The Return of Nightfall (62 page)

The edges of Nightfall’s mouth rose to neutral, then a slight smile. He wondered what King Rikard would think of the arrangement he had initiated as a way to save a son and destroy a demon. The old king could not have borne the thought of his grotesquely idealistic youngest son upon the throne, let alone aided by a combination of his most loyal guard and most notorious criminal. It was not a life Nightfall could ever have imagined for himself, let alone wanted. Yet, now, it just seemed right: marriage to his beloved and a lifetime of quietly rescuing the bold young king from himself. At least for the next few days, he had to believe the king’s blindness was as temporary as his soreness.

The door leading to the inn rooms opened, and a wiry man dressed in ragged, close-fitting sailor’s garb entered. Recognizing him, Nightfall sat up straighter. He was from Captain Celdurant’s crew, which meant the
Seaworthy
had not yet left port. Nightfall’s smile broadened. “Ned, would you mind if I left you for a moment?” He once again saved the king’s mug from a spill. “I’m working on a ride home.”

“Go.” Edward politely set aside his tableware to address Nightfall directly. “I’ll be fine.”

Nightfall could not help worrying. The king had a way of getting himself into trouble, even when he did nothing to deserve it. It might take days for the slaves and guardsmen to discover Xevar’s and Jacquellette’s bodies, perhaps longer as none of them dared set foot in the garden. Even then, Nightfall doubted anyone would come after them. The sorcerers would not have shared their plans. Even if they had, no one would have reason, let alone the foolhardy guts, to pursue anyone who could kill two sorcerers.

Rising, Nightfall paused long enough that Edward might believe he had executed whatever proper protocol applied. Then, he headed toward the pirate, who had taken a seat at the end of the bar.

Nightfall approached without preamble. Small talk might give the man opportunity to react with hostility. “Where’s the captain?”

In the time it took for the pirate to turn his head toward Nightfall with a slow disdainful sweep, Nightfall leaned casually against the edge of the bar. “What?”

“Your captain?” Nightfall said. “Where is he?”

The man’s gaze rolled inadvertently toward the door into the inn rooms. “Who wants to know?”

Though not in words, Nightfall had received his answer. He turned and headed for the main exit.

The pirate watched him go; but, when he did not head toward the inn room doors, turned back to the barkeep to place his order.

Once outside, Nightfall swept into the alley behind the Dockside Inn. Gray with twilight, it swallowed him. Instinct told him he was not alone but also not in danger from whatever drunkard or petty thief lurked there. He easily scurried up the wall, glancing through one window before recognizing the
Seaworthy
’s men and gear in a second. Captain Celdurant sat on a rickety chair, discussing something with several of his men while others milled around the room sorting packs and blankets. Dressed in silk, as always, his hair combed to a sheen, he fit about as well among his pirate followers as Edward did in a house of slavery.

Nightfall sprang through the window, landing lightly in the room.

An instant passed in chaos. Then, swords rasped from sheaths, and a ragged line of men formed between Nightfall and their captain.

Nightfall ignored them. After fighting two sorcerers at once, swordsmen hardly seemed a menace. He looked directly at Celdurant. “Captain, I’m seeking passage for myself and a friend to Alyndar.”

The pirates tensed, awaiting a command from their leader. Nightfall now appreciated that the rowdiest of the men had remained in Schiz; otherwise several might have broken ranks to assault him.

“I can pay,” Nightfall added, thrusting a hand into his cloak and seizing the sapphires Celdurant had given him when they first made Hartrin Port. He displayed them on his open palm.

The captain grinned. His pale eyes danced like white-caps on a playful ocean. “And what, pray tell, is the name of this . . . friend?”

“Edward,” Nightfall said, now also smiling.

Captain Celdurant laughed.“Welcome aboard, Sudian.”

 

They launched the next morning, with full bellies and calm seas, the pirates trimming sails and checking lines like old hands. They seemed calmer, more competent, since Balshaz had trained them, sobered by their near run-in with the Lifthranian ships. As Nightfall discovered as they set out to sea, the crew had remained in Hartrin these past few days to careen the ship, as he had suggested. Now, with the hull cleaned and coated, the planks properly caulked, the
Seaworthy
had finally become more than worthy of her name: fast, sleek, and impressively maneuverable. The pirates, too, seemed better groomed and more committed to their captain and their ship, less consumed with gold and greed.

