Читать книгу The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 27

THE SHIP SAILED INTO THE HARBOR.

The climate of the Kingdom Sea was more clement than that of the Bitter Sea, and the journey from Salador had proven uneventful. They’d had to beat a tack much of the way against a steady northeast wind, so three weeks had passed instead of two.

Pug stood on the foredeck of the ship, his cloak pulled tightly around him. The winter wind’s bitterness had given way to a softer cool, as if spring were but a few days in coming.

Rillanon was called the Jewel of the Kingdom, and Pug judged the name richly deserved. Unlike the squat cities of the West, Rillanon stood a mass of tall spires, gracefully arched bridges, and gently twisting roadways, scattered atop rolling hills in delightful confusion. Upon heroic towers, banners and pennons fluttered in the wind, as if the city celebrated the simple fact of its own existence. To Pug, even the ferrymen who worked the barges going to and from the ships at anchor in the harbor were more colorful for being within the enchantment of Rillanon.

The Duke of Salador had ordered a ducal banner sewn for Borric, and it now flew from the top of the ship’s mainmast, informing the officials of the royal city that the Duke of Crydee had arrived. Borric’s ship was given priority in docking by the city’s harbor pilot, and quickly the ship was being secured at the royal quay. The party disembarked and were met by a company of the Royal Household Guard. At the head of the guards was an old, grey-haired, but still erect man, who greeted Borric warmly.

The two men embraced, and the older man, dressed in the royal purple and gold of the guard but with a ducal signet over his heart, said, ‘Borric, it is good to see you once more. What has it been? Ten . . . eleven years?’

‘Caldric, old friend. It has been thirteen.’ Borric regarded him fondly. He had clear blue eyes and a short salt-and-pepper beard.

The man shook his head and smiled. ‘It has been much too long.’ He looked at the others. Spying Pug, he said, ‘Is this your younger boy?’

Borric laughed. ‘No, though he would be no shame to me if he were.’ He pointed out the lanky figure of Arutha. ‘This is my son. Arutha, come and greet your great-uncle.’

Arutha stepped forward, and the two embraced. Duke Caldric, Lord of Rillanon, Knight-General of the King’s Royal Household Guard, and Royal Chancellor, pushed Arutha back and regarded him at arm’s length. ‘You were but a boy when I last saw you. I should have known you, for though you have some of your father’s looks, you also resemble my dear brother – your mother’s father – greatly. You do honor to my family.’

Borric said, ‘Well, old war-horse, how is your city?’

Caldric said, ‘There is much to speak of, but not here. We shall bring you to the King’s palace and quarter you in comfort. We shall have much time to visit. What brings you here to Rillanon?’

‘I have pressing business with His Majesty, but it is not something to be spoken of in the streets. Let us go to the palace.’

The Duke and his party were given mounts, and the escort cleared away the crowds as they rode through the city. If Krondor and Salador had impressed Pug with their splendor, Rillanon left him speechless.

The island city was built upon many hills, with several small rivers running down to the sea. It seemed to be a city of bridges and canals, as much as towers and spires. Many of the buildings seemed new, and Pug thought that this must be part of the King’s plan for rebuilding the city. At several points along the way he saw workers removing old stones from a building, or erecting new walls and roofs. The newer buildings were faced with colorful stonework, many of marble and quartz, giving them a soft white, blue, or pink color. The cobblestones in the streets were clean, and gutters ran free of the clogs and debris Pug had seen in the other cities. Whatever else he might be doing, the boy thought, the King is maintaining a marvelous city.

A river ran before the palace, so that entrance was made over a high bridge that arched across the water into the main courtyard. The palace was a collection of great buildings connected by long halls that sprawled atop a hillside in the center of the city. It was faced with many-colored stone, giving it a rainbow aspect.

As they entered the courtyard, trumpets sounded from the walls, and guards stood to attention. Porters stepped forward to take the mounts, while a collection of palace nobles and officials stood near the palace entrance in welcome.

