Free Corsair by Chris Bunch Page B

having children, in making sure the Radnor name goes down through the ages.”
    Gareth was a little embarrassed at this frankness.
    “Be that as it may, I pointed out to her that you’ve advanced rather remarkably since you came to live with us. Of course, you’ve still got more than a bit of wildness, but then, who of us doesn’t when we’re young? That will pass with time.
    “Let me make a suggestion, which will have nothing to do with whether or not Priscian and I have children, for there’s more than enough business in this world to richen an entire clan.
    “Rather than go back to sea, I would be willing to pay your way for a full course at one of the best seminaries: Tuil, Frenk, even Winhope, although that’s most pricey.”
    “Me, a priest?”
    “There are many, many sects, as you should know, many of them not requiring vows of silence, withdrawal, celibacy or diet,” Pol said, a bit impatiently. “That should not be a factor in your decision.
    “As a licentiate, you would be not only knowledgeable in culture — which never hurts a businessman, as I’ve never tired of saying — but familiar with the ways of business and managing people, almost as thoroughly as if I purchased you an officer’s warrant in the military.
    “Better still is the people you’d meet at such a seminary, lifelong friends who’ll help you in your rise, just as you’ll assist them.
    “With such training, you’d be more than competent, after some years of seasoning, of assuming responsibility for all that I’ve been able to build, now and in the future.”
    Gareth gaped, thinking about being his uncle’s heir. Then he thought on, thought of years — how many he didn’t want to think — of listening to dry, dull voices rasp through dead facts and theories. And then, out of the classroom, associating with those whose every decision would be based on how it could benefit them. He repressed a shudder.
    “Uncle,” he said, seeking the right way to put things, aware of what an enormous gift he was refusing, “I’m afraid the sea has ruined me.
    “I don’t think I could sit making notes from a book, or checking a ledger when the wind comes sharp off the ocean, and I could hear the gulls’ scream and the distant sound of water.”
    Pol took a deep breath. “I’m not angry, nor even surprised,” he said, but his voice was heavy with disappointment. “That was the real reason I fought to keep you ashore: to keep you from hearing the call of the sea, for all too many friends of mine have heard that gull song, water dance, and the land’s promise vanishes for them, and they’ve no need for safety, comfort, or wealth.
    “Most likely I was not being honest with myself from the first day you arrived, for growing up in that village might have already … no, I will not say ruined … worked its way with you.
    “Very well, very well,” Pol said. “So that’s that, at least for the moment, and you’ll be seeking a ship. Since you’ve evidently not decided whose articles you might sign, perhaps you might go to North Basin. There’s a new ship, just finishing fitting out, named the
Steadfast.
A little too sleek for a real carrack, but with room enough for a good cargo.”
    “Where’s it bound?”
    “The captain’s named Luynes,” Pol said. “You might be interested in talking to him.”
    Gareth, eager to be away from this uncomfortable scene, stood quickly.
    “One thing, though, Gareth,” his uncle said. “Do us a boon, and don’t tell Luynes that you’re there at my request.”
    “Why not?”
    “Just call it a favor of the moment. Depending on what you think of the man and his ship, I promise I’ll give you a full explanation.”
    Gareth realized his uncle wore an unfamiliar expression: stealthy cunning.
    • • •
    The
Steadfast
was round-hulled, about one hundred feet long, a quarter of that wide. It was a three-master, fore- and main mast square-rigged, the mizzen mast at the stern, with a lateen