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Chapter Four

“Appearances”

.......... Lady Prudence Daemira stood on the deck of the warship Sovereign and tried not to let her irritation show.  She had sent Rory Sornin to collect Cahrick Rantrefal over an hour ago, and neither of them had yet turned up.  Having both of her mages go missing at the same time irritated her to no end, and if they didn’t get to the ship soon, she vowed that there would be hell to pay.  For the thousandth time she berated herself for not sending more men to look for the old mage.  Rory was a good man, but digging through the dives that Cahrick liked to frequent wouldn’t be an easy job, especially now.  On the other hand, if Cahrick didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be, no matter how many men she sent.  In the past twenty years, he’d had a lot of practice hiding.
            She absentmindedly ran a finger across a polished rail and inspected her white glove for dust.  Not so much as a speck was visible, and she smiled inwardly.  She had always run a tight ship, but even the crew knew that this was a special occasion.  Having the king of Dakkadia on board would be a high honor, and no one wanted to give him any reason to regret choosing the Sovereign to carry him to the Convocation.  They had worked tirelessly for days on end to mend every hurt the ship had suffered in its enviable career, and the deck and rails gleamed in the bright sunlight.  Even the black sails seemed to glow.
            Prudence herself wasn’t happy at all with the arrangement, despite the “honor.”  She had always been a loyal subject of Dakkadia, but that servitude had always been rocky when it came to the ruling family.  The Dhaerhans were a vicious lot, dealing harshly with even the slightest transgression, real or imagined.  They made enemies easily, and were almost single-handedly responsible for the isolation Dakkadia enjoyed today.  All of the neighboring countries hated Dakkadia, but none were powerful enough to challenge the warlike house directly.  Her own family was milder than that, and while not overly burdened with ambition, they had steadily climbed in power and prestige to the point that they had achieved true influence.  Her father had wanted her to marry into some noble house or another to cement an alliance, but she had had no desire to do anything of the sort and had told him so directly.  They had argued about it for days, until suddenly and without warning he had given in.
            It still surprised her that he had given in so easily.  She wasn’t stupid or blind; as the daughter of a prince she knew how valuable she was as a potential bride, and any number of lords and nobles would have jumped at the chance to add her pedigree to their names.  The fact that he had given in had made her deeply suspicious, and rather than allow him to blindside her with some new thought about her future, she had taken a chance and enlisted in the Dakkadian navy. 
.......... When her father found out, he had been livid.  The arguments they had had about her filial duty to the house had paled in comparison to the all-out bloodletting they had achieved with her enlistment, but in the end he had had no choice but to let her go.  He wasn’t stupid either; any marriage he would have arranged against her will would have ended with the two houses embroiled in a blood feud, not an alliance.
 .......... She had been 17 when she first arrived at the academy.  Her noble birth had entitled her to attend Officer’s Candidate school, and she had excelled.  Her first duty assignment had been aboard the Tiderunner, a cutter used for coastal defense.  She learned the basics of seamanship on the agile little ship, and decided then and there that she would make the navy her life. 
.......... Her second berth had been aboard the Dakkadian frigate Frenzy, a blue water warship tasked with providing escort for the Dakkadian Merchant Marine.  It was on the Frenzy that she had had her first taste of battle, and had done surprisingly well.  No one had expected the beautiful, raven-haired young noble to be of any use in a real battle, and so everyone had been caught completely by surprise by her fighting prowess.  As a Dakkadian noble, she had been trained from an early age in the ways of battle, and her swordsmanship and marksmanship had been top-notch.  The Frenzy had been outsized and outmanned by the privateer squadron that had attacked her charges, but despite the size difference, it had been the Frenzy that had pushed the battle.  By the end of the day, two captured privateers and dozens of prisoners had ensured that no one would ever again mistake Prudence Daemira for anything other than a professional warrior.
.......... She was now 25 years old, and the captain of one of the three most powerful ships in the Dakkadian fleet.  Three masts, five decks, and thirty cannon made the Sovereign more than a match for anything currently sailing, no matter what flag the ship sailed under.  Illymar had learned to respect her, and though the island kingdom still boasted the most powerful navy in the world in sheer hulls, ship-for-ship the Sovereign could defeat anything the Illymari navy had.
.......... The secret to Dakkadian power was simple:  gunpowder.  No other kingdom had it, and no one else had discovered the secret to producing it.  While the Illymari navy relied on it’s mages to provide firepower, the Dakkadian navy didn’t need to.  Every single ship in the Dakkadian fleet was a viable threat, and the Sovereign with its two mages as well as its cannons was even more so.  Rory Sornin was an air mage, able to bend the weather to his will with ease.  Cahrick was a water mage, the most dangerous weapon in a ship’s arsenal.  A skilled water mage could sink ships effortlessly, capsizing them under relentless waves of incredible size and power or trapping them in whirlpools a mile in diameter.  The only counter for a water mage in a naval battle was another water mage, preferably one with more power and experience.  Cahrick had both in droves.
