Authors: Raymond E. Feist
“Probably lookin’ for pearls,” said the first man who spoke. He picked one up. “Got a pearl ain’t worth much, not like those that come from the sea, but some’ll buy
’em. All kind of blokes range though these swamps, set up camp, abide a while, then move on.”
Tal was motionless as he held the shell. Then he asked, “What happens when you burn these?”
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“You get a white ash,” said another man. “Did it all the time in my village. I grew up in these islands, Captain.”
“White ash?” asked Tal, thinking. “What do you use the ash for?”
“Well, me mum made soap by mixing it with tallow.
Nasty stuff’ll take the skin right off you if you leave it on too long, but it’ll get your face and hands clean enough.
Good for clothes, too, if you get it all out. Otherwise, it’ll eat a hole in a shirt.”
Tal grinned. “
Now
I remember. Something I read a while ago!” He motioned to the sergeant. “Set two pickets at the near end of the ravine. If they see anything, tell them to come running.” Vadeski detailed two men to do as ordered. Tal then said, “Start a fire, there.” He pointed to a spot just above the water. “Start gathering shells,” he instructed the other men. “As many as you can find. Then empty out your kits.”
The men did as ordered, dumping the contents of their backpacks on the ground. They gathered shells, then once the fire was going, Tal started dumping shells into the flames.
They let the fire burn throughout the afternoon, and Tal watched as a huge pile of ash formed. As the sun lowered in the west, Tal said, “We attack at sundown. The evening breeze should be at our backs, right, Sergeant?”
Vadeski said, “Right, Captain. Wind’s pretty constant across these islands. Still as the grave at sunrise, nice little zephyr every sundown.”
Tal said, “We’ve got dirty work ahead, Sergeant.”
With a grin that was positively evil, Vadeski said,
“That’s the kind I like, Captain!”
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Twenty-one men crouched below the top of the rise. Tal peered over and saw that the pirates were gathered around a large cookfire or lounging nearby. He signaled to his men, and they spread out along the low ridge, two crossbowmen in the center, one each at either end of the line.
He had given clear instructions to his men; now he had to wait for the wind to freshen. As the sun touched the horizon, he felt the breeze pick up. He nodded and spoke in a quiet tone. “Now.”
His men stood. They waited until one of the smugglers saw them, and shouted. The smugglers all grabbed up weapons and made ready for an attack. Tal had ordered his men to hold their ground.
The two groups stood motionless, facing each other, until Vadeski shouted, “Well, what are you waiting for, you ugly buggers?”
The pirates shouted and charged. The distance from the beach to the rise where Tal waited was less than a hundred yards, and most of it was slightly uphill. Tal waited until the first smuggler was only twenty yards away, then shouted, “Now!”
The men picked up their backpacks and started throwing handfuls of the white ash into the air. It was picked up by the wind and blew into the eyes of the attackers. Suddenly men were dropping their weapons and screaming in pain.
The four crossbowmen fired, and four of the pirates went down. A few of them kept their eyes covered, and managed to get to the line, where they were quickly cut down by Tal’s men. Of the ninety or more charging pirates attacking, only a dozen reached Tal’s line, all dying quickly.
“Now!” shouted Tal, and the soldiers dropped their packs and charged. There wasn’t much fight left in the pi-
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rates, as many of them were blind. Tal shouted, “Get me some prisoners!”
Tal leapt among the smugglers, many of them flailing about wildly with their swords, doing more damage to their companions than to any of Tal’s men.
In less than ten minutes, the slaughter ended. Tal had only two wounded men, both with superficial cuts, and four prisoners who were sitting down by the boats trying to wash out their eyes with wet rags.
Sergeant Vadeski approached. “Captain, there’s somethin’ you should see.”
Tal followed him to where his men were digging graves for the dead. “What is it?”
“Look at the feet,” said the Sergeant.
Tal did so and noticed that a full dozen of the corpses were wearing boots. “Those aren’t sailors.”