Approaching, Pug noticed that the greeting given by these men was formal and lacked the personal warmth of Duke Caldric’s welcome. As he stood behind Kulgan and Meecham, he could hear Caldric’s voice. ‘My lord Borric, Duke of Crydee, may I present Baron Gray, His Majesty’s Steward of the Royal Household.’ This was a short, plump man in a tight-fitting tunic of red silk, and pale grey hose that bagged at the knees. ‘Earl Selvec, First Lord of the Royal Navies.’ A tall, gaunt man with a thin, waxed mustache bowed stiffly. And so on through the entire company. Each made a short statement of pleasure at Lord Borric’s arrival, but Pug felt there was little sincerity in their remarks.

They were taken to their quarters. Kulgan had to raise a fuss to have Meecham near him, for Baron Gray had wanted to send him to the distant servants’ wing of the palace, but he relented when Caldric asserted himself as Royal Chancellor.

The room that Pug was shown to far surpassed in splendor anything he had yet seen. The floors were polished marble, and the walls were made from the same material but flecked with what looked to be gold. A great mirror hung in a small room to one side of the sleeping quarters, where a large, gilded bathing tub sat. A steward put his few belongings – what they had picked up along the way since their own baggage had been lost in the forest – in a gigantic closet that could have held a dozen times all that Pug owned. After the man had finished, he inquired, ‘Shall I ready your bath, sir?’

Pug nodded, for three weeks aboard ship had made his clothes feel as if they were sticking to him. When the bath was ready, the steward said, ‘Lord Caldric will expect the Duke’s party for dinner in four hours’ time, sir. Shall I return then?’

Pug said yes, impressed with the man’s diplomacy. He knew only that Pug had arrived with the Duke, and left it to Pug to decide whether or not he was included in the dinner invitation.

As he slipped into the warm water, Pug let out a long sigh of relief. He had never been one for baths when he had been a keep boy, preferring to wash away dirt in the sea and the streams near the castle. Now he could learn to enjoy them. He mused about what Tomas would have thought of that. He drifted off in a warm haze of memories, one very pleasant, of a dark-haired, lovely princess, and one sad, of a sandy-haired boy.

The dinner of the night before had been an informal occasion, with Duke Caldric hosting Lord Borric’s party. Now they stood in the royal throne room waiting to be presented to the King. The hall was vast, a high vaulted affair, with the entire southern wall fashioned of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Hundreds of nobles stood around as the Duke’s party was led down a central aisle between the onlookers.

Pug had not thought it possible to consider Duke Borric poorly dressed, for he had always worn the finest clothing in Crydee, as had his children. But among the finery in evidence around the room, Borric looked like a raven amid a flock of peacocks. Here a pearl-studded doublet, there a gold-thread-embroidered tunic – each noble seemed to be outdoing the next. Every lady wore the costliest silks and brocades, but only slightly outshone the men.

They halted before the throne, and Caldric announced the Duke. The King smiled, and Pug was struck by a faint resemblance to Arutha, though the King’s manner was more relaxed. He leaned forward on his throne and said, ‘Welcome to our city, cousin. It is good to see Crydee in this hall after so many years.’

Borric stepped forward and knelt before Rodric the Fourth, King of the Kingdom of the Isles. ‘I am gladdened to see Your Majesty well.’

A brief shadow passed over the monarch’s face, then he smiled again. ‘Present to us your companions.’

The Duke presented his son, and the King said, ‘Well, it is true that one of the conDoin line carries the blood of our mother’s kin besides ourself.’ Arutha bowed and backed away. Kulgan was next as one of the Duke’s advisers. Meecham, who had no rank in the Duke’s court, had stayed in his room. The King said something polite, and Pug was introduced. ‘Squire Pug of Crydee, Your Majesty, Master of Forest Deep, and member of my court.’

The King clapped his hands together and laughed. ‘The boy who kills trolls. How wonderful. Travelers have carried the tale from the far shores of Crydee, and we would hear it spoken by the author of the brave deed. We must meet later so that you may tell us of this marvel.’

Pug bowed awkwardly, feeling a thousand eyes upon him. There had been times before when he had wished the troll story had not been spread, but never so much as now.

He backed away, and the King said, ‘Tonight we will hold a ball to honor the arrival of our cousin Borric.’

He stood, arranging his purple robes around him, and pulled his golden chain of office over his head. A page placed the chain on a purple velvet cushion. The King then lifted his golden crown from his black-tressed head and handed it to another page.

