Macros was silent for a time, then looked at Pug. “You are as much a son to me, in a strange sort of way, as any I may have called that over the ages. At least you are my heir, and husbander of all the magic lore I have accumulated since coming to Midkemia. That last case of books and scrolls I held at my island will come soon to Stardock. I suggest you hide that fact from Kulgan and Hochopepa, until you’ve reviewed what’s there. Some of it is beyond any on this world but you, and whoever may follow you in our unusual calling. Train those around you well, Pug. Make them powerful, but make them loving, generous men and women as well.” He paused as he looked at the two boys grown to men, those lads from Crydee whom twelve years ago he had begun to mold to save a world and more. At last he said, “I have used both of you, ungently at times. But in the end it proved necessary. Whatever pain you may have endured is, I like to think, offset by the gains. You have achieved things beyond your boyhood dreams. You are now the caretakers of Midkemia. You have whatever blessing I may give.” With an unusual catch in his voice, his eyes moist and glowing, he softly said, “Good-bye and thank you.” He stepped away from them, then slowly turned. Neither Pug nor Tomas could bring himself to say good-bye. Macros began walking toward the west, into the sunset. Not only did he move away from them, but with the first step he seemed somehow to become less solid. With each additional step he became more insubstantial, transparent, and soon he was like mist, then less than the mist. Then he was gone.
They watched him go, saying nothing for a while. Then Tomas wondered, “Will he ever know peace, do you think?”
Pug said, “I don’t know. Perhaps someday he’ll find his Blessed Isle.”
They were again silent for a time. Then they returned to the King’s Pavilion.
—
There was a celebration in full swing. Martin and Briana had announced their plans to wed, to the obvious approval of everyone. Now, while others reveled in life and survival and the simple joy of living, Arutha, Lyam, Tomas, and Pug picked their way through the rubble that was Sethanon. The populace was housed in the less damaged western section, but they were only a distant presence. Still they moved cautiously, lest anyone observe them.
Tomas led them through a large crack in the ground, to what appeared a cave opening below the rubble of the keep. “Here,” said Tomas, “a fissure has opened, leading down to the lower chamber, the center of the ancient city. Step carefully.”
Slowly they descended, seeing by a dim light of Pug’s magic arts, and soon they entered the chamber. Pug waved his hand and a brighter light sprang forth. Tomas motioned the King forward. Figures in robes stepped out of the shadows, and Arutha drew his sword.
A woman’s voice came from the dark. “Put up your sword, Prince of the Kingdom.”
Tomas nodded and Arutha resheathed his mystic blade. From out of the dark came an enormous figure, bejeweled and brilliant as light danced across a myriad of facets. It was a dragon, but none like any seen, for in place of scales once golden a thousand gemstones glowed. With each movement a rainbow of dazzling beauty washed over the monstrous form.
“Who are you?” asked the King calmly.
“I am the Oracle of Aal,” came the soft voice from the Dragon’s mouth.
“We struck a bargain,” said Pug. “we needed to find her a proper body.”
Tomas said, “Ryath was rendered mindless, her soul gone at the hands of the Dreadlord. Her body still lived, though damaged severely and hovering close to death. Macros healed her, replacing the destroyed scales with new ones fashioned from the gems of the treasure hidden here, using some unique property of the Lifestone. With his restored arts he brought the Oracle and her servants here. Now the Oracle lives within the emptied mind.”
“It is a more than satisfactory body,” said the Oracle. “It will live for many centuries. And it possesses many powers.”
“And,” added Pug, “she will remain forever vigilant over the Lifestone. For if any were to tamper with it, she would perish along with everyone else upon the planet. Until we find a way to seek out and deal with the Pantathians, the risk still exists that the Valheru could be recalled.”
Lyam regarded the Lifestone. The pale green gem glowed softly, seeming to pulse with a warm inner light. And from its center a golden sword protruded. “We do know if this destroyed the Dragon Lords or merely holds them in thrall,” said Pug. “Even the magics I learned from Macros may not penetrate all its mysteries. We are fearful of removing Tomas’s sword, for to do so might cause no harm at all or it might unleash what is trapped within.”
Lyam shuddered. Of all he had heard, the power of the Lifestone had made him feel the most helpless. He approached it and slowly put forth his hand. The stone proved warm to the touch and contact filled him with a mild, relaxing pleasure. There was a sense of rightness in the stone. The King faced the mighty form of the bejeweled dragon. “I have no objection to your stewardship, lady.” He thought, then spoke to Arutha. “Start some rumor that the city’s now cursed. Brave little Humphry’s dead, and there’s no heir to his title. I’ll move what’s left of the populace and pay them indemnity. The city’s more than half destroyed already. Let’s empty it out, and the Oracle will remain undisturbed. Let us leave, lest we are missed at revel and someone comes seeking after us.” To the dragon he said, “Lady, I wish you well in your office. Should you have any need, send a message by means magic or mundane, and I shall seek to meet it. Only we four, and my brother Martin, shall know the truth of you, and from this time forward, only our heirs.”
