"Don't be too hasty, Highness," the headman said unhurriedly. "If you mean to cross Kulen Mountain, you must prepare for every contingency. Otherwise, even if you climb up, you'll never come down. For instance—you absolutely must have horses."

  "We need horses," the prince stated. "We brought a fair number with us, but those damned pirates sent a good portion to the seabed. We need teams to pull the wagons—and mounts to ride, naturally."

  "That presents no difficulty. I could give you every horse in the village—though you could tally the lot on two hands."

  "Whatever you can spare, headman." Wally nodded his thanks.

  "However," the headman's smile took on a decidedly mercenary character, "as for payment—it had best be more than two hands can hold."

  Wally Laren Ctiton withdrew his smile and fixed the headman with a hard stare. The old man knew perfectly well that a mere gesture from the prince would see the brute standing behind him ensure he rotted in this wretched hovel forever, yet he met that glare with fearless defiance. For the sake of a few extra coppers, he fancied himself braver than any warrior.

  "As for your payment, take it up with my adjutant later." The prince choked back a stream of invective.

  The headman wore a victor's grin. "Secondly, you'll need weapons. One for every hand without exception, Highness. When Cynthia's merchant caravans take the Kulen route, aside from relying on their hired swords, every merchant carries a weapon—at the very least a short blade. Because you never know when you might fall behind, and in that moment, any sharp edge could save your life." He was already calculating how to sell off those rusted harpoons gathering dust in his storehouse.

  "Weapons present no problem; we're amply equipped." The prince sought his adjutant's opinion; Henris nodded.

  "I'm told the Princess Consort of Shahani has also come to Bellita." Having concluded one transaction, the headman permitted himself a thin smile of consolation. "I think it best you persuade her to remain aboard ship, or here in my poor village, awaiting your news. Otherwise, you'll need to arm her as well. Remember—everyone must have one." (What I cannot squeeze from you, I shall wring from her.)

  "I'll try my best." At the mere mention of Siv Grace, Wally Laren Ctiton deflated. "I know bringing a woman up the mountain is a burden, but I have no way to ensure she won't stubbornly follow us anyway."

  "Though I've only met her once, she's a fine girl."

  "Indeed, headman. Too fine by half. I'll have her come visit you shortly, so you two can reminisce." The prince's face was written all over with helplessness. "Well then, I believe those are essentially all the necessities. You mentioned earlier that taking the Kulen route would require less than a week, correct?"

  The old man shook his head. "You're still lacking one thing, Highness. Without it, you could spend a month and never find your way out of Kulen Mountain."

  "A guide," said Henris Weber Ian.

  "Oh, right." Wally slapped his forehead. "I completely forgot about the gods-damned guide... Yes, headman. We need someone who can safely lead us through Kulen Mountain. I trust you can arrange someone for us."

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  "I'll be frank with you, Highness. In times past, both Cynthia's and Bellita's caravans chose to circle around Kulen Mountain to reach Cynthia. In all of Bellita, there's only one man capable of crossing Kulen Mountain alone."

  The prince's earlier excitement gradually faded. "You mean...?"

  "Don't be so anxious, Highness." The headman split his mouth in a grin. "He lives at the northernmost end of Bellita, in a wooden shack by the docks—quite conspicuous, you'll spot it at a glance. Tell him the headman has appointed him as guide to the Shahani Expeditionary Force." He coughed twice. "I should really send a man or two along with you, but we're short-handed—you understand, they're all attending to the soldiers from your ships. But you see, I'm a man at death's door, with little authority to speak of, so it wouldn't be surprising if someone defied or ignored my orders. Should that happen, you'll have to work it out yourselves, Highness. There are many methods—offer him gold, threaten him with steel, I can't interfere. Only," he narrowed his eyes with a smile full of hidden meaning, "no one in this world can resist gold, and no one welcomes the blade."

  Wally Laren Ctiton immediately ordered Henris to toss the headman a purse, then—without seeking the old man's consent and heedless of his brittle bones—embraced him with tremendous force. "Thank you, headman." He held him close, pounding his back while the latter found even breathing difficult. (I ought to snap your spine in two, old man.) "Thank you for the goodwill you've shown and the contribution you've made to Shahani—no, to the entire Seven Seas Kingdoms." He continued slapping the old man's back. "We won't forget your kindness, headman. Never, I promise you that."

  Afterward, Prince Wally took Henris straight to Old Fisher's cabin. Princess Siv arrived at the headman's residence somewhat later; finding the old man curled up in pain, she immediately began massaging him, helping him slowly stretch his limbs. She gently asked who had laid such cruel hands on him. The headman blamed Time and protected her husband. He assumed she would stay, which would allow him to employ the skills honed through years of dealing with pirates to transfer everything of value from the Narwhal into his own cellar.

  Old Fisher's house was indeed conspicuous, for in Bellita's northernmost cove, his was the only dwelling. The old fisherman sat at the dock's edge, feet soaking in the water, a fishing net with a great gaping hole hanging from the post beside him.

  "Looks like a fine day to put out to sea." Prince Wally had already cleared his throat several times before speaking and exercised his facial muscles. He intended to make a good first impression in this initial meeting, as all his hopes rested on this man. "But you've chosen instead to, er, wash your feet here." Having said this, the prince laughed at an inopportune moment. Henris knew Prince Wally's mouth had never learned restraint, and his performance at the headman's house had already been exemplary by his standards.

  "Hey there, Old Fisher." The headman had at least managed to find someone to guide the prince's party. "Unusual not to see you out fishing?"

  (That night watchman from yesterday evening.) Bryce Banhart glanced at him. "Oh, Loren." (What is this damned bastard doing here?) "No one in Bellita put out fishing today, friend. Because of the grand personage beside you."

  Loren laughed awkwardly. "This is Old Fisher, the most authoritative guide over Kulen Mountain in all Cynthia. And this gentleman is..."

  "The prince. Shahani's prince." The old fisherman withdrew his feet. "What should I do?" He adopted a troubled expression. "Must I kneel?"

  Loren's gaze darted between the two men, clearly caught in an uncomfortable position. "No need for that, good sir," the prince said with humor. "Bellita folk are hospitable, with customs rather different from elsewhere. Just now walking through the streets, someone even spat at me. So if anyone were to kneel before me, I'd be frightened enough to drown myself in the sea."

  "He spat at me!" Loren hastily explained. "Because I threw him out of the tavern last night! Please don't misunderstand, Your Highness."

  "Only a jest," he said wittily. "If I were thrown out of a tavern, I'd do the same." Loren busied himself with an ingratiating smile.

  Bryce Banhart inclined slightly. "I have long heard of your name, Highness. Meeting you is my honor."