The crowd bowed as he stepped down from his throne. ‘Come, cousin,’ he said to Borric, ‘let us retire to my private balcony, where we can speak without all the rigors of office. I grow weary of the pomp.’

Borric nodded and fell in next to the King, motioning Pug and the others to wait. Duke Caldric announced that the day’s audience was at an end, and that those with petitions for the King should return the next day.

Slowly the crowd moved out the two great doors at the end of the hall, while Arutha, Kulgan, and Pug stood by. Caldric approached and said, ‘I will show you to a room where you may wait. It would be well for you to stay close, should His Majesty call for your attendance.’

A steward of the court took them through a small door near the one the King had escorted Borric through. They entered a large, comfortable room with a long table in the center laden with fruit, cheese, bread, and wine. At the table were many chairs, and around the edge of the room were several divans, with plump cushions piled upon them.

Arutha crossed over to large glass doors and peered through them. ‘I can see Father and the King sitting on the royal balcony.’

Kulgan and Pug joined him and looked to where Arutha indicated. The two men were at a table, overlooking the city and the sea beyond. The King was speaking with expansive gestures, and Borric nodded as he listened.

Pug said, ‘I had not expected that His Majesty would look like you, Your Highness.’

Arutha replied with a wry smile, ‘It is not so surprising when you consider that, as my father was cousin to his father, so my mother was cousin to his mother.’

Kulgan put his hand on Pug’s shoulder. ‘Many of the noble families have more than one tie between them, Pug. Cousins who are four and five times removed will marry for reasons of politics and bring the families closer again. I doubt there is one noble family in the East that can’t claim some relationship to the crown, though it may be distant and follow along a twisted route.’

They returned to the table, and Pug nibbled at a piece of cheese. ‘The King seems in good humor,’ he said, cautiously approaching the subject all had on their minds.

Kulgan looked pleased at the circumspect manner of the boy’s comment, for after leaving Salador, Borric had cautioned them all regarding Duke Kerus’s remarks. He had ended his admonition with the old adage, ‘In the halls of power, there are no secrets, and even the deaf can hear.’

Arutha said, ‘Our monarch is a man of moods; let us hope he stays in a good one after he hears Father’s tidings.’

The afternoon slowly passed as they awaited word from the Duke. When the shadows outside had grown long, Borric suddenly appeared at a door. He crossed over to stand before them, a troubled expression on his face. ‘His Majesty spent most of the afternoon explaining his plans for the rebirth of the Kingdom.’

Arutha said, ‘Did you tell him of the Tsurani?’

The Duke nodded. ‘He listened and then calmly informed me that he would consider the matter. We will speak again in a day or so was all he said.’

Kulgan said, ‘At least he seemed in good humor.’

Borric regarded his old adviser. ‘I fear too good. I expected some sign of alarm. I do not ride across the Kingdom for minor cause, but he seemed unmoved by what I had to tell him.’

Kulgan looked worried. ‘We are overlong on this journey as it is. Let us hope that His Majesty will not take long in deciding upon a course of action.’

Borric sat heavily in a chair and reached for a glass of wine. ‘Let us hope.’

Pug walked through the door to the King’s private quarters, his mouth dry with anticipation. He was to have his interview with King Rodric in a few minutes, and he was unsettled to be alone with the ruler of the Kingdom. Each time he had been close to other powerful nobles, he had hidden in the shadow of the Duke or his son, coming forward to tell briefly what he knew of the Tsurani, then able to disappear quickly back into the background. Now he was to be the only guest of the most powerful man north of the Empire of Great Kesh.

A house steward showed him through the door to the King’s private balcony. Several servants stood around the edge of the large open veranda, and the King occupied the lone table, a carved marble affair under a large canopy.

The day was clear. Spring was coming early, as winter had before it, and there was a hint of warmth in the gusting air. Below the balcony, past the hedges and stone walls that marked its edge, Pug could see the city of Rillanon and the sea beyond. The colorful rooftops shone brightly in the midday sun, as the last snows had melted completely over the last four days. Ships sailed in and out of the harbor, and the streets teemed with citizens. The faint cries of merchants and hawkers, shouting over the noise of the streets, floated up to become a soft buzzing where the King took his midday meal.

