Читать книгу The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 20

PUG LEANED OUT THE WINDOW.

Despite the driving rain that had come in early morning, the courtyard was in an uproar. Besides the necessary preparations for any important visit, there was the added novelty of these visitors being elves. Even the infrequent elf messenger from Queen Aglaranna was the object of much curiosity when one appeared at the castle, for rarely did the elves venture south of the river Crydee. The elves lived apart from the society of men, and their ways were thought strange and magical. They had lived in these lands long before the coming of men to the West, and there was an unvoiced agreement that, in spite of any claims made by the Kingdom, they were a free people.

A cough caused Pug to turn and see Kulgan sitting over a large tome. The magician indicated with a glance that the boy should return to his studies. Pug closed the window shutters and sat on his pallet. Kulgan said, ‘There will be ample time for you to gawk at elves, boy, in a few hours. Then there will be little time for studies. You must learn to make the best use of what time you have.’

Fantus scrambled over to place his head in the boy’s lap. Pug scratched absently behind an eye ridge as he picked up a book and started to read. Kulgan had given Pug the task of formulating shared qualities of spells as described by different magicians, in the hope it would deepen his understanding of the nature of magic.

Kulgan was of the opinion that Pug’s spells with the trolls had been the result of the tremendous stress of the moment. He hoped the study of other magicians’ research might help the boy break through the barriers that held him back in his studies. The book work also proved fascinating to Pug, and his reading had improved greatly.

Pug glanced at his master, who was reading while puffing great clouds of smoke from his long pipe. Kulgan showed no signs of the weakness of the day before and had insisted the boy use these hours to study, rather than sit idly by waiting for the arrival of the Elf Queen and her court.

A few minutes later, Pug’s eyes began to sting from the pungent smoke, and he turned back to the window and pushed open the shutters. ‘Kulgan?’

‘Yes, Pug?’

‘It would be much nicer working with you if we could somehow keep the fire going for warmth but move the smoke outside.’ Between the smoking fire pot and the magician’s pipe, the room was thick with a blue-white haze.

The magician laughed loudly. ‘Right you are.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands flew in a furious motion, and he softly mouthed a series of incantations. Soon he was holding a large sphere of white and grey smoke, which he took to the window and tossed outside, leaving the room fresh and clear.

Pug shook his head, laughing. ‘Thank you, Kulgan. But I had a more mundane solution in mind. What do you think of making a chimney for the fire pot?’

‘Not possible, Pug,’ Kulgan said, sitting down. He pointed to the wall. ‘If one had been installed when the tower was built, fine. But to try to remove the stones from the tower, from here past my room, and up to the roof would be difficult, not to mention costly.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of a chimney in the wall, Kulgan. You know how the forge in the smithy has a stone hood taking the heat and smoke through the roof?’ The magician nodded. ‘Well, if I could have a metal one fashioned by the smith, and a metal chimney coming from the hood to carry the smoke away, it would work the same way, wouldn’t it?’

Kulgan pondered this for a moment. ‘I don’t see why it wouldn’t. But where would you put this chimney?’

‘There.’ Pug pointed to two stones above and to the left of the window. They had been ill fitted when the tower was built, and now there was a large crack between them that allowed the wind to come howling into the room. ‘This stone could be taken out,’ he said, indicating the leftmost one. ‘I checked it and it’s loose. The chimney could come from above the fire pot, bend here’ – he pointed to a spot in the air above the pot and level with the stone – ‘and come out here. If we covered the space around it, it would keep the wind out.’

Kulgan looked impressed. ‘It’s a novel idea, Pug. It might work. I’ll speak to the smith in the morning and get his opinion on the matter. I wonder that no one thought of it before.’

Feeling pleased with himself for having thought of the chimney, Pug resumed his studies. He reread a passage that had caught his eye before, puzzling over an ambiguity. Finally he looked up at the magician and said, ‘Kulgan.’

‘Yes, Pug?’ he answered, looking up from his book.

‘Here it is again. Magician Lewton uses the same cantrip here as Marsus did, to baffle the effects of the spell upon the caster, directing it to an external target.’ Placing the large tome down so as not to lose his place, he picked up another. ‘But here Dorcas writes that the use of this cantrip blunts the spell, increasing the chance that it will not work. How can there be so much disagreement over the nature of this single construction?’

Kulgan narrowed his gaze a moment as he regarded his student. Then he sat back, taking a long pull on his pipe, sending forth a cloud of blue smoke. ‘It shows what I’ve said before, lad. Despite any vanity we magicians might feel about our craft, there’s really very little order or science involved. Magic is a collection of folk arts and skills passed along from master to apprentice since the beginning of time. Trial and error, trial and error is the way. There has never been an attempt to create a system for magic, with laws and rules and axioms that are well understood and widely accepted.’ He looked thoughtfully at Pug. ‘Each of us is like a carpenter, making a table, but each of us choosing different woods, different types of saws, some using pegs and dowel, others using nails, another dovetailing joints, some staining, others not . . . in the end there’s a table, but the means for making it are not the same in each case.

‘What we have here is most likely an insight about the limits of each of these venerable sages you study, rather than any sort of prescription for magic. For Lewton and Marsus, the cantrip aided the construction of the spell; for Dorcas, it hindered.’

‘I understand your example, Kulgan, but I’ll never understand how these magicians all could do the same thing, but in so many different ways. I understand that each of them wanted to achieve his end and found a different means, but there is something missing in the manner they did it.’

Kulgan looked intrigued. ‘What is missing, Pug?’

The boy looked thoughtful. ‘I . . . I don’t know. It’s as if I expect to find something that will tell me, “This is the way it must be done, the only way,” or something like that. Does that make any sense?’

Kulgan nodded. ‘I think I know you well enough to understand. You have a very well-ordered mind, Pug. You understand logic far better than most, even those much older than yourself. You see things as a system, rather than as a haphazard collection of events. Perhaps that is part of your trouble.’

