Rise of a Merchant Prince. Raymond E. Feist

said de Loungville. ‘I think we’re going to be up most of the night.’

      Roo shrugged. ‘If there’s a slim chance to get my gold back, I’ll take it. It’s about what I started with, so I’ll be even – not counting my time.’ He looked at Erik. ‘That bit of gold you gave me was part of it, too.’

      Erik shrugged. ‘You don’t invest thinking any venture’s a sure thing. I knew that.’

      ‘I’ll get it back for you somehow,’ Roo promised. He turned his attention to the men at the far end of the hall. ‘Those your new band of “desperate men,” Sergeant?’

      De Loungville smiled. ‘Not desperate enough, but then we haven’t really gotten started with them. Right now we’re just weeding out those who don’t have what it takes, right, Erik?’

      ‘Right, Sergeant,’ Erik agreed. ‘But I’m still not quite sure what the three of us are supposed to be doing.’

      ‘We’ll figure it out,’ said Robert in a noncommittal tone. ‘With luck, Trenchard’s Revenge should be coming into port any day now, and maybe some more of our boys will be aboard.’

      Duncan raised an eyebrow in question, but no one volunteered any details to him.

      Roo said, ‘Where’s the Captain?’

      Robert shrugged. ‘He took off with Nakor, for Stardock. He should be back in a few more weeks.’

      ‘I wonder what he’s up to,’ mused Roo.

      Robert de Loungville’s expression changed to one that Roo knew well, and Roo instantly regretted his words. Everyone at the table, save Duncan, was privy to secrets known only to a few, and such lapses would put Roo into more trouble than he wished should he again speak out of turn.

      Erik glanced at Roo and years of friendship communicated all Roo needed to see to understand that Erik also wished Roo to remain silent.

      Roo cleared his throat. ‘I think I could use that nap if we’re going out tonight.’

      Robert nodded and Erik smiled, and Duncan seemed not to notice any of the exchange, and table talk turned to the mundane.

      Calis looked over the rail and said, ‘See that?’

      Nakor squinted against the late afternoon sun. ‘Keshian patrol.’

      Calis and his companions were on a river boat, hugging the coast of the Sea of Dreams, a few miles away from Port Shamata. Calis said, ‘They’re quite a long way on the wrong side of the border if we can see them from here.’

      Nakor shrugged. ‘Kingdom, Kesh, always fighting over this area. Good farmland, rich trade routes, but no one ever gets crops in and no one drives caravans through the Vale of Dreams because of the border raiders. So it lingers, like an old man too sick to live but not ready to die.’ He looked at his companion. ‘Tell the garrison commander at Shamata and he’ll send a patrol out to chase the Keshians south!’ he added with a grin.

      Calis shook his head. ‘I’m sure someone will eventually mention it to him.’ He smiled a wry smile. ‘I don’t think I need say anything to him. If I do, he might feel the need to impress the Prince of Krondor’s special envoy by starting a war for my amusement.’

      Calis’s eyes stayed fixed on the horizon long after the Keshian patrol vanished from view. Poor Shamata was visible in the distance to the southeast, but they wouldn’t be there for another hour, given the light wind of midday.

      ‘What do you see out there, Calis?’ asked Nakor, his voice hinting at concern. ‘You’ve been moody since we got back.’

      Calis didn’t need to explain many things to Nakor, who probably understood more about the Pantathian serpent priests and their evil magic than any man living. He had certainly seen some of the worst manifestations of it. But Calis knew that right now Nakor wasn’t speaking of anything that had to do with Calis’s concerns over the distant threat to the Kingdom. It was a more personal issue that weighed on Calis’s mind.

      ‘Just thinking of someone.’

      Nakor grinned, and looked over his shoulder at Sho Pi, the former monk of Dala, who at Nakor’s insistence now slept upon a bale of cotton. ‘Who is she?’

      ‘You’ve heard me speak of her. Miranda.’

      ‘Miranda?’ asked Nakor. ‘Heard of her from several men. A woman of mystery by all reports.’

      Calis nodded. ‘She is a strange woman.’

      ‘But attractive,’ added Nakor, ‘also by all reports.’

      ‘That too. There’s so much I don’t know about her, yet I trust her.’

      ‘And you miss her.’

      Calis shrugged. ‘My nature is not common –’

      ‘Unique,’ supplied Nakor.

      ‘– and issues of companionship are confusing to me,’ finished Calis.

      ‘Understandable,’ said Nakor. ‘I’ve been married twice. First when I was young to … you know to whom.’

      Calis nodded. The woman Nakor knew as Jorna had evolved into the Lady Clovis, an agent of the Pantathians they had faced more than twenty years previously the first time Nakor and Calis had ventured south to Novindus. Now she was the Emerald Queen, the living embodiment of Alma-Lodaka, the Valheru who had created the Pantathians, and the figurehead of the army building across the sea that would someday invade the Kingdom.

      ‘The second woman was nice. Her name was Sharmia. She got old and died. I still get confused when dealing with women I find attractive, and I’m six times your age.’ Nakor shrugged. ‘If you must fall in love, Calis, fall in love with someone who will live a long time.’

      ‘I’m not sure what love is, Nakor,’ said Calis with an even more rueful smile. ‘My parents are something unique in history and there’s no small magic in their marriage.’

      Nakor nodded. Calis’s father, Tomas, had been a human child, transformed by ancient magic into something not quite human, not quite Dragon Lord – as humans called the Valheru – and that ancient heritage had been part of what had drawn Calis’s mother, Aglaranna, the Elf Queen in Elvandar, into a union with Tomas.

      Calis continued. ‘While I’ve had my share of dalliances no woman has held my attention –’

      ‘Until Miranda,’ finished Nakor. Calis nodded. Nakor said, ‘Perhaps it’s the mystery. Or the fact that she’s not around very much.’ Nakor pointed to Calis. ‘Have you and she …’

      Calis laughed. ‘Of course. That’s not a small reason I feel drawn toward her.’

      Nakor winced. ‘I wonder if there is any man alive who doesn’t think he’s in love between the sheets at least once.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ asked Calis.

      Nakor said, ‘I forget that while you’re past fifty years of age, you’re still considered young by your maternal race’s standards.’

      ‘A child,’ said Calis. ‘Still learning how to conduct myself as a proper eledhel should.’ He used the name his mother’s people used for themselves, the race humans called elves.

      Nakor shook his head. ‘Sometimes I think those priests who take vows of chastity understand what a drain it is to be constantly thinking about who you’re going to bed with.’

      ‘My mother’s people are not a bit like that,’ said Calis. ‘They feel something grow between one of them and their destined mate and at some point they just … know.’

      Calis again looked out at the shore as the boat began to head in toward the inlet that led to Port Shamata. ‘I think that’s why I’m drawn to my human heritage, Nakor. The stately progress of the seasons in Elvandar has a sameness that I find only slightly reassuring.