As Pug approached the table, a servant pulled out a chair. The King turned and said, ‘Ah! Squire Pug, please take a seat.’ Pug began a bow, and the King said, ‘Enough. I don’t stand on formality when I dine with a friend.’

Pug hesitated, then said, ‘Your Majesty honors me,’ as he sat.

Rodric waved the comment way. ‘I remember what it is to be a boy in the company of men. When I was but a little older than you, I took the crown. Until then I was only my father’s son.’ His eyes got a distant look for a moment. ‘The Prince, it’s true, but still only a boy. My opinion counted for nothing, and I never seemed to satisfy my father’s expectations, in hunting, riding, sailing, or swordplay. I took many a hiding from my tutors, Caldric among them. That all changed when I became King, but I still remember what it was like.’ He turned toward Pug, and the distant expression vanished as he smiled. ‘And I do wish us to be friends.’ He glanced away and again his expression turned distant. ‘One can’t have too many friends, now, can one? And since I’m the King, there are so many who claim to be my friend, but aren’t.’ He was silent a moment, then again came out of his revery. ‘What do you think of my city?’

Pug said, ‘I have never seen anything like it, Majesty. It’s wonderful.’

Rodric looked out across the vista before them. ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ He waved a hand, and a servant poured wine into crystal goblets. Pug sipped at his; he still hadn’t developed a taste for wine, but found this very good, light and fruity with a hint of spices. Rodric said, ‘I have tried very hard to make Rillanon a wonderful place for those who live here. I would have the day come when all the cities of the Kingdom are as fine as this, where everywhere the eye travels, there is beauty. It would take a hundred lifetimes to do that, so I can only set the pattern, building an example for those who follow to imitate. But where I find brick, I leave marble. And those who see it will know it for what it is – my legacy.’

The King seemed to ramble a bit, and Pug wasn’t sure of all that he was saying as he continued to talk about buildings and gardens and removing ugliness from view. Abruptly the King changed topics. ‘Tell me how you killed the trolls.’

Pug told him, and the King seemed to hang on every word. When the boy had finished, the King said, ‘That is a wonderful tale. It is better than the versions that have reached the court, for while it is not half so heroic, it is twice as impressive for being true. You have a stout heart, Squire Pug.’

Pug said, ‘Thank you, Majesty.’

Rodric said, ‘In your tale you mentioned the Princess Carline.’

‘Yes, Majesty?’

‘I have not seen her since she was a baby in her mother’s arms. What sort of woman has she become?’

Pug found the shift in topic surprising, but said, ‘She has become a beautiful woman, Majesty, much like her mother. She is bright and quick, if given to a little temper.’

The King nodded. ‘Her mother was a beautiful woman. If the daughter is half as lovely, she is lovely indeed. Can she reason?’

Pug looked confused. ‘Majesty?’

‘Has she a good head for reason, logic? Can she argue?’

Pug nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, Your Majesty. The Princess is very good at that.’

The King rubbed his hands together. ‘Good. I must have Borric send her for a visit. Most of these eastern ladies are vapid, without substance. I was hoping Borric gave the girl an education. I would like to meet a young woman who knew logic and philosophy, and could argue and declaim.’

Pug suddenly realized what the King had meant by arguing wasn’t what he had thought. He decided it best not to mention the discrepancy.

The King continued. ‘My ministers dun me to seek a wife and give the Kingdom an heir. I have been busy, and frankly, have found little to interest me in the court ladies – oh, they’re fine for a moonlight walk and . . . other things. But as the mother of my heirs? I hardly think so. But I should become serious in my search for a queen. Perhaps the only conDoin daughter would be the logical place to start.’

Pug began to mention another conDoin daughter, then stifled the impulse, remembering the tension between the King and Anita’s father. Besides, the girl was only seven.

The King shifted topics again. ‘For four days cousin Borric has regaled me with tales of these aliens, these Tsurani. What do you think of all this business?’

Pug looked startled. He had not thought the King might ask him for an opinion on anything, let alone a matter as important as the security of the Kingdom. He thought for a long moment, trying to frame his answer as best he could, then said, ‘From everything I have seen and heard, Your Majesty, I think these Tsurani people not only are planning to invade, but are already here.’

The King raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh? I would like to hear your reasoning.’

