Rise of a Merchant Prince (22 page)

The girl's smile broadened a little more. “I think having a steady flow of income, even a modest one, is far less risky than continuing to depend on luxuries.”

Roo nodded. “That's what I thought” He decided she didn't need to understand that be was the only freight hauler in the city the Prince would trust to bring in those critical supplies.

“Father always talks of maximizing profits, but when he does he also takes great risks. He's had setbacks that have made it very difficult at times.” Her voice lowered as she realized she seemed to be criticizing her father. “He tends to remember the good times and forget the bad.”

Roo shook his head. “I'm the opposite, I think, if anything, I remember the bad all too easily.” Then he realized something about himself. “Truth to tell, there haven't been all that many good times.” She was silent, and he shifted the topic of conversation. “So you think this contract with the palace a good one?”

“Yes,” she said, and then fell silent again.

Trying to think of the best way to draw her out, Roo at last said, “What about the contract is good?”

She smiled; for the first time since he had met her, Roo saw genuine amusement in her expression. And he was surprised to discover that she had dimples. For a brief instant he discovered that when she smiled she wasn't anything close to being as plain as he had thought.

Suddenly finding himself flushing, he said, “Did I say something funny?”

“Yes.” She lowered her eyes again. “You didn't tell me anything about the contract, so how would I know what about it could be good?”

Roo laughed. Obviously she just knew the basics of the contract, and given how little he had been able to share with Helmut, he realized she knew even less. “Well, it's like this,” he began.

They talked, and Roo was astonished to find that Karli knew a great deal more about her father's business than he ever would have suspected. More, she had a good mind for business; she asked questions at key moments and discovered weaknesses that Roo hadn't anticipated.

Somewhere during the course of the night, Roo had opened a bottle of wine and they sipped at it. He had never noticed Karli drinking before, and he recalled with some self-condemnation that he had never really paid attention to the girl. Over the weeks he had been coming to pay court to her, he had really been trying to impress her, not to get to know her.

At one point he noticed she had risen to trim the wick in a lamp, then before he realized it, he heard a cock crow. Glancing at the window, he saw the sky beginning to lighten, and said, “Gods! I've been talking
to you all night”

Karl laughed and blushed. “I've enjoyed it.”

“By Sung”—Roo invoked the Goddess of Truth—“so have I. It's been a long time since I've had anyone to talk to . . . . “ He halted. She was now staring at him—and smiling.

On an impulse he leaned over and kissed her. He had never tried before and almost drew back, fearful that he had overstepped his bounds.

She didn't resist, and it was a tender, soft kiss. Roo slowly pulled away, now completely confused. “Ah . . .” he said, “I'll call for you tomorrow—tonight, if you don't mind. We can visit the evening market. If you like!” The last came out in a rush.

She lowered her eyes, again now embarrassed. “I would like that.”

He moved toward the door but kept facing her, as if he were fearful of turning his back. “And we can talk,” he said.

“Yes,” she answered as she rose to follow him to the door. “I would like that, very much.”

Roo almost fled, he was so confused. Outside, the door safely closed between them, he paused and wiped his forehead. He was perspiring and felt hot to his own touch. What is this? he wondered. He decided he needed to consider more fully the consequences of this campaign he had started of winning Helmut Grindle's daughter.

As the city awoke around him, Roo returned to the office and the seemingly endless work ahead.

Six wagons rolled to the gate and a guard waved Roo to halt. The guard wore the usual tabard of the Prince of Krondor, the yellow outline of an eagle
soaring above a peak, contained in a circle of dark blue. The only change Roo noticed was that the grey tabard was now trimmed in royal purple with yellow. For the first time in memory, a Crown Prince, heir to the throne of the Kingdom of the Isles, now ruled the Western Realm.

Roo struggled to remember what that meant; he was vaguely aware that tradition held that the Prince should rule in Krondor until assuming the throne, but that recent history had placed Arutha, father to the King, on the throne of Krondor, but he wasn't heir to the crown. Roo thought he might ask someone about that, if he remembered.

The guard said, “Your business?”