Pug’s expression showed his interest in what the magician was saying. Kulgan continued. ‘Much of what I am trying to teach is based on a system of logic, cause and effect, but much is not. It is like trying to teach someone to play the lute. You can show them the fingering of the strings, but that knowledge alone will not make a great troubadour. It is the art, not the scholarship, that troubles you.’

‘I think I understand, Kulgan.’ He sounded dispirited.

Kulgan stood up. ‘Don’t dwell on it; you are still young, and I have hope for you yet.’ His tone was light, and Pug felt the humor in it.

‘Then I am not a complete loss?’ he said with a smile.

‘Indeed not.’ Kulgan looked thoughtfully at his pupil. ‘In fact, I have the feeling that someday you may use that logical mind of yours for the betterment of magic.’

Pug was a little startled. He did not think of himself as one to accomplish great things.

Shouts came through the window, and Pug hurried to look out. A troop of guards was running toward the front gate. Pug turned to Kulgan. ‘The elves must be coming! The guard is out.’

Kulgan said, ‘Very well. We are done with study for this day. There will be no holding you until you get a look at the elves. Run along.’

Pug raced out the door and down the stairs. He took them two at a time, jumping to the bottom of the tower landing over the last four and hitting the floor at a full run. He dashed through the kitchen and out the door. As he rounded the keep to the front courtyard, he found Tomas standing atop a hay wagon. Pug climbed up next to him, to be better able to see the arrival over the heads of the curious keep folk gathered around.

Tomas said, ‘I thought you weren’t coming, thought you’d be locked away with your books all day.’

Pug said, ‘I wouldn’t miss this. Elves!’

Tomas playfully dug his elbow into Pug’s side. ‘Haven’t you had your fill of excitement for this week?’

Pug threw him a black look. ‘If you’re so indifferent, why are you standing in the rain on this wagon?’

Tomas didn’t answer. Instead he pointed. ‘Look!’

Pug turned to see the guard company snap to attention as riders in green cloaks entered through the gate. They rode to the main doors of the keep, where the Duke waited. Pug and Tomas watched in awe, for they rode the most perfect white horses the boys had ever seen, using no saddle or bridle. The horses seemed untouched by wetness, and their coats glowed faintly; whether by some magic, or a trick of the grey afternoon light, Pug couldn’t tell. The leader rode on an especially grand animal, full seventeen hands in height, with a long flowing mane and a tail like a plume. The riders reared the mounts in salute, and an audible intake of breath could be heard from those in the crowd.

‘Elf steeds,’ said Tomas, in hushed tones. The horses were the legendary mounts of the elves. Martin Longbow had once told the boys they lived in hidden, deep glades near Elvandar. It was said they possessed intelligence and a magic nature, and no human could sit their backs. It was also said that only one with royal elvish blood could command them to carry riders.

Grooms rushed forward to take the horses, but a musical voice said, ‘There is no need.’ It came from the first rider, the one mounted on the greatest steed. She jumped nimbly down, without aid, landing lightly on her feet, and threw back her hood, revealing a mane of thick reddish hair. Even in the gloom of the afternoon rain it appeared to be shot through with golden highlights. She was tall, nearly a match for Borric. She mounted the steps as the Duke came forward to meet her.

Borric held out his hands and took hers in greeting. ‘Welcome, my lady; you do me and my house a great honor.’

The Elf Queen said, ‘You are most gracious, Lord Borric.’ Her voice was rich and surprisingly clear, able to carry over the crowd so that all in the courtyard could hear. Pug felt Tomas’s hand clutching his shoulder. He turned to see a rapt expression on Tomas’s face. ‘She’s beautiful,’ said the taller boy.

Pug returned his attention to the welcome. He was forced to agree that the Queen of the elves was indeed beautiful, if not in entirely human terms. Her eyes were large and a pale blue, nearly luminous in the gloom. Her face was finely chiseled, with high cheekbones and a strong but not masculine jaw. Her smile was full, and her teeth shone white between almost-red lips. She wore a simple circlet of gold around her brow, which held back her hair, revealing the lobeless, upswept ears that were the hallmark of her race.

The others in her company dismounted, all dressed in rich clothing. Each tunic was bright with contrasting leggings below. One wore a tunic of deep russet, another pale yellow with a surcoat of bright green. Some wore purple sashes, and others crimson hose. Despite the bright colors, these were elegant and finely made garments, with nothing loud or gaudy about them. There were eleven riders with the Queen, all similar in appearance, tall, youthful, and lithe in movement.

The Queen turned from the Duke and said something in her musical language. The elf steeds reared in salute, then ran through the gate, past the surprised onlookers. The Duke ushered his guests inside, and soon the crowd drifted away. Tomas and Pug sat quietly in the rain.

Tomas said, ‘If I live to be a hundred, I don’t think that I’ll ever see her like.’

Pug was surprised, for his friend rarely showed such feelings. He had a brief impulse to chide Tomas over his boyish infatuation, but something about his companion’s expression made that seem inappropriate. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’re getting drenched.’

Tomas followed Pug from the wagon. Pug said, ‘You had better change into some dry clothing, and see if you can borrow a dry tabard.’

Tomas said, ‘Why?’

With an evil grin, Pug said, ‘Oh? Didn’t I tell you? The Duke wants you to dine with the court. He wants you to tell the Elf Queen what you saw on the ship.’

Tomas looked as if he were going to break down and run. ‘Me? Dine in the great hall?’ His face went white. ‘Talk? To the Queen?’

Pug laughed with glee. ‘It’s easy. You open your mouth and words come out.’

Tomas swung a roundhouse at Pug, who ducked under the blow, grabbing his friend from behind when he spun completely around. Pug had strength in his arms even if he lacked Tomas’s size, and he easily picked his larger friend off the ground. Tomas struggled, and soon they were laughing uncontrollably. ‘Pug, put me down.’