.......... The Sovereign was a privateer, tasked to harass enemy shipping and capture prizes at will.  So successful was she that Prudence had earned a nickname that other sailors used with awe and respect—the Corsair.  The last serious attempt to sink or capture the Sovereign had cost the Kingdom of Illymar three new-build warships.  Prudence had forced their surrender with humiliating ease despite the numbers, and the kingdom had lost three precious water mages along with the ships.  It was from the captured sailors that she had first heard her nickname used, and she rather enjoyed the notoriety.  The crew certainly had, taking an instant liking to her new sobriquet. 
.......... A disturbance in the city caught her attention, and she raised a spyglass to her eye to take a closer look.  A riot had broken out in one of the poorer sections of the city, and a few buildings had caught fire.  That brought a smile to her face:  a riot could mean only one thing—Rory had found Rantrefal at last.  Cahrick was a walking disaster, able to cause chaos and destruction anywhere he went without even realizing he had done so.  She knew without a doubt that this riot was his handiwork, and she handed the eyeglass to her first officer, pointing wordlessly towards the violence.  With a quizzical glance at her, he raised the glass to his eye and focused it on the spot she had pointed out.  It took a single look to realize the implications.
.......... “It seems Mr. Sornin has found our wayward mage, Captain.”
.......... “So it seems, Mr. Frederick.  Prepare the ship to raise anchor.  We leave as soon as the royal party arrives.  I want no delays.”  Frederick walked to the railing and began passing orders.  The crew, who had been relaxing on the deck, burst into instant action, manning stations, tightening ropes, and generally looking sharp.  This was a good crew, she mused.  There was no room on her ship for slackers, and she had ruthlessly weeded out the weak links a long time ago.  These men and women knew exactly what was expected of them, and stepped to in an orderly fashion.
.......... “What of Mr. Sornin and Mr. Rantrefal, Captain?  When they return to the ship shall I have them keel-hauled, or is a flogging good enough?”  Prudence assumed a pose of deep reflection, left arm under her ample bosom, right hand on her chin.  She tapped her cheek a couple times pretending to give the question some thought, and then said,
.......... “I think flogging would be better.  After all the work the crew has done scraping the barnacles off our ship, keel-hauling wouldn’t have the desired effect, would it?”  Frederick nodded sagely. 
.......... “Flogging it is.  Shall I have them suspended by their ankles first?”
.......... “No.  Not this time.  That would take too long.  Besides, it wouldn’t do for the first sight his Royal Majesty has of the Sovereign marred by the spectacle of those two hanging from the rigging.  No, it would be better to flog them quickly, and then get them out of sight.  In fact, beat them with clubs.  That would be better.  I wouldn’t want the crew to think I had gone soft, no matter what ridiculous clothing I’m wearing.”
            Frederick took in the sight of his captain, and quickly suppressed a smile.  Instead of wearing her normal comfortable clothing, she had dressed to the hilt in what (he supposed) was the latest court fashion.  Her uniform had no practical application at all, other than to be purely ornamental.  The only reason she wore it today was to look impressive.  The snowy lace at her wrists and neck was tastefully embroidered.  The heavy, long-tailed white coat had enough gold braid for a dozen admirals, and her normal plain leather baldric had been replaced for the day by a cream-colored silk sash gathered at her left hip in a bow.  Her hat was also white, with an oversized brim making it seem larger than it actually was.  An emerald and gold brooch pinned the left brim up in a dashing sweep, and several large white plumes trailed from it as ornamentation.  Her long black hair had always been curly, and the ebon locks flowing down her back contrasted sharply with the white of her uniform.  Her boots were the same cream color as her sash, and their tops were turned down just below her knees.  Gold filigree decorated the boot tops and tips, and her white breeches were tucked neatly into the boots.  In fact, the only things he recognized on her at all were her weapons.  The silver, wire-hilted rapier and main gauche hung from opposite sides of her hips, whilst her two pistols were tucked into her belt, front and back.  Frederick knew without a doubt that she also carried a rather large number of concealed weapons hidden in the various nooks and crannies of her costume.  She would have felt naked without them.  
            Corsair gave her first officer a flat stare, daring him to say anything—anything at all—about her ridiculous uniform.  Unfortunately for her, he recognized the look and schooled his own face into an admirably grave expression.  The Clothing had been a present from her oldest brother, newly crowned prince of the Daemira after the recent death of their father.  They were supposed to be a gift…a bribe—or a joke—she supposed, played on her for agreeing to ferry the king to and from the Convocation.  Her entire wardrobe was filled with these monstrosities, each one more decorative and impractical than the last.  The sternly worded note that had accompanied the wardrobe made it very clear that she was to wear these at all times in the presence of the king, and even more so in the presence of the gathered nobility in Illymar.  She was a “representative of Dakkadia after all, and had to look as impressive as possible in the eyes of our hosts,” etc., etc.  She could picture her brother’s face as he penned the missive, snickering incessantly as he imagined the horror and consternation on her face when she saw the costumes for the first time.