“Delivery for Sergeant de Loungville” was all Roo had been instructed to say.

At mention of that name, Jadow Shati seemed to materialize out of nowhere, though he merely had been in the shadow of the guardhouse next to the gate. He wore the black tunic of Calis's special forces, with only the crimson eagle above his heart for marking. “Let them in,” he said in his deep voice.

He grinned at Roo. “They'll get used to your face, Avery.”

Roo smiled back. “If he got used to yours, mine will be easy.”

Jadow laughed. “And you're such a handsome fellow, after all.”

Then Roo noticed the sleeve on his old companion's tunic and said, “You've got a third stripe! You're a sergeant?”

Jadow's broad smile seemed to widen. “That's the truth, man. Erik, too.”

“What about de Loungville?” asked Roo as the
gates swung wide. He urged his team of mules forward.

“He's still our lord and master,” said Jadow. “But he's now called the Major Sergeant, or Sergeant Major; I can never remember which.” As the first wagon with Roo aboard passed, he said, “Erik will tell you. He's going to oversee the unloading.”

Roo waved and steered his team into the yard. This was not his first delivery to the palace, but it was his biggest. A caravan of trade goods from Kesh and the Vale of Dreams had arrived from the south, and attached to it had been goods marked for the palace, specifically for Knight-Marshal William. It was now a standing order that anything earmarked for Calis's special force was to be shipped to the Knight-Marshal. The palace brokers who controlled the flow of goods in and out of the harbor and the caravanserais outside the city were notified that all such cargo was to be shipped directly to the palace via wagons owned by Grindle and Avery.

A newly erected warehouse stood alongside the outer wall of the palace, cutting the marshalling yard in half for its entire length. Roo had puzzled over its construction the last few times he had visited the palace, but had said nothing. He pulled his team up before the entrance, where three figures waited.

Erik waved, as did Greylock, once Swordmaster to the Baron of Darkmoor. Next to them stood the Knight-Marshal himself, and behind him squatted his pet, the green-scaled flying lizard, as Roo thought of it.

“Gentlemen,” said Roo as he dismounted the wagon, “where do you want this unloaded?”

Greylock said, “Our men will unload. It's going in
here.” He waved toward the newly finished warehouse.

Erik signaled and a full squad of soldiers in black tunics hurried and untied the lash-down covering the wagon. They lowered the tailgate and began to unload cargo.

Roo said, “Jadow said congratulations are in order.”

Erik shrugged. “We've been promoted.”

Greylock put his hand on Roo's shoulder. “They both need the rank. Our chain of command is beginning to emerge.”

The Knight-Marshal's pet hissed, and Lord William said, “Hush, Fantus. Rupert has served with us before. Captain Greylock isn't spilling state secrets to the enemy.”

As if he understood, the creature, a firedrake, Roo now recalled, settled down at the King-Marshal's boots. He stretched forth his neck and Lord William scratched him behind the eye ridges.

“Captain Greylock?” said Roo. “What is this?”

Greylock shrugged. “It makes things easier in dealing with the normal army command. Our unit is . . . unusual,” he said, glancing at Lord William to see if he was overstepping his authority by talking to Roo. When the Knight-Marshal ignored him, Greylock continued. “I have a lot of things to do, and this way I never have to ask anyone's permission.”

Lord William smiled and said, “Except mine, of course.”

“And the Captain's,” said Erik.

“Which Captain?” asked Roo.

Greylock smiled. “I'm ‘a' captain, Roo. There is only one man who's ‘the' Captain. Calis.”

“Of course,” said Roo as the second wagon was unloaded. He waved to the driver and shouted, “Take it back to the warehouse. I'll be along shortly.”

The driver, one of the former soldiers of this very command, waved in reply and moved the mules ahead, turned them in a half circle, and headed back toward the gate.

“Where is
the
Captain?” asked Roo.

“In the palace, talking with the Prince,” said Greylock. At that, Knight-Marshal William glanced at Greylock and gave a slight shake of his head.

Roo looked at Erik, who seemed to be intently watching the exchange. After a moment Roo audibly sighed. “Very well. I won't say anything. But when are you leaving?”