‘Not until you calm down.’

‘I’m all right.’

Pug put him down. ‘What brought that on?’

‘Your smug manner, and not telling me until the last minute.’

‘All right. So I’m sorry I waited to tell you. Now what’s the rest of it?’

Tomas looked uncomfortable, more than was reasonable from the rain. ‘I don’t know how to eat with quality folk. I’m afraid I’ll do something stupid.’

‘It’s easy. Just watch me and do what I do. Hold the fork in your left hand and cut with the knife. Don’t drink from the bowls of water; they’re to wash with, and use them a lot, because your hands will get greasy from the rib bones. And make sure you toss the bones over your shoulder to the dogs, and not on the floor in front of the Duke’s table. And don’t wipe your mouth on your sleeves, use the tablecloth, that’s what it’s for.’

They walked toward the soldiers’ commons, with Pug giving his friend instruction on the finer points of court manners. Tomas was impressed at the wealth of Pug’s knowledge.

Tomas vacillated between looking sick and pained. Each time someone regarded him, he felt as if he had been found guilty of the most grievous breach of etiquette and looked sick. Whenever his gaze wandered to the head table and he caught sight of the Elf Queen, his stomach tied up in knots and he looked pained.

Pug had arranged for Tomas to sit next to him at one of the more removed tables from the Duke’s. Pug’s usual place was at Lord Borric’s table, next to the Princess. He was glad for this chance to be away from her, for she still showed displeasure with him. Usually she chatted with him about the thousand little bits of gossip the ladies of the court found so interesting, but last night she had pointedly ignored him, lavishing all her attention on a surprised and obviously pleased Roland. Pug found his own reaction puzzling, relief mixed with a large dose of irritation. While he felt relieved to be free of her wrath, he found Roland’s fawning upon her a bothersome itch he couldn’t scratch.

Pug had been troubled by Roland’s hostility toward him of late, poorly hidden behind stiff manners. He had never been as close to Roland as Tomas had, but they had never before had cause to be angry with one another. Roland had always been one of the crowd of boys Pug’s age. He had never hidden behind his rank when he had cause to be at odds with the common boys, always standing ready to settle the matter in whatever way proved necessary. And already being an experienced fighter when he arrived in Crydee, his differences soon were settled peacefully as often as not. Now there was this dark tension between Pug and Roland, and Pug found himself wishing he was Tomas’s equal in fighting; Tomas was the only boy Roland was unable to best with fists, their one encounter ending quickly with Roland receiving a sound thumping. For as certain as the sun was rising in the morning, Pug knew a confrontation with the hotheaded young Squire was quickly approaching. He dreaded it, but knew once it came, he’d feel relief.

Pug glanced at Tomas, finding his friend lost in his own discomfort. Pug returned his attention to Carline. He felt overwhelmed by the Princess, but her allure was tempered by a strange discomfort he felt whenever she was near. As beautiful as he found her – her black locks and blue eyes igniting some very uncomfortable flames of imagination – the images were always somehow hollow, colorless at heart, lacking the amber-and-rose glow such daydreams had possessed when Carline had been a distant, unapproachable, and unknown figure. Observing her closely for even as short a time as he had recently made such idealized musing impossible. She was proving herself to be just too complicated to fit into simple daydreams. On the whole he found the question of the Princess troublesome, but seeing her with Roland made him forget his internal conflicts over her, as a less intellectual, more basic emotion came to the fore. He was becoming jealous.

Pug sighed, shaking his head as he thought about his own misery at this moment, ignoring Tomas’s. At least, thought Pug, I’m not alone. To Roland’s obvious discomfort, Carline was deeply involved at the moment in conversation with Prince Calin of Elvandar, son of Aglaranna. The Prince seemed to be the same age as Arutha, or Lyam, but then so did his mother, who appeared to be in her early twenties. All the elves, except the Queen’s seniormost adviser, Tathar, were quite young looking, and Tathar looked no older than the Duke.

When the meal was over, most of the Duke’s court retired. The Duke rose and offered his arm to Aglaranna and led those who had been ordered to attend them to his council chamber.

For the third time in two days, the boys found themselves in the Duke’s council chamber. Pug was more relaxed about being there than before, thanks in part to the large meal, but Tomas seemed more disturbed than ever. If the taller boy had spent the hour before dinner staring at the Elf Queen, in these close quarters he seemed to be looking everywhere but in her direction. Pug thought Aglaranna noticed Tomas’s behavior and smiled slightly, but he couldn’t be sure.

The two elves who came with the Queen, Calin and Tathar, went at once to the side table that held the bowl and the artifacts taken from the Tsurani soldier. They examined them closely, fascinated by every detail.

The Duke called the meeting to order, and the two elves came to chairs on either side of the Queen. Pug and Tomas stood by the door as usual.

The Duke said, ‘We have told you what has occurred as well as we know, and now you have seen proof with your own eyes. If you think it would be helpful, the boys can recount the events on the ship.’

The Queen inclined her head, but it was Tathar who spoke. ‘I would like to hear the story firsthand, Your Grace.’

Borric motioned for the boys to approach. They stepped forward, and Tathar said, ‘Which of you found this outworlder?’

Tomas threw Pug a look that indicated the shorter boy should do the talking. Pug said, ‘We both did, sir,’ not knowing the proper address for the elf. Tathar seemed content with the general honorific. Pug recounted the events of that day, leaving out nothing he could remember. When he had done, Tathar asked a series of questions, each jogging Pug’s memory, bringing out small details he had forgotten.

When he was done, Pug stepped back, and Tathar repeated the process with Tomas. Tomas began haltingly, obviously discomfited, and the Elf Queen bestowed a reassuring smile on him. That only served to make him more unsettled, and he was soon dismissed.