            Still, she had to admit that the effect was impressive.  When she’d first left her cabin wearing the white and gold uniform, her crewmen had stopped what they were doing to stare in awe at her, eyes widening and mouths dropping open.  She hadn’t said a word, but after the shock finally wore off she had caught sight of several members of her crew surreptitiously straightening their own uniforms or smoothing their hair and washing their faces as if her glowing garb had made them feel shabby and dirty.  The thought brought up a thoroughly unprofessional giggle, and she raised her white-gloved hand to cover her mouth.  It wouldn’t do for the crew to think she was laughing at them after all.

.......... .......... .......... .......... .......... * * *

            Valeriad’s first sight of the city wasn’t exactly what he had remembered from his last visit.  For one thing, there hadn’t been quite as much smoke, or as many injured people wandering about in a daze.  For another, the townspeople hadn’t been rioting.  He gave Phaedron a puzzled look, but Phaedron raised an eyebrow in return and shrugged:  he didn’t know what was going on either.  Both of them, however, knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that whatever it was, it was going to make Madari very, very angry. 
As flames shot out of the windows of a two-story building, both of them wondered if they should do something.  Just as Phaedron had obviously resolved to act, Valeriad caught sight of Morvandis riding towards them on his black stallion.  Valeriad reached out and caught Phaedron’s arm, and Phaedron instantly aborted whatever it was he was about to attempt.  Before he could say anything however, Valeriad pointed towards the approaching mage.  Phaedron noticed Morvandis’ approach, nodded at Valeriad, and waited for their instructor to reach them. 
Morvandis rode quickly and with purpose, but with little urgency.  He pulled up to the pair and said,
            “As you can see, a section of the city is on fire.  As such, it would seem that this would be an excellent time for a lesson.  Valeriad, I would like for you to deal with this.  First, tell me what you can sense of the fires.”  Valeriad stared at the town, concentrated for a few moments, then answered,
            “There seem to be several fires, including three separate sources that have the potential to become serious problems.  There are many other fires in the area, but some of them are so contained they may well be hearth fires or forges.”  He looked at his instructor, and Morvandis nodded.
            “Very good.  Now tell me the most efficient way of dealing with the flames.”  Valeriad frowned for a moment and said,
            “The best way I can think of is to simply seize control of the fires and dissipate them.  I think I can do it, but I’m not positive.  It would be much easier to do them one at a time.”  Morvandis cocked his head to the side and said coldly,
            “I am not interested in guiding you down the easier path.  You possess more than enough strength to deal with the problem, so deal with it you shall.  All at once.”  Valeriad paled visibly, and then nodded. 
            “By your leave?”  He asked.  Morvandis inclined his head slightly.
            For the second time that day, Valeriad’s eyes transformed from their normal cool blue to white hot coals.  He reached out a hand towards the burning buildings, frowning in concentration.  Morvandis watched his pupil for a few moments, and then turned his attention towards the town.  Valeriad slowly closed his hand, and the fires shooting out of the second story building began to die down.  Just as the flames finally seemed to be gone, Valeriad recoiled in his saddle as if he’d been struck, and the fires suddenly returned.  He shook his head as if to clear it, and before Morvandis could say a word, raised his hand again.
            After several minutes of concentration, the fires receded then disappeared altogether, leaving only blackened timber behind as a grim testament that the flames had even existed.  Once he was certain that the fires were gone, Valeriad’s eyes returned to their normal blue, and he lowered his hand.  He was perspiring freely, as if he’d been standing right next to the fires he’d just extinguished.  He looked expectantly towards Morvandis, and Morvandis said,
            “You did well, Valeriad” he paused, and then added,
            “On the second attempt.”  Morvandis’ tone hadn’t changed at all, but both Valeriad and Phaedron had expected the barb.  Valeriad didn’t say anything, for Morvandis hated excuses, and anything Valeriad had said in his own defense would be considered just that.  Phaedron on the other hand, seemed to be feeling a bit more daring.