“No, sir,” said the sergeant. He bent over the closest man with boots on and pulled open his shirt. “Look at this, sir.”
Under the dead man’s shirt was a pendant. “Bet you’ll find the same as this on the others, sir.”
“What is it?”
Vadeski pulled it off the man and handed it to Tal. He looked closely and saw that the medallion was embossed with the head of a roaring lion. “It’s worn by the Black Lions, sir.”
Tal shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“The Black Lions are a special group, sir. Soldiers workin’ for the Prince of Salmater. These ain’t pirates, sir, but soldiers come across the border to do mischief.”
Tal looked at the four prisoners and saw that one of them was wearing boots. He went to stand over the man and nudged him with his foot. The man looked up and blinked. “I think I’m blind.”
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“Most likely,” said Tal. “Or at least for a while.”
“What is this?” asked the man, pointing to his swollen eyes.
“Lye,” answered Tal. “Ash containing lye. Now
I’ll
ask the questions. Who was your officer?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said the prisoner.
Tal nodded at Vadeski, who kicked the man as hard as he could in the side. The prisoner couldn’t see the kick coming and he doubled over, crying out in pain. He lay on the sand, unable to catch his breath for almost a full minute, finally inhaling with a great rasping noise.
“You’re not bloody pirates,” said Tal. “You’re soldiers of Salmater. You’re across the border in Olasko territory.
If I take you back to Opardum, it’ll mean war.”
“I’m a smuggler,” the man said weakly.
Tal looked around. “Right.” He motioned to Vadeski.
“We’ll stay the night, and tomorrow we’ll burn all the boats but one.” He pointed to the three large boats anchored off the shore. “Send four lads to see if there are any more of these cutthroats hiding aboard, and if not, what cargo they hold. If you can, move all the cargo to one of the boats, and we’ll sail it back to Inaska. Detail four men to fetch our boats on the other side of the island.
I want to get this news back to the Duke as quickly as I can.”
“What about him?” said the sergeant.
Tal looked at the man huddling in the sand, blind and hunched up in such a way Tal that suspected Vadeski had broken some of his ribs. Without pity, Tal said, “Make him talk.”
“Gladly, sir,” said the sergeant.
The old soldier started shouting orders while Tal went over to the cookfire. A large iron pot bubbled near the flames. He lifted a wooden spoon out of it and tasted the _______________
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contents of the pot; it was a simple but acceptable fish stew. He beckoned over one of the soldiers, and said,
“Pass the word; hot supper tonight. After burial, I want pickets posted, then the men can start eating.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Tal knelt and took a quick inventory. There was enough hard bread and dried fruit to last his men four or five days. More than enough to compensate for the provisions they had dumped to accommodate the ash in their packs. Tal sighed. This was the first of many bloody tasks Kaspar would set for him, he was certain.
If he was to realize his ambition, to destroy the Duke of Olasko utterly, he must be a good and faithful servant until such time as the Duke revealed his true nature and betrayed Tal. Then he would be free of his oath and could bring Kaspar down.
But that day was a long way off, for there was still much to know. And Tal was patient in many ways.
He got a wooden bowl from a nearby pile and used a ladle to pour out some hot stew. Then he tore off a chunk of bread and sat down, noticing some bottles of wine nearby. He decided to leave those for the men. As he put the bread into the stew and took a bite, he could hear the prisoner starting to scream.
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Tal stood quietly as Kaspar read the report. “You did well, Tal,” Kaspar said as he put down the parchment. “Your report is detailed. The goods recovered will pay for the cost of the trouble we went to, but what do we do about the Prince of Salmater?”
“Send him a message, sir?”
“Yes, my thoughts exactly.” He picked up one medal-
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lion from the pile Tal had deposited on the table before him. “I think returning these to him might get the point across.”
“Will it, Your Grace?”
Kaspar leaned back and regarded Tal. “You have something on your mind, Squire?”
