That night they passed beyond the northernmost limit of Sarumi raids, and in the morning Degyat's galley was hull down on the northern horizon. «Probably wants to bring the good news of the victory to the prince,» said Nemyet. «Degyat's one of his favorites.»

«I thought you said Degyat's a good man,» said Blade. He was trying to draw Nemyet out on Goharan politics, but the captain refused to be drawn.

«He is,» said Nemyat. Then he added sharply, «Why shouldn't a wise prince favor good men?»

Blade smiled. «I didn't mean to offend. It's just that we Historians know too much about princes who weren't wise and favored men who ruined them.»

«You won't have to worry about that here,» said Nemyet, Blade hoped the captain was right.

As the day passed, the horizon became dotted with sails, and the convoy began to overtake fishing boats hauling in nets and lines. Every time this happened, Nemyet or one of his men shouted the news of the victory over the Pirate Folk. He didn't mention Blade, and the Englishman was glad of that. He was going to be getting more than enough attention when he reached Gohar.

Toward late afternoon the wind began dying again. The convoy was nearly becalmed again when the lookouts sighted two galleys on the northern horizon. By the time the western horizon was turning a sunset red, the two galleys were in sight from Blue Swallow's deck. One was Degyat's black ship, the other was a blue-hulled galley nearly three times as large, with two banks of oars, three masts, a high castle on the stern, and a gilded prow. Nemyet's eyes widened as he recognized the second galley.

«That's Prince Harkrat's King Bull,» he said. «If it's you that's brought him out here….» His voice trailed off, and his face took on an unmistakable look of calculation. How much would it be worth to Nemyet, being the discoverer of a man from the future who might end up high in the favor of the heir to the throne of Gohar? Blade recognized the sentiments, and didn't blame Nemyet at all. Even the most honest man couldn't be expected to turn down such an opportunity.

«King Bull» was also a good description of Prince Harkrat himself, as Blade discovered when the big galley came alongside Blue Swallow and the prince came aboard. Harkrat was three inches taller than Blade and at least fifty pounds heavier. He wore knee breeches, which barely held his massive thighs, and a coat of scale mail that bulged outward over his belly. The scales of the mail were gilded, and the leather was tooled and dyed. He was completely bald, but his bushy gray eyebrows and bristling gray beard nearly made up for this.

As soon as Nemyet pointed out Blade, the prince scattered his escort and practically ran across the deck. A fist like a pile driver descended on Blade's shoulder, and a roaring laugh sent a garlic and wine-scented breeze whistling about his ears.

«A Historian from the future, eh?»

«Yes-«

«Call me lord if you want to, but better you call me up some good wine!» More laughter.

Blade suspected the prince had already drunk enough wine for one day. He smiled. «This is Captain Nemyet's ship. His hospitality to me hasn't been lacking, so I'm sure he'll do even better for you.»

«Why should he?» The prince seemed honestly surprised. «Friend Blade, princes come and princes go. But the gods don't send us a man from the future every day. Right now, you could mean more to Gohar than I do.»

«You're honoring me beyond my-«

«Don't say it, don't say it! Wait and find out what you deserve, before you talk like that!» He turned to Nemyet. «I think we all deserve something to drink, if your ship hasn't run dry.»

«No, Lord.»

«Then bring it, damn you!»

Blue Swallow was out of wine, but a barrel of ale filled many cups and quieted Prince Harkrat for as long as it took him to drink enough for three ordinary men. Blade was glad he didn't have to drink cup for cup with the prince. When Harkrat finished wiping the foam off his beard with the back of his hand, he looked Blade up and down, then grinned.

«Nemyet says you're a Historian, but he says you're a fighter too. You look like one. That's good. History's all a thing for books, and there's not much you can do with books. Not if they're bound up, at least. Now if you've got a scroll and the right sort of woman…» and Harkrat went off into a long, quite witty, and thoroughly obscene monologue.

When he'd finished talking, Harkrat wet his throat down with another mug of ale, spilling a good part of it into his beard. Then he shouted for his boat and his guards, and the pile driver came down on Blade's shoulder again.

«Well, then, son of the son of the son of the son of the gods know who!» he roared. «You'll have my voice when you come to Gohar, and don't let any man deny it. Take care of him, Nemyet, and there's more for you.» He yanked a purse from his belt, snapping heavy leather thongs like thread, and tossed it to the captain. Nemyet just managed to catch it. Then the prince turned, gathered up his escort, and went over the side.

Nemyet was able to restrain himself from opening the purse until the prince's boat was nearly back to King Bull. Then he opened it, and this time he did drop it. Gold and silver coins clattered on the deck and rolled in all directions. Nemyet went to his knees, scrabbling for them, all dignity forgotten. Over and over again Blade heard him murmur, «There's enough here to buy a new ship. There's enough here to buy a new ship.»

Blade stood back, wondering what to make of Prince Harkrat. He was big, bluff, good-hearted, generous, and didn't stand on ceremony. He would be a valuable friend and patron, although probably impulsive and certain to leave bruises!

There was one other thing about Harkrat that hinted at an important element in the politics of Gohar, and why they might be a delicate matter. Harkrat looked closer to fifty than forty, and he was the heir to the throne.

That meant the Emperor of Gohar must be an old man, perhaps close to the end of his life.

Blade guessed right. Thrayket IV, Emperor of Gohar, was well past his eightieth birthday, and would not see many more. Blade learned this quickly, along with many other things. In fact, he learned so much so fast that if he'd really been any sort of scholar he could have written an entire book about Gohar within a few days of reaching the City.

At dawn the morning after the prince's visit, the mountains behind Gohar were visible to the north. So were the masts of another two-decked galley, coming out to meet the convoy. She came alongside Blue Swallow and took Blade aboard. His presence in the City was required, he was told, by the Emperor, by Prince Harkrat, by Baiham Kloret, and by others as well. Baiham was the title of the chief councilor of the Emperor. Literally it meant «Wisest Friend,» but Blade mentally translated it as «Prime Minister.»

Nemyet drew Blade aside before he went aboard the galley. «I don't like hearing Kloret's name in the summons,» he said. He looked around to see if anyone was within earshot, then said, «He's a bad enemy, and almost worse as a friend. He'll be after you, to get you on his side.»

«My friend,» said Blade wearily, «I expect every man, woman, and child in Gohar to be doing that. What can Kloret do that anyone else can't do?»

Nemyet saw officers from the galley approaching and whispered quickly, «If there is anything else, Kloret will think of it.»

Gohar stood on the west bank of the middle one of the three great rivers of the land. The mouth of the river was blocked by a sandbar too shallow for oceangoing ships, unless it was dredged regularly. The Goharans carefully dredged a narrow channel, right under the walls and fortresses of the city. Its hundreds of ships could pass through the channel, anchor or tie up along the river, take aboard cargo, and be completely safe from enemies or bad weather in the open Sea.