The Complete Krondor’s Sons 2-Book Collection: Prince of the Blood, The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist

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      With a defiant grin, Locklear said, ‘I can well believe that. She is breathtaking. But I think I could rise to the challenge.’

      Gamina gave him a dark look at the crude joke, but the desertman forced a smile. ‘She may give you the opportunity. It is said her tastes are … adventuresome.’

      James didn’t miss Kafi’s true message, even if Locklear was too enamoured of the woman to listen. James gave Kafi a slight nod of thanks for the warning.

      Unlike Awari and Sharana, Sojiana did not simply bow before the Empress and retire to the table set aside for the Imperial family, but she bowed and spoke. ‘Is my mother well?’ she asked in a formal tone.

      ‘I am well, my daughter. We rule another day in Kesh.’

      The Princess bowed and said, ‘Then my prayers are answered.’ She then moved to sit beside her brother and daughter, and the servants entered the hall.

      Dishes of remarkable variety were presented one after the other, and Erland had to consider what to try every minute or two. Wines were brought forth, dry and sweet, red and white, the latter chilled by ice brought down from the peaks of the Guardian Mountains.

      To the Keshian, Erland said, ‘Tell me, then, why were the Imperial family members last to enter?’

      Kafi said, ‘In the strange way we in Kesh do things, those of the least importance enter first, the slaves and servants and minor court officials, who make all ready for the highborn. Then, She Who Is Kesh enters and takes her place upon her dais, then come the others of noble birth or special merit, again in the order of least to most important. You’re the only ranking noble in attendance besides the Imperial family, so you entered just before Prince Awari.’

      Erland nodded, then found himself struck by an oddity. ‘That would mean his niece, Sharana, is—’

      ‘Higher in rank in this court than the Prince,’ finished Kafi, glancing about the room. ‘This is something of a family dispute, my Prince.’

      And something he doesn’t wish to speak of here, added Gamina. Erland gave her a glance and she said, I’m not reading his thoughts, Highness. I would not do that with anyone who did not give me permission, but he’s … announcing it. I can’t explain it better, but he is straining not to speak about many things.

      Erland let it drop, and began asking questions about the court. Kafi answered in much the same way a bored history teacher might, save when questions could lead him into funny, embarrassing, or scandalous anecdotes. He was revealed to be something of a gossip.

      James chose to let the others do most of the speaking, while he sifted through the answers Kafi gave. While the meal continued, he pieced together hints and tantalizing bits of this and that and fitted them into the pattern of what he already knew. Kesh was as complex as an anthill, and it was only the presence of this hill’s queen, the Empress, that maintained order. Factions, old national rivalries, and age-old feuds were facts of Keshian court life, and the Empress kept her Empire intact by playing off one faction against another.

      James sipped a fine dry red wine and considered what part they were to play in this drama, for he knew as certain as he knew boots hurt his feet that their presence would be seized upon by someone to further his own political ends. The question would be who would try the seizing and what his motives would be.

      To himself, he added, not to mention how such a person would attempt to employ Erland’s presence in court. It was clear that at least one faction in court wanted Erland dead and war between the Kingdom and the Empire. James glanced around the room, and then tasted the dry red wine again. As he savoured it, he considered that he was a stranger in a very strange land and he would quickly have to learn his way around. He let his gaze wander, studying faces here and there and found more than a half-dozen faces studying him in turn.

      He sighed. There would be time. He doubted there would be trouble the first night they were in the palace. For if he were in charge of murdering Erland, he would do so when there were more guests to throw off suspicion and the effect of the death would do more to ruin the Empress’s Jubilee. Unless, of course, he amended, it’s the Empress herself who wishes Erland dead.

      He instantly dismissed the notion. If the Empress wanted Erland dead, she wouldn’t have sent a band of cutthroats in the desert; she’d have waited until they were someplace quiet and simply had a few hundred fanatical followers from one of her Imperial Legions waiting for them.

      He picked up a delicately seasoned piece of melon off his plate and ate it. Savouring the taste, he decided to let matters of state go for a few hours. But less than a minute later, he found his gaze wandering again about the room as he sought some clue, some hint of from where the next attack might originate.

       • CHAPTER TEN •

       Companion

      THE LOOKOUT POINTED.

      ‘Farafra!’

      The captain called to trim sails as they rounded the headlands and came into view of the Keshian seaport. A sailor at the rail turned to Borric and said, ‘Some fun tonight, eh. Madman?’

      Borric smiled ruefully. From behind, the Captain said, ‘Get aloft and make ready to reef in sail!’ The sailors jumped to obey. ‘Two points to port,’ commanded the Captain, and Borric turned the large ship’s wheel to bring the ship to the indicated heading. Since joining the crew of The Good Traveller, he had earned the grudging respect of the Captain and crew. Some tasks he did well, while others he seemed to have no understanding of, but learned quickly. His sense of the ship, and shifts in current and wind, learned while sailing small boats as a boy, had earned him the job of helmsman, one of three sailors the Captain allowed the task.

      Borric glanced upward, where Suli ran along a spar, negotiating the sheets and hawsers like a monkey. Suli had taken to the sea like one born to it. In the month they had been at sea, his child’s body had put on a little bulk and muscle, made strong by constant exercise and the plain but filling food, hinting at the man he would be someday.

      The Prince had kept his identity to himself, which probably wouldn’t have mattered. After his lunatic behaviour with the knife, he was called by crew and Captain alike ‘the Madman’, Claiming to be a Prince of the Isles was unlikely to change their minds, he was sure. Suli was just ‘the Boy’. Nobody had pressed them for why they had been drifting at sea in a boat near to sinking, as if to know such things was to invite trouble.

      From behind, the Captain said, ‘A Farafran pilot will take us into harbour. Bloody nuisance, but that’s the way the Port Governor likes it, so we must heave to and wait.’ The Captain called out to reef sails and made ready to drop anchor. A pair of green and white pennants were run up, a request for a pilot. ‘Here’s where you leave us, Madman. The pilot will be here within the hour, but I’m putting you over the side and will have you rowed to a beach outside the city.’

      Borric said nothing. The Captain studied the Prince’s face and said, ‘You’re a fit lad, but you were no kind of real sailor when you came aboard.’ His eyes narrowed as he said, ‘You know a ship like a sailing master knows one, not like crew; you knew nothing of the most common sailor’s duty.’ As he spoke, the Captain kept glancing about, ensuring everyone was performing СКАЧАТЬ