“You are gracious, Majesty,” answered the Oracle.
Tomas led them out of the cavern, and upward, to the surface.
—
Arutha entered his tent and was startled to find Jimmy sleeping in his bed. He shook him gently. “What is this? I thought you were given quarters?”
Jimmy looked at the Prince with an ill-concealed grumpiness at being awakened. “It’s Locky. The whole damn city’s coming down about our ears and he finds another girl. It’s getting to be a habit. Last night I slept on the ground. I just thought to catch a nap. I’ll find another place.”
Arutha laughed and pushed the youngster back into the cot as he began to rise. “Stay here. I’ll bunk in the King’s pavilion. Lyam was busy handing out rewards this evening, while you slumbered and Locky…well, did whatever he was doing. In all the confusion I overlooked you two. What should I do to reward you scoundrels?”
Jimmy grinned. “Make Locky Senior Squire so I can go back to the safe, quiet life of a thief.” He yawned. “Right now, I can’t think of a damn thing I want except a week of sleep.”
Arutha smiled. “All right. Get some sleep. I’ll come up with something for you young rogues.” He left Jimmy and made his way back toward Lyam’s tent.
As he approached the entrance, a shout of announcement and a trumpet flourish accompanied the arrival of a dusty carriage bearing the royal crest. Anita and Carline quickly stepped out. Arutha showed astonishment as his wife and sister rushed forward to hug and kiss him. “What’s this?”
“We followed Lyam,” said a tearful Anita. “We couldn’t wait in Rillanon to find out if you and Laurie were alive. As soon as messages reached us you were well, we broke camp and hurried here.”
Arutha hugged her as Carline listened to singing a moment and said, “Either that’s a nightingale in love, or my husband is forgetting he’s now a duke.” She kissed Arutha once more on the cheek. “You’re going to be an uncle again.”
Arutha laughed and hugged his sister. “Much love and happiness, Carline. Yes, that’s Laurie. He and Baru arrived today with Vandros.”
She smiled. “Well, I think I’ll go give him some grey hairs.”
Arutha said, “What does she mean ‘again’?”
Anita looked up into her husband’s face. “The Queen is with child—the announcement was made while you were gone—and Father Tully sends word to Lyam that it seems all signs indicate a prince. Tully claims he’s too old for the ro
ad now. But his prayers have been with you.”
Arutha grinned. “So I can be done with being Heir soon.”
“Not too soon. The baby won’t be here for another four months.”
A cheer from within told them Carline had passed along the news of her own pregnancy to her husband, and another cheer said that Tully’s message had been given as well.
Anita hugged her husband and whispered, “Your sons are well and getting big. They miss their father, as I have done. Can we slip away soon?”
Arutha laughed. “As soon as we make an appearance. But I’ve had to give my quarters to Jimmy. It seems Locky’s developed an amorous nature and Jimmy had nowhere else to sleep. So we’ll have to use one of the guest tents in this pavilion.” He walked inside with his wife, and the assembled nobles rose in greeting to the Prince and Princess of Krondor.
The Keshian Ambassador, Lord Hazara-Khan, bowed, and Arutha extended his hand. “Thank you, Abdur.” He introduced Anita to Hokanu and again repeated thanks. Dolgan was speaking with Galain, and Arutha congratulated the dwarf on his assumption of the crown of the western dwarves. Dolgan threw him a wink and smile, then they all fell silent as Laurie began to play.
They listened closely while Laurie sang; it was a sad song, yet brave, a ballad he had composed in honor of his friend Roald. It spoke of Laurie’s sorrow at his passing, but it ended on a major chord, a note of triumph, then a silly little coda that made all who knew Roald laugh, for it somehow captured his raffish nature.
Then Gardan and Volney came up and the Earl of Landreth said, “If we may have a brief word with you, Highness.”
Anita indicated she didn’t mind, and Arutha let the two men who had ruled in his absence lead him into the room next to the King’s chamber. A bulky figure lay upon the bed, breathing heavily, and Arutha raised his fingers to his lips, indicating quiet.
Gardan craned his neck and whispered, “Amos Trask?”
Arutha said softly, “It’s a very long story, and I’ll let him tell it. He’d never forgive me if I didn’t. Now, what is it?”
In a low voice Volney said, “Highness, I want to return to Landreth. With your supposed death, the city’s been a rats’ warren to administer. I’ve done my best for the last three years, but this is enough. I want to go home.”
Arutha said, “I can’t spare you, Volney.” The stout Earl’s voice started to rise, and Arutha hushed him. “Look, there’s going to be a new Prince of Krondor soon, so we’ll need a Principate Regent.”
Volney said, “That’s impossible. That’s an eighteen-year commitment. I refuse.”
Arutha looked at Gardan, who grinned and held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. Lyam promised me I could return to Crydee with Martin and his lady. With Charles the new Swordmaster, I can leave the soldiering to my son. I plan on spending my days fishing off the breakwater at Longpoint. You’re going to need a new Knight-Marshal soon.”
