Hawkmoon stared at the corpse dully for a while until Ms brain began to work. He extended his feet and found he could touch the fallen knife. Gradually, with several pauses, he drew it towards him until it was under his bench. Exhausted, he again fell over his oar.
Meanwhile the sounds of fighting died down and Hawkmoon was recalled to reality by the smell of burning timber, looked about him in panic, then realised the truth.
"It's the other ship that's burning," D'Averc told him. "We're aboard a pirate, friend Hawkmoon." He smiled sardonically. "What an unworthy occupationand my health so frail…"
Hawkmoon reflected, with some self-judgement, that D'Averc seemed to be reacting better to their situation than was he.
He drew a deep breath and straightened bis shoulders as best he could.
"I have a knife…" he began in a whisper. But D'Averc nodded rapidly.
"I know. I saw you. You're not in such bad condition, after all."
Hawkmoon said: "Rest tonight, until just before dawn. Then we'll escape."
"Aye," agreed D'Averc. "Save as much strength as we can. Courage, Hawkmoon-we'll soon be free men again!"
For the rest of the day they pulled rapidly downriver, pausing only at noon for their bowl of slops.
Once Ganak squatted on the catwalk and tickled Hawkmoon's shoulder with his boathook.
"Another day and you'll have your desire. We'll be docking at Starvel tomorrow."
"And what's Starvel?'" croaked Hawkmoon.
Ganak looked at him astonished. "You must be from far away if you've not heard of Starvel. It's part of Narleen-the most favored part. The walled city where the great princes of the river dwell-and of whom Lord Valjon is the greatest."
"Are they all pirates?" asked D'Averc.
"Careful, stranger," Ganak said frowning. "We help ourselves by right to whatever's on the river. The river belongs to Lord Valjon and his peers."
He straightened up and strode away. They rowed on until nightfall and then, at Ganak's order, ceased their work. Hawkmoon had found the work easier, now that his muscles and body had become used to it, but he was still tired.
"We must sleep in shifts," he murmured to D'Averc as they ate their slops. "You first, then I."
D'Averc nodded and slumped down almost instantly.
The night grew cold, and Hawkmoon could barely stop from falling asleep. He heard the first watch sounded, then the second. With relief, he nudged at D'Averc until he was awake.
D'Averc grunted and Hawkmoon was instantly asleep, remembering D'Averc's words. By dawn, with luck, they would be free. Then would come the difficult part-of leaving the ship unseen.
He awoke feeling strangely light in the body and realised with mounting spirits that his hands were free of the oars. D'Averc must have worked in the night.
It was almost dawn.
He turned to his friend who grinned at him and winked. "Ready?" D'Averc murmured.
"Aye…" replied Hawkmoon with a great sigh. He looked with envy at the long knife D'Averc held.
"If I had a weapon," he said, "I would repay Ganak for a few indignities…"
"No time for that now," D'Averc pointed out. "We must escape as silently as possible."
Cautiously they rose up from the benches and poked their heads up over the catwalk. At the far end, a sailor stood on watch; and on the poop deck above this man, stood Lord Valjon, his posture brooding and abstracted, his pale face staring into the darkness of the river night.
The sailor's back was towards them. Valjon did not seem about to turn. The two men heaved themselves onto the catwalk, making stealthily for the prow.
But it was then that Valjon's sepulchral voice sounded:
"What's this? Two slaves escaping?"
Hawkmoon shuddered. The man's instinct was uncanny, for it was plain he had not seen them, perhaps had only heard them for a moment. His voice, though deep and quiet, somehow carried the length of the ship.
The sailor on watch wheeled and yelled. Lord Valjon's deathly pale face also glared at them.
From below decks several sailors appeared, blocking their way to the side. They wheeled and Hawkmoon ran toward the poop and Lord Valjon. The sailor drew his cutlass, struck at him, but Hawkmoon was desperate and could not be stopped. He ducked beneath the blow, grasped the man by the waist and heaved him up, hurling him to the deck where he lay winded. Hawkmoon picked up the unwieldy blade and struck off the man's head. Then he turned to stare at Lord Valjon.
The pirate lord seemed undisturbed by the closeness of danger. He continued to glare back at Hawkmoon from his pale, bleak eyes.
"You are a fool," he said slowly. "For I am the Lord Valjon."
"And I am Dorian Hawkmoon, Duke von Koln! I have fought and defeated the Dark Lords of Granbretan. I have resisted their most powerful magic as this stone in my skull testifies. I do not fear you, Lord Valjon, the pirate!"
"Then fear those," murmured Valjon, pointing a bony finger behind Hawkmoon.
Hawkmoon spun on his heel and saw a great number of sailors bearing down on him and D'Averc. And D'Averc was armed only with a knife.
Hawkmoon flung him the cutlass. "Hold them off, D'Averc!" And he leapt for the poop, grasped the rail and hauled himself over it as Lord Valjon, an expression of mild surprise on his face, took a step or two backward.
Hawkmoon advanced toward him, hands outstretched. From under his loose robe Valjon drew a slim blade which he pointed at Hawkmoon, making no attempt to attack but continuing to back away.
"Slave," murmured Lord Valjon, his grim features baffled. "Slave."
"I'm no slave, as you'll discover." Hawkmoon ducked past the blade and tried to grab the strange pirate captain. Valjon stepped aside swiftly, still keeping the long sword before him.
Evidently Hawkmoon's attack on him was unprecedented, for Valjon hardly knew what to do. He had been disturbed from some brooding trance and stared at Hawkmoon as if he were not real.
Hawkmoon leapt again, avoiding the extended sword. Again Valjon sidestepped.
Below, D'Averc had his back to the poop deck, was just able to hold off the sailors who crammed the narrow catwalk. He called to Hawkmoon:
"Hurry up with your business, friend Hawkmoonor I'll have a dozen skewers in me before long!"
Hawkmoon aimed a blow at Valjon's face, felt his fist connect with cold, dry flesh, saw the man's head snap back and the sword fall from his hand. Hawkmoon swept up the sword, admiring its balance, and heaved the unconscious Valjon to his feet, directing the sword at his vitals.
"Back, scum, or your master dies!"
In astonishment the sailors began to move away, leaving three of their number dead at D'Averc's feet.
Ganak came hurrying up behind them. He was wearing only a kilt, a naked cutlass in his hand. His jaw dropped when he saw Hawkmoon.
"Now, D'Averc, perhaps you'd care to join me."
Hawkmoon spoke almost merrily.
D'Averc circled the poop and climbed the ladder to the deck. He grinned at Hawkmoon. "Good work, friend."
"We'll wait until dawn!" Hawkmoon called. "And then you'll guide this ship to the shore. When that's done, and we're free, perhaps I'll let your master live."
Ganak scowled. "You are a fool to handle Lord Valjon thus. Know you not that he is the most powerful river prince in Starvel."
"I know nothing of your Starvel, friend, but I have dared the dangers of Granbretan, have ventured into the Dark Empire's very heart, and I doubt if you can offer dangers more sophisticated than theirs. Fear is an emotion I rarely feel, Ganak. But mark you this-I would be revenged on you. Your days are numbered."
Ganak laughed. "Your luck makes you stupid, slave!
Vengeance-taking will be the Lord Valjon's prerogative!"
Dawn was already beginning to lighten the horizon.