The Complete Krondor’s Sons 2-Book Collection: Prince of the Blood, The King’s Buccaneer

‘Back to the city, young sir. For my transgressions are slight and the Three have much to concern their attentions. Some great issue is being decided now, at the Governor’s palace, or so the rumours in the streets tell. Many officials of the Three as well as Imperial envoys come and go. In any event, after a few days, those who are searching for myself will be about other business and I may safely return to my craft.’

Borric shook his head. ‘Can you get out as easily, as you got in?’

The boy shrugged. ‘Probably. Nothing in life is certain. I expect I shall be able to. If not, it’s the gods’ will.’

Borric gripped the young beggar’s shirt, pulling him close. In whispers, he said, ‘Then, my philosophical friend, we shall cut a bargain. I helped you in, and you shall help me out.’

The boy’s dark face paled. ‘Master,’ he said, almost hissing between his teeth, ‘for one as adroit as I, we might contrive a means to release you from your captivity, but you are the size of a mighty warrior, and those manacles upon your wrists confine your movement.’

‘Have you the means for my release of these?’

‘How could I?’ asked the frightened boy.

‘You don’t know? What kind of a thief are you?’

The boy shook his head in denial. ‘A poor one, master, if the truth be known. It is the height of stupidity to steal in Durbin, therefore I am also a stupid one. My thievery is of the lowest order, the most inconsequential of thefts. Upon the soul of my mother, I so swear, master! Today was my first attempt.’

Shaking his head, Borric said, ‘Just what I need, an incompetent thief. I could get free myself if I had a pick.’ He took a breath, calming himself so as not to frighten the boy more. ‘I need a hard piece of wire, so long. A thin nail might work.’ He showed the boy by holding up thumb and forefinger, two inches of length. The manacle chain made the gesture difficult.

‘I can get that, master.’

‘Good,’ said Borric, releasing the boy. The instant he was released, he turned as if to flee, but anticipating just such a reaction, Borric’s foot went out and tripped the beggar. Before the boy could scramble to his feet, the Prince had him by the shoulder of his garment. ‘You make a scene,’ said the Prince, indicating the guards a short distance away with a nod of his head. ‘I know what you are going to do, boy. Don’t seek to flee my grasp. If I’m to be sold at auction in a week’s time, I might as well not go alone. Give me one more excuse to turn you over to the guards and I will. Understand?’

‘Yes, master!’ whispered the boy, now completely terrified.

Borric said, ‘I know you, boy. I’ve been taught by one who was to you as you are to the fleas who live in your shirt. Do you believe me?’ Suli nodded, unwilling to trust his voice. ‘If you seek to betray me or leave me, I will ensure I don’t go to the block alone. We are in this as one, do you understand?’ The boy nodded, and this time Borric saw his agreement wasn’t just to gain his freedom, but to show he believed Borric would indeed turn him over to the guards if he attempted to abandon the Prince. Borric released him, and the boy fell hard upon the ground. This time he didn’t attempt to run, but simply sat upon the hard-packed dirt, a look of fear and hopelessness upon his face.

‘Oh, Father of Mercies, I pray you, forgive my foolishness. Why, oh, why did you cast me in with this mad lord?’

Borric settled to one knee. ‘Can you get me the wire, or were you just lying?’

The boy shook his head. ‘I can get it.’ He rose to his feet and motioned Borric to follow.

Borric followed him to the fence. The boy turned his back so the guards would not see his face should they look in his direction. Pointing to the boards, the boy said, ‘Some of these are warped. Look for what you need.’

Borric turned his back as well, but studied the fencing from the corner of his eye. About three boards down, a warp had bowed the fence outward slightly, pushing a nail out. The Prince leaned against that board and could feel the nailhead poking him in the shoulder.

Borric turned suddenly and pushed the boy against the board. The boy leaned into it and, in one motion, Borric hooked the edge of his metal cuff over the nail. ‘Now pray I don’t bend it,’ he whispered. Then with a quick yank, the nail was free.

Stooping to pick it up, he moved to hide his prize from any watching eyes. Glancing around, he saw with relief that no one had bothered to take note of his odd behaviour.

With little movements, he had one, then the other manacle off. He quickly rubbed his chafed wrists, then put the manacles back on.

‘What are you doing?’ whispered the young beggar.

‘If the guards see me without the bracelets, they’ll come investigate. I just wanted to see how difficult it was going to be to get them off. Obviously, not very.’

‘Where has a noble son such as yourself learned such a thing?’ asked Suli.

Borric smiled. ‘One of my instructors had a … colourful childhood. Not all his lessons were standard teaching for—’ He had almost said princes but at the last instant, he said, ‘—noble sons.’

‘Ah!’ said the boy. ‘Then you are one of noble birth. I thought as much from your speech.’

‘My speech?’ asked Borric.

‘You talk like one of the commoners, most noble lord. Yet your accent is that of one from the highest born families, even royalty itself.’

Borric considered. ‘We’re going to have to change that. If we are forced to hide in the city for any length of time, I must pass as a commoner.’

The boy sat. ‘I can teach you.’ Looking down at the manacles, he said, ‘Why the special confinement, son of a most noble father?’

‘They think I’m a magician.’

The boy’s eyes widened. ‘Then why have they not put you to death? Magicians are most troublesome to confine. Even the poor ones can visit boils and hairy warts upon those who displease them.’

Borric smiled. ‘I’ve almost convinced them I am a poor tutor.’

‘Then why have they not removed the chains?’

‘I’ve almost convinced them.’

The boy smiled. ‘Where shall we go, master?’

‘To the harbour, where I plan to steal a small boat and make for the Kingdom.’

The boy nodded his approval. ‘That is a fine plan. I shall be your servant, young lord, and your father will reward me richly for helping his son escape this evil den of black-souled murderers.’

Borric had to laugh. ‘You’re given to a noble turn of phrase yourself, now, aren’t you?’

The boy brightened. ‘One must be gifted in the use of words to earn one’s living as a beggar, my most glorious lord. To simply ask for alms will bring nothing but kicks and cuffing from all but the kindest of men. But to threaten them with curses of the most elaborate sort will bring gifts.

‘If I say, “May your wife’s beauty turn to ugliness,” what merchant would bother to hesitate in his passing. But should I say, “May your mistress grow to resemble your wife! And may your daughters do likewise!’” then he’ll pay many coppers for me to remove the curse, lest his daughters grow to look like his wife and he can find no husbands for them, and his mistress grow to look like his wife and he lose his pleasure.’

Borric grinned, genuinely amused. ‘Have you such powers of cursing that men fear you so?’

The boy laughed. ‘Who’s to say? But what man would hoard a few coppers against the chance the curse might work?’

Borric sat down. ‘I shall share my meals with you, as they account the bread and stew. But I must be free of this place before they finally tally for auction.’

‘Then they will raise alarm and search for you.’

Borric smiled. ‘That is what I wish them to do.’

Borric ate his half of his dinner and gave the plate to the boy. Suli wolfed the food down and licked the tin plate to get the last bits.

For seven days they had shared Borric’s rations, and while they both felt hunger, it was sufficient for them; the slavers gave generous portions for those heading toward the auction. No dark circles under eyes, nor hollow cheeks, nor shrunken frames would lower price if a few meals would prevent it.

If any others had noticed the unorthodox manner in which the boy had joined the company in the pen, no one commented upon it. The slaves were quiet, each man lost in his own thoughts, and little attempt was made to converse. Why bother to make friends with those you would most likely never see again?