Prince of the Blood

by Raymond Feist

  Pug spoke, “Yes, Highness. I am sorry to intrude, but I have a favor to ask.”

  Arutha sat down with obvious relief there was both a reasonable and friendly cause for the sudden apparition in his study. He put down a quill with which he’d been writing and said, “What may I do for you?”

  “You remember my daughter Gamina?”

  Arutha said, “Yes, very well.”

  “I would like to see her married … to a man of some rank. One of your young court Barons.”

  Arutha looked past Pug, caught sight of James, and smiled, his eyes revealing a rare amusement. “I suspect we could arrange a state marriage to one of our bright young men, Pug. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “Baron James seems a most promising young man.”

  Arutha’s smile broadened, to what James could swear was almost a grin—something he had never seen his Prince do before. “Most promising,” he intoned in mock seriousness as he returned his attention to Pug. “He stands to be a Duke someday if his more impetuous nature doesn’t get him killed along the way—or banished by an angry monarch to the Salt Marsh Islands. A wife might be just the thing to rein in some of that recklessness. I had given up on his ever developing an interest in family. I am pleased to be wrong. I was ten years married at his age.” Arutha sat an instant, lost in thought as he recalled his own youthful feeling for his wife, then looked past Pug at James, with a rare expression of deep affection apparent. Then he resumed his more familiar stoic demeanor. “Well, if he agrees, then you have my permission.”

  Pug smiled. “He’s agreed, have no worry. He and my daughter are much in agreement on this course.”

  Arutha sat back in his chair, a more typical half smile on his face. “I understand. I still remember my own feelings for Anita when first we met. It can come suddenly. Very well, we’ll have a state wedding as soon as he returns from his envoy to Kesh.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of something a bit more timely. She wishes to accompany him on his envoy.”

  Arutha’s features darkened. “I do not think I should approve. James may not have told you of the dangers—”

  “I have a clear idea of the dangers involved, Arutha,” Pug interrupted. “But I think you have no idea of my daughter’s talents. I know much of what transpires in Kesh. She will aid your sons and envoy should trouble arise.”

  Arutha considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Given that you are the girl’s father, I expect she has some abilities that may stand her in good stead should things prove difficult.

  “Very well, let us do this much. Marry them as quickly as you judge proper, then when they return, we’ll have a state wedding and festival in their honor. My wife and daughter would never forgive me for letting an excuse for new gowns pass them by. We shall have to do both.”

  James looked surprised. “State wedding?”

  Arutha nodded once, emphatically. “Gamma’s a royal cousin by adoption—unless you’ve forgotten, all of Pug’s family is. Our cousin Willy will be Duke of Stardock if I don’t make him Knight-Marshal of Krondor first. You’re marrying into the family.” Then in mock doubt, he sighed. “Though that thought brings me only the coldest comfort.”

  “Thank you, Arutha,” said Pug with some amusement at the banter.

  “You are most welcome, Pug. And … Jimmy,” he said, again with a genuine smile.

  “Yes, Arutha,” said James, returning the smile.

  “May you be as happy in your marriage as I am in my own.”

  James nodded. While Arutha was never a demonstrative man, James remembered years ago when Anita nearly died; the grief Arutha had endured was still keenly recalled. Only a few besides James knew how deep was the Prince of Krondor’s love for his princess. “I think we shall be.”

  “Then I have a gift for you, an early wedding present.” He opened a small chest atop his writing table and withdrew a small parchment scroll. “I shall give it over when you return, but for the present—”

  Pug interrupted. “I can bring it to him now, if you wish, Arutha.”

  If the Prince was surprised by this offer, he showed none of it. He simply said, “If you would be so kind.”

  Pug waved his hand, closed his eyes a moment, and the document vanished from Arutha’s hand, appearing in his own. Arutha’s eyes widened slightly—his only reaction to the sorcerer’s ability to really move the parchment over such a distance in an instant.

  Pug handed it to James. “For you.”

  James opened the document and read. His eyes widened briefly. “It’s a patent of Office. Earl of the Prince’s Court. And King’s Minister.”

  “I was going to give that to you on your return, anyway. You’ve earned the rank, James. We’ll discuss holdings and revenues when you are back in Krondor. You will also assume the duties of Chancellor of the Western Realm when Gardan retires.”

  James grinned, and Pug and Arutha both remembered the boy thief they had met years before. “I thank His Highness.” He could not help but laugh. “But how many times has Gardan attempted to retire?”

  Arutha seemed unable to avoid being amused in return. He laughed. “Every time he tried, I promoted him to a higher office, but now that he’s Duke of Krondor, I can’t find another unless I abdicate.” Arutha’s face lost its smile. “No, in a year or two, he’ll return to Crydee and take up fishing and annoying his children and spoiling his grandchildren. You get the Chancellorship, Locklear will get Exchequer, Valdis Knight-Marshal, and William Knight-Captain of the Household. I’ll decide who gets to be the new Duke then. Now, let me return to work,” said Arutha.

  Pug said, “I bid you good evening, Highness.”

  “Good evening, to you, my lords Duke and Earl.” Pug waved his hand and the image of the Prince vanished. “Astonishing,” James said. “With that trick”—he looked at the parchment he held—“and this … armies—”

  “Which is why we must talk of things other than your wedding, James.” Pug moved toward a table and indicated a decanter of wine. James poured two goblets of a fine fortified red. As he sipped, Pug sat and motioned for James to do likewise. “Stardock will not be allowed to become a tool of any nation. I have plans to prevent that.