Tathar’s questions provided more details about the ship, small things forgotten by the boys: fire buckets filled with sand tossed about the deck, empty spear-racks, substantiating Arutha’s surmise that it had been, indeed, a warship.

Tathar leaned back. ‘We have never heard of such a ship. It is in many ways like other ships, but not in all ways. We are convinced.’

As if by silent signal, Calin spoke. ‘Since the death of my Father-King, I serve as Warleader of Elvandar. It is my duty to supervise the scouts and patrols that guard our glades. For some time we have been aware that there were strange occurrences in the great forest, south of the river Crydee. Several times our runners have found tracks made by men, in isolated parts of the forest. They have been found as near as the borders of Elvandar, and as far as the North Pass near Stone Mountain.

‘Our scouts have tried for weeks to find these men, but only tracks could be seen. There were none of the usual things that would be expected of a scouting or raiding party. These people were taking great care to disguise their presence. Had they not passed so close to Elvandar, they might have remained undetected, but no one may intrude near our home and go unnoticed.

‘Several days ago, one of our scouts sighted a band of strangers passing the river, near the edge of our forests heading in the direction of the North Pass. He followed for a half day’s march, then lost them.’

Fannon raised his eyebrows. ‘An elven tracker lost them?’

Calin inclined his head slightly. ‘Not by his lack of skill. They simply entered a thick glade and never appeared on the other side. He followed their tracks up to the point where they vanished.’

Lyam said, ‘I think we know now where they went.’ He looked uncommonly somber, resembling his father more than usual.

Calin continued. ‘Four days before your message arrived, I led a patrol that sighted a band near the place of last sighting. They were short and stocky men, without beards. Some were fair and others dark. There were ten of them, and they moved through the forest with little ease; the slightest sound put them on guard. But with all their caution, they still had no idea they were being tracked.

‘They all wore armor of bright colors, reds and blues, some green, others yellow, save one in black robes. They carried swords like the one on the table and others without the serration, round shields, and strange bows, short and curved in an odd doubled-back way.’

Algon sat forward. ‘They’re recurved bows, like the ones used by Keshian dog-soldiers.’

Calin spread his hands. ‘Kesh has long been gone from these lands, and when we knew the Empire, they used simple bows of yew or ash.’

Algon interrupted in excited tones. ‘They have a way, secret to them, of fashioning such bows from wood and animal horn. They are small, but possess great power, though not as much as the longbow. Their range is surprisingly—’

Borric cleared his throat pointedly, being unwilling to let the Horsemaster indulge himself in his preoccupation with weaponry. ‘If His Highness will please continue?’

Algon sat back, blushing furiously, and Calin said, ‘I tracked them for two days. They stopped and made cold camp at night and took great care not to leave signs of their passing. All food scraps and body wastes were gathered together in a sack and carried by one of their band. They moved carefully, but were easy for us to follow.

‘When they came to the edge of the forest, near the mouth of North Pass, they made marks upon a parchment as they had several times during their trek. Then the one in black activated some strange device, and they vanished.’ There was a stir from the Duke’s company. Kulgan especially looked disturbed.

Calin paused. ‘The thing that was most strange, however, was their language, for their speech was unlike any we know. They spoke in hushed tones, but we could hear them, and their words were without meaning.’

The Queen then spoke. ‘Hearing this, I became alarmed, for these outworlders are clearly mapping the West, ranging freely through the great forest, the hills of Stone Mountain, and now the coasts of the Kingdom. Even as we prepared to send you word, the reports of these outworlders became more frequent. Several more bands were seen in the area of the North Pass.’

Arutha sat forward, resting his arms on the table. ‘If they cross the North Pass, they will discover the way to Yabon, and the Free Cities. The snows will have started to fall in the mountains, and they may discover we are effectively isolated from aid during the winter.’

For a moment alarm flickered on the Duke’s face, betraying his stoic demeanor. He regained his composure and said, ‘There is still the South Pass, and they may not have mapped that far. If they were in that area, the dwarves would most likely have seen signs of them, as the villages of the Grey Towers are more widely scattered than those of Stone Mountain.’

‘Lord Borric,’ said Aglaranna, ‘I would never have ventured from Elvandar if I had not thought the situation critical. From what you have told us of the outworld Empire, if they are as powerful as you say, then I fear for all the free peoples of the West. While the elves have little love for the Kingdom as such, we respect those of the Crydee, for you have ever been honorable men and have never sought to extend your realm into our lands. We would ally with you should these outworlders come for conquest.’

Borric sat quietly for a moment. ‘I thank the Lady of Elvandar for the aid of the elven folk should war come. We are also in your debt for your counsel, for now we can act. Had we not known of these happenings in the great forests, we would likely have given the aliens more time for whatever trouble they are preparing.’ He paused again, as if considering his next words. ‘And I am convinced that these Tsurani plan us ill. Scouting an alien and strange land I could see, trying to determine the nature and temper of the people who live there, but extensive mapping by warriors can only be a prelude to invasion.’

Kulgan sounded fatigued as he said, ‘They most likely will come with a mighty host.’

Tully shook his head. ‘Perhaps not.’ All eyes turned to him as he said, ‘I am not so certain. Much of what I read in Xomich’s mind was confused, but there is something about this Empire of Tsuranuanni that makes it unlike any nation we know of; there is something very alien about their sense of duty and alliances. I can’t tell you how I know, but I suspect they may choose to test us first, with but a small part of their might. It’s as if their attentions are elsewhere, and we’re an afterthought.’ He shook his head in admitted confusion. ‘I have this sense, nothing more.’

The Duke sat upright, a commanding tone coming into his voice. ‘We will act. I will send messages to Duke Brucal of Yabon, and again to Stone Mountain and the Grey Towers.’

Aglaranna said, ‘It would be good to hear what the dwarven folk know.’

Borric said, ‘I had hoped for word by now, but our messengers have not returned, nor have the pigeons they carry.’

