Джеффри Лорд - Kingdom Of Royth

It was indeed a «fighting» chance that the Council gave him, when they sat in the great cabin of the flagship to listen to his story in more detail. After three hours of presenting his own arguments and listening to the Council wrangle, Blade felt as wrung-out and sweat-soaked as he had felt after more than one battle.

He had spent only a few minutes of those three hours reviewing what had happened between his flight from Neral and Indhios' fall. Whether they held him innocent or not, the Council apparently had little interest in that part of his adventures. Indhios was dead; he could not be revived. «So,» as one elderly Captain put it, «we need to play with the cards Blahyd dealt us, whether we will or no.

What really kept the Council's attention centered on him was his story of the panic in Royth. No part of that story was a total lie. Everything happening in Royth over the past few weeks was, he knew, known to the pirates. It was simply a question of shading the truth, of revealing the actions but hiding the motives.

The royal navy of Royth-fled northwards, its commanders crying out that they were too weak to fight the pirates, too weak to do anything but hide themselves until the pirate fleet had departed. (Savage laughter around the Council table; words such as, «By the time we've departed, they'll have naught left to defend save the bare bones of the Kingdom!») Likewise, the royal army, scattering into garrisons in a frantic effort to defend every key place at once. (The pirates-and even more, the mercenary officers-didn't even bother to laugh at that. They only grinned fiercely.) High Royth in turmoil, stripped of its garrison, some citizens making desperate efforts to arm themselves, others clogging the roads inland in headlong flight, some simply cowering in their houses, hoping to escape notice when the pirates stormed over the walls. (More mocking grins.) The gold and precious stones from the royal treasury dispatched north, in a hastily assembled convoy of wagons

«How much of the treasury?» from the mercenary commander, and the Council looking at their hired man with sourness at his intervening in the discussion.

«I'm not absolutely sure. I heard reports of at least twenty million crowns, perhaps half again that much. It was a huge convoy-two or three miles of wagons, and a whole cavalry brigade riding escort.» Blade broke off and tried not to grin too openly in response to the lust for gold that he saw spreading across every face in the Council-except Cayla's.

«Mmmmmm,» said one of the Captains after a long silence. He sounded like a small boy just offered a lifetime supply of ice cream.

«I think-«began another Captain, paused, then went on quickly. «I think they are practically throwing their gold into our hands. And if we take all their gold. .» He seemed too stunned by the prospect to be able to finish his sentence.

«Yes,» said the High Captain. «If we can take all of Royth's gold at a single blow, it won't matter whether or not we defeat their fleet and army this time. They will be so crippled that we can return with an even larger force next year and finish them off.»

One of the oldest Captains, judging from his completely white hair and beard, began to bristle. «Are you suggesting that we hire even more mercenaries, bought soldiers not of the Brotherhood, rather than rely on our own strength? Where then is our victory-our honor-?»

«Where is your sense, Fenz?» snapped the High Captain. «Royth is our enemy, and it matters little how we smash them if smash them we do. Does anyone care to join Fenz in disputing that?» The High Captain's hand dropped toward his sword hilt. Fenz glared at the High Captain and fingered his dagger, and Blade saw others do the same. Again, he had to fight back a grin. Sowing dissent among the Council Captains was something he had hoped for but hardly expected-

Cayla's voice sliced through the building tension like a knife cutting fruit. «Why count our gold before we have it in our hands? Blahyd, do you know where this mighty convoy was going?»

«Not certainly. I stole a map that shows the general area where they were going to hide the gold, but many different cities are marked on it.»

«Where is that map?»

«Aboard my ship.»

An immediate flurry of orders as men were sent out to bring Blade's files from Charger and others to bring in wine and food. Blade, in spite of his taut nerves, found he was ravenously hungry, and in politeness the Council permitted him to eat with them. Eventually-perhaps three-quarters of an hour, although seeming to Blade like three-quarters of a day-both the meal and the perusal came to an end. The High Captain handed the map, now well splotched with gravy and wine stains, back to Blade. Then he rose, placed his hands on his Baldric of Office, and addressed the Council according to the traditional formula:

«Captains of the Council of the Brotherhood. I, High Captain, say unto you: let each say yea or nay that we shall sail north in search of the horded gold of the Kingdom of Royth. And as ye hope for the blessing of Druk and honor among your Brothers and the great glory of the Brotherhood, speak only your true mind, and when all have spoken abide by the decision of the greater part.» He began calling out the names of the Captains. There were twenty-five in all, and when all twenty-five had spoken out, the «decision of the greater part» stood nineteen to six in favor of going north.

Blade sagged into his chair at the release of tension. He had done his part in the plan, whatever happened to him now. And Cayla seemed to have some ideas on that score, the way she was looking at him. He was not surprised when her voice again cut in.

«What are we going to do with Blahyd?»

«What do you want to do with him, Captain?» said the High Captain. A number of other Captains chuckled and still others threw out bawdy remarks that made Cayla again flare red, then turn pale and speak in a clipped voice.

«He deserted the Brotherhood, even if you think he did not betray it. And now he has convinced us to sail north in search of Pelthros' gold. What is there to show he will not desert us again, running off to warn Pelthros so that His Artistic Majesty can lay a trap for us?»

Blade thanked both the local and Home Dimension gods that his plan did not depend on his being free. The forces of Royth could carry out their part of it whether he was with them or not, or even whether he was alive or not. Cayla was obviously determined to do as much to him as the Council would let her do-or as much as the Council could be persuaded to overlook. And she had raised the possibility of a trap. Oh well, if she hadn't, there would have been somebody else intelligent enough to do it. The nods around the Council table indicated that much.

«Very well, Cayla,» said the High Captain. «You are quite possibly right. Will you take charge of him yourself? Or do you wish another to bear the burden of carrying out your idea?»

Cayla bridled at the High Captain's tone of voice, but said nothing in reply beyond, «I will accept him»

«Good.» The High Captain rose again and spoke in his formal tone. «The Council of Captains of the Brotherhood has decided. Let the orders go out: we sail north. And may Druk prosper the Brotherhood in this undertaking.»

When Blade came on deck, escorted by four mercenaries with short swords and javelins, the Council's decision had already hurled the fleet into a frenzy of activity. Men were swarming up the flagship's rigging to make extra sail and double-man the lookout posts. Rainbow strings of signal flags soared up the mizzenmast and were answered in kind from nearby ships. Amidships, two dozen armed guards were climbing down the rope ladder onto the deck of Charger. Blade saw Brora standing in their path, tension and alertness written in every line of his stance, and shouted down to him to let the guards go where they would. Farther aft, a crew of sailors under the profane urgings of a bearded bosun's mate was breaking out a thick hawser and paying it out over the side onto Charger's deck. Blade realized that both he and his ship would be closely guarded on the voyage north. And afterwards? He had just reached the point of speculating on that when he heard a footstep behind him and turned away from the spectacle to face Cayla.