Pug considered his words carefully. ‘If there have been as many sightings as we are aware of, Majesty, considering the stealth these people are employing, wouldn’t it be logical that there are many more occurrences of their coming and going than we know of?’

The King nodded. ‘A good proposition. Continue.’

‘Then might it also not be true that once the snows have fallen, we are less likely to find signs of them, as they are holding to remote areas?’

Rodric nodded and Pug continued. ‘If they are as warlike as the Duke and the others have said them to be, I think they have mapped out the West to find a good place to bring their soldiers in during the winter so they can launch their offensive this spring.’

The King slapped the table with his hand. ‘A good exercise in logic, Pug.’ Motioning for the servants to bring food, he said, ‘Now, let us eat.’

Food of an amazing variety and amount for just the two of them was produced, and Pug picked small amounts of many things, so as not to appear indifferent to the King’s generosity. Rodric asked him a few questions as they dined, and Pug answered as well as he could.

As Pug was finishing his meal, the King put his elbow on the table and stroked his beardless chin. He stared out into space for a long time, and Pug began to feel self-conscious, not knowing the proper courtesy toward a king who is lost in thought. He elected to sit quietly.

After a time Rodric came out of his revery. There was a troubled note in his voice as he looked at Pug and said, ‘Why do these people come to plague us now? There is so much to be done. I can’t have war disrupting my plans.’ He stood and paced around the balcony for a while, leaving Pug standing, for he had risen when the King had. Rodric turned to Pug. ‘I must send for Duke Guy. He will advise me. He has a good head for such things.’

The King paced, looking at the city for a few minutes more, while Pug stood by his chair. He heard the monarch mutter to himself about the great works that must not be interrupted, then felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw a palace steward standing quietly at his side. With a smile and a gesture toward the door, the steward indicated the interview was at an end. Pug followed the man to the door, wondering at the staff’s ability to recognize the moods of the King.

Pug was shown the way back to his room, and he asked the servant to carry word to Lord Borric that Pug wished to see him if he was not busy. He went into his room and sat down to think. A short time later he was brought out of his musing by a knock at the door. He gave permission for the caller to enter, and the same steward who had carried the message to the Duke entered, with the message that Borric would see Pug at once.

Pug followed the man from his room and sent him away, saying he could find the Duke’s room without guidance. He walked slowly, thinking of what he was going to tell the Duke. Two things were abundantly clear to the boy: the King was not pleased to hear that the Tsurani were a potential threat to his kingdom, and Lord Borric would be equally displeased to hear that Guy du Bas-Tyra was being called to Rillanon.

As with every dinner over the last few days, there was a hushed mood at the table. The five men of Crydee sat eating in the Duke’s quarters, with palace servants, all wearing the King’s purple-and-gold badge on their dark tunics, hovering nearby.

The Duke was chafing to leave Rillanon for the West. Nearly four months had passed since they left Crydee: the entire winter. Spring was upon them, and if the Tsurani were going to attack, as they all believed, it was only a matter of days now. Arutha’s restlessness matched his father’s. Even Kulgan showed signs that the waiting was telling upon him. Only Meecham, who revealed nothing of his feelings, seemed content to wait.

Pug also longed for home. He had grown bored in the palace. He wished to be back in his tower with his studies. He also wished to see Carline again, though he didn’t speak of this to anyone. Lately he found himself remembering her in a softer light, forgiving those qualities that had once irritated him. He also knew, with mixed feelings of anticipation, that he might discover the fate of Tomas. Dolgan should soon send word to Crydee, if the thaw came early to the mountains.

Borric had endured several more meetings with the King over the last week, each ending unsatisfactorily as far as he was concerned. The last had been hours ago, but he would say nothing about it until the room was emptied of servants.

As the last dishes were being cleared away, and the servants were pouring the King’s finest Keshian brandy, a knock came at the door and Duke Caldric entered, waving the servants outside. When the room was cleared, he turned to the Duke.

‘Borric, I am sorry to interrupt your dining, but I have news.’

Borric stood, as did the others. ‘Please join us. Here, take a glass.’

Caldric took the offered brandy and sat in Pug’s chair, while the boy pulled another over. The Duke of Rillanon sipped his brandy and said, ‘Messengers arrived less than an hour ago from the Duke of Bas-Tyra. Guy expresses alarm over the possibility that the King might be “unduly” distressed by these “rumors” of trouble in the West.’