Lyam said, ‘Hawks, perhaps. The pigeons are not always reliable, or perhaps the messengers never reached the dwarves.’

Borric turned to Calin. ‘It has been forty years since the siege of Carse, and we have had little traffic with the dwarves since. Who commands the dwarven clans now?’

The Elf Prince said, ‘As then. Stone Mountain is under the banner of Harthorn, of Hogar’s line, at village Delmoria. The Grey Towers rally to the banner of Dolgan, of Tholin’s line, at village Caldara.’

‘Both are known to me, though I was but a boy when they raised the Dark Brothers’ siege at Carse,’ said Borric. ‘They will prove fierce allies if trouble comes.’

Arutha said, ‘What of the Free Cities, and the Prince in Krondor?’

Borric sat back. ‘I must think on that, for there are problems in the East, or so I have word. I will give thought to the matter this night.’ He stood. ‘I thank you all for this counsel. Return to your quarters and avail yourselves of rest and refreshments. I will ask you to consider plans for dealing with the invaders, should they come, and we will meet again tomorrow.’

As the Elf Queen rose, he offered her his arm, then escorted her through the doors that Tomas and Pug held open. The boys were the last to exit. Fannon took Tomas in tow, leading him to the soldiers’ commons, while Kulgan stood outside the hall with Tully and the two elven advisers.

The magician turned to his apprentice. ‘Pug, Prince Calin expressed an interest in your small library of magic books. Would you please show them to him?’

Pug said he would and led the Prince up the stairs to his door and opened it for him. Calin stepped through, and Pug followed. Fantus was asleep and woke with a start. He threw the elf a distrustful look.

Calin slowly crossed over to the drake and spoke a few soft words in a language that Pug didn’t understand. Fantus lost his nervousness and stretched forth his neck to allow the Prince to scratch his head.

After a moment the drake looked expectantly to Pug. Pug said, ‘Yes, dinner is over. The kitchen will be full of scraps.’ Fantus moved to the window with a wolfish grin and used his snout to push it open. With a snap of his wings he was out, gliding toward the kitchen.

Pug offered Calin a stool, but the Prince said, ‘Thank you, but your chairs and stools are of little comfort to my kind. I will just sit on the floor, with your leave. You have a most unusual pet, Squire Pug.’ He gave Pug a small smile. Pug was a little uncomfortable hosting the Elf Prince in his poor room, but the elf’s manner was such that the boy started to relax.

‘Fantus is less a pet than a permanent guest. He has a mind of his own. It is not unusual for him to disappear for weeks at a time, now and again, but mostly he stays here. He must eat outside the kitchen now that Meecham has gone.’

Calin inquired who Meecham was. Pug explained, adding, ‘Kulgan has sent him over the mountains to Bordon, with some of the Duke’s guards, before the North Pass is snowed in. He didn’t say why he was going, Highness.’

Calin looked at one of the boy’s books. ‘I prefer to be called Calin, Pug.’

Pug nodded, pleased. ‘Calin, what do you think the Duke has in mind?’

The elf gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘The Duke will reveal his own plans, I think. My guess is that Meecham is preparing the way should the Duke choose to journey east. You will most probably know on the morrow.’ He held up the book he had glanced at. ‘Did you find this interesting?’

Pug leaned over and read the title. ‘Dorcas’s Treatise on the Animation of Objects? Yes, though it seemed a little unclear.’

‘A fair judgment. Dorcas was an unclear man, or at least I found him so.’

Pug started. ‘But Dorcas died thirty years ago.’

Calin smiled broadly, showing even white teeth. His pale eyes shone in the lantern light. ‘Then you know little of elven lore?’

‘Little,’ Pug agreed. ‘You are the first elf I have ever spoken with, though I may have seen another elf once, when I was very little. I’m not sure.’ Calin tossed aside the book. ‘I know only what Martin Longbow has told me, that you can somehow speak with animals, and some spirits. That you live in Elvandar and the surrounding elven forests, and that you stay among your own kind mostly.’

The elf laughed, a soft, melodic sound. ‘Nearly all true. Knowing friend Longbow, I wager some of the tales were colorful, for while he is not a deceiving man, he has an elf’s humor.’ Pug’s expression showed he did not understand. ‘We live a very long time by your standards. We learn to appreciate the humor in the world, often finding amusement in places where men find little. Or you can call it simply a different way of looking at life. Martin has learned this from us, I think.’

Pug nodded. ‘Mocking eyes.’

Calin raised an eyebrow in question. Pug explained, ‘Many people here find Martin difficult to be with. Different, somehow. I once heard a soldier say he had mocking eyes.’

Calin sighed. ‘Life has been difficult for Martin. He was left on his own at an early age. The Monks of Silban are good, kindly men, but ill equipped to raise a boy. Martin lived in the woods like a wild thing when he could flee his tutors. I found him one day, fighting with two of our children – we are not very much different from men when very young. Over the years he has grown to be one of the few humans who is free to come to Elvandar at will. He is a valued friend. But I think he bears a special burden of loneliness, not being fully in the world of elves nor of men, but partially in both.’

Pug saw Martin in a new light and resolved to attempt to know the Huntmaster better. Returning to the original topic, he said, ‘Is what he said true?’

Calin nodded. ‘In some respects. We can speak to animals only as men do, in tones to make them easy, though we are better at it than most humans, for we read the moods of wild things more readily. Martin has some of this knack. We do not, however, speak with spirits. There are creatures we know whom humans consider spirits – dryads, sprites, pixies – but they are natural beings who live near our magic.’

Pug’s interest was piqued. ‘Your magic?’

‘Ours is a magic that is part of our being, strongest in Elvandar. It is a heritage ages old, allowing us to live at peace within our forests. There we work as others do, hunting, tending our gardens, celebrating our joys, teaching our young. Time passes slowly in Elvandar, for it is an ageless place. That is why I can remember speaking with Dorcas, for in spite of my youthful appearance, I am over a hundred years old.’