            “A lot of people could have been killed in that fire, Morvandis.  Some may still have been.  You could have extinguished those fires in an instant, yet you decided that it was more important to give Valeriad some practice than it was to save those lives.”  Morvandis didn’t bother to reply, he just looked at him indifferently.  This angered Phaedron even further, but before he could say anything, King Madari rode up to the small group and said angrily,
            “Morvandis did not start the fire, nor did he begin the riot.  As such he had no obligation to save the lives of people stupid enough to do both.  That he decided to intervene at all was lucky for the townspeople.  I would have let them burn.”  Phaedron glared at Madari, then said in a cold voice,
            “Of that I have no doubt.  But you’re wrong.  You’re the king, and these people are your subjects.  As such it is not only your duty to protect them, it is also your duty to protect their homes and livelihood, or have you forgotten that?”  Madari narrowed his eyes and balled his fists, but Phaedron refused to back up so much as an inch, daring him to strike.  Instead of hitting Phaedron, Madari sneered, and then spoke, his voice dripping with scorn.
            “You dare to lecture me about the duties of a king?  Me?  What do you know about my duties and obligations Lord Daane?  My duty is to govern—to make the laws and to see them enforced—not to coddle people who refuse to obey them!  My subjects were rioting, and as such they broke my law.  Should I so wish, I could have all of them put to death for breaking my peace.  If a few people have died, then let them serve as an example to the others:  breaking my laws means death.”  Phaedron’s eyes were cold before, but now they blazed with anger.  He opened his mouth to reply but before he could speak, Queen Aveliad interrupted him, her delicate musical voice sharp as a razor.
            “Phaedron, desist!”  Phaedron closed his mouth, instantly obeying his mother.
.......... “While you are lecturing him on his duties, Phaedron, you seem to have forgotten your own.  Remember that he is your king and as such your duty is to obey him, not to question him.”  Shocked at her words and tone, Phaedron shot his mother an incredulous look, but she met his eyes unflinchingly.  Madari sneered again, then said,
            “You should listen to your mother.  Some kings would believe your insults to be treasonous.”  Queen Aveliad held Phaedron’s gaze for a moment longer, and then turned to look Madari squarely in the eye.  Though her words were meant for Phaedron, her eyes never lost their hold on Madari.
            “Of course, you have other duties as well, Phaedron, and one of those duties is to make sure your own morality is not compromised by the immoral actions of another.  Even if that other person is your teacher…or your king.”  At his wife’s scathing tone, Madari’s sneer turned into a snarl, and brown eyes hot with anger met amber eyes cool with scorn.  Madari gave the reins of his horse a sharp pull, dragging its’ head around towards the front of the column. 
            “We’re wasting time.  We have a ship to catch.  Morvandis, Valeriad, follow me.”  Morvandis nodded to his king, and after the king had spurred his horse forward he turned to Aveliad and gave her the slightest of nods, as if conceding her the match.  She didn’t bother to respond, simply looking at him as if contemplating a particularly loathsome species of insect.  After a moment’s pause, he too rode forward, with Valeriad riding close behind, leaving Phaedron and Aveliad in sole possession of the battlefield.

.......... .......... .......... .......... .......... ***

            Prudence Daemira felt uncharacteristically nervous when the royal column came into sight.  At its head rode the king himself, his mage Morvandis, and a boy with long white hair she assumed was Crown Prince Valeriad.  At the sight of him, she briefly contemplated the young prince, idly wondering what kind of man he was becoming.  She didn’t waste much time wondering about that…she knew that she would learn soon enough whether the boy had escaped their influence, or had been irrevocably damaged by it.  Knowing his father, she gave him only a 50-50 chance of being at least salvageable. 
.......... It had been a long time since she had personally spoken to the king, but she remembered her last meeting with him very well indeed.  After her exploits on the Frenzy, she had been presented to the king to be honored, and King Madari had taken the opportunity to leer openly at her.  After that his eyes had never left her chest.  She crossed her arms over her breasts and frowned at the memory.  She had been to dockside taverns that had shown her more respect and courtesy.  But it hadn’t ended there.  No, it had finally come to a head during the celebratory party that had followed the formal dinner.  An inebriated Madari had approached her with a very inappropriate invitation, and when she had declined—politely of course—he had gotten more aggressive, going so far as to paw at her like some kind of an animal.  She hadn’t known how to respond to his advances, and his lewd behavior had frozen her just long enough for him to actually grab her breasts.  It had taken every ounce of self-control that she had possessed to keep from slapping him or kneeing him in the groin as she would have done with any other drunken lout, but somehow she had kept herself in check.  She had pulled away from him as quickly and decorously as she could, and excused herself for the rest of the evening.  He had laughed at her as she retreated.  Laughed!  Then he’d shouted at her six words she would never forget:  Your parents named you well, Prudence! The heavy emphasis on the first syllable of her name had been one insult too many, and she’d whipped around to flay the king alive with her tongue, but the drunken Madari had already staggered back to the party.  Even now Prudence’s face burned at the memory, and she could feel herself getting angrier and angrier by the second.  Seeing him again brought the entire episode back, and she knew that she had better get things under control, and quickly.  Letting her king know that she hated his guts wouldn’t be the best way to begin the trip. 
