Storms of Destiny (17 page)

“There’s one leader in particular whose name is mentioned repeatedly: a fellow named Rufen Castio.”

“Have him arrested and brought here in chains,” Eregard said. “Salesin is Viceroy. Let him deal with this Castio, as he dealt with that impudent firebrand Petro Tomlia last month.

Salesin will enjoy it. He’ll make a production of Castio’s execution, and such a public spectacle will put a quick stop to this colonial nonsense, mark my words, Father.” The Prince considered for a moment. “How far has the unrest spread?

Who are this Castio’s followers and associates?”

“Those questions bring me to why I called you here today, my son,” Agivir said slowly. “The truth is, I don’t know. And with the current situation, it is difficult to know whom to trust …”

Agivir trailed off and fell silent, then busied himself pinching faded blooms off a lorapel bush. Eregard stared at him.
He’s talking about the power struggle between him and
Salesin. Father doesn’t know who is loyal to him and who is
backing my brother in his plans to depose him. Father obviously does not want to abdicate. Salesin is trying to force
him out.

Eregard felt another flare of anger at his brother.
Father is
a good monarch, just and merciful. Why does my brother
have to be like this?

“I understand, Father,” he said after a long moment. “I know the … situation.” Unbidden, thoughts of Ulandra rose in his mind, and he forced himself to look at his father, his king. Bitterness tinged his voice. “I know the situation and I hate it. I wish there was something I could do.”

Agivir gazed at his son for a moment, and Eregard saw compassion and love in his eyes. He put a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I know that, my son,” he said. “And that is why I am about to ask you to do me a service. These days, there are so few I can trust. So few councillors, and even fewer of our military leaders. The royal governors Salesin has chosen for the Katan provinces are
his
choices, and I know them only a little. My generals, my admirals, those who remember me from the old days, when we fought together for Pela … their numbers are growing thin. We are none of us young and fit for voyaging.”

Eregard stared at his father questioningly. “Voyaging?”

“Yes, my son. I want you to travel to Kata, and be my eyes and ears there. Go incognito, as a merchant. Meet the Katans. Talk to them in taverns, up and down the coast. Go to public gatherings. Listen to the rantings of this Rufen Castio, if you can find him. If the seeds of revolution are borne on the winds, I want to know. But tell
no one
of what you find— that information is for my hearing only. Do you understand?”

Eregard’s heart was hammering with excitement.
A secret
mission! Traveling in disguise!
Here was his chance for adventure, to be like one of the heroes in the stories he loved.

His father was regarding him intently. “This will be a hardship for you, my son,” he said. “It is an eight-day voyage to Kata, if the winds are kind.”

“I’m a good sailor, sire,” Eregard said.

His father smiled. “Of course, you are a true Pelanese.

But this trip will be aboard a merchant ship, not our royal yacht.”

Eregard found the notion of a few privations romantic. He smiled at his father. “I shall assume the guise of a merchant, a wine merchant.”

His father considered this, then shook his head. “Wiser, I think, my son, for you to allow your manservant to pose as the wine merchant, whilst you travel as his clark and servant.”

Eregard blinked. “A servant? But …” He thought for a moment. “What you say makes sense, sire,” he said. “No one would believe in a wealthy wine merchant as young as I am.”

Agivir nodded. “My thinking exactly, my son. There will be hardship in this mission. Think carefully about this before you agree. In a few short weeks it will be winter, and sea travel will be curtailed. If storms sweep down from the

north, you may not be able to return until spring. You will miss the Festival Season … and your brother’s wedding.”

Eregard stopped short and stood staring at his father, barely managing to keep his expression from betraying his shock.
He knows! How can this be? I never said a word to a
living soul …

The King’s eyes were tired and bloodshot, but filled with great wisdom and compassion. Eregard swallowed, feeling love for his father, and admiration.
He is a great man, a
great ruler. Salesin is not fit to empty his chamber pot.

Dropping to one knee, Eregard bowed his head. “Sire, anything I can do, I will. I swear that I will discover the truth and reveal it only to you. And,” he looked up, “Father, I thank you.”

