Deception at Sea: An Ian Mac Roy Adventure

By Amy Rose Davis

When Ian Mac Roy, third son of the Eiryan king, agrees to escort a foreign ambassador home, he discovers that simple tasks can be the most dangerous. Deception, sabotage, and a brush with a headsman's ax will not deter Ian from completing his task. The only question is--will he finish it in one piece?

Deception at Sea is the first novella in a series of sea adventures set in the same world as The Taurin Chronicles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Rose Davis
• Release date: Apr 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9780983226482

Amy Rose Davis

Amy is a freelance copywriter and independent author of epic fantasy. In her spare time, she's probably knitting, lifting weights, running, or complaining about some new ache she got from one of those activities. "Unquickened," Book Three of The Taurin Chronicles, will be available November 22, 2022.

Book preview

Chapter One

Under Eiryan Skies

Ian scratched at his thin beard as an icy spring breeze pierced through the wool cloak to prick his skin. He took a deep breath of sea air and listened to the men on the deck of the merchant ship Emerald Wind, IES prepare to set sail. The rising tide rocked and swayed the ship against the dock, and Ian put one booted foot up on the boarding plank. ’Tis been too long.

Dreaming of sun and dark women, then?

He turned. His sister, Princess Igraine, stood behind him dressed in her finest fur-lined cloak, her bright red hair a sharp contrast to the cloak’s subdued blue hue. Dreaming of the wind on my face and the sun on my back, he said.

She smirked. I suppose we can take the lad off a ship, but we can’t take the seawater from his blood.

He shrugged. Perhaps not. He took her hand. Is he already aboard?

He is. We said our goodbyes earlier.

Ian heard sadness under her resolute tone. You loved him?

She opened her mouth, then closed it and frowned. I don’t know. He could give me every material thing, but he has little affection for me. He sees the advantage of alliance and royal blood. ’Tis less than I want. She looked up at the ship.

Ian turned and followed her eyes. Ambassador Xian Ji’ing Akmun stood above them, looking down. He inclined his head. He always seemed to genuinely care for you, Ian said. You couldn’t let affection grow?

Says the man who’s turned down every girl our father has suggested?

Ian winced. There’s no need for me to wed. Father has plenty of heirs.

Yet you grieve me for wishing to wed for love. For shame, Ian.

He laughed. Perhaps I am a bit of a hypocrite, then. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. I’ll write you.

She returned the kiss. I’ll answer. She gave him a final embrace and turned back toward her waiting carriage with her guards and ladies in tow.

King Cedric stood amid the dozens of Eiryan royal guards milling about on the dock. He watched Igraine go and motioned Ian over. His blue eyes were hard over his full brown beard. What do you think of this? he asked, nodding up toward the ship.

Ian shrugged. Igraine has her own mind. She always has.

He’d be a good match for her. He’s not royal, but he’s powerful and has the ear of the Tal’Amuni emperor. ’Twould be a good match for Eirya.

Ian snorted. To suggest as much to her would be as good as asking her to say no.

Cedric grunted an acknowledgement. He turned to Ian. You’re certain you don’t mind escorting him home?

’Tis proper. You don’t need me. It’ll give me a little taste of the sea. I’ve missed sailing.

Cedric clapped his son on the shoulder. If you do well, if a life at sea suits you, perhaps I’ll give you your own ship? A naval ship?

Ian forced a smile. Perhaps. But I think a merchant life would suit me better. I am my father’s son, after all.

Cedric laughed at that. Aye, ’tis true. At heart, I’m still a deck swab learning to buy and sell and hoping to attract the eye of a princess.

Oy! Lad! Little prince!

Ian looked up to the deck of the ship. Captain Graeme Mac Cade leaned over the rail, obscuring the thin sunlight of early spring that tried to pierce the clouds. Captain?

Ye plannin’ to stand there weepin’ over leavin’, boyo? Tide’s risin’. Get yourself aboard.

King Cedric held out his arm. Better board. He’ll leave without you. I’ve seen him do it.

Ian clasped Cedric’s arm. Any last instructions?

Cedric looked up, lowered his voice, and drew closer to Ian. Keep your eyes open, aye? The captain—I don’t like some of his acquaintances. Keep your wits close.

Ian nodded. I will. He turned away from his father and started up the plank. A commotion on the deck stopped him, and he moved aside and held onto the rope as Captain Mac Cade appeared at the top.

The captain shoved a thin young man off the deck. Get yourself home to your ma’s teat, lad. I’ll not be havin’ thieves aboard.

The boy sprawled on the plank, a pile of limbs and shabby clothing. He rolled over to look up at the captain. Thief—only another thief would know, Captain!

Captain Mac Cade waved the young man off and walked away grumbling.

Ian reached down to help the boy up. You all right, then, lad?

The boy, a blond young man no older than fifteen, brushed the dust off his homespun clothes. Aye. I will be. He turned to Ian, and his face paled. Forgive me, highness, he said, kneeling. I didn’t—I’m sorry—

Lad, stop. He nodded up the plank. What did you mean about him being a thief? What’s he stolen?

