LITMIR.BIZ

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out and cried, ‘Ho! Tomas! What is afoot?’ Tomas looked up.

      ‘Ho! Pug! A ship has foundered in the night. The wreck has beached beneath Sailor’s Grief. Come and see.’

      ‘I’ll be right down.’

      Pug ran to the door, pulling on a cloak, for while the day was clear, it would be cold near the water. Racing down the stairs, he cut through the kitchen, nearly knocking over Alfan, the pastry cook. As he bolted out the door, he heard the stout baker yell, ‘Squire or not, I’ll box your ears if you don’t watch where you’re going, boy!’ The kitchen staff had not changed their attitude toward the boy, whom they considered one of their own, beyond feeling proud of his achievement.

      Pug shouted back with laughter in his voice, ‘My apologies, Mastercook!’

      Alfan gave him a good-natured wave as Pug vanished through the outside door and around the corner to where Tomas was waiting. Tomas turned toward the gate as soon as he saw his friend.

      Pug grabbed his arm. ‘Wait. Has anyone from the court been told?’

      ‘I don’t know. Word just came from the fishing village a moment ago,’ Tomas said impatiently. ‘Come on, or the villagers will pick the wreck clean.’ It was commonly held that salvage could be legally carried away before any of the Duke’s court arrived. As a result, the villagers and townsfolk were less than timely in informing the authorities of such occurrences. There was also a risk of bloodshed, should the beached ship still be manned by sailors determined to keep their master’s cargo intact so that they would get their fair sailing bonus. Violent confrontation, and even death, had been the result of such dispute. Only the presence of men-at-arms could guarantee no commoner would come to harm from lingering mariners.

      ‘Oh, no,’ said Pug. ‘If there is any trouble down there and the Duke finds out I didn’t tell someone else, I’ll be in for it.’

      ‘Look, Pug. Do you think with all these people rushing about, the Duke will be long in hearing of it?’ Tomas ran his hand through his hair. ‘Someone is probably in the great hall right now, telling him the news. Master Fannon is away on patrol, and Kulgan won’t be back awhile yet.’ Kulgan was due back later that day from his cottage in the forest, where he and Meecham had spent the last week. ‘It may be our only chance to see a shipwreck.’ A look of sudden inspiration came over his face. ‘Pug, I have it! You’re a member of the court now. Come along, and when we get there, you declare for the Duke.’ A calculating expression crossed his face. ‘And if we find a rich bauble or two, who’s to know?’

      ‘I would know.’ Pug thought a moment. ‘I can’t properly declare for the Duke, then take something for myself . . .’ He fixed Tomas with a disapproving expression. ‘. . . or let one of his men-at-arms take something either.’ As Tomas’s face showed his embarrassment, Pug said, ‘But we can still see the wreck! Come on!’

      Pug was suddenly taken with the idea of using his new office, and if he could get there before too much was carried away or someone was hurt, the Duke would be pleased with him. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll saddle a horse and we can ride down there before everything is stolen.’ Pug turned and ran for the stable. Tomas caught up with him as he opened the large wooden doors. ‘But, Pug, I have never been on a horse in my life. I don’t know how.’

      ‘It’s simple,’ Pug said, taking a bridle and saddle from the tack room. He spied the large grey he had ridden the day he and the Princess had their adventure. ‘I’ll ride and you sit behind me. Just keep your arms around my waist, and you won’t fall off.’

      Tomas looked doubtful. ‘I’m to depend on you?’ He shook his head. ‘After all, who has looked after you all these years?’

      Pug threw him a wicked smile. ‘Your mother. Now fetch a sword from the armory in case there’s trouble. You may get to play soldier yet.’

      Tomas looked pleased at the prospect and ran out the door. A few minutes later the large grey with the two boys mounted on her back lumbered out the main gate, heading down the road toward Sailor’s Grief.

      The surf was pounding as the boys came in sight of the wreckage. Only a few villagers were approaching the site, and they scattered as soon as a horse and rider appeared, for it could only be a noble from the court to declare the wreck’s salvage for the Duke. By the time Pug reined in, no one was about.

      Pug said, ‘Come on. We’ve got a few minutes to look around before anyone else gets here.’

      Dismounting, the boys left the mare to graze in a little stand of grass only fifty yards from the rocks. Running through the sand, the boys laughed, with Tomas raising the sword aloft, trying to sound fierce as he yelled old war cries learned from the sagas. Not that he had any delusions about his ability to use it, but it might make someone think twice about attacking them – at least long enough for castle guards to arrive.

      As they neared the wreck, Tomas whistled a low note. ‘This ship didn’t just run on the rocks, Pug. It looks like it was driven by a storm.’

      Pug said, ‘There certainly isn’t much left, is there?’

      Tomas scratched behind his right ear. ‘No, just a section of the bow. I don’t understand. There wasn’t any storm last night, just a strong wind. How could the ship be broken up so badly?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Suddenly something registered on Pug. ‘Look at the bow. See how it’s painted.’

      The bow rested on the rocks, held there until the tide rose. From the deck line down, the hull was painted a bright green, and it shone with reflected sunlight, as if it had been glazed over. Instead of a figurehead, intricate designs were painted in bright yellow, down to the waterline, which was a dull black. A large blue-and-white eye had been painted several feet behind the prow, and all the above-deck railing that they could see was painted white.

      Pug grabbed Tomas’s arm. ‘Look!’ He pointed to the water behind the prow, and Tomas could see a shattered white mast extending a few feet above the surging foam.

      Tomas took a step closer. ‘It’s no Kingdom ship, for certain.’ He turned to Pug. ‘Maybe they were from Queg?’

      ‘No,’ answered Pug. ‘You’ve seen as many Quegan ships as I have. This is nothing from Queg or the Free Cities. I don’t think a ship like this has ever passed these waters before. Let’s look around.’

      Tomas seemed suddenly timid. ‘Careful, Pug. There is something strange here, and I have an ill feeling. Someone may still be about.’

      Both boys looked around for a minute, before Pug concluded, ‘I think not; whatever snapped that mast and drove the ship ashore with enough force to wreck it this badly must have killed any who tried to ride her in.’

      Venturing closer, the boys found small articles lying about, tossed among the rocks by the waves. They saw broken crockery and boards, pieces of torn red sailcloth, and lengths of rope. Pug stopped and picked up a strange-looking dagger fashioned from some unfamiliar material. It was a dull grey and was lighter than steel, but still quite sharp.

      Tomas tried to pull himself to the railing, but couldn’t find a proper footing on the slippery rocks. Pug moved along the hull until he found himself in danger of having his boots washed by the tide; they could board the hulk if they waded into the sea, but Pug was unwilling to ruin his good clothing. He walked back to where Tomas stood studying the wreck.

      Tomas pointed behind Pug. ‘If we climb up to that ledge, we could lower ourselves down to the deck.’

      Pug saw the ledge, a jutting single piece of stone that started twenty feet back on their left, extending upward and out to overhang the bow. It looked like an easy climb, and Pug agreed. They pulled themselves up and inched along the ledge, backs flat to the base of the bluffs. The path was narrow, but by stepping carefully, they ran little risk of falling. They reached a point above the hull; Tomas pointed. ‘Look. Bodies!’

      Lying on the deck were two men, both dressed in bright blue armor of unfamiliar design. One had his head

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