to escape close inspection. Much easier to just slip a couple of folks into Krondor, or Crydee, or wherever, like that Quegan trader who came to Crydee before the raid. No, this is something else.”
Nakor said, “We can find out. It will just take some time.”
Nicholas said, “I think we’re almost out of time.”
Amos said, “Why?”
“A feeling. Calis said that many of the prisoners have already died. We don’t know if it’s from these copies or what, but if we’re going to save any of them, we must do it soon.”
Amos shrugged. “From what Calis said, they’re not going to be in much shape for running.”
“Nakor, how far is it from the place the prisoners are being held to the tunnel?” asked Nicholas.
“Not far,” he answered. “But it would be difficult. The prisoners would have to move into the big house, past the kitchen, and close to Dahakon’s quarters.”
“How many servants and guards did you encounter?” asked the Prince.
“Not many, but there could be more close by.”
“Calis says not,” said Nicholas. “Whatever else, the Overlord and his Adviser both seem to base their power on reputation, not on hundreds of armed men.”
“Maybe they don’t want a lot of witnesses, and don’t have that many men they can trust,” ventured Amos.
Nicholas said, “As soon as Calis locates the girls, I think it’s time to get out of this city. If we can get the prisoners to that burned-out house and have some boats waiting there, we can head downriver to the sea, and pick them up.”
“Which means we have to steal one of those ships,” said Amos.
“Can you do it?”
Amos looked grim. “We don’t have enough men. With thirty-five men…I need at least two dozen to go out and take that ship out of the harbor, and that few only if there’s only a station-keeping watch aboard and the rest of the crew is out in town. If they have even a dozen men aboard, it could be a close fight, and I might not have enough crew to get her under way before others come aboard.”
“That would leave me with only eleven to get the prisoners out,” said Nicholas.
“You could get some help,” said Nakor.
“Perhaps Vaslaw would help,” said Nicholas.
Amos said, “Those men of his are probably great fighters when it comes to riding around on horses making a great deal of noise, but we need some practiced skulkers to get in and out of that estate.”
“Maybe Brisa could speak to the thieves?” suggested Nicholas.
Amos rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. “Perhaps, but from what she said, they sound like a pretty shy and sorry lot; nothing like our Mockers. Maybe Praji and Vaja could find us a half-dozen reliable lads who’ll show some courage for the right amount of gold.”
Nakor said, “You’ll find someone. It will be good.” He turned for the door.
“Where are you going?” asked Nicholas.
“I’m going to sleep,” he answered with a grin. “Soon it’s going to be very noisy and busy, with lots of running around.”
He left, and Amos shook his head. “He is the strangest man I have ever encountered, and I’ve met my share of strange men.”
Nicholas had to laugh. “But he’s been a great help.”
Amos remembered Arutha’s caution about listening to Nakor and felt his own smile fade. There was something dark coming at them, and fast, and Amos knew that when he’d had that feeling before, good men had died.
Saying nothing more, they returned to the common room.
—
ANTHONY SAID, “NICHOLAS, can I talk to you?”
Nicholas, who had been returning to his room, nodded, waving for the young magician to follow. Anthony closed the door to his own room, crossed the hall, and entered after Nicholas.
“What is it?” asked Nicholas, stifling a yawn. The tension of waiting for Calis to return was wearing him down to a nub. He sat on the bed and motioned for Anthony to sit at the single chair next to the small table provided by the hostler.
Anthony seemed to have trouble speaking, and Nicholas tried to be patient. He pulled off his boots and flexed his left leg.
“Does it hurt?” asked Anthony.
Wiggling the toes of his left foot, Nicholas said, “No. Yes. I mean no, not really. It’s…a little stiff, that’s all. It’s not a pain, just…I remember how it hurts, when I get overtired. It’s anticipating the pain, if that makes sense, as much as any real discomfort.”
Anthony nodded. “It makes sense. Old habits are hard to forget, and old fears are habits.”
Not in the mood to talk about his own worries, Nicholas said, “What did you want to talk about?”
“I feel useless.”
Nicholas said, “We’ve all been feeling that way, having to wait—”
“No, I mean even when there are things going on, I don’t feel as if I’m much help.”
“Might I remind you that if you hadn’t been able to track Margaret, we might all still be out on the sea, dead from starvation and lack of water?”
Anthony sighed. “Since then.”
“You kept at least three men I can count from dying. Isn’t that enough?”
Anthony let out a long sigh. “Perhaps you’re right.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out the talisman that Pug had originally given to Nicholas. “I sometimes wonder if it’s time to use this. Pug said I would know.”
“If you don’t know, don’t use it,” answered Nicholas. “He said it was to be used when there is no other choice, according to Nakor.”
Anthony nodded. “That’s what he said. But we still haven’t found Margaret and Abigail.”
Nicholas leaned forward and put his hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “We’ve all been through a lot to find the prisoners, Anthony. I know how you feel about my cousin….”
Anthony lowered his eyes and appeared thoroughly embarrassed. “I try to hide it.”
“Mostly you do a fair job.” Nicholas leaned back again. “I feel something for Abigail, too, though lately it seems more like a childish affection.” He looked at Anthony and added, “But I can see your feelings run deeper. Have you said anything to her?”
“I didn’t dare,” said Anthony, almost in a whisper. “She’s the Duke’s daughter.”
Nicholas smiled. “So? We’ve had magicians in the family before, and Margaret’s not exactly your run-of-the-mill court lady.”
Anthony said, “I’ve felt terrible thinking that I might never get to say anything to her.”
Nicholas nodded. “I understand. Still, if we can get just one of those poor wretches home again to the Far Coast, we’ve done right by those who look to the crown for protection.” Grimly he said, “Even if it’s too late for Abigail and Margaret.”
“You have a plan?”
Nicholas sighed. “I’ve had nothing to do but sit around and plan. I think we’re running out of time. I can’t tell you why, but there’s a…feeling.”
“An intuition?”
“Perhaps. I don’t claim any magic powers. I just know that if we don’t act soon, it will be too late.”
“When do you plan to move?”
Nicholas said, “I’m going to speak to Praji and Vaja first thing in the morning. I don’t want too mu
Anthony said, “It will be good to act.”
Nicholas nodded. Anthony rose and let himself out. Nicholas lay back in his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling and thinking. Was he really feeling some sort of intuitive leap that would get them on their way home before further disasters struck? Or would his impatience lead them into another tragedy? When he was with Amos and Ghuda, talking with the others, he felt firm in his decisions. He knew that his training at home had been designed to give him the best tools possible for making difficult decisions, but when he was alone, the doubts returned, and his fears with them. His foot always throbbed at night before he fell asleep, and he knew that wishing it away would not suffice. He needed to be right. Lives depended upon that. He felt like crying, but he was too tired.
—
CALIS LISTENED AND waited. Two men walked below, speaking softly and ignorant of his hovering above them, safely hidden in the shadows of a tree. The heavy foliage and the darkness masked him from view. He waited until they had disappeared around a corner of a wall, then lowered himself, landing on the inside of the court. He waited, listening. He might be on the other side of the wall, but that didn’t mean the two men might not have heard him.
His caution was excessive; no human could have heard the faint sound of his passing; no cry of alarm was raised and no attack came. He looked around the garden. It was a small one, with a single bathing pool in the middle. Overhead a soft gauzy cloth cover had been placed to cut the harsh rays of the sun during the hottest part of the day, while keeping the garden bright. Large doors and windows opened on the small sanctuary. Calis had already investigated two other similar gardens, finding both deserted, overgrown with weeds, their ponds filled with stagnant water. This one was well tended and clean.