A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

blinked, the only sign of surprise. ‘You honour me, Your Grace. Yes.’

      ‘Good, I am pleased. Fannon will begin your instruction after I’m gone.’ Martin looked up at the door, then lowered his voice. ‘I want you both to do me a service.’

      Charles didn’t hesitate in agreeing to serve. Baru studied Martin closely. They had forged a bond on the trip to Moraelin with Arutha. Baru had almost died there, but fate had spared him. Baru knew his fortune was intertwined in some way with those who had quested for Silverthorn. Something lay hidden behind the Duke’s eyes, but Baru would not question him. He would learn what it was in time. Finally he said, ‘As will I.’

      Martin sat between the men. He began to speak.

      Martin gathered his cloak about him. The afternoon breeze was chilly, blowing down from the north. He looked sternward as Crydee disappeared behind the headlands of Sailor’s Grief. With a nod to the ship’s captain, he descended the companionway from the quarterdeck. Entering the captain’s cabin, he locked the door behind. The man who waited there was one of Fannon’s soldiers, named Stefan, equal in height and general build to the Duke, and wearing a tunic and trousers of the same colour as Martin’s. He had been sneaked aboard in the early hours before dawn, dressed as a common sailor. Martin took off his cloak and handed it to the man. ‘Don’t come up on deck except after night until you’re well past Queg. Should anything force the ship ashore at Carse, Tulan, or the Free Cities, I don’t want sailors speaking of my disappearance.’

      ‘Yes, Your Grace.’

      ‘When you get to Krondor, there’ll be a carriage waiting for you, I expect. I don’t know how long you can continue the masquerade. Most of the nobles who’ve met me will already be en route to Rillanon, and we’re enough alike to casual observation that most of the servants won’t know you.’ Martin studied his bogus counterpart. ‘If you keep your mouth closed, you might pass as me all the way to Rillanon.’

      Stefan looked disquieted by the prospect of a long siege of playing nobility but said only, ‘I will try, Your Grace.’

      The ship rocked as the captain ordered a change of course. Martin said, ‘That’s the first warning.’ Quickly he stripped off his boots, tunic, and trousers, until all he wore was his underbreeches.