Rise of a Merchant Prince (38 page)

Miranda was obviously tired from the magic she had employed to keep the boat off the rocks, and more talkative in five minutes than she had been the entire trip. Erik wondered if it was just because of the magic she used, or from some other reason, but was reluctant to ask if everything was all right. Then he considered that nothing associated with the voyage was right. Miranda was far closer to the truth of this mission than Erik, and Erik knew enough to expect they might not be coming back. He imagined she must be even more worried than he was. Finally he said, “Are you all right?”

She looked at him in open surprise, her expression
frozen for a long moment, then laughed. Erik was unsure of the cause of that laughter, but finally she gripped his arm, through the heavy fur cloak he wore, and said, “Yes, I'm all right.” She sighed. “The sighting spells I was using along the way were a whisper in the noise of a market at noon. The spell I just cast to keep us from the rocks was a shriek in the night. If someone is looking for us, or if wards have been set to detect magic . . .” Shaking her head, she turned away.

“Miranda?” asked Erik.

She halted and looked over her shoulder. “Yes, Erik?”

“Are we going to get home, do you think?”

Whatever amusement she had revealed a moment before vanished. She paused only briefly when she said, “Probably not.”

Erik resumed his position, watching the murk for sudden danger. After another few hours, Alfred, the corporal from Darkmoor, came and said, “I'm relieving you, Sergeant.”

Erik said, “Very well,” and returned to the rowing oars. Once he had broken Alfred down, stripped him of the rank and attitude that had made him a bully and brawler back home, the man had turned into a first-rate soldier. Erik considered it likely that he would be one of the first to be promoted to corporal when they returned to Krondor . . . then amended the thought to
if
they returned to Krondor.

Other than the tiny cabin where the Captain and Miranda slept, the only place to sleep was either leaning over the extra oars behind the last rowers' bench, like a galley slave, or lying on the deck between the rowers. They slept in shifts. Lesser-
trained men might have come to blows, given the cramped quarters, the months at sea, and the coming danger, but de Loungville and Calis had picked the sixty most disciplined men in the company. Any temper was deferred, and any discomfort was kept to oneself.

Erik lay down and almost instantly dropped off to sleep. Fatigue was a constant companion, and after years of soldiering and grabbing sleep when he could, little could stir his mind enough to keep him awake. But as he fell into slumber, he did wonder in passing how his friends back home were doing. He wondered if Roo was making any progress toward being a rich man, and how Jadow's leg had healed, and how the other men in the command were training. He wished he had Greylock to talk to, and then he thought of Nakor. That funny little man, and Sho Pi, had not returned from Stardock with the Captain, and Erik pondered what they must be up to as sleep overtook him.

A dozen young men and women laughed, while twice that number scowled, muttered, or jeered.

“It's true!” insisted Nakor.

Sho Pi stood beside the man he had claimed as his master, looking to defend him should any of the angry students decide it was time to take matters into their own hands. He wasn't concerned over Nakor's ability to defend himself against up to a half dozen of them—he knew exactly how adept Nakor was at open-handed fighting, the Isalani style taught at the temple of Dala—but against a full dozen or more he would need help.

“Sit down,” cried one of those who had been
laughing at one of those nearby who was jeering.

“Why don't you make me?” demanded the object of the instruction.

Nakor said, “Wait a minute.” He crossed to where the two young men were standing opposite one another and grabbed each by the ear.

It was a beautiful dawn at Stardock, and Nakor had gotten into a discussion with a student at the predawn breakfast. As the sun began to rise in the east, Nakor had decided to conduct a class outside, away from the musty dark halls that usually served for places of instruction. As he led the two howling young men into the center of the large circle, all three factions of students began to laugh.

Sho Pi glanced up at the high window overlooking the lawn upon which the lesson was being conducted, and saw the faces at that window. Since being left in charge of the Academy, Nakor had left most of the daily operation as he had found it, though from time to time he had taken it upon himself to teach a lesson on one thing or another.