“The smuggling was no more than a nuisance, Your Grace. It harmed some merchants and perhaps diverted some duty money from your treasury, but it was only a small-scale problem. Why detail crack troops to such an undertaking?”
“You have something for me?”
“Only a thought, Your Grace. The soldier we captured knew nothing, but his officer had orders not shared with the men. We got that from the soldier before he died. The other three prisoners were common riffraff, nothing more than thugs and dock rats working for the promise of easy booty.
“But we did find this.” He motioned to a servant, who deposited a bundle before the Duke. Inside was a case, which Kaspar opened, revealing fine writing instruments.
The parchments that were folded below the box revealed pages covered in cryptic notes, and other pages with line drawings.
Finally the Duke asked, “A mapping expedition?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“To what end?”
“A straight route from Micel’s Station to Olasko Gateway. I studied the maps of the area in your collection before leaving. Having just returned from the region, I know they are incomplete and inaccurate. What looks to be a large waterway turns out to be shallow and filled with debris, and there are islands marked where none exist, sandbars that build up and shift, all manner of hazards to _______________
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any deep-draught vessels.” He pointed to one of the line maps. “If I have understood their codes and these drawings, they were returning from a successful expedition—and not the first.” His finger pointed to another page.
“They were almost finished. I know from more reliable sources that there is only one viable route from the point where they stopped to the river itself. They would have found it on their next trip, I am certain.”
He rubbed his chin absently for a moment, then added, “If war were to come to the north, having a direct route that would allow seizing the Gateway without having to confront your forces at Inaska and here in Opardum would give an enemy a strategic advantage: he would hold a fortress city on your western flank and cut off any supplies from the heartlands of Olasko. Another attack on Inaska from inside the island group coupled with a sea assault could take the city in less than a week, in my estimation.”
“Really?” said the Duke, smiling. He turned to Special Captain Havrevulen and said, “What do you think, Captain?”
In neutral tones the Captain said, “I think we should fortify Inaska and send a strong message to Salmater.”
“So do I,” said Kaspar. He looked at Tal. “You’ve done well, young Hawkins.” To the Captain he said, “Draw up plans to fortify Inaska and get them to me by tomorrow.”
The Captain bowed and departed.
To Tal, Kaspar said, “I want you to start tomorrow in incorporating this information on our maps. Bring them up-to-date.” He leaned back in his chair and said, “Clean up and rest before dinner. That will be all.”
Tal bowed and departed. He returned to his quarters and found a hot bath, and Amafi, waiting.
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you need eyes watching your back.” Amafi lowered his voice. “The servants hear things. This is not a happy place. Many political rivals and much plotting.”
“Your command of the language is improving, I see,”
said Tal as he slipped into the hot tub.
“You command, I obey, Magnificence.” Amafi started soaping a large cloth and motioned for Tal to lean forward so he could scrub his back. “It is to my advantage that most here don’t realize I’m learning fast, and think me ignorant of their tongue. So they gossip and let things slip.”
“So, what have you found out?”
“The entire household is afraid of that man, Leso Varen. Those who serve him are in and out, do not linger.
The only people who visit with him are Duke Kaspar and sometimes the Lady Rowena.”
“Hmmm,” Tal said, wondering what Rowena might be up to. He observed the instructions of the Conclave and made no attempt to speak to her outside the normal social contact that resulted from them both serving in Kaspar’s court. When a dinner or some other function brought them together, both observed their roles impec-cably, and neither hinted at their prior relationship. Still, Tal had to admit to devoting a lot of time to considering what her mission might be. That she was spending time with Varen piqued his curiosity.
Amafi went on, “No one has said Varen had done bad things, but it is a feeling of those here that he is a wizard and a bad man.”
“I’ll concede that point,” said Tal. He took the cloth from Amafi and continued washing. “What else?”
“Most of those who have been here a long time remember Duke Kaspar as a different man; the older servants talk about him as a boy. Most blame Varen for Kaspar’s changed nature.”
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“A man makes choices,” Tal said.