.......... Frederick must have sensed something, because he cleared his throat next to her and said quietly,
.......... “Is anything the matter Captain?  You look angry.”  Prudence rounded on him and nearly snatched his head off to hand it to him, but somehow she restrained herself.  When she was sure that she had control of her voice, she said coldly,
.......... “What makes you think anything is wrong, Frederick?”  The evil glare that accompanied her words was more than enough of an answer, but he decided to risk death or dismemberment anyway, and leaned forward to speak quietly in her ear.
.......... “Well, ma’am, when the king came into sight, your face turned bright red and a small vein on your forehead popped out and began to pulse.  More than that, you were staring daggers at his Majesty.  I’m surprised he didn’t burst into flame, or drop dead on the spot.”  She snorted once sharply, and he was relieved to see that his jest had clearly had the intended effect.  She looked at him again, the evil glare changing to a mocking shadow of itself, then said flatly,
.......... “Fortune does not love me so well, Frederick.”  At that she began to chuckle, imagining the king bursting into flame or dropping dead right…now.  She glanced hopefully at the column of riders, but obviously Madari had refused to cooperate with her mental assassination attempt, for the column—and the king—continued to approach.  She sighed regretfully, and then turned to her first officer.
.......... “Prepare to receive our guests, Frederick.  All honors.”  Frederick came to attention and saluted her formally, hand over heart, then turned to the crew. 
.......... “Crew, attention!”  The crew immediately squared themselves up, and just as they finished forming up, a loud voice sounded from the dock.
.......... “Permission to come aboard?”  Frederick turned formally to his captain, and she responded just as formally
.......... “Permission granted.”  Frederick instantly turned to the dock and shouted,
.......... “Permission granted!”  As the King of Dakkadia climbed the boarding plank, Frederick waited until the King was two steps from the deck of the ship before shouting
.......... “Present arms!”  As one, the crew raised their right hands to touch their hearts, palms parallel to the ground in the Dakkadian military salute.  King Madari Dhaerhan stepped aboard, followed by his son and his mage, and turned to Prudence.  With parade-ground precision, she raised her hand in salute, and he returned the courtesy with a salute of his own.  When he lowered his salute, her hand beat his to her side, and Frederick shouted again,
.......... “Order, arms!”  The crew snapped their arms to their sides as one.
.......... “Welcome aboard the Sovereign, Your Majesty.  Would you care to inspect the crew?”  Madari nodded his acceptance, and followed her silently as she led him past the rows of sailors and marines standing at attention on the deck.  Madari said nothing during the inspection, but Morvandis did stop briefly when the party approached Cahrick Rantrefal.  He turned slightly towards the mage, and Cahrick froze as if he were a field mouse staring at a cobra.  The old mage seemed to wilt without moving a single inch, as if he were trying desperately to hide behind himself. 
.......... “We meet again, Rantrefal.”  Cahrick swallowed heavily, but maintained his stance, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.  Morvandis’ mouth twitched into a sardonic smile at the old mage’s obvious terror, but he didn’t say anything else, simply turned to continue the inspection.  Prudence gave Morvandis a sideways glance, but Morvandis hadn’t done anything wrong at all, even if Cahrick did look as if he wanted to jump ship right then and there.
The inspection concluded shortly thereafter, and Madari turned to address Prudence.
.......... “A fine crew indeed, Lady Prudence, though I expected nothing less from the Corsair herself.   And the Sovereign’s unbroken string of victories tells me everything I need to know about their skill in battle.  You have my appreciation for everything you have done for Dakkadia.  You’ve made all of us proud.”  Madari had pitched his voice to make sure every member of the crew could hear his words, and the crew swelled with pride at his praise.  Prudence saluted him inwardly, thinking all the while you may be a pig and a bastard, Your Majesty, but that was well done.  Your words will mean the world to the crew.  Prudence shook her head slightly, and then smiled at her king.
.......... “On behalf of myself and the crew of the Sovereign I welcome you aboard.  Should there be anything we can do to make your journey more pleasant, please do not hesitate to ask.”
.......... “Be careful what you offer Captain, for be assured I will hold you to that.”  Prudence grimaced slightly, thinking I bet you will, Your Majesty.  I bet you will.
