Sebastian Darke: Prince of Pirates Page 7

  Max looked particularly unconvinced by this. 'But what am I going to do?' he complained. 'Pulling that caravan was my job. Now I'll only be able to amble about without purpose.'

  'Not much change there then,' murmured Cornelius.

  Sebastian stroked the buffalope fondly on his great horned head. 'Why don't you find your way back to Mother's?' he suggested. 'You said yourself it's not all that far from here. Cornelius and I can carry on alone; you may as well be back there in a nice comfortable stable.'

  Max thought about it for a moment, then snorted and shook his head. 'No fear,' he said. 'For one thing that wicked witch is lurking out there somewhere . . . And yes, young master, I know you'll immediately jump to her defence and say that she's not as bad as all that, but I would rather not risk it. For another thing, I do not relish the prospect of returning to my mistress to tell her that all her late husband's belongings have been destroyed in a fire.'

  Sebastian scowled. 'It was everything we had of him,' he murmured. 'All my mother's memories, gone up in smoke. She'll be mortified when she finds out.'

  Max shook his head. 'She'll be sad, of course. But though I hate to agree with Cornelius, for once he was right. They were only possessions, young master. Memories – true memories – are what we carry in our hearts. No flame could ever destroy them.'

  Cornelius smiled. 'You know, Max, for a simple buffalope you can sometimes be quite eloquent,' he said. He lifted his improvised pack and tested its weight. 'Anyway, I for one am glad to have you along with us.'

  'Really?' said Max, surprised.

  'Yes. It means you'll be able to carry our packs for us.' He took hold of Sebastian's pack and set about fixing the two of them together to form a pair of makeshift saddlebags.

  'Oh, well, that's marvellous, isn't it,' said Max mournfully. 'So nice to know I can still be of service!' He glanced warily at Sebastian. 'Are you sure about this business of abandoning your career? You know, your poor late father wanted nothing more than for you to follow in his footsteps.'

  'I realize that. But I may as well face the fact that I have no talent for telling jokes and riddles. I think that much was proved back in Keladon.'

  'Hmm. Problem is, young master, what do you have a talent for?'

  Sebastian shrugged. 'Perhaps we'll find out somewhere on our travels,' he said.

  'Here, Sebastian,' said Cornelius. 'Help me tie these packs. We'd best be getting on our way if we ever want to reach Ramalat.'

  They tied the packs securely across Max's shaggy back and set off, leaving the great pile of smouldering ash behind them.

  Cornelius had been right about one thing: losing the caravan had freed them up considerably. They were able to move off the beaten track and take short cuts, which sped up their progress. When they rested, Cornelius used the time constructively. He cut lengths of supple wood and made himself a primitive bow and some arrows, which he used to hunt their food.

  The landscape had begun to change again, and they found the route winding back and forth up steep, wooded hillsides, which Sebastian observed would have been very hard to negotiate with the caravan in tow. They were taking a break around midday when they looked up and saw a mounted figure observing them from a distant hillside. Despite everything that had happened, Sebastian felt the usual flutter in his chest, while Cornelius could only lament that Leonora was out of range of his new bow.

  'Why hasn't she galloped on ahead of us?' muttered Max. 'If she knows where the treasure is, she could be there before us and have it all plundered by the time we arrive.'

  Cornelius scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'Perhaps she doesn't know exactly,' he reasoned. 'I've been thinking about this.' He settled himself cross-legged on the ground. 'My theory is that she reads people's minds – that's how she finds out all their secrets. But the treasure map is complex: I certainly couldn't picture its exact contents.'

  'No, and besides, it's Sebastian's mind that she's looked into,' Max reminded him. 'I doubt that she'd find very much in there.'

  Sebastian gave him a look of annoyance.

  'What?' said Max innocently. 'Well, be fair, young master – could you picture the treasure map in your mind's eye?'

  Sebastian shook his head. 'I don't remember much about it,' he admitted.

  'Well, then that must be it,' said Max. 'She knows only the approximate whereabouts of the treasure . . . and she needs us to lead her to it.'

  Cornelius looked determined. 'There's a long way to go yet,' he said. 'We'll find a way to shake her off or my middle name isn't Algernon.'

  Sebastian and Max stared at him in surprise.

  'Is your middle name Algernon?' asked Max.

  Cornelius gave him a disgusted look. 'Of course not,' he said. 'Don't be ridiculous.' He stood up and started walking.

  After looking at each other in puzzled silence for a few moments, Sebastian and Max followed. But glancing across to the far hillside, Sebastian saw that Leonora was on the move again, guiding her equine along the wooded track at a leisurely pace, taking her own sweet time, clearly in no great hurry to catch up with them.