Most of his time was spent with the nameless, mindless beggar who was now a fixture of the island. Each morning, two students were delegated to throwing the beggar into the lake, a marginal effort toward keeping the man clean. Once in a while one or another of the more ambitious students would try to apply soap to the man, often resulting in a bloody nose or black eye.

When not soaking wet, the man scampered from place to place, watching what everyone else did, or he slept, or he haunted the kitchen area, trying to steal food unless it was given to him. When presented with meals, he knocked the plates over, as a child
might, and proceeded to squat and eat with his fingers from the floor.

The rest of Nakor's time was spent in the library, reading and making notes. Sho Pi was occasionally given the opportunity to ask a question or request instruction in something that he wished to understand better. Nakor often obliged him by sending him on some strange quest or asked him a seemingly incomprehensible riddle. When he accomplished the quest or admitted failure, or when he guessed the answer of the riddle, Nakor's reaction was one of universal indifference.

The two howling students were released and Nakor said, “Thank you for volunteering to aid me in demonstrating the truth of my claim.”

To the student who belonged to the faction known as the Blue Riders, after Nakor's previous tenure at the Academy, he said, “You believe I am being honest when I say that the energies we call magic can be manipulated without resorting to all the mumbo-jumbo most of you think is required, is that not so?”

“Of course, Master,” said the student.

Nakor sighed. All the Blue Riders called him master, despite his objections, a legacy of Sho Pi's doing.

To the other student, a member of the faction calling themselves the Wand of Watoom, he said, “And you don't think it's possible, correct?”

“Of course it's not possible. Sleight-of-hand, street mummery, certainly, but not true manipulation of the forces of magic.”

Holding up a finger, Nakor said. “Then observe.” As he moved to position himself behind his student, the nameless beggar came pushing through the circle
of students. Once in a while the man whom everyone but Nakor counted mad showed an interest in what was going on. He squatted a few feet away and watched.

Nakor asked the student behind whom he stood, “Did you take any training in the reiki I taught last month?”

“Of course,” said the student.

“Very well,” said Nakor. “This is much the same thing. Make a fist.” He took the arm of the student and bent it back, then positioned the young man's feet in a fighter's stance. To the other student he said, “Just stand there, if you don't mind.”

Nakor said, “Pull back your arm and feel the energy that is in you. Close your eyes if it will help.”

The student did so. “Now,” said Nakor, “feel the energy in you, coursing through you and around you. Feel it flow. When you are ready, I want you to strike a blow at that young man's stomach, but more than just a blow, I want you to release the energy through the knuckles of your hand.

“Get ready,” he said to the student who was about to be struck. “Tighten your stomach or something. This might hurt.”

The doubting student smirked, but braced himself in case. The first student struck the blow and it thudded into the second student's stomach, causing him barely to flinch.

“Need to work on this,” said Nakor. “You're not feeling the energy.”

Suddenly the beggar jumped to his feet and pushed the first student aside. He balanced himself perfectly on the balls of his feet, and closed his eyes, and Nakor stepped away as he felt a fey energy
crackle through the air around him. Then the beggar whipped back his hand, shot it forward, exhaling his breath as he said something that sounded like “shut.” When the blow struck, the doubting student seemed to fly backward off his feet, with an audible explosion of breath from his lungs. He sailed a half-dozen feet through the air to land atop two other students, who barely had time to react and catch him.

The struck student doubled up, holding his stomach and obviously choking. Nakor rushed over, rolled the boy on his back, and picked him up around the waist, forcing him to breathe. With a ragged inhale, and tears running down his face, the student looked at Nakor with eyes wide. Barely able to speak, he said, “I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were,” agreed Nakor. He told two other students, “Take him inside and have the healer check him over for injury. Something inside may be damaged.”

He turned to find the beggar was back on his haunches, watching with vacant eyes. Sho Pi came over and said, “Master, what was that?”