To Nightfall’s surprise, the captain and crew required no warnings about watching their tongues and manners around King Edward. The words “plunder” and “pirate” were never uttered, and they treated their guest like the royalty he was. The captain gave over the main part of his cabin, while he and Nightfall bunked in the outer area near the door. Not once did any man suggest the king of Alyndar, or his companion, was an unwelcome burden; and Nightfall listened, in vain, for someone to so much as whisper “silversucker.”

Once safely out to sea, Nightfall abandoned his disguise and answered to Sudian. Only Edward questioned this choice, as they stood alone at the stern. Nightfall watched Hartrin disappear into the distance while Edward enjoyed the feel of the spray against his face.

“So,” Edward said, his voice carried away on the wind. “What would you have me call you now?”

Nightfall flushed. His rage seemed long ago and far away. “Sudian is fine, Sire.”

“Are you sure?”

Nightfall smiled. “A wise man once told me Nightfall and Sudian are one and the same. That they share a heart.”

Edward also smiled. “A good heart.” The wet air had stripped the dirt from his locks but left them in a hopeless yellow tangle. He was still strikingly handsome, even windswept and filthy, even without vision. “And you listened?”

Nightfall modulated his tone to sound mockingly defensive. “I do . . . sometimes.”

Still grinning, they both stood in silence for several moments. Nightfall turned, allowing the breeze to strike him full in the face. It felt cool, damp, and soothing.

“If Kelryn found out I had spent time as Nightfall, she would dismember me.” It was as much a plea as information. He would not dare directly ask Edward to lie for him; it would affront the king’s honor. He could choose, however, to refer Kelryn to her betrothed for answers about the rescue.

“She was afraid you wouldn’t come back if you did.”

Though stunned by Edward’s insight, Nightfall did not remark on it. Many things about this man continued to astound him. He had once dismissed the prince as stupid and incompetent, only to discover both of those images false. Edward was indeed innocent and coddled, ignorant of the day-to-day life of the underclasses, but keen-witted and a master swordsman nonetheless. “She was right.”

“But you are coming back, Sudian.”

“Only because I got the right words exactly when I needed them.”

“Mine?” Edward also turned toward the ship, balancing one leg against the gunwale, looking remarkably comfortable for a man who had strained every muscle in his body. “I was half dead and not in my right mind. What could I possibly have said that made so much difference?”

Fully dead,
Nightfall corrected silently.
And never in your right mind.
“Sire, I figured if the most moral and ethical person in the world could forgive me for breaking the same vow, Kelryn could, too.”

Edward nodded.

“I only wished I had broken it sooner. Then, you would not have suffered for so long.”

Edward’s grin evaporated, replaced by a deep scowl. “Sudian, you don’t understand.”

Nightfall’s brow furrowed. He had no idea what Edward meant. “What?”

“A man’s word is everything. Without it, he is no better than a street thug. Than an animal.”

Edward was right; Nightfall did not understand. “What?”

“You had no right to break one vow made in good faith until the moment it came into direct and unavoidable conflict with another.” Edward groped for Nightfall’s fingers, and he gave them. The king’s huge, wet hands felt warm against Nightfall’s cold flesh. “To fulfill your vow of fealty to me, you had to rescue me. There came a point when you realized that to keep your word, you had to break your promise to never resort to your . . . evil persona. At that precise moment, you had no alternative but to place one vow over the other.”

“Yes,” Nightfall admitted. “That’s exactly how it happened. But how did you—”

Edward’s smile returned. “Because I know your heart, and it is good.”

Nightfall made a noncommittal noise, actually considering the possibility.

“Did your vows to Kelryn come into similar conflict?”

Nightfall did not have to consider. “Yes, Sire. I promised her I would bring both Edward and Sudian home.”

Edward’s brows rose. “A rash promise.”

“True.” He wasted a wicked grimace. “But I’m doing it, aren’t I, Ned?”