King Agivir nodded, and reached out to lay a hand on his son’s head as if in benediction. “Just stay safe, my son, and come back to me. Come back when you can.” The King straightened his shoulders. “And now, let us go to see your mother. She will want to bid you farewell.”

Eregard nodded silently. His throat was so tight he could not trust himself to speak.

Three days later, traveling incognito and accompanied only by his manservant, Regen, Prince Eregard left Pela behind.

He traveled aboard the
Saucy Lass
, a two-master whose scantily clad figurehead sported a lascivious leer and a wink.

Stashed in the hold of the ship was a cargo of fine golden Pelanese sherry Agivir had supplied, a cargo that “belonged” to Master Regen, the wealthy wine merchant.

At first it had made Regen uncomfortable to be dressed far better than his Prince, and to have Eregard wait on him, but the prince had been adamant that they must keep up their roles even in private, so he could practice.

The Prince found himself actually enjoying playing the role of a humble clark and valet. Even the scurrying of the rats and the bites of the insects that were an inevitable part of belowdecks life did not dampen his enthusiasm. This was indeed a great adventure!

The distance between Minoma and the coast of Kata was a bit more than fifteen leagues. The
Lass
headed due east, into the Straits of Dara.

On the second day of the voyage, Eregard went for a stroll around the deck. This was the farthest out to sea he’d ever been, and it was strange not to be able to sight land in any direction. The water here was the deep blue-green of the true ocean, different from the warmer waters in Minoma’s harbor and the southern Pelanese coast.

The Prince stood leaning against the railing, watching the sailors swarming up and down the twin masts as they put on more sail. The breeze was chilly and brisk, and they were moving at a good five knots, he estimated—excellent for a heavily laden cargo vessel.

He heard voices raised in song, and, almost against his will, found himself humming along with the crew’s ribald chantey:

“I got a beauty so fine in my bed
We’re bound for the promised land!
Hair down her back, but there none on her head
We’re bound for the promised land!

And then he actually sang along with the chorus.

Haul up her dresses
Haul down her stockings-ho!
Haul in your sweetheart dear
We’re bound for the promised land!

I got a beauty whose eyes are the best
We’re bound for the promised land!
The right one points east and the left one points west
We’re bound for the promised land!

Haul up her dresses
Haul down her stockings-ho!
Haul in your sweetheart dear
We’re bound for the promised land!

I got a beauty who’s queen of the land
We’re bound for the promised land!
I’m lucky she loves me, as mean as I am
We’re bound for the promised land!

Haul up her dresses
Haul down her stockings-ho!
Haul in your sweetheart dear
We’re bound for the promised land!”

Eregard found himself smiling as the song ended. He stared out across the white-capped waters, feeling better than he had in a long time. It was a relief to be free of court intrigues, of Salesin’s needle-bladed gibes and even— Eregard hated to admit it, but it was the truth—the knowledge that Lady Ulandra could be just around the corner.

Strange,
he mused.
A year ago, and I had no idea she even
existed. And now, just a scant year later, she is the linchpin
of my life.
The Prince smiled faintly, liking that image. He’d have to work it into a song sometime.

His smile faded and he sighed heavily.
At least now I
won’t have to stand there and watch her wed my brother. I
don’t think I could do that.

Lady Ulandra was the daughter of one of Pela’s foremost bishops, and she had led a very sheltered life, mostly attending schools within cloister walls, taught by priestesses who had retired from the world. And then, when she’d turned seventeen, her father had brought her to court. Eregard wasn’t sure exactly when he’d fallen in love with her. But she’d aroused his protective instincts immediately, with her big blue eyes and innocent gaze.

Though the Prince could be rowdy enough with lower-class females, women of high rank tended to intimidate him.

Thus Eregard watched Ulandra, watched her covertly for months. He saw that she was gentle, and virtuous, and that she went daily to the Chapel of the Goddess for prayer and meditation. She liked romantic poetry, and children, and animals. There was no vice in her, no cruelty, no shadow of sin.

