Rage of a Demon King. Raymond E. Feist

paused a moment, as if weighing how much to tell Roo. He lowered his voice. ‘Confidentially, we’re going to have our hands full with the Emerald Queen’s fleet when it clears the Straits of Darkness. Nicky’s got some notion of hitting it halfway through, but to do that he’s got to have the bulk of our fleet on the Far Coast. That means we have no way of protecting our shipments from the Free Cities and Ylith when the enemy is in the Bitter Sea.’

      ‘You want to make a deal with Queg not to raid our shipping?’

      ‘No,’ said James. ‘I want you to negotiate a deal to hire Quegan warships as escorts for our ships.’

      Roo looked like an owl greeted by a bright light. Then he laughed. ‘You want to bribe them.’

      ‘In a word, yes.’ James sipped at his brandy then lowered his voice, ‘And we want fire oil. Lots of it.’

      ‘Will they sell it?’

      James sipped his drink. ‘Once, no. But they know we have the knowledge of making it, and have had it since the fall of Armengar. What we don’t have is the production facilities. Our agents tell us they have an abundant supply. I need at least five thousand barrels. Ten thousand would be better.’

      ‘That’s a lot of destruction,’ whispered Roo.

      ‘You know what’s coming, Roo,’ the Duke answered, his voice equally low.

      Roo nodded. There was only one merchant in Krondor who had traveled to that distant land and seen firsthand the destruction visited upon innocents by the Emerald Queen. But there were other merchants with far better connections to be made with Queg. ‘Why me?’

      ‘You are a well-regarded curiosity, Roo Avery. Word of your rise has spread from Roldem to the Sunset Islands, and I’m counting on that curiosity to tip the balance.’

      ‘What balance?’ asked Roo.

      James set his goblet on Roo’s desk. ‘Queg has many quaint and original laws, and not the least of these is the simple fact that a non-citizen of that mad little Empire had no legal rights. If you set foot on Quegan soil without a Quegan sponsor, you’re property for the first Quegan with a strong enough arm to toss a rope around you and make it stick. If you resist, even to save your life, that’s assault on a citizen.’ He made a rowing motion. ‘How do you feel about long ocean voyages?’

      ‘How long?’

      ‘Twenty years is the shortest sentence we’ve heard of.’

      Roo sighed. ‘How do I get a sponsor?’

      ‘That’s the tricky part,’ said James. ‘We’ve had strained relations with Queg lately. Too much smuggling and raiding from our point of view, too little paying of duties for sailing on their ocean from their point of view. Our delegation was expelled from their court four years ago, and it’s going to take a while to get another installed.’

      ‘Sounds difficult,’ said Roo.

      ‘It is. But the thing you need to know about the Quegans is that their government serves two purposes: to keep order – by keeping the peasants beaten down – and to defend the island. The real power rests with their rich merchants. The oldest families have hereditary rights to a place on their ruling body, the Imperial Senate. Those with enough money can buy a seat.’

      Roo grinned. ‘Sounds like my kind of place.’

      ‘I doubt you’d like it. Remember, aliens have no rights. If you irritate your sponsor, he can withdraw his protection at whim. That means you have to be very polite. Take lots of gifts.’

      ‘I can see what you mean.’ Roo reflected on what he had been told for a moment, then asked, ‘How am I supposed to get ashore to make this sort of sponsorship contact if you can’t provide an introduction?’

      ‘You’re an enterprising lad,’ said James, finishing his brandy. He stood. ‘You’ll find a way. Start sounding out your business associates. Once you get some names to contact, I can arrange to have one message smuggled into Queg without too much difficulty, but that’s about the limit of what I can do.’

      Roo rose. ‘I suppose I’ll find a way.’ Already his mind was turning to the problem.

      ‘My carriage is waiting and I have some distance to travel,’ said the Duke as he reached the doorway.

      James followed him and motioned for the serving girl, who was rooted to the same spot he had left her in, still holding the Duke’s cloak. She quickly helped the Duke on with it, and James stood aside while Roo opened the door.

      James’s carriage was waiting just beyond the portal and Roo’s gateman made ready to escort the carriage back to the entrance to Roo’s estate.

      As the carriage door was closed by a guard, James leaned out the window and said, ‘Don’t be too long. I’d like you to leave next month at the latest.’

      Roo nodded, and closed the door. Karli hurried from the upstairs to ask, ‘What did the Duke want?’

      ‘I’m going to Queg,’ answered Roo.

      ‘Queg?’ responded his wife. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’

      Roo shrugged. ‘Yes. But for the moment, getting there is the problem.’ He yawned. Slipping his arm around her waist, he gave her a playful squeeze. ‘Right now I need some sleep. Let’s go to bed.’

      She returned his merry tone with a rare smile. ‘I would like that.’

      Roo led his wife upstairs.

      Roo lay in darkness listening to Karli’s even breathing. Their lovemaking had been uninspired. Karli did nothing to arouse his desire, the way Sylvia Esterbrook did. He thought of Sylvia during his love play with his wife and felt vaguely guilty for it.

      He had visited Sylvia almost weekly, often twice in a week, since the award ceremony at the palace, and he was still as excited by her as he had been the first time he had come to her bed. He quietly stood up and moved to the window.

      Through the flawless glass, imported at great expense from Kesh, he could see the rolling hills of his estate. He had a brook that provided, he had been told, excellent fishing, and he had a small stand of woodlands to the north teeming with game. He had said he would fish and hunt like a noble, but he never seemed to find time. The only thing that he could remotely consider recreation was his time spent with Erik at the Sign of the Broken Shield, making love to Sylvia, or practicing his swordplay with his cousin Duncan.

      He reviewed his life in a rare moment of reflection and had to consider himself both lucky and cursed. He was lucky that he had survived the murder of Stefan von Darkmoor, the journey to Novindus with Captain Calis, and his confrontation with the Jacoby Brothers. More, he was now one of the wealthiest merchants in Krondor. He felt blessed to be a family man, though his wife was not someone he cared to consider; he had long since admitted to himself he had married Karli out of pity and guilt: he felt responsible for the death of her father.

      His children confused him. They were alien little creatures, demanding things he could only vaguely recognize as needs. And they tended to smell at the most inconvenient times. Abigail was a shy child who often burst into tears and ran from him if he raised his voice even in the slightest, and Helmut was teething, which led to his constantly spitting up the contents of his stomach, usually on a fresh tunic that Roo had just put on. He knew that had he not married Karli, he would now be wed to Sylvia. He didn’t understand love, as others talked about it, but Sylvia consumed his thoughts. She took him to heights of passion he had only dreamt of before he met her. He even imagined that had Sylvia been his wife, his children would be perfect, blond little creatures who smiled all the time and never spoke unless it was required by their father. He sighed. Even if Sylvia had been their mother, Abigail and Helmut would be odd, alien creatures, he was sure.

      He saw a cloud moving across the sky, blocking the big moon, the only one showing this time of night. As the vista beyond the window darkened, so did his mood. Sylvia, he wondered