Borric stood and threw his glass across the room, shattering it. Amber fluid dripped down the wall as the Duke of Crydee nearly roared with anger. ‘What game does Guy play at? What is this talk of rumors and undue distress!’

Caldric raised a hand and Borric calmed a little, sitting again. The old Duke said, ‘I myself penned the King’s call to Guy. Everything you had told, every piece of information and every surmise, was included. I can only think Guy is ensuring that the King reaches no decision until he arrives at the palace.’

Borric drummed his fingers on the table and looked at Caldric with anger flashing in his eyes. ‘What is Bas-Tyra doing? If war comes, it comes to Crydee and Yabon. My people will suffer. My lands will be ravaged.’

Caldric shook his head slowly. ‘I will speak plainly, old friend. Since the estrangement between the King and his uncle, Erland, Guy plays to advance his own banner to primacy in the Kingdom. I think that, should Erland’s health fail, Guy sees himself wearing the purple of Krondor.’

Through clenched teeth Borric said, ‘Then hear me clearly, Caldric. I would not put that burden on myself or mine for any but the highest purpose. But if Erland is as ill as I think, in spite of his claims otherwise, it will be Anita who sits the throne in Krondor, not Black Guy. If I have to march the Armies of the West into Krondor and assume the regency myself, that is what shall be, even should Rodric wish it otherwise. Only if the King has issue will another take the western throne.’

Caldric looked at Borric calmly. ‘And will you be branded traitor to the crown?’

Borric slapped the table with his hand. ‘Curse the day that villain was born. I regret that I must acknowledge him kinsman.’

Caldric waited for a minute until Borric calmed down, then said, ‘I know you better than you know yourself, Borric. You would not raise the war banner of the West against the King, though you might happily strangle your cousin Guy. It was always a sad thing for me that the Kingdom’s two finest generals could hate each other so.’

‘Aye, and with cause. Every time there is a call to aid the West, it is cousin Guy who opposes. Every time there is intrigue and a title is lost, it is one of Guy’s favorites who gains. How can you not see? It was only because you, Brucal of Yabon, and I myself held firm that the congress did not name Guy regent for Rodric’s first three years. He stood before every Duke in the Kingdom and called you a tired old man who was not fit to rule in the King’s name. How can you forget?’

Caldric did look tired and old as he sat in the chair, one hand shading his eyes, as if the room light were too bright. Softly he said, ‘I do see, and I haven’t forgotten. But he also is my kinsman by marriage, and if I were not here, how much more influence do you think he would have with Rodric? As a boy the King idolized him, seeing in him a dashing hero, a fighter of the first rank, a defender of the Kingdom.’

Borric leaned back in his chair. ‘I am sorry, Caldric,’ he said, his voice losing its harsh edge. ‘I know you act for the good of us all. And Guy did play the hero, rolling the Keshian Army back at Deep Taunton, all those years ago. I should not speak of things I have not seen first-hand.’

Arutha sat passively through all this, but his eyes showed he felt the same anger as his father. He moved forward in his chair, and the dukes looked at him. Borric said, ‘You have something to say, my son?’

Arutha spread his hands wide before him. ‘In all this the thought has bothered me: should the Tsurani come, how would it profit Guy to see the King hesitate?’

Borric drummed his fingers on the table. ‘That is the puzzle, for in spite of his scheming, Guy would not peril the Kingdom, not to spite me.’

‘Would it not serve him,’ said Arutha, ‘to let the West suffer a little, until the issue was in doubt, then to come at the head of the Armies of the East, the conquering hero, as he was at Deep Taunton?’

Caldric considered this. ‘Even Guy could not think so little of these aliens, I would hope.’

Arutha paced the room. ‘But consider what he knows. The ramblings of a dying man. Surmise on the nature of a ship that only Pug, here, has seen, and I caught but a glimpse of as it slid into the sea. Conjecture by a priest and a magician, both callings Guy holds in little regard. Some migrating Dark Brothers. He might discount such news.’

‘But it is all there for the seeing,’ protested Borric.

Caldric watched the young Prince pace the room. ‘Perhaps you are right. What may be lacking is the urgency of your words, an urgency lacking in the dry message of ink and parchment. When he arrives, we must convince him.’