  They camped that night in a copse and roasted a haunch of velderbrox over the campfire. Cornelius had stumbled across the beast earlier in the day, an elderly male with a broken leg which had become separated from the rest of the herd. Cornelius had reacted instinctively and felled it with a single arrow through the heart. It had been much too big to carry so they had trimmed off the best parts to take with them. Max had been rather upset by the whole business, pointing out that a velderbrox wasn't that far removed from a buffalope and that technically he'd been an accomplice to murder. But even he had to admit that the smell of roasting meat was very appetizing.

  'I wonder if that's what I would have smelled like,' he mused, 'if King Septimus had succeeded in having me barbecued.'

  'I imagine you would have,' said Cornelius gleefully. 'Actually, I haven't told you this before, but I have dined on roast buffalope in Golmira.'

  'Really?' Max looked shocked. 'What did it taste like?'

  'Somewhere between a javralat and a velderbrox. Quite succulent. Of course, that was a young beast, not a dried-out, stringy old devil like yourself.'

  Max looked positively insulted. 'How dare you! I'm in my prime,' he said. 'I've no doubt I would taste delicious. What do you say, young master?'

  Sebastian smiled. 'I think I'll stick to velderbrox, thank you. Anyway, you can't talk, Max. I seem to remember that on the journey to Keladon, a certain hungry buffalope partook of javralat meat—'

  'I was starving!' protested Max, glancing around anxiously. 'And please keep your voice down. I'm not proud of what I did!'

  'You ate some gallock eggs too,' Cornelius reminded him. 'Hardly a usual meal for a buffalope. Are you sure I can't tempt you with a little morsel of velderbrox?'

  Max turned away and began to chomp on the surrounding vegetation with exaggerated fervour.

  As Sebastian and Cornelius settled down to eat, the little warrior noticed the twinkling light of another campfire off in the distance.

  'She's still with us then,' he observed, 'your friend Leonora.' He studied Sebastian as he spoke.

  'She's no friend of mine,' said Sebastian unconvincingly.

  'You say that, and yet you nearly took my head off when you thought I'd killed her.'

  'It's the strangest feeling,' admitted Sebastian. 'I know it's wrong and yet I can't stop myself from trying to defend her. Do you suppose I'll ever be free of the enchantment?'

  'Probably only when she's dead,' said Cornelius. 'But don't worry, I shan't be going after her again. I've learned my lesson. Maybe we'll be able to throw her off the trail in Ramalat. It's only a few more days from here.'

  'Ah yes, Ramalat,' said Max mournfully, lifting his head from the undergrowth. 'I've heard it said that it's a terrible place, packed full of pirates, Brigands and cut-throats.'

  'You shouldn't believe everything you hear,' Cornelius told him. 'Besides, it's merely a stopping-off pl
ace for us. Somewhere to hire a ship that will take us to our true destination . . . and the pirate king's treasure.'

  CHAPTER 10

  THE PORT OF RAMALAT

  Two days later, a little after midday, they climbed to the top of a ridge and unexpectedly found themselves gazing down on a long stretch of coastline. Immediately below them lay a huge bay, where countless wooden ships of all sizes rode at anchor; and in the curve of that bay, nestled against the hillside, was the port of Ramalat, a large cluster of timber and rough plaster houses, rising steeply from the water's edge and so tightly packed together that they seemed to be piled one on top of the other.

  But it was the sea itself that caught Sebastian's attention. He had never actually seen it before – only heard about it – and he was stunned by its apparent endlessness; the way it stretched to the horizon from east to west. He remembered Cornelius's wild tales of how he had travelled upon the oceans of the world and his claim that if a man sailed far enough across those waters, he would eventually arrive back at the place from which he had departed. It had all seemed incredibly far-fetched, but looking at the vastness of the sea now, Sebastian thought that anything seemed possible.

  'It's quite a sight, isn't it?' murmured Cornelius. 'I know the first time I saw it, as a young lad, it quite amazed me.'

  'My father spoke of the sea many times,' said Sebastian. 'I swam in a big lake once and thought I had the measure of what the sea must be like, but now that it's before me . . . well, it's extraordinary.'

  'And just breathe in that air! You know, people say that sea air has special healing qualities. Why, I once—'

  'It looks deep,' interrupted Max apprehensively. 'How deep do you suppose it is?'

  Cornelius laughed. 'What's the matter, old shaggy? Can't you swim?'

  'I can swim very well,' Max assured him. 'It's just that I'd rather not if I don't have to. So I ask again, how deep is it? Is it shallow enough to paddle?'

  Now Cornelius roared with laughter. 'Paddle? Why, it's deep enough out there to cover the peak of the highest mountains!'

  Max looked uneasy. 'Well then, when we hire a ship, we'd better make sure we get one that's not likely to sink. One with no holes in it.'

  Cornelius shook his head. 'I'll make especially sure of that,' he said. 'If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a ship with holes in it.' He turned and led the way onwards. 'Come on. We're to look for a place called the Spyglass Inn. Apparently that's where all the ship's captains do their drinking.'