Knight-Marshal William took one step and put himself right before Roo. “What do you mean leaving?”

Roo smiled. “I may not be a student of the military, like my good friend Erik here, my lord, but I was a soldier.” He glanced at the mounting pile of goods in the warehouse. “This isn't usual provisions for an extra garrison here in the palace. You're mounting an expedition. You're going down”—he glanced from face to face—“there again.”

Knight-Marshal William said, “You'd be advised to keep your speculation to yourself, Rupert Avery. You're trusted, but only to a point.”

Roo shrugged. “I'm saying nothing outside these walls, so don't worry.” Then he considered something and added, “But I'm not the only one who can figure this out, just watching what comes in and what doesn't go out”

Knight-Marshal William looked irritated at that
observation. Turning to Greylock and Erik, he said, “Take care of that. I think I need to speak with Duke James.” He snapped his fingers and pointed skyward, and the firedrake sprang into the air, his wings beating down with furious power. William said to the startled Roo, “I told him to go hunt He's old and claims he can't see as well as he used to, but the truth is he's lazy. If I let the kitchen staff feed him scraps, he'd be as big as one of your mules and unable to get off the ground.”

The last was said with a rueful smile. The Knight-Marshal walked away, and Roo said, “He claims he can't see as well as he used to?”

Erik laughed. “Don't underestimate the Knight-Marshal. I've heard stories from the palace staff.”

Greylock laughed as well. “They say he can speak to animals and they can speak to him.”

Roo looked to see if he was being made fun of; Erik recognized his boyhood friend's expression and said, “No, he's serious. I've seen him do it, with the horses.” Shaking his head emphatically, he said, “Truth of the gods!” Looking after the retreating back of the Knight-Marshal, he said “Think of what a horse healer he would have been.”

Greylock put his hand on Erik's shoulder. Erik's gifts ir healing horses were what had brought him to Greylock's attention years before, and had caused them to become friends. “It takes more than knowing the animal's in pain, Erik. What's a horse going to tell you about a bruised bone beneath the hoof or an abscess? ‘It hurts' is about as much as Lord William gets, from what I've heard. You still have to know what to do to find the problem and heal it”

“Maybe,” said Erik. He turned to Roo. “Do you
have any suggestions about ways to mask what we're doing here?”

“Off the top of my head, no. Maybe if you let me pick up a few other shipments—and if you route a few false ones with the notation about the Knight-Marshal on them.” He pointed past his last wagon, toward the gate into the palace. “Route them through that gate, send them somewhere else in the palace, but let them see this.” He pointed to the front of the warehouse.

“Let them see it?” said Greylock.

“Yes,” said Roo. He smiled a smile familiar to Erik.

Erik's own smile broadened until the two old friends stood grinning at each other. “Let them see it” He turned to Greylock. “Captain, let them see it! Yes. We'll let them see what's here, but it will be what we want them to see.”

Greylock rubbed his chin with one hand. “Perhaps. What would we have them see?”

Roo said, “Look, those lizard people know we're getting ready for them.” He waved his hand around the façade of the building. “Make this look like a new barracks. A place to house a large army inside the palace won't get their attention much.”

Greylock nodded. “That might work.”

Erik shrugged. “We know they've got agents in the city. We've always assumed they have, anyway.”

Just then a guard ran from the gate toward them. “My lord,” he called.

Greylock smiled self-consciously. “I'll never get used to that.”

“My lord?” echoed Roo.

Erik grinned. “We've all got some sort of court
rank or another, to keep the minor officials out of our hair. Nobody is quite sure who is who, so we all tend to be addressed that way by those outside our command.”

“What?” shouted Greylock.

“A man without the gate, my lord, demanding to see the master of this freight company.”

Roo said, “Who is it?”

“He says he's your cousin . . .” After a moment's hesitation, the soldier added, “sir.”

Roo didn't wait and started running toward the gate. He passed his own wagons heading out and ran to the outer gate. Just outside he found Duncan sitting on his horse, looking fretful.