Softly Nakor said, “I wish I knew.”

Then he turned to the other students. “You see? Even that poor creature knows enough to utilize the power that is already there, around you, everywhere.” Seeing that most faces were only showing astonished confusion, Nakor waved his hand toward the main building and said, “Very well. This lesson is over. Go back to whatever it is you do at this time.”

As the students departed, Nakor came over to where the beggar squatted, and hunkered down to gaze at the man's eyes. Where, for a brief instant, something powerful and wise had been glimpsed,
now only a vacant pair of orbs were seen. Nakor sighed. “My friend,” he said, “just what are you?”

After a moment he stood and turned, to find Sho Pi, as he had expected. “I wish I were a smarter man,” he told his self-appointed student. “I wish I knew more.”

“Master?” was all Sho Pi said.

Nakor shrugged. “Wish I knew what's happened to Calis, too. I'm getting bored here, and besides,” he said, looking into the blue western sky as the sun cleared the horizon behind him, “something's going on. We're going to have to leave soon, whether or not someone from Krondor comes to run things here.”

“When, Master?” asked Sho Pi.

Nakor shrugged. “I don't know. Soon. Maybe this week. Maybe next month. We'll know when it's time. Come on. Let's get some food.”

At the mention of food the mindless beggar jumped up and with grunting and hooting sounds started shambling toward the dining hall. Nakor pointed after him. “See, our very basic friend there understands the relative importance of things.”

Then to Sho Pi, in the Isalani tongue, he said, “And he hits like a Grand Master of the Order of Dala.”

Sho Pi answered in the same language, “No, Master. Harder. Whatever else, that man has more
cha”
—he used an ancient word for personal power—“than any priest I ever saw when I was a monk in the temple.” Lowering his voice, he said, “He could have killed that boy, I think.”

Nakor said, “Had he wanted to, no doubt.”

As they entered the dining hall, both men considered what they had just witnessed.

Roo awoke to a grey, predawn light showing in the window. He realized that he would barely be able to return home before Karli awoke. He knew it possible the baby had slept through the night and Karli might be convinced he had returned earlier, but he would have to move quickly.

He left the bed as quietly as he could, regretting the need. The memory of Sylvia's body and her urgent demands throughout the night aroused him despite his fatigue. He dressed and quietly left the room, moving down the stairs and out the door. He approached his coach, where his driver was dozing, and woke the man, instructing him to head for home at once.

Inside the house Sylvia lay awake, smiling to herself. In the darkness, she thought, the little troll wasn't too difficult to take. He was young, enthusiastic, and a lot stronger than he looked. She knew that while he thought himself in love with her, he had barely begun to experience the depth of obsession she would bring him to. Within a month he would be willing to compromise some minor business matter for her. Within a year, he'd betray his business partners.

She yawned and stretched in satisfaction. Her father wouldn't be returning for a few days and she knew she'd receive a note from Roo before midday. She'd ignore him for a day or two, then invite him back to the house. For a sleepy moment she wondered how long she should wait before her contrition scene, when she announced to Roo that she couldn't continue to see a married man, no matter how much she loved him. As she started to drift off to slumber,
she considered there were a couple of young men in the city she should invite to the house before her father returned.

Roo tiptoed upstairs and slipped into the bedroom. The dawn was now breaking, and in the half-lighted room she could see Karli was asleep. He slipped out of his clothing and into bed next to her.

Less than a half hour later she awoke, and Roo pretended to be asleep. She arose and dressed, then went to where the baby was quietly singing to herself. After waiting awhile, Roo arose and went down to the dining room.

“Good morning,” said Karli, feeding the baby.

Abigail giggled and said, “Da!” at sight of Roo.

Roo yawned.

“Did you get much sleep?” asked Karli, looking at him with a neutral expression on her face.

Roo pulled out a chair and sat, while Mary came from the kitchen with a large mug of coffee for him. “I feel like I slept for five minutes,” he said.

Karli asked, “Late night?”