Borric nearly spat his words. ‘It is for the King to decide, not Guy!’

Caldric said, ‘But the King has given much weight to Guy’s counsel. If you are to gain command of the Armies of the West, it is Guy who must be convinced.’

Borric looked shocked. ‘I? I do not want the banner of the armies. I only wish for Erland to be free to aid me, should there be need.’

Caldric placed both hands upon the table. ‘Borric, for all your wisdom, you are much the rustic noble. Erland cannot lead the armies. He is not well. Even if he could, the King would not allow it. Nor would he give leave for Erland’s Marshal, Dulanic. You have seen Rodric at his best, of late. When the black moods are upon him, he fears for his life. None dare say it, but the King suspects his uncle of plotting for the crown.’

‘Ridiculous!’ exclaimed Borric. ‘The crown was Erland’s for the asking thirteen years ago. There was no clear succession. Rodric’s father had not yet named him heir apparent, and Erland’s claim was as clear as the King’s, perhaps more so. Only Guy and those who sought to use the boy pressed Rodric’s claim. Most of the congress would have sustained Erland as King.’

‘I know, but times are different, and the boy is a boy no longer. He is now a frightened young man who is sick from fear. Whether it is due to Guy’s and the others’ influence or from some illness of the mind, I do not know. The King does not think as other men do. No king does, and Rodric less than most. Ridiculous as it may seem, he will not give the Armies of the West to his uncle. I am also afraid that once Guy has his ear, he will not give them to you either.’

Borric opened his mouth to say something, but Kulgan interrupted. ‘Excuse me, Your Graces, but may I suggest something?’

Caldric looked at Borric, who nodded. Kulgan cleared his throat and said, ‘Would the King give the Armies of the West to Duke Brucal of Yabon?’

Comprehension slowly dawned on Borric’s and Caldric’s faces, until the Duke of Crydee threw back his head and laughed. Slamming his fist on the table, he nearly shouted, ‘Kulgan! If you had not served me well in all the years I have known you, tonight you have.’ He turned to Caldric. ‘What do you think?’

Caldric smiled for the first time since entering the room. ‘Brucal? That old war dog? There is no more honest man in the Kingdom. And he is not in the line of succession. He would be beyond even Guy’s attempts to discredit. Should he receive the command of the armies . . .’

Arutha finished the thought. ‘He would call Father to be his chief adviser. He knows Father is the finest commander in the West.’

Caldric sat up straight in his chair, excitement on his face. ‘You would even have command of the armies of Yabon.’

‘Yes,’ said Arutha, ‘and LaMut, Zun, Ylith, and the rest.’

Caldric stood. ‘I think it will work. Say nothing to the King tomorrow. I will find the proper time to make the “suggestion.” Pray that His Majesty approves.’

Caldric took his leave, and Pug could see that for the first time there was hope for a good ending to this journey. Even Arutha, who had fumed like black thunder all week, looked nearly happy.

Pug was awakened by a pounding on his door. He sleepily called out for whoever was out there to enter, and the door opened. A royal steward peeked in. ‘Sir, the King commands all in the Duke’s party to join him in the throne room. At once.’ He held a lantern for Pug’s convenience.

Pug said he would come straightaway and hurriedly got dressed. Outside it was still dark, and he felt anxious about what had caused this surprise summons. The hopeful feeling of the night before, after Caldric had left, was replaced by a gnawing worry that the unpredictable King had somehow learned of the plan to circumvent the arrival of the Duke of Bas-Tyra.

He was still buckling his belt about his tunic when he left his room. He hurried down the hall, with the steward beside him holding a lantern against the dark, as the torches and candles usually lit in the evening had all been extinguished.

When they reached the throne room, the Duke, Arutha, and Kulgan were arriving, all looking apprehensively toward Rodric, who paced by his throne, still in his night-robes. Duke Caldric stood to one side, a grave expression on his face. The room was dark, save for the lanterns carried by the stewards.

As soon as they were gathered before the throne, Rodric flew into a rage. ‘Cousin! Do you know what I have here?’ he screamed, holding out a sheaf of parchment.