A bright voice interrupted her dark thoughts, and she turned quickly to the speaker.  She hadn’t been listening to what had been said, so she asked politely,
.......... “I apologize, my Prince, I did not hear you.  Did you have a question?”  Valeriad smiled and said,
.......... “I was just mentioning that my sister is dying to meet you, Captain.  She has heard of your exploits and spent much of our journey here talking about you.  I can’t wait to see how she reacts to the person behind the legend.”  Prudence cocked her head slightly, and took in the prince’s appearance and demeanor.  All in all, she decided that she liked what she saw in him.  He was extremely beautiful, she noted, with long white hair flowing down his back in luxurious waves that ended at his waist in the traditional Dakkadian style.  His slightly tilted eyes and tall, slim build were obviously a gift from his mother, though his broad shoulders were most definitely his father’s.  Madari was built like the warrior he was, shorter and broader, and powerfully muscled.  Valeriad on the other hand was lean and wiry.  He was still a boy, but you could see traces of the man he would soon become.  A thought came to her then; if Madari is a warhorse—or better yet a plow horse—the prince would be a stallion, and a fine one at that.  She grinned at the comparison.
.......... “I look forward to meeting her, as well as the rest of the family.  If you will excuse me, I have to get the crew moving.”  Valeriad nodded his agreement.
.......... “Mr. Frederick, please dismiss the crew, and show his Majesty to his quarters.” 
.......... “Aye aye, Captain.”  He turned to the crew, and shouted,
            “Crew!  Dismissed!”  The crew instantly returned to their posts, and with that the rest of the royal party began to board the ship.  The bosun dispatched some crew members to bring up their baggage, and the formality of the greeting disappeared completely as the well-oiled crew went at their jobs with a will.
            As Frederick went below with the King, his son, and Morvandis, a vision in white boarded the ship.  Corsair instantly recognized Queen Aveliad, and her face broke into an enormous smile.  She looked exactly as Prudence had remembered, right down to the white feathered mask on her face.  Queen Aveliad looked around briefly until she saw Prudence, and then moved quickly and gracefully toward her, a matching smile on her face. 
            “Lady Prudence.  It is wonderful to see you again.  It has been far too long.”  Prudence curtseyed appropriately to her queen, but once the requirement had been accomplished she held out her hands in greeting, her smile widening even further.  Aveliad placed her impossibly delicate fingers in Prudence’s gloved hands and squeezed them tightly.  Prudence had always wondered how fingers that looked so frail and thin could contain such strength, but despite the strength in those fingers Prudence returned the squeeze gently lest she break them. 
            “My Queen, I welcome you aboard.  It has been too long.  And you look absolutely radiant, as always!”  The queen’s laugh was bright and musical, and the sound of it made Prudence laugh as well.
            “You flatter me.  But I do thank you for the polite lie.  Six days on the road is enough to make anyone look less than their best.  But enough about that.  Look at you!”  Aveliad took in the glowing clothing Prudence had tried so hard to forget in obvious appreciation, and the reminder made Prudence’s face turn scarlet with mortification.  She dropped her gaze in embarrassment, evoking yet another laugh from Aveliad.  Before she could say anything, Prudence hurriedly explained,
            “The clothes were my brother’s notion.  He made sure that I wouldn’t embarrass the Dakkadian court with my normal garb.  He sent me dozens of these…outfits.  And each one is gaudier than the last.”  She looked up sheepishly, and noted that Aveliad didn’t look at all embarrassed for her.  In fact, she had a pronounced look of approval in her eyes.
            “If that is the case, you should send your brother a letter thanking him for his efforts.  Trust me when I say that you are an absolute vision, and it is my prediction that you will turn many a head at the Convocation.  With your beauty as well as your reputation, men will be vying for your favor.  Beware who you speak to, lest jealous lordlings begin dueling each other, hoping to gain your attention.  Mark me well: you could very well cause the untimely end for many a noble at the Convocation.”  Corsair laughed again, her embarrassment forgotten, and said,
            “Now who is flattering whom?”  Aveliad replied, a serious expression on her face,
            “I speak but the unvarnished truth, Lady Prudence.”  Corsair thought a minute, then said,
“I guess we’ll soon find out.  If the odd noble or two should end up dying for my attention, I’ll be sure to lay the blame where blame is due….squarely on my brother’s shoulders.   As to thanks, now that I think on it a letter will not be necessary.  My brother the Prince will be attending the Convocation as well, which should give me ample opportunity to…thank…him in person.  That is of course, if I can find him, or that his personal guard allows me within arms reach.  It would be too much to ask that he would allow me to carry weapons into his presence, but for an offense of this magnitude, bare hands should suffice.”  Aveliad smiled in appreciation for Prudence’s wry humor, but suddenly her face changed into one of concern.