“Indeed. And what have you learned from all this?”

Struck by the question, Nightfall stared. It never ceased to amaze him how the naive little pup dared to treat the world-wise demon as a student. Of course, since Edward could not see his expression, the king could only assume the silence came of consideration. Nightfall decided to oblige. “What did I learn, Sire?”

“Yes.”

“I learned to stop making so damned many promises.”

 

Over the ensuing week, Edward’s vision returned, first as blotches and shapes, then as stripes of color, and finally back to normal. As his muscles overcame the damage from the lightning-caused convulsion, his spirits returned as well. He accepted the silks Captain Celdurant gave him, cut, combed, and oiled his hair back to its normal shimmering gold, and the crusading spark returned to his functioning eyes. Once worried the damage might prove permanent, Nightfall found himself wishing it had lasted a bit longer, just long enough to bring them safely to Alyndar’s docks.

Early one morning, frantic footfalls awakened Nightfall. Even as he sat up, frenzied pounding on the captain’s door brought Celdurant to his feet as well. The captain opened the cabin door to find nearly a quarter of the crew standing in wait.

“The Lifthranian ships, Captain,” one man shouted. “They’re back!”

Another glanced at Nightfall, then back to the captain. “Should we initiate evasive action, Captain?”

Celdurant heaved a heavy sigh. “No.”

The men went utterly silent, every eye directly on their captain.

“I’m sick to death of running.”

“But, Captain,” one man started, silenced by Celdurant’s raised hand.

“Ready a jolly boat. It’s me they’re after and me they’ll get.”

“Captain, you may be ready to die, but we’re not ready to give you up. We’ll fight for you, to the end, if need be.”

A great cheer rose up from the men, and they lifted their curved swords.

Nightfall schooled his features, driven to smile. It must be nice to garner such loyalty, especially in a ragtag lot of pirates.

“No!” Celdurant spoke to the men as if to errant children. “Do as I say.” He slammed the door on their protestations.

King Edward poked his head through the curtain. “What’s going on?”

The captain dressed swiftly, pulling on his silks. “I’m sorry to involve you in this, Your Highness.” He bowed deeply. “It’s a personal matter between me and the barony. I’m not going to be able to accompany you for the rest of the trip, I’m afraid; but Sudian and my men will get you back safely to Alyndar.”

Still in sleeping clothing, Edward placed his hands on his hips. “Do you really believe we will let you sail to your death alone, Captain Celdurant el-Bartokus Arbonne?”

The revelation shocked both men silent, but the captain recovered first. “Who . . . told you?” He turned his intense blue gaze onto Nightfall, who gave a shrug of innocence.

Edward rescued the only man on board who had known the captain’s real name. “No one told me, Celdurant. I’m a studied man, and your own admission made it obvious.”

The captain nodded resignedly. “Then you know why I must go alone. I’m under sentence of execution. My men are innocent.” Though not strictly true, they did have nothing to do with the crime for which the baron had sentenced him. “I don’t want anyone harmed because of me.”

“I won’t allow it.”

Celdurant bowed. “I had counted on that, Your Majesty.”

Finally, Nightfall believed he fully understood. Celdurant chose to surrender himself this time because he had an advantage that had not existed before. Edward would see to it his crew went free or, at worst, received fair trials for their piracy. It would prevent Lifthran from hanging them all simply for their association with him.

“Captain,” Edward said. “If you could just excuse us for a few moments, please.” He waved Nightfall to the inner area of the quarters.

Celdurant bowed, exited, and closed the door firmly behind him.

Wondering what King Edward had in mind, Nightfall followed him into the main quarters, stared at the ocean bubbling past the window, and waited for him to speak.

“Sudian, did he do it?”

Nightfall shook his head, confused. “Do what?” he asked uncomfortably. He had lied to Edward often, but it had become more difficult over time.

“Did he commit the crime of which Baron Ozwalt has accused him? Did he . . . you know . . . the baroness . . .” Edward’s cheeks turned bright pink. Matters of sexuality embarrassed the young man, a hard-core virgin still ensconced in his adolescence.