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.”
Magician Page 30