‘A hundred . . .’ Pug shook his head. ‘Poor Tomas, he was distressed to hear you were the Queen’s son. Now he will be desolate.’

Calin inclined his head, a half-smile playing across his face. ‘The lad who was with us in the council hall?’

Pug nodded. Calin said, ‘It is not the first time my Mother-Queen has had such an effect upon a human, though older men can mask the effect with more ease.’

‘You don’t mind?’ asked Pug, feeling protective toward his friend.

‘No, Pug, of course not. All in Elvandar love the Queen, and it is acknowledged her beauty is unsurpassed. I find it not surprising your friend is smitten. Since my Father-King passed, more than one bold noble of your race has come to press his suit for Aglaranna’s hand. Now her mourning is at an end, and she may take another should she wish. That it would be one of your race is unlikely, for while a few such marriages have been made, they are very rare, and tend to be sad things at the end for our kind. She will live many more human life spans, the gods willing.’

Calin looked around the room, then added, ‘It is likely our friend Tomas will outgrow his feelings for the great lady of the elves. Much as your Princess will change her feelings toward you, I would think.’

Pug felt embarrassed. He had been curious as to what Carline and the Elf Prince had spoken about during dinner, but had been uncomfortable asking. ‘I noticed you spoke with her at great length.’

‘I had expected to meet a hero of seven feet in height, with lightning dancing around his shoulders. It seems you slew a score of trolls with a cast of your hand.’

Pug blushed. ‘It was only two, and mostly by accident.’

Calin’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Even two is an accomplishment. I had thought the girl guilty of a flight of fancy. I would like to hear the story.’

Pug told him what had happened. When he was done, Calin said, ‘It is an unusual tale, Pug. I know little of human magic, but I do know enough to think that what you did was as strange as Kulgan said. Elf magic is far different from human, but we understand ours better than you understand your own. Never have I heard of such an occurrence, but I can share this with you. Occasionally, at times of great need, an inner call can be made, bringing forth powers that lay dormant, deep within.’

Pug said, ‘I have thought as much, though it would be nice to understand a little better what happened.’

‘That may come in time.’

Pug looked at his guest and sighed deeply. ‘I wish I could understand Carline, as well.’

Calin shrugged and smiled. ‘Who can understand another’s mind? I think for some time to come you will be the object of her attention. Then, it may be, another will distract her, perhaps young Squire Roland. He seems held in thrall by her.’

Pug snorted. ‘Roland! That . . . bother.’

Calin smiled appreciatively. ‘Then you are fond of the Princess?’

Pug looked upward, as if seeking guidance from some higher source. ‘I do like her,’ he admitted with a heavy sigh. ‘But I don’t know if I care for her that special way. Sometimes I think I do –especially when I see Roland fawning over her – but other times I don’t. She makes it very hard for me to think clearly, and I always seem to say the wrong things to her.’

‘Unlike Squire Roland,’ prompted Calin.

Pug nodded. ‘He’s court born and bred. He knows all the right things to say.’ Pug leaned back on his elbows and sighed wistfully. ‘I guess I’m just bothered by him out of envy as much as anything. He makes me feel like an ill-mannered clod with great lumps of stone for hands and tree stumps for feet.’

Calin nodded understandingly. ‘I don’t count myself an expert in all the ways of your people, Pug, but I’ve spent enough time with humans to know that you choose how you feel; Roland makes you feel clumsy only because you let him.

‘I would hazard a guess young Roland might feel much the same way when your positions are reversed. The faults we see in others never seem as dreadful as those we see in ourselves. Roland might envy your direct speech and honest manner.

‘In any event, what you or Roland do will have little effect on the Princess so long as she’s determined to have her own way. She has romanticized you in much the same manner your friend has our Queen. Short of you becoming a hopeless boor, she will not be shaken from this attitude until she is ready. I think she has you in mind as her future consort.’

Pug gaped for a moment, then said, ‘Consort?’

Calin smiled. ‘The young are often overly concerned with matters to be settled in later years. I suspect her determination in the matter is as much a result of your reluctance as from a true appreciation of your worth. She, like many children, simply wants what she can’t have.’ In a friendly tone he added, ‘Time will decide the issue.’

Pug leaned forward, a worried expression on his face. ‘Oh, my, I have made a hash of things. Half the keep boys think themselves in love with the Princess. If they only knew how terrifying the real thing can be.’ He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut a moment. ‘My head aches. I thought she and Roland . . .’

Calin said, ‘He may be but a tool to provoke your interest. Sadly, that seems to have resulted in bad feelings between you.’

Pug nodded slowly. ‘I think so. Roland is a good enough sort on the whole; we’ve been friends for the most part. But since I was elevated in rank, he’s been openly hostile. I try to ignore it, but it gets under my skin after a while. Maybe I should try to talk to him.’

‘That would prove wise, I think. But don’t be surprised if he is not receptive to your words. He is most certainly caught up in her spell.’

Pug was getting a headache from the topic, and the mention of spells made him ask, ‘Would you tell me more about elven magic?’

‘Our magic is ancient. It is part of what we are and in what we create. Elven boots can make even a human silent when walking, and elven bows are better able to strike the mark, for that is the nature of our magic. It is vested in ourselves, our forests, our creations. It can sometimes be managed, subtly by those who fully understand it . . . Spellweavers, such as Tathar. But this is not easily done, for out magic resists manipulation. It is more like air than anything, always surrounding us, yet unseen. But like air, which can be felt when the wind blows, it has substance. Our forests are called enchanted by men, for so long have we dwelled there, our magic has created the mystery of Elvandar. All who dwell there are at peace. No one may enter Elvandar uninvited, save by mighty arts, and even the distant boundaries of the elven forests cause unease in those who enter with evil intent. It has not always been so; in ages past we shared our lot with others, the moredhel, those you call the Brotherhood of the Dark Path. Since the great break, when we drove them from our forests, Elvandar has been changing, becoming more our place, our home, our essence.’

