The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist

gangplank!’

      Turning toward the dock, he peered down into the churning water between the ship and the dock. Seeing bubbles amid the floating wood, line, and sail, he yelled to the dock gang, ‘Lower a rope there to those two idiots swimming beneath the dock before they drown!’

      By the time Amos was off the ship, the two wet youngsters had climbed up to the dock. Amos came to where they stood and regarded the soaked pair.

      Nicholas, youngest son of the Prince of Krondor, stood with his weight shifted slightly to the right. His left boot had a raised heel to compensate for the deformed foot he’d possessed since birth. Otherwise Nicholas was a well-made, slender boy of seventeen. He resembled his father, having angular features and dark hair, but he lacked Prince Arutha’s intensity, though he rivaled him in quickness. He had his mother’s quiet nature and gentle manner, which somehow made his eyes look different from his father’s, though they were the same dark brown. At the moment he looked thoroughly embarrassed.

      His companion was another matter. Henry, known to the court as Harry because his father, the Earl of Ludland, was also named Henry, grinned as if he hadn’t been the butt of the joke. The same age as Nicholas, he was a half-head taller, had curly red hair and a ruddy face, and was considered handsome by most of the younger court ladies. He was a playful youngster who often let his adventuresome nature get the better of him, and from time to time his sense of fun took him beyond the limits of good judgment. Most of the time, Nicholas traveled beyond that border with him. Harry ran a hand through his wet hair and laughed.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Amos.

      ‘Sorry about the boat, Admiral,’ answered the Squire, ‘but if you could have seen the assistant pilot’s face …’

      Amos frowned at the two youngsters, then couldn’t hold in his own laughter. ‘I did. It was a sight to behold.’ He threw wide his arms and Nicholas gave him a rough hug.

      ‘Glad you’re back, Amos. Sorry you missed the Midsummer’s Feast.’

      Pushing the Prince away with exaggerated distaste, Amos said, ‘Bah! You’re all wet. Now I’m going to have to go change before I meet with your father.’

      The three began walking toward the wharf next to the palace. ‘What news?’ asked Nicholas.

      ‘Things are quiet. Trading ships from the Far Coast, Kesh, and Queg, and the usual traffic from the Free Cities. It’s been a peaceful year.’

      Harry said, ‘We were hoping for some rousing tales of adventure.’ His tone was slightly mocking.

      Amos playfully smacked him in the back of the head with the flat of his hand. ‘I’ll give you adventure, you maniac. What did you think you were doing?’

      Harry rubbed at the back of his head and attempted an aggrieved expression. ‘We had right-of-way.’

      ‘Right-of-way!’ said Amos, halting in disbelief. ‘In the open harbor, perhaps, with ample room to turn, but “right-of-way” doesn’t halt a three-masted warship bearing down on you with no place to turn and no way to stop.’ He shook his head as he resumed walking toward the palace. ‘Right-of-way indeed.’ Looking at Nicholas, he said, ‘What were you doing out on the bay this time of day? I thought you had studies.’

      ‘Prelate Graham is in conference with Father,’ answered Nicholas. ‘So we went fishing.’

      ‘Catch anything?’

      Harry grinned. ‘The biggest fish you’ve ever seen, Admiral.’

      ‘Now that it’s back in the bay, it’s the biggest, you mean,’ answered Amos with a laugh.

      Nicholas said, ‘We didn’t catch anything worth talking about.’

      Amos said, ‘Well, run along and change into something less damp. I’m going to refresh myself, then call upon your father.’

      ‘Will you be at dinner?’ asked the young Prince.

      ‘I expect.’

      ‘Good; Grandmother is in Krondor.’

      Amos brightened at that news. ‘Then I will most certainly be there.’

      Nicholas gave Amos a crooked half-smile that was the image of his father’s and said, ‘I doubt anyone thinks it coincidence that she chose to visit Mother just in time to be here for your return.’

      Amos only grinned. ‘It’s my boundless charm.’ With a playful slap to the heads of both boys, he said, ‘Now go! I must report to Duke Geoffrey, then I’m off to my quarters to change into something more fitting for dinner with … your father.’ He winked at Nicholas and strode off, whistling a nameless tune.

      Nicholas and Harry hurried along, stockings squishing in their boots, toward the Prince’s quarters. Harry had a small room near Nicholas’s, as he was officially Prince Nicholas’s Squire.

      The Prince’s palace in Krondor rested hard against the bay, having in ancient times been the defensive bastion of the Kingdom on the Bitter Sea. The royal docks were separated from the rest of the harbor by an area of open shoreline that was contained within the walls of the palace. Nicholas and Harry cut across the open expanse of beach and approached the palace from the water.

      The palace rose majestically atop a hill, outlined against the afternoon sky, a sprawling series of apartments and halls grafted around the original keep, which still served as the heart of the complex. Dwarfed by several other towers and spires added over the last few centuries, the old keep still commanded the eye, a brooding reminder of days gone by, when the world was a far more dangerous place.

      Nicholas and Harry pushed open an old metal gate, which provided access to the harbor for those who worked in the kitchen. The pungency of the harbor, with its smells of fish, brine, and tar, gave way to more appetizing aromas as they neared the kitchen. The boys hurried down past the washhouse and the bakehouse, through a small vegetable garden, and down a low flight of stone stairs, moving among servants’ huts.

      They approached the servants’ entrance to the royal family’s private apartments, not wishing a chance encounter with any of Prince Arutha’s staff or, more to the point, with the Prince himself.

      Reaching the doors used by the serving staff closest to their own rooms, Nicholas opened it just as a pair of the palace serving girls approached from within carrying bundles of linens bound for the washhouse behind the palace. He stood aside, though his rank gave him precedence, out of respect for their heavy loads. Harry gave both the girls, only a few years older than himself, his version of a rakish grin. One giggled and the other fixed him with a look appropriate to finding a rodent in the larder.

      As the young women hurried off, conscious of their impact on the two adolescent boys, Harry grinned and said, ‘She wants me.’

      Nicholas gave him a hard push that sent him stumbling through the door, saying, ‘Just about as much as I want the belly flux. Keep dreaming.’

      Hurrying up the stairs to the family’s quarters, Harry said, ‘No, she does. She hides it, but I can tell.’

      Nicholas said, ‘Harry the lady’s man. Lock up your daughters, Krondor.’

      After the bright afternoon sunlight, the hallway was positively gloomy. At the end of the hall, they turned up stairs that took them out of the servants’ area to the apartments of the royal family. At the top of the stairs, they opened the door and peeked through. Seeing no one of rank, the two boys hurried to their respective doors, located halfway down the hall from the servants’ door. Between this door and his own a mirror hung, and, catching his own reflection, Nicholas said, ‘It’s a good thing Father didn’t see us.’

      Nicholas entered his own quarters, a large pair of rooms, with enormous closets and a private garderobe, so he didn’t have to leave the room to relieve himself. He quickly stripped off his wet clothing and dried himself. He turned and caught sight of himself in a large mirror, a luxury of immense value, as it was fashioned from silvered glass imported from Kesh.