  The ridge sloped rapidly down out of the woodland and curved round to join a cobbled road that led them through the city gates, where they joined a milling throng of tradesmen, sailors, merchants and nobles moving to and fro along the street. A couple of uniformed soldiers lolled beside a gatehouse but took no notice of who was coming and going.

  As the three friends strolled through the gates and along the main street of the city, a little weasel-faced man with a shaggy beard sidled up to Sebastian and pointed at Max.

  'Is that your buffalope?' he asked.

  Max looked at the man indignantly. 'I'm not anybody's buffalope,' he retorted. 'I am my own free agent.'

  The man stared at Max. 'A talker, eh? I've been told that some of them can talk.' He looked slyly at Sebastian. 'I'll give you three gold crowns for him,' he said. 'He's a bit old, but I can always use a big lad like him.'

  Sebastian shook his head. 'He's not for sale,' he said.

  'Not at that price, anyway,' added Cornelius.

  'Not at any price!' added Max.

  'Oh, come along, gentlemen, this is Ramalat. Everything has a price here.' The man rubbed his beard for a moment. 'All right, I'll go to five crowns, but that's my final offer.'

  Cornelius grinned up at Sebastian. 'Five crowns,' he said. 'That's not bad – I think we should consider it.'

  Sebastian tried not to smile. 'I don't know, Cornelius. I think he's worth a bit more to me than that.'

  'Quite right, young master!' Max looked horrified. 'Five crowns, why it's an absolute insult! A buffalope of my experience . . . If I was for sale – and I assure you I'm not – I would think a reasonable starting price would be twenty, twenty-five crowns.'

  The bearded man looked alarmed. 'Twenty-five! You are joking, I trust! I could get a lusty young fellow for less than that.'

  Max shook his huge head. 'Age is not the issue. Look at my physique. You can see I've worked hard all my life. Any man who was lucky enough to purchase me would be buying the most hard-working buffalope ever.'

  The man snorted. 'I'm not bothered about work. Meat's all I care about. I supply rations to the army and a beast like that would feed a squad of soldiers for a month.'

  'Oh well, don't mind my feelings!' said Max. 'Just act as though I'm not here!'

  'Six crowns!' said the bearded man. 'My final offer. Take it or leave it.'

  'Leave it,' said Sebastian, and the man shrugged and disappeared into the crowd. Sebastian and Cornelius laughed at Max's outraged expression.

  'The cheek of the man!' he stormed. 'No respect at all. He didn't even take you to one side and have the discussion out of my hearing.'

  'Yes, well, you'd better be careful,' Cornelius warned him. 'If we run short of money for this expedition, we'll know exactly where to get six crowns.'

  'It's typical, isn't it? Somebody wants to buy me, but it's not for my strength, my wit, my intelligence. Oh no, he just wants to braise me over a fire and serve me up on a plate to a bunch of squaddies! I'm not at all sure I approve of this place!'

  The street inclined gently down to the harbour now, and they saw that a fishing boat was moored at the jetty. A couple of muscular, bare-chested fishermen were unloading barrels packed to the brim with little silvery fish. People were crowding round the dock, clamouring to buy them, and there was a tumult of good-natured shoves and loud banter. Sebastian had never tasted sea fish and would have been interested to try some, but Cornelius firmly led the way on along the quayside. At the end they found the place they were looking for.

  The Spyglass Inn was a great big timber-and-daub building, several floors high. Smoke belched from its many chimneys and the crudely painted inn sign depicted a piratical-looking sailor peering into an ancient telescope. Menu boards chalked up outside advertised the fact that food was available and that there were rooms for hire on the top floor. OUR BEDS ARE BUG-FREE, announced one sign proudly.

  'Right,' said Cornelius, rubbing his hands. 'I'm about ready for a tankard of strong Ramalatian ale. We'll go straight in and see if we can scare up a captain and crew.'

  Sebastian nodded and told Max to wait for them outside.

  'Are you sure that's a good idea?' asked the buffalope, glancing about nervously. 'Everybody in this place seems to want to eat me!'

  'Hardly everybody,' Sebastian corrected him. 'Only one man. But if you have any problems, just give us a shout.' He indicated an open window, then patted Max on the head and followed Cornelius in through the ancient wooden door. He found himself in the main room, which was dim and smoky and crowded with drinkers. The air was thick with pipe smoke and the buzz of scores of jumbled conversations. Somewhere, somebody was playing a wheezy-sounding instrument, though the noise it produced could hardly be described as musical. The roof was low, only a few inches above Sebastian's head. He followed Cornelius to the bar. The Golmiran was obliged to scramble up onto a high stool at the counter to make himself seen by the landlord, a big, bald brute of a man with a dark leathery face covered with intricate tattoos. When he grinned, he displayed a set of badly fitting false teeth fashioned from some kind of highly polished shell. Cornelius ordered a couple of tankards of the local ale and immediately engaged the landlord in conversation.