Evidently, Lhex decided he would, too. Grimacing, the boy sat, but he did so with stubbornness, keeping his knees drawn up and placing his back securely against the wall behind him.
“You must think you’re something,” Lhex snarled. “Menacing a kid like that. What’d you do for breakfast? Kick a puppy?”
“Actually,” Raithen said, “I had one beheaded and rendered out to serve you for breakfast chops. They tell me it fried up like chicken for your noonday meal.”
Horror flirted with Lhex’s eyes. He remained silent, watching Raithen.
“Where did you get such an attitude, boy?” the pirate captain asked.
“My parents blame each other,” Lhex said. “I think I get it from them both.”
“Do you think you’re going to get out of here alive?”
“Either way,” the boy said, “I’m not getting out of here scared. I’ve done that till I’m sick of it. I threw up the first three days.”
“You’re a most unusual boy,” Raithen said. “I wish I’d gotten to know you sooner.”
“Looking for a friend?” Lhex asked. “I only ask because I know most of these pirates are afraid of you. They’re not here because they like you.”
“Fear is a far better tool for command than friendship,” Raithen responded. “Fear is instant, and it is obeyed without question.”
“I’d rather have people like me.”
Raithen smiled. “I’d wager to say that Bull doesn’t like you.”
“Some people I can live without.”
“Wise lad,” Raithen said. He paused, feeling the cog shift slightly in the river current.
The boy shifted with the ship automatically, just like a sailor.
“How long have you been at sea, Lhex?” Raithen asked.
The boy shrugged. “Since Lut Gholein.”
“You were there?”
“The ship came from Lut Gholein,” Lhex said, narrowing his eyes and watching Raithen with a thoughtful expression. “If you didn’t know that, how did you find the ship?”
Raithen ignored the question. The information had come from Buyard Cholik’s spies within Westmarch. “What were you doing in Lut Gholein?”
Lhex didn’t answer.
“Don’t trifle with me,” Raithen warned. “I’m in an ill mood as it is.”
“Studying,” Lhex answered.
That, Raithen decided, sounded promising. “Studying what?”
“My father wanted me to have a good education. As the king’s younger brother, he was sent abroad and learned from sages in Lut Gholein. He wanted the same for me.”
“How long were you there?”
“Four years,” the boy said. “Since I was eight.”
“And what did you study?”
“Everything. Poetry. Literature. Marketing. Forecasting profits, though the whole thing with chicken gizzards was quite disgusting and not any better than just guessing.”
“What about history?” Raithen asked. “Did you study history?”
“Of course I did. What kind of education would you get if you didn’t study history?”
Raithen dug in his blouse for the paper Pettit had given him. “I want you to look at this paper. Tell me what it means.”
Interest flickered in the boy’s eyes as he regarded the paper. “I can’t see it from here.”
Hesitant, Raithen took the lantern from the wall. “If you try anything, boy, I’ll have you crippled. If your father persuades the king to ransom you back, you’ll have to hope the healers can make you whole again, or you’ll drag yourself around like a circus freak.”
“I won’t try anything,” Lhex said. “Bring the paper here. I’ve stared at walls for days.”
Until you worked the bed support loose and attacked Bull, Raithen thought. He stepped forward, respecting the boy’s skills and focus. Most boys Lhex’s age would have been sniveling wrecks by now. Instead, the king’s nephew had busied himself with planning escape, conserving energy, and eating to keep himself healthy and strong.
Lhex took the paper Raithen offered. His quick eyes darted over the paper. Hesitantly, he traced the design with his forefinger.
“Where did you get this?” Lhex asked in a quiet voice.
The cog shifted in the river, and water slapped against the hull, echoing throughout the ship. Raithen rode out the change in the ship without much thought. “It doesn’t matter. Do you know what it is?”
“Yes,” the boy said. “This is some kind of demon script. That symbol belongs to Kabraxis, the demon who supposedly constructed the Black Road.”
Raithen drew back and scoffed. “There are no such things as demons, boy.”
“My teachers taught me to have an open mind. Maybe demons aren’t here now, but that doesn’t mean that they were never here.”
Raithen peered at the paper, trying to make sense of it. “Can you read it?”
Lhex made a rude noise. “Do you know anyone who can read demon script?”
“No,” Raithen said. “But I’ve known some who sold parchments they said were treasure maps to demon hoards.” He’d bought and sold a few of those himself as his belief in such creatures had risen and fallen.
“You don’t believe in demons?” the boy asked.
“No,” Raithen said. “They’re only good for stories best told in taverns or over a slow campfire when there’s nothing else to do.” Still, the boy’s words had intrigued him. The priest is here hunting a demon? He couldn’t believe it. “What else can you tell me about this design?”
A trail scarred the mountainside, running parallel to the Dyre River. Darrick was certain Raithen’s pirate crew used it when changing the guard. He stayed off it, choosing the slower path through the brush.
Mat and Maldrin followed him, staying to the path he chose.
As they neared the riverbank’s edge overlooking the three pirate vessels, wisps of silver fog threaded through the brush. Tobacco smoke itched Darrick’s nose. Though Captain Tollifer didn’t allow smoking on Lonesome Star, Darrick had been around a number of men who smoked in ports they patrolled and traded with. He’d never acquired the habit himself and thought it was repugnant. And it reminded him of his father’s pipe.
The brush and treeline ended twenty yards short of the area the pirates had been using to shift their stolen goods. Shadows painted the stacks of crates and barrels, giving him more cover to take advantage of.
One of the pirates walked away from the group of five who played dice. “That ale’s gettin’ the best of me. Hold my place. I’ll be back.”
“As long as ye have money,” one of the other pirates said, “we’ll stand ye to a place in this game. This is yer unlucky night and our lucky one.”
“Just be glad Cap’n Raithen’s been keepin’ us headed toward fat purses,” the pirate said. He walked around to the side of the crates where Darrick hid in the brush.
Darrick thought the man was going to relieve himself over the side of the riverbank and was surprised to see him dig in the bag at his side frantically once he was out of sight of the others. Pale moonlight touched the dice that tumbled out into the man’s waiting palm.
The