            “How was your meeting with my husband?  I trust that he did nothing untoward?”  At the mention of the king, Corsair was again taken back to that horrible evening five years earlier when the monarch she had served so faithfully had treated her like a common whore, and her smile wilted visibly.  But then another memory surfaced, and the remembrance of the events that had occurred after she had left the party returned the smile to her face.  Queen Aveliad had come to see her in her apartments, a meeting Prudence had been dreading.  She was terrified that the queen would blame her for encouraging the king’s advances, but nothing could have prepared her for what had actually happened when the queen had finally sought her out.  Prudence had been standing on her balcony, looking out over the Dakkadian capital city, contemplating the sudden demise of her career and wondering how her family would react to her inevitable disgrace, when a soft voice from behind her had jerked her from her reverie and put an end to her dark thoughts.  My husband is unconscious, too drunk to make it to his own bedchambers.  He had to be carried.  Prudence didn’t recognize the biting tone at first, and she whirled around in surprise to look at her unexpected visitor.  When she saw it was the queen, she collapsed instantly into a deep curtsey, in a move so quick it almost seemed she had fainted.  All the while she had held her curtsey, she had kept her eyes downcast, too ashamed of what had happened that evening to meet her queen’s gaze.  Aveliad had hurried forward and placed her hands on Prudence’s shoulders, squeezing gently.  Please rise, Lady Prudence.  I saw what happened to you at the party, and I came to apologize for my husband’s churlish behavior.  When there is a beautiful woman about he is bad enough when sober, but when he gets too far into his cups he becomes truly offensive.  For his unforgivable insult to you and your honor, I humbly beg your forgiveness.  For the second time that evening, Prudence had been too shocked to respond.  Her queen was asking for her forgiveness?  In her wildest imagination she hadn’t even considered the possibility.  I know what he did was reprehensible, but I hope you will remember that Dakkadia truly respects and honors you for what you have done on its behalf.  I pray you will continue to bring glory to yourself and your house, as well as to our kingdom.  If there is anything I can do to make amends, you have but to ask.  In this, I am your servant.  Queen Aveliad had curtseyed then, deeply, as a servant to a noble.  Prudence had been mortified at the complete breach of etiquette, and had rushed to assure the queen that there was nothing to forgive.  Aveliad rose gracefully and said, rest assured that my husband will not remember tonight’s events, which makes his behavior even more disgraceful if indeed that is possible.  Have no fear that you have incurred his wrath, Lady Prudence.  She turned to leave then, but before stepping from the room she turned to say one last thing.  Remember that you serve Dakkadia, and Dakkadia is more than just the man that wears the crown.  You have a friend at court, and my offer is genuine.  If there is anything—anything at all—I can do for you or yours, you have but to ask.  If it is within my power, it is yours.
.......... The next morning Prudence had seen the king again.  She hadn’t believed she would be lucky enough that the king would actually forget what he had done, but Aveliad had been right:   Madari hadn’t remembered his behavior of the previous evening.  Prudence had left the capital as quickly as she could to avoid any further confrontations, but she had decided then and there that for her, serving Dakkadia meant serving her queen.  Madari could hang for all Prudence cared, but Aveliad was a monarch that Prudence could serve with honor.  She had never had reason to call upon the favor Aveliad had offered, but she knew that her current assignment to the Sovereign, the most powerful ship in the fleet, was the direct result of Queen Aveliad’s influence.  She was also certain that Aveliad had also made sure that both Cahrick Rantrefal and Rory Sornin had found their way aboard her, and the addition of both a water mage and an air mage had turned the most powerful ship in the Dakkadian navy into the most feared ship on the entire ocean.  In a very real sense, Aveliad had been responsible for Prudence earning the name Corsair. 
            With an effort, she pulled herself back to the present and said,
            “No, my Queen.  There were no difficulties with his Majesty.”  She paused a moment, then added with a sly smile,
“My steward has orders to water down the wine at our meals to make sure that happy state of affairs continues.  I would hate to make him walk the plank or some other such unpleasantness.  It would also not do to let my guest fall overboard in a drunken stupor.  Completely by accident, of course.”  Aveliad laughed again, her worried expression gone in an instant.
.......... “Please, Lady Prudence.  It isn’t kind of you to fill my head with such wonderful images.  I couldn’t bear the disappointment when they don’t come to pass.”  Corsair joined her queen in laughter, when a second person joined them.  Aveliad put her arm around her daughter’s shoulder and said,
.......... “Lady Prudence Daemira, please allow me to introduce to you my daughter, the Princess Deirdre.  Deirdre, this is the Corsair herself.”  Corsair took in the sight of Aveliad’s youngest child and smiled openly.  Deirdre was as beautiful as Valeriad, though her hair was pale gold rather than shining silver.  Her clear green eyes were wide in awe, and she gasped sharply when Prudence curtsied to her.  Aveliad continued,
.......... “You’ll have to excuse her, Lady Prudence.  She has a slight case of hero worship where you are concerned.  Although,” she paused, “now that I think about it you only have yourself to blame.  You have been entirely too successful at what you do for your own good.  Your legend is growing.” 