Pug said, ‘Are the Brothers of the Dark Path truly cousin to the elves?’

Calin’s eyes grew hooded. He paused for a moment, then said, ‘We speak little of such things, for there is much we wish were not true. I can tell you this: there is a bond between the moredhel, whom you call the Brotherhood, and my people, though ancient and long strained. We wish it were not so, but they are true cousins to us. Once in a great while one comes back to us, what we call Returning.’ He looked as if the topic were making him very uncomfortable.

Pug said, ‘I’m sorry if—’

Calin waved away the apology. ‘Curiosity is nothing to apologize for in a student, Pug. I just would rather not say more on this subject.’

They spoke late into the night, of many things. Pug was fascinated by the Elf Prince and was flattered so many things he said seemed to be of interest to Calin.

At last Calin said, ‘I should retire. Though I need little rest, I do need some. And I think you do as well.’

Pug rose and said, ‘Thank you for telling me so much.’ Then he smiled, half in embarrassment. ‘And for talking to me about the Princess.’

‘You needed to talk.’

Pug led Calin to the long hall, where a servant showed him to his quarters. Pug returned to his room and lay down for sleep, rejoined by a damp Fantus, who snorted in indignation at having to fly through the rain. Fantus was soon asleep. Pug, however, lay staring at the flickering light from his fire pot that danced on the ceiling, unable to call up sleep. He tried to put the tales of strange warriors out of his mind, but images of brightly clad fighters stalking through the forests of the westlands made sleep impossible.

There was a somber mood throughout Castle Crydee the next morning. The servants’ gossip had spread the news about the Tsurani, though the details were lacking. Everyone went about his duties with one ear open for a tidbit of speculation on what the Duke was going to do. Everyone was agreed to one thing: Borric conDoin, Duke of Crydee, was not a man to sit idly by waiting. Something would be done, and soon.

Pug sat atop a bale of hay, watching Tomas practice with a sword, swinging at a pell post, hacking backhand, then forehand, over and over. His blows were halfhearted, and finally he threw his sword down with disgust. ‘I’m not accomplishing a thing.’ He walked over and sat next to Pug. ‘I wonder what they’re talking about.’

Pug shrugged. ‘They’ were the Duke’s council; today the boys had not been asked to attend, and the last four hours had passed slowly.

Abruptly the courtyard became busy as servants began to rush toward the front gate. ‘Come on,’ said Tomas. Pug jumped off the bale and followed his friend.

They rounded the keep in time to see the guards turning out as they had the day before. It was colder than yesterday, but there was no rain. The boys climbed on the same wagon, and Tomas shivered. ‘I think the snows will come early this year. Maybe tomorrow.’

‘If they do, it will be the earliest snowfall in memory. You should have worn your cloak. Now you’re all sweaty from the drill, and the air is chilling you.’

Tomas looked pained. ‘Gods, you sound like my mother.’

Pug mimicked an exasperated manner. In a tone that was high-pitched and nasal, he said, ‘And don’t come running to me when you’re all blue with chill, and coughing and sneezing, looking for comfort, for you’ll find none here, Tomas Megarson.’

Tomas grinned. ‘Now you sound exactly like her.’

They turned at the sound of the great doors opening. The Duke and Elf Queen led the other guests from the central keep, the Duke holding the Queen’s hand in a parting gesture of friendship. Then the Queen placed her hand to her mouth and sang out a musical series of words, not loud, but carrying over the noise of the crowd. The servants who were standing in the court became silent, and soon the sound of hoof-beats could be heard outside the castle.

Twelve white horses ran through the gates and reared up in greeting to the Elf Queen. The elves quickly mounted, each springing up on an elf steed’s back without assistance. They raised their hands in salute to the Duke, then turned and raced out the gate.

For a few minutes after they were gone, the crowd stood around, as if loath to admit that they had seen their last of the elves, probably their last in this lifetime. Slowly they began to drift back to work.

Tomas looked far away, and Pug turned toward him. ‘What is it?’

Tomas said softly, ‘I wish I could see Elvandar, someday.’

Pug understood. ‘Maybe you will.’ Then he added, in lighter tones, ‘But I doubt it. For I will be a magician, and you will be a soldier, and the Queen will reign in Elvandar long after we are dead.’

Tomas playfully jumped atop his friend, wrestling him down in the straw. ‘Oh! Is that so. Well, I will too go to Elvandar someday.’ He pinned Pug under him, sitting atop his chest. ‘And when I do, I’ll be a great hero, with victories over the Tsurani by the score. She’ll welcome me as an honored guest. What do you think of that?’

Pug laughed, trying to push his friend off. ‘And I’ll be the greatest magician in the land.’

They both laughed. A voice broke through their play. ‘Pug! There you are.’

Tomas got off, and Pug sat up. Approaching them was the stocky figure of Gardell the smith. He was a barrel-chested man, with little hair but a thick black beard. His arms were grimy with smoke, and his apron was burned through with many small holes. He came to the side of the wagon and placed fists on hips. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. I have that hood Kulgan asked me to fashion for your fire pot.’

Pug scrambled out of the wagon, with Tomas close behind. They walked after Gardell toward the smithy behind the central keep. The burly smith said, ‘Damned clever idea, that hood. I’ve worked the forge for nearly thirty years and never thought of using a hood for a fire pot. Had to make one as soon as Kulgan told me of the plan.’

They entered the smithy, a large shed with a large and small forge and several different-sized anvils. All manner of things lay about waiting for repair: armor, stirrup irons, and kitchen utensils. Gardell walked to the larger forge and picked up the hood. It was about three feet to a side, about three feet high, and formed a cone with a hole at the top. Lengths of round metal pipe lay nearby, fashioned especially thin.