The boy snorted a laugh. What hasn’t he stolen? He bowed quickly. Safe journey, highness. He ran down the plank and disappeared in the crowd.

Ian stared up at the ship. Keep my wits close? Aye, Father—and more than that. He touched the hilt of the dagger in his belt and walked up to the deck under the gray Eiryan sky.

Chapter Two

Casting Off and Settling In

The moment Ian’s feet hit the deck of the Emerald Wind, the crew pulled the plank up behind him. He joined Ambassador Xian at the rail and clapped a hand to his shoulder as men on the dock unmoored the ship and tossed ropes up to the deck. Warmer weather awaits. You’ll soon be able to dress as you’re comfortable once more.

The ambassador spread his hands and looked down at his clothes. He wore wool, leathers, and linens that befit his rank of ambassador, but Ian had always sensed his discomfort with traditional Eiryan attire. I do miss my silks, he said. But I would have kept them packed away for the sake of your sister.

My father always says that it’s easier to treat with a bear in spring than with an Eiryan noblewoman.

Xian laughed. I believe him.

Ian had not understood what Igraine saw in Xian at first. The man was slight, shorter than Igraine, thin, and unpracticed in any of the martial arts. His family was from a class of diplomats and politicians, and in the tradition of Tal’Amun nobility, he’d been trained in those skills and little else.

But Igraine had pursued Xian, and Xian hadn’t objected. The more time Ian spent with Xian, the more he had seen the things Igraine had seen. The ambassador was witty, charming, intelligent, and educated. Igraine had argued with him on the finest points of Eiryan and Tal’Amuni history, law, and policy as often as she’d flirted with him. It wasn’t long before Ian had seen the ambassador leaving Igraine’s bedchambers in early hours of the morning.

For what it’s worth, I told my sister to marry you, Ian said. I thought she could do no better.

Xian cast a glance toward the silver-gray walls of the Citadel, the home of the Eiryan royal family. I could not promise her enough, he said. She said a life at court would not fulfill her. I held off my departure as long as I could, but I have little sway as yet in the diplomatic corps. My superiors insisted that I rotate back to Tal’Amun, and I could not refuse them.

Perhaps some distance might change her mind? You could write her.

Xian shook his head. Alas, no. A clean break, she said. She wishes to pursue other things, find something useful to do. He took a deep breath. It’s of no import now. Time to move on—go home, receive my new assignment.

The ship jerked and swayed, and the Citadel slowly started to move away. Ian looked up to see the sails at full mast. The men rushed about deck, tying and hauling and heaving to get the massive Emerald Wind under sail while the tide kept her hull from hitting shallow rocks. Navigating out of Maghara Harbor took skill that only a few crews had. Ian thought Captain Graeme’s crew performed like a well-rehearsed acrobat troupe. There was rhythm and sway to everything they did, and they managed the rapid tacks required for the harbor with practiced ease while the second officer stood at the wheel on the ship’s prow barking orders and steering capably away from the shore.

Captain Graeme approached, his feet hitting the deck in their standard heavy stomping gait. Glad ye could join us. Ye’ll be wantin’ to see your cabin, I’m thinkin’? He turned away.

Ian fell in step next to him. Not helming us out of the harbor, Captain?

He barked a laugh. Not when I have a wee prince to show about. He ducked into the cabin entrance. Watch your head. I’ll not be responsible for bruising the royal capper.

Ian followed Captain Graeme down the gangway of the aftcastle and to the cabins reserved for the captain and his senior officers. Captain Graeme unlocked a cabin door and swung it open. Here ye go, lad. I trust it’ll suffice?

Ian ducked his head and entered the well-appointed stateroom. Captain, I didn’t expect to take your own room, he said, turning to the captain.

Bah. I’ll sleep with the lads while you and your soft friend up there have your comforts.

Ian shook his head. No, put me with the lower officers. I don’t mind a ship’s tight quarters.

Graeme’s mouth tightened, and he stepped closer. Ian smelled beer on the man’s breath and clothes. Ye think three months on a merchant schooner around the Taurin Isles makes ye a sailor? Eh? Or that six months patrollin’ for pirates in the Galoch Sea makes ye a captain? Ye’ve all the sense of a storm-tossed gull, I’ll wager.

Ian straightened. I’m a good sailor. My father—

Your father’s an old sea dog, but he wears soft gloves when it comes to his kin. He turned and stomped out the door. Get used to it, lad. It’ll be the only home ye know for the next two months, if the winds favor us. He shut the door before giving Ian a chance to respond.

Ian sighed and sat down on the small bed. The room had been refurnished, he realized. The mattress was fresh goosedown, and the bed linens clean and free of must and mildew. The table and benches bolted to the floor still had the scent of a carpenter’s shop. I’d trade this for a rack on the lower decks gladly if he’d let me take the wheel a time or two, he thought.

He opened the door to return to the top deck and was nearly toppled by a streaking mass of black hair hitting his chest. He let out a grunt and grabbed the runner’s shoulders. No running aboard ship, he said.