Compared to his mother’s Ladies in Waiting, with their neverending sly intrigues and bedroom adventures, Ulandra was a candidate for sainthood. One spring morning, Prince Eregard had dreamed of the Lady Ulandra, and when he awoke he realized, to his horror, that he had fallen in love with his brother’s betrothed.

The Prince had tried to fight his emotions, but how does one fall out of love? He had occasion to wonder that many times over the long spring and summer months, torturing himself with long distance glimpses of her. Eregard found himself inventing impossible scenarios where Salesin was killed, Adranan had found another, and Ulandra was free.

Standing by the
Lass
’s railing, Eregard thought,
By the
time I see her again, she will be a married woman. It is time
to put her out of your life, out of your heart. Time to concentrate on helping Father.

A thought occurred to him then.
Did Father send me away
to save me from Salesin? Is it possible my brother is plotting
my death?
Eregard shook his head, but he had to admit it was possible.
Plots within plots!

The ship gave a violent lurch as a sudden blast of wind caught her. Eregard had to grab the rail. Jolted out of his reverie, he looked up to see dark clouds boiling up out of the north, racing toward them.

“Storm canvas, lads!” the captain shouted. “Smartly now!”

Sailors were frantically rolling the bigger sails and rigging the smaller, stouter sails. The Prince turned as he heard rapid footsteps, and just managed to get out of the way of one of the other passengers, Dame Alendar, as the heavyset matron headed purposefully toward the rail, hand clapped over her mouth.

After making sure the woman wasn’t going to fall over the side as she heaved, Eregard left her to her misery, grateful for his own cast-iron stomach. He stood gazing at the oncoming storm, seeing the bruise-colored clouds lit from within by lightning. The first faint boom of thunder reached his ears.

“You passengers!” shouted the mate, pointing at Eregard and the dame, who was finished with her upchucking. “Get below!”

Eregard nodded, and offered his arm to the shaky dame, who clung to it gratefully.

By the time he reached the small cabin he shared with Regen, the
Lass
was rolling and wallowing like a sow in labor, every timber creaking in protest. Regen, who had done a stint in the Royal Navy during his youth, shook his head as the Prince lurched into the cabin and managed to fling himself on the small trundle bed allotted to him for the voyage.

“I don’t like the feel of this, Your Highness,” the manservant said. “Feels like it’s blowing up for a real tempest, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Don’t call me ‘Your Highness,’ ” Eregard chided, grabbing the sides of the bed as the
Lass
heaved again. “But you’re right, Master Regen. Masses of clouds as dark as the inside of a cask, shot through with lightning. It was traveling faster than the fleetest racehorse in Father’s stable.”

It was now growing so dark that Regen had to light the ship’s lantern, which swung wildly to and fro, casting monstrous shadows. The older man’s expression was grave.

“From what direction, Your …” He paused as Eregard gave him a stern glance, and amended, “From what direction came the storm, my lad?”

“From the north. The captain was calling for storm canvas when I came below.”

“North … these storm winds will drive us off course, for certain. At least we’ve cleared the coast and have open water to maneuver in, but this is not good. South of us lie the Karithe Islands, the lair of some of the worst of the southern pirates.”

“But they lie many leagues away!” the Prince said.

“Surely no tempest could drive us so far off course.”

“You are most likely correct, Eregard,” Regen said, but his unease was palpable.

The storm continued throughout the day and well into the night. Eregard and Regen occasionally ventured out into the companionway, only to be driven back by the sheets of rain that poured through the edges of the hatches and down the companionway ladder. The wind shrieked, the timbers groaned, and the dripping of the water was enough to drive a man mad, Eregard thought as he lay, damp and chilled, on his trundle bed. He tried to sleep, but it was too noisy, so he lay, staring at the swinging shadows cast by the lamp.

Finally the wild tossing of the ship abated and he fell into an uneasy doze, to awaken to the sound of the cabin door closing. Regen was gone, and the porthole showed early sunlight coming in from the east.

Eregard hastily straightened his clothes, picked a few adventurous vermin out of his hair, then went up on deck. The sun was just clearing a bank of dissipating clouds, and the whole world seemed as clean and bright as a newly washed sheet.