Borric said he didn’t. Rodric’s voice lowered only a little. ‘It is a message from Yabon! That old fool Brucal has let those Tsurani aliens attack and destroy one of his garrisons. Look at these!’ he nearly shrieked, throwing the parchments toward Borric. Kulgan picked them up and handed them to the Duke. ‘Never mind,’ said the King, his voice returning to near-normalcy. ‘I’ll tell you what they say.

‘These invaders have attacked into the Free Cities, near Walinor. They have attacked into the elven forests. They have attacked Stone Mountain. They have attacked Crydee.’

Without thinking, Borric said, ‘What news from Crydee?’

The King stopped his packing. He looked at Borric, and for a moment Pug saw madness in his eyes. He closed them briefly, then opened them, and Pug could see the King was himself again. He shook his head slightly and raised his hand to his temple. ‘I have only secondhand news from Brucal. When those messages left six weeks ago, there had only been one attack at Crydee. Your son Lyam reports the victory was total, driving the aliens deep into the forest.’

Caldric stepped forward. ‘All reports say the same thing. Heavily armed companies of foot soldiers attacked during the night, before the snows had melted, taking the garrisons by surprise. Little is known save that a garrison of LaMutians near Stone Mountain was overrun. All other attacks seem to have been driven back.’ He looked at Borric meaningfully. ‘There is no word of the Tsurani’s using cavalry.’

Borric said, ‘Then perhaps Tully was right, and they have no horses.’

The King seemed to be dizzy, for he took a staggering step backward and sat on his throne. Again he placed a hand to his temple, then said, ‘What is this talk of horses? My Kingdom is invaded. These creatures dare to attack my soldiers.’

Borric looked at the King. ‘What would Your Majesty have me do?’

The King’s voice rose. ‘Do? I was going to wait for my loyal Duke of Bas-Tyra to arrive before I made any decision. But now I must act.’

He paused, and his face took on a vulpine look, as his dark eyes gleamed in the lantern light. ‘I was considering giving the Armies of the West to Brucal, but the doddering old fool can’t even protect his own garrisons.’

Borric was about to protest on Brucal’s behalf, but Arutha, knowing his father, gripped his arm, and the Duke remained silent.

The King said, ‘Borric, you must leave Crydee to your son. He is capable enough, I should think. He’s given us our only victory so far.’ His eyes wandered and he giggled. He shook his head for a moment, and his voice lost its frantic edge. ‘Oh, gods, these pains. I think my head will burst.’ He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Borric, leave Crydee to Lyam and Arutha; I’m giving you the banner of the Armies of the West; go to Yabon. Brucal is sorely pressed, for most of the alien army strikes toward LaMut and Zun. When you are there, request what you need. These invaders must be driven from our lands.’

The King’s face was pale, and perspiration gleamed on his forehead. ‘This is a poor hour to start, but I have sent word to the harbor to ready a ship. You must leave at once. Go now.’

The Duke bowed and turned. Caldric said, ‘I will see His Majesty to his room. I will accompany you to the docks when you are ready.’

The old Chancellor helped the King from the throne, and the Duke’s party left the hall. They rushed back to their rooms to find stewards already packing their belongings. Pug stood around excitedly, for at last he was returning to his home.

They stood at dockside, bidding farewell to Caldric. Pug and Meecham waited, and the tall franklin said, ‘Well, lad. It will be some time before we see home again, now that war is joined.’

Pug looked up into the scarred face of the man who had found him in the storm, so long ago. ‘Why? Aren’t we going home?’

Meecham shook his head. ‘The Prince will ship from Krondor through the Straits of Darkness to join his brother, but the Duke will ship for Ylith, then to Brucal’s camp somewhere near LaMut. Where Lord Borric goes, Kulgan goes. And where my master goes, I go. And you?’

Pug felt a sinking in his stomach. What the franklin said was true. He belonged with Kulgan, not with the folk at Crydee, though he knew if he asked, he would be allowed to go home with the Prince. He resigned himself to another sign that his boyhood was ending. ‘Where Kulgan goes, I go.’

Meecham clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Well, at least I can teach you to use that bloody sword you swing like a fishwife’s broom.’

Feeling little cheer at the prospect, Pug smiled weakly. They soon boarded the ship and were under way toward Salador, and the first leg of the long journey west.