Prince Thief

CHAPTER NINE

Unbearable as every aspect of his personality might be, Malekrin had one redeeming trait: his seamanship was excellent.

He soon had us scudding before the waves, aided by a hard wind driving down from the north — a direction he’d dismissed as a course of escape without any contribution from me. “There’s nothing to the north,” he’d said, “except barbarians.”

I’d refrained from pointing out that there was nothing but barbarians to the south either, at least until we passed the border into Ans Pasaeda. I supposed that never having seen a city, Malekrin considered horse riding the highest expression of culture and tents the epitome of architecture. What use was there in disillusioning him now? If we should somehow make it to Altapasaeda, he’d learn the truth soon enough.

At any rate, I was grateful that Malekrin expected no contribution from Saltlick or me in the running of his beloved craft. Saltlick had immediately lain himself out in the stern and within seconds his head was lolling, tectonic snores rattling from his throat. Whatever last spark that had been keeping him moving was vanished, and I suspected he might sleep for days if we left him to. Malekrin eyed him with contempt, and turned the same look on me when I struggled into the crook of Saltlick’s arm — the only space on the boat now free — and drew my cloak over me. But he didn’t say anything, and I interpreted his silence as confirmation that he could manage well enough without us.

However, there was one matter I knew I had to attend to before I surrendered to exhaustion. Around a yawn, I said, “You know, I think the best person to help you is Marina Estrada… one of the friends I tried to tell your grandmother about. She’s mayor of a little town; I’m sure she could find you somewhere to start your new life.”

“I can look after myself,” muttered Malekrin.

“Really? If I was you I’d take whatever help I could get. Anyway, we’ll have a better chance of getting to safety with Estrada and the others on our side.”

Malekrin gave a grunt that I took for, if not agreement, then at least acknowledgement of what I’d said.

“The thing is,” I went on, “there’s a… situation. We shouldn’t just go blundering in.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Malekrin said, “and I heard what you told my grandmother. Your friends are in trouble.”

“All right,” I admitted, “they’re in trouble. And you can do what you like, but I have to try to help them. So keep a look out for a beached ship, will you? There are rocks nearby, so be careful.”

“Fine,” he agreed, in a tone that implied it was anything but.

It was all I reasonably could hope for. I had my plan now, desperate as it might be. If Estrada and the others were still alive, if they’d managed to resist the palace guard for this long, then I’d have to find a way to bargain Malekrin’s life for theirs. There were plenty of assumptions involved, not least that anyone would actually want the brat alive; but I was too tired for second guessing, and there was no way my dwindling consciousness was going to offer anything better.

I let my head fall back upon Saltlick’s armpit, trying hard to ignore the pungent odour of giant sweat, and closed my eyes.

I woke to Malekrin kicking my leg, with more enthusiasm than he’d shown in anything else up to that point.

“Ow! Stop that,” I mumbled, trying to curl into a ball.

“Shush!” he spat. “I’ve found your damn boat.”

That was enough to make me open my eyes. It was still dark, but the night was softening above the cliffs on our left and sunrise couldn’t be far away. As Malekrin had said, the boat was in view — though not quite as I remembered it. It took me a few moments to appreciate what had happened: that the tide had been out when the palace guard had landed and now was in, so that the boat was sitting in low water, some distance from the diminished shoreline.

Suddenly, with no conscious thought, I realised that my simple plan was evolving. Because out upon the beach, I could see blunt silhouettes backed by a dying fire; the contingent from the palace was still camped there. Conversely, I couldn’t see anyone aboard the boat. If we could secure it, could capture their only means of leaving this wretched shore, then that was just as good a bargaining tool as Malekrin’s life. With the two together, they might even listen to me.

“Can you get us closer?” I whispered. “I mean, without anyone on board seeing, or us running aground?”

Malekrin considered. “We’re shallower than they are. We could row in if I stow the mast… it would be easier without the monster in the way.”

“His name’s Saltlick,” I corrected automatically. “Do your best, will you?”

Malekrin was right, though; Saltlick’s bulk filling half the small boat made it tricky to take the mast down, let alone to do it without noise. Even in that, however, the boy worked with deft efficiency. While I worked with an oar to stop us drifting, he dropped the sail and tidied it away, then hammered out the pins that kept the mast in place and, with my assistance, lowered it along the boat. We had to prop one end on Saltlick’s chest, and he still didn’t stir; his breath was coming in shallow tugs by then, and his skin looked pastier than ever in the greying gloom.

Taking an oar each, we nudged closer and closer to the enemy vessel. With the current on our side, it took us a mere few minutes to edge within the shadowed lee of their port side. Throughout our approach, I’d seen no one, nor any sign of activity from the camp upon the shore. The only noise was the lap of the sea against their flank and the creak of straining wood, enough between them to mask any sound as we brushed alongside the larger craft.

