Джеффри Лорд - Kingdom Of Royth

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.

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 what 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.