Gardell held out his creation for them to study. ‘I made it fairly thin, using a lot of tin for lightness, for were it too heavy, it would collapse.’ With his toe he pointed to several lengths of metal rods. ‘We’ll knock some little holes in the floor and use these for support. It may take a bit of time to get it right, but I think this thing of yours is going to work.’

Pug smiled broadly. He found great pleasure in seeing an idea of his taking concrete form. It was a novel and gratifying sensation. ‘When can we install it?’

‘Now if you like. I would like to see it work, I must confess.’

Pug gathered up some of the pipe, and Tomas the rest, as well as the rods. Juggling the awkward load, they set out toward the magician’s tower, with the chuckling smith following.

Kulgan was deep in thought as he started to mount the stairs to his room. Suddenly a shout from above sounded: ‘Watch out!’ Kulgan glanced up in time to see a block of stone come tumbling down the stairs, bounding over the steps as if in some fit of drunken craziness. He leapt aside as it struck against the wall where he had stood and came to rest at the bottom of the stairs. Mortar dust filled the air, and Kulgan sneezed.

Tomas and Pug came running down the stairs, expressions of worry on their faces. When they saw no one was hurt, they both looked relieved.

Kulgan leveled a baleful gaze upon the pair and said, ‘What is all this?’

Pug appeared sheepish, while Tomas tried to blend in with the wall. Pug spoke first. ‘We were trying to carry the stone down to the yard, and it sort of slipped.’

‘Sort of slipped? It looked more like a mad dash for freedom. Now, why were you carrying the stone, and where did it come from?’

‘It’s the loose one from my wall,’ answered Pug. ‘We took it out so that Gardell could put the last pipe in place.’ When Kulgan still appeared uncomprehending, Pug said, ‘It’s for my fire pot hood, remember?’

‘Ah,’ said Kulgan, ‘yes. Now I do.’ A servant arrived to investigate the noise, and Kulgan asked him to fetch a couple of workmen from the yard to carry the block away. He left, and Kulgan said to the boys, ‘I think it would be better to let someone a little larger tote that stone out. Now let us see this marvel.’

They climbed the stairs to the boy’s room and found Gardell installing the last length of pipe. The smith turned when they entered and said, ‘Well, what do you think?’

The pot had been moved a little closer to the wall, and the hood sat on four metal rods of equal length over it. All of the smoke was trapped by the hood and carried away through the light metal pipe. Unfortunately, the hole where the stone was missing was considerably larger than the pipe, so most of the smoke was blown back into the room by the wind.

‘Kulgan, what do you think?’ said Pug.

‘Well, boy. It looks rather impressive, but I can’t see much improvement in the atmosphere here.’

Gardell gave the hood a solid whack with his hand, causing it to ring out with a tinny sound. His thick calluses kept his hand from being burned by the hot metal. ‘She’ll do, soon as I plug up that hole, magician. I’ll fetch some bull hide that I use for making shields for the horsemen and cut a hole in a piece, slip it around the pipe, and nail it to the wall. A few slaps of tanning agent on it, and the heat will dry it out all stiff and hard. It will take the heat and keep the rain and wind out of the room, as well as the smoke.’ The smith looked pleased with his handiwork. ‘Well, I’ll fetch the hide. Back in a moment.’

Pug looked as if he would burst from pride, seeing his invention before him, and Tomas reflected Pug’s glory. Kulgan chuckled softly to himself for a moment. Suddenly Pug turned to the magician, remembering where he had spent the day. ‘What is the news from the council?’

‘The Duke sends messages to all the nobles of the West, explaining what has occurred in great detail, and asking that the Armies of the West be made ready. I am afraid Tully’s scribes have some rigorous days ahead of them, since the Duke wants them all finished as soon as possible. Tully’s in a state, for he has been commanded to stay and act as Lyam’s adviser, along with Fannon and Algon, during the Duke’s absence.’

‘Lyam’s adviser? Absence?’ asked Pug, uncomprehendingly.

‘Yes, the Duke, Arutha, and I are going to journey to the Free Cities, and on to Krondor, to speak with Prince Erland. I am going to send a dream message to a colleague of mine tonight, if I can. Belgan lives north of Bordon. He will send word to Meecham, who should be there by now, to find us a ship. The Duke feels it best that he should carry the word in person.’

Pug and Tomas looked excited. Kulgan knew they both wanted to come along. To visit Krondor would be the greatest adventure of their young lives. Kulgan stroked his grey beard. ‘It will be difficult to continue your lessons, but Tully can brush you up on a trick or two.’

Pug looked as if he were going to burst. ‘Please, Kulgan, may I come too?’

Kulgan feigned surprise. ‘You come? I never thought of that.’ He paused for a moment while the suspense built. ‘Well . . .’ Pug’s eyes pleaded. ‘. . . I guess it would be all right.’ Pug let out a yelp and jumped in the air.

Tomas struggled to hide his disappointment. He forced a thin smile and tried to look happy for Pug.

Kulgan walked to the door. Pug noticed Tomas’s dejected expression. ‘Kulgan?’ Pug said. The magician turned, a faint smile on his lips.

‘Yes, Pug?’

‘Tomas, too?’

Tomas shook his head, for he was neither a member of the court nor the magician’s charge, but his eyes looked at Kulgan imploringly.

Kulgan smiled broadly. ‘I guess we’re better off keeping you together, so we need look for trouble in only one place. Tomas, too. I’ll arrange things with Fannon.’

Tomas shouted, and the two boys slapped each other on the back.

Pug said, ‘When do we leave?’

Kulgan laughed. ‘In five days’ time. Or sooner, if the Duke hears from the dwarves. Runners are being sent to the North Pass to see if it is clear. If not, we ride by the South Pass.’

Kulgan departed, leaving the two boys dancing arm in arm and whooping with excitement.