Princess Deirdre seemed to be too overcome to say anything, so Corsair raised an eyebrow and said imperiously in her best Captain’s voice,
.......... “Welcome aboard the Sovereign, your highness.  While you are aboard we’ll try to take care of you, but I make no promises!  The sea is a dangerous place, and anything can happen.  You’ll have to keep a sharp eye out, and mind the words of the sailors who are here to protect you, especially if we come upon some prey.  Can you do that?”  Princess Deirdre nodded vigorously, eyes wider still, and still unable to say anything in the presence of a living legend.
            Aveliad interrupted then, asking
            “Captain, would your ship have someplace for us to wash ourselves?  I must confess that I can no longer stand feeling this unclean, and I’m sure the princess feels the same way.”  Corsair smiled at the pair and said,
            “But of course, my Queen.  Quarters have been arranged for you, and copper tubs are available to you at need.  Give me a moment and I’ll have Mr. Cahrick join us.  Water mages are very useful for heating up water.”  She thought about it a moment and added, “Though I’ve always wondered about that.  Wouldn’t heating water be a fire mage’s domain?”  Deirdre found her voice then, and said softly in a voice identical to her mother’s,
            “Phaedron says that heating water is a simple trick for water mages.  He says while fire can heat water, water mages can simply command the water to agitate itself and force it to become heated on its own.  He says it’s faster as well.  Of course, Val says that fire is meant to be used to heat water, but Phaedron just rolls his eyes at him and calls him an idiot.  They do go on about it.”  She must have realized then that she had actually spoken to her heroine because she silenced herself instantly in scarlet mortification, but Corsair merely nodded at the diminutive princess and said,
            “Cahrick said the same thing once, now that you mention it.  An excellent explanation, your Highness, and I thank you for reminding me.  But I’ve allowed myself to get distracted.  My apologies. Let me get Cahrick and I’ll have him heat your bath for you.  Your trunks have already been brought aboard and stowed in your quarters.  You’ll be up to your eyes in hot water in just a couple of minutes.”  She turned then to look at the deck of the ship, searching for her water mage, but her eyes were drawn instantly to the most beautiful man she had ever seen.  Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply, tiny spots of color appearing high on her cheeks.  Time seemed to stand still for her at that moment, and she used that time to drink in the sight of him.  At first, he looked like an older version of Valeriad, but the differences were telling.  He was taller than Valeriad for one thing, with long black hair that trailed down to his waist.  A white widow’s peak provided a long stripe that contrasted sharply with his blue-black hair, and his slim build fit his great height perfectly.  He had a slim nose and sensual lips, with thin eyebrows arching slightly over tilted eyes whose shape perfectly matched those of Aveliad.  He wore comfortable black clothing, with silver trimmed black boots that turned down at the tops.  On his waist he wore a wire wrapped silver rapier and a matching main gauche that reminded her very much of her own sword and dagger, and from the worn leather hilts she could tell that the weapons had seen use.  He had an elegantly worked pistol and ammo pouch suspended from a holster at the back of his belt, and she wondered idly how good a shot he was. 
            Apparently she had been staring a bit too long at the man, for she failed to notice Aveliad move up beside her to look at what had caught her attention.  Aveliad glanced coyly at the thunderstruck Prudence and said, bright laughter apparent in her voice,
.......... “The man speaking to Cahrick Rantrefal is my oldest son, Phaedron.”  Prudence barely heard her, as if she was speaking from a great distance, but one word did stand out to her, and she repeated it breathlessly.
            “Phaedron.”  

.......... .......... .......... .......... .......... ***

.......... “Phaedron.”  The single breathless word contained many nuances, but above all Aveliad could hear the caress in the captain’s voice as she repeated the name softly to herself.  Without a doubt, the captain had fallen, and fallen hard.  Aveliad recognized the signs quite clearly, for she too had fallen in love with her first husband the moment she had set eyes upon him.  She gave Prudence a knowing look and grinned openly, though the captain didn’t notice.  She also gave her son a look, this one almost pitying, for he had no inkling, no conception of what had just happened, or how it would affect him.  He still hadn’t looked in their direction, too engrossed in conversation with the water mage Aveliad had extended her protection to decades earlier.  Aveliad knew Prudence well, and as much as she loved her son, she knew he was in trouble.  When the Corsair wanted something, nothing short of death would stay her hand.  She laughed again at the thought of the pairing.  It would be a fine match, and one she had hoped to arrange years ago.  Too bad Prudence had fought so hard against it…but she was still young.  She had yet to learn that fate had a way of forcing people to bend to its will, like it or not.  She was happy for her son, and for the beautiful woman standing next to her, and she wished the pair well.  Of course, there is still the little matter of the courtship.  Knowing them both the way I do, I can say one thing with certainty:  this will be an interesting trip indeed.

(c) Tina A. Thomas and Steven C. Plagman.

End of Chapter Three

*

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