Now came the difficult part. For all I knew, there might be a dozen men sleeping within, hidden by their boat’s high flank. Once I was sure Malekrin had us under control and we weren’t about to drift away, I eased up from a crouch, palms flat against the other vessel’s side. I’d need to be standing to see over; not easy when the surface beneath my feet was in constant motion. Moreover, I couldn’t shake the conviction that all I’d see if I succeeded was a palace soldier staring back.

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 doing 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.

At least our progress was unhindered. The powerful gales that had carried Malekrin’s boat down from Kalyxis’s camp-town were blowing hard as ever, and even overloaded, the ship whipped through the foam-capped water. On the rare occasions that the wind slackened, there was no lack of oarsmen to help pick up the pace. From what little I could discern of life on board, I suspected everyone was glad of whatever work they could get, just to relieve the tension. Even before war had broken out, relationships had never been exactly amicable between city and palace guards, and I almost felt sorry for Mounteban’s freebooters, stuck between the two.

Aboard Seadagger, meanwhile, relationships were only a little less strained. Malekrin had been sulking ever since we’d landed on the beach, and nothing I said relieved his mood — not that I had much interest in trying. As for Saltlick, though I’d spent half an hour in rebandaging his wound as best I could, I could tell he was still in discomfort, perhaps even in constant pain. Given how minimal his conversation was at the best of times, I soon gave up making an effort there as well.

With so little to relieve my boredom and with the confines of my world drawn so small, perhaps it was strange that I didn’t give more thought to the threats closing around me. I hardly seemed to be thinking much at all — but when I did, it certainly wasn’t of what fate awaited us in Altapasaeda, what that snake Mounteban had been up to in our absence, or even of what Kalyxis’s response might have been to finding both her prisoners and her saviour-in-waiting vanished.

Given my unmindfulness, then, it was probably appropriate that it was Malekrin who saw them first.

It was late in the afternoon of our first day. Out of nowhere, stirring me from half-sleep, he pointed towards the northern horizon and said, “So, Grandmother noticed I was missing after all.”

Irritated more than curious, I followed the line of his finger. I could make out the tiniest of black marks against the soft blue of the afternoon sky. Then, having seen one, I realised there was a second, a third, a fourth… and surely more, but the distance made it impossible to count.

“That’s a fleet,” I said. It wouldn’t have surprised me if every boat I’d seen moored to that far northern harbour were upon the waves behind us.

Malekrin smiled unpleasantly. “What exactly did you expect for kidnapping a Shoanish prince?”

My first thought was to warn Estrada, but even as I considered it a shout went up from the ship, and I knew they’d seen what we’d seen. Estrada wouldn’t need me to tell her who our pursuers were. I wondered, though, what explanation she’d offer Ondeges as to why a fleet of Shoanish war boats were suddenly on his tail.

After a while, as much to diffuse his smugness as anything, I said to Malekrin, “I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure Ondeges can keep our lead until Altapasaeda.”

“In that whale? I could catch it in Seadagger,” Malekrin replied with dripping contempt. “No Shoanish boat would lumber in the water like that. How far is it to this Altapasaeda?”

“A couple more days,” I said. “If this wind holds, that is.”

“They’ll be on us by then,” he said, with certainty.

I avoided the subject after that — for no other reason than that it seemed more and more likely he was right. With nothing useful to do, I passed most of those two days in sleeping, or trying to at least. Whenever I opened my eyes, the black specks on the horizon had drawn closer — and by the third morning out, they could hardly be called specks at all. They were gaining inexorably, and whatever efforts Ondeges was making to outrace them were obviously not working.

Still, I could hardly believe they would really catch up with us. How could one boat be so much quicker than another? And my disbelief only made it all the more frightening to realise that, whatever my opinion of the matter, they really were faster than us. By late afternoon of that third day, I could clearly discern details of sails and rigging, could make out figures labouring on board the nearest vessels. By the time the sun started to dip, I might have shouted to them and been heard if it weren’t for the incessant clamour of the waves.

But we were nearly home; I knew we must be. All that was left was to find that subterranean harbour, make land and get into the tunnel and there’d be no catching us. Striving to keep a tremble from my voice, I said to Malekrin, “At least we’re safe enough. They’ll never attack so long as they know you’re here.”

Malekrin turned me a look of disgust. “Is that what you think?”

Something in the way he said it sent a chill through my spine. “Don’t you?”

“You have no idea. This place we’re heading to, Altapasaeda… you said it’s about to be attacked by the King, and the fact that you were begging for help means you don’t think you can defend yourselves. Do you imagine Grandmother would let me fall into that bastard’s hands? Let him use me as a hostage and watch all her plans unravel?”

I stared at him, aghast. “You don’t really believe your grandmother would let you die here just to keep you away from Panchessa?”

But Malekrin had no time to answer — and as it turned out, I didn’t need him to. A resonant thunk made us both turn in place. And whatever sense I might have got out of him, the arrow sunk into the ship before us, not to mention the flames licking up from it, were a hundred times more eloquent than anything he could have said.