Arutha swore. “That means if I don’t find someone soon, Lyam’s going to name me Duke of Krondor and Knight-Marshal both. I am going to try to get him to give me some quiet earldom, like Tuckshill, and never leave home again.” He thought hard and silently, then said, “I want ten more years, from both of you.”
“Absolutely not!” said Volney. The stout noble’s voice rose in indignation. “I’m willing to stay one year, to aid any transition in administration, but no more.”
Arutha’s eyes narrowed. “Six, six more years from each of you. If you agree, you can retire to Landreth, Volney, and you to Crydee, Gardan. If not, I’ll find some way to drag you off to nothing but trouble.”
Gardan laughed. “I have Lyam’s permission already, Arutha.” Seeing the Prince’s anger growing, he said, “But if Volney says, I’ll also stay on a year—all right, two, but no more, until you get things under control.”
An almost evil light entered Arutha’s eyes. To Gardan he said, “We’re going to need a new ambassador to the Tsurani court, now that the rift is again opened,” and to Volney, “and we’ll need another ambassador to Great Kesh.”
Both men exchanged glances and Volney said, in a harsh whisper, “All right, blackmailer, three years. What are we going to do for three years?”
Arutha smiled his crooked smile. “I want you to take Jimmy and Locky’s training in hand, personally, Volney. You teach them everything about administration you can. Pile the work on until they’re ready to drop, then give them more. I want those overactive minds turned to good use. Make them the best administrators you can.
“Gardan, when they’re not in the office, learning how to govern, turn them into soldiers. That young bandit asked for a reward a year ago, and now he’s going to show me if he really is a match for that request. And his young partner in crime has too much talent to let him go back to Land’s End. Locky’s the youngest son, so he’d simply go to waste there. With you two gone, we’re going to need a new Duke and Knight-Marshal and, with me gone as well, he’s going to be acting as Principate Regent; he’ll need an able Chancellor to help him shoulder the burdens of office. So I don’t want either of them to have five loose minutes in the next four years.”
“Four years!” shouted Volney. “I said three!”
Then from the bed came a chuckle and a sigh as Amos said, “Arutha, you have a odd idea of reward. Whatever gave you such a nasty turn of mind?”
Arutha grinned openly as he said, “Get some rest, Admiral.”
Amos fell back heavily on the bunk. “Ah, Arutha, you still take all the fun out of life.”
This book is dedicated to my mother,
Barbara A. Feist,
who never doubted for a moment
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As this book marks the end of The Riftwar Saga, the three-book cycle begun with Magician and continued through Silverthorn, I feel it necessary to again offer heartfelt thanks to those people who in one way or another contributed to whatever quality and success my books have achieved:
The original architects of Midkemia: April and Stephen Abrams; Steve Barrett; Anita and Jon Everson; Dave Guinasso; Conan LaMotte; Tim LaSelle; Ethan Munson; Bob Potter; Rich Spahl; Alan Springer; Lori and Jeff Velten.
Those many others who joined us on Fridays over the years, adding their own touches to the marvelous thing which is the world of Midkemia.
My friends at Doubleday, past and current: Adrian Zackheim, Pat LoBrutto, Kate Cronin, Mary Ellen Curley, Peter Schneider, and Elaine Chubb, each of whom has added much.
Harold Matson, my agent, who gave me my first break.
And Janny Wurts, a gifted writer and artist, for showing me how to get more out of my characters when I thought I already knew all there was to know about them.
Each has contributed in his or her own unique way to the three novels that make up The Riftwar Saga. The books would have been much the poorer by the absence of even one of them.
Raymond E. Feist
San Diego, California October 1984
BY RAYMOND E. FEIST
*Magician: Apprentice
*Magician: Master
*Silverthorn
*A Darkness at Sethanon
*Daughter of the Empire (with Janny Wurts)
*Servant of the Empire (with Janny Wurts)
*Mistress of the Empire (with Janny Wurts)
*Prince of the Blood
*The King’s Buccaneer
*Faerie Tale
Shadow of a Dark Queen
Rise of a Merchant Prince
Rage of a Demon King
Shards of a Broken Crown
Krondor: The Betrayal
Krondor: The Assassins
Krondor: Tear of the Gods
Honoured Enemy (with William R. Forstchen)
Murder in Lamut (with Joel Rosenberg)
Jimmy the Hand (with S. M. Stirling)
Talon of the Silver Hawk
King of Foxes
Exile’s Return
Flight of the Nighthawks
Into a Dark Realm
Wra
th of a Mad God
Rides a Dread Legion
At the Gates of Darkness
A Kingdom Besieged
A Crown Imperiled
Magician’s End
* Starred titles available from Bantam Books
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RAYMOND E. FEIST is the internationally bestselling author or co-author of twenty-one novels, including Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon, Faerie Tale, The King’s Buccaneer, Talon of the Silver Hawk, and King of Foxes. Feist is a graduate of the University of California, San Diego, and resides in southern California with his family. He travels, collects wine, and lives and dies with the San Diego Chargers.
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