  “My son will not inherit the title of Duke of Stardock. I think he prefers the life of a professional soldier, in any event. No, the two men you met upon landing, Watume and Korsh, will be given sovereignty over this island after I depart, with another yet to be chosen: a triumvirate of magicians who will decide the good of the people here. They may expand that council as they see fit in years to come. But Lyam will not always sit upon the Throne of the Isles and I would not give over the power of Stardock to one like Mad King Rodric. I met him, and had he mustered magicians such as we have here to his cause, the world would have trembled. I also remember the havoc created by those magicians on Kelewan who chose to do the Warlord’s bidding during the Riftwar. No, Stardock must remain apolitical. Always.”

  James stood up and said, “As a noble of the Kingdom, I fear you come close to treason.” He took a few steps toward an open window and looked out into the night. Then he smiled. “As a man who learned to think for himself at an early age, I applaud your wisdom.”

  “Then you will also understand why I trust you will always remain a voice of reason in the Congress of Lords.”

  James said, “A small voice, but one that will attempt to speak on behalf of your vision.”

  Pug said, “I don’t think your voice will remain small very long, my lord Earl. Arutha has plans for you and when he speaks, the King listens. No, you will rise to a position of great importance one day.”

  James said, “Perhaps, perhaps not, but at this moment, I’m just another court Earl.” Then he grinned as he added, “Still, Chancellor does merit some attention.” He lost his grin and spoke seriously. “I will try to make others understand. But you realize many will be of the mind that if you are not clearly loyal to the Kingdom you must be an enemy?”

  Pug only nodded. �
��Now, to other matters. We shall have a priest over from the village on the lakeshore—no temples stand upon the island itself, and our relationship with those who practice clerical magic is not, shall we say, entirely cordial.”

  James smiled. “You poach their lands.”

  Pug sighed. “So many think. In any event, the only clerics I found reasonable men are either dead or distant. I’m afraid as our power here grows, so does the suspicion of the great temples in Rillanon and Kesh.” Then his expression brightened. “But Father Marias who oversees the small Church of Killian in the village is a decent enough man. He’ll agree to a wedding.” Then Pug’s face relaxed into a wide smile. “More to the point, he’ll certainly agree to the feasting.”

  James laughed aloud, and as thought of his wedding to Gamina swept through him, he was both awed and delighted by the sensations thinking of her caused. Then Pug said, “I do not expect you to understand what I’m about to say. But should you ever come to a time when you need to say something upon my behalf, say this, ‘The last truth is that there is no magic.’ ”

  James said, “A very odd thing for a magician to say. I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t expect you to. If you understood what it meant, you would not be traveling to Kesh; I would persuade Arutha to keep you here. Just remember.” Pug read his future son-in-law’s face and said, “Go find my daughter and tell her we’ll hold the ceremony day after tomorrow. No reason to wait another four days to next Sixthday—we’re breaking enough traditions as it is.”

  With a smile James placed the half-finished wine upon the table and left the room. As hurried footfalls echoed down the steps of the sorcerer’s tower, Pug turned to look out the window and spoke softly to no one, “We could all use a dose of revelry. Too many dark days are coming.”

  The entire town of Stardock as well as a major portion of those from the shore who could find a way across the lake stood in a large circle around the portly priest. Father Marias smiled and beckoned James and Gamina to stand before him. He was a red-cheeked man, a baby who had never matured, but one whose thinning hair was turning silver-grey. His green robe and golden tabard were threadbare and often washed, but he wore them as proudly as any lord. Marias’s eyes were almost alight with pleasure at a wedding. His flock were fisherfolk and farmers in the main, and all too often his duties consisted of burying them. Weddings and dedications of babies to the Goddess of All Living Things were especially delightful.

  “Come along, children,” he said as Gamina and James advanced slowly. James wore the clothing he had brought along for his presentation to the Empress: a tunic of pale blue, dark blue leggings, and black boots. Over this he wore a white surcoat sewn with gold thread. On his head he wore the latest fashion: a large beret which hung nearly down to his shoulder on his left side, a silver badge and white owl’s feather setting it off.

  Locklear stood beside him, similarly attired, though his clothes were even more richly fashioned in russet and gold hues. He glanced about, convinced these new fashions appeared ridiculous, but no one seemed to notice. All eyes were upon the bride.

  Gamina wore a simple gown of lavender color, set off with an extraordinary string of pearls around her neck. The gown was cinched at the waist by a wide belt studded by matching pearls and a silver buckle. A garland of flowers circled her brow, the traditional “bride’s crown.”

  “Now, then,” Marias said, his voice betraying the rich, almost lyrical accent of one who was born along the south coast of the Kingdom Sea, near Pointer’s Head, “seeing as you’ve come before me with the stated intention of marriage, I’ve a few things to tell you.” He motioned for James to take Gamina’s right hand in his and he placed his own pudgy hand over theirs. “Killian, the Goddess I serve, looked down upon man and woman when they were created by Ishap, the One Above All, and saw them apart. Man and woman looked heavenward and cried out in their loneliness. Hearing them and pitying them, the Goddess of Green Silence spoke, saying, ‘You shall not abide apart.’ She then created the institution of marriage as a bond to bring man and woman together. It is the melding of souls, minds, and hearts. It is when two become as one. Do you understand?” He looked each in the eye and in turn Gamina and James nodded.

  To the assembled crowd, Marias said, “James of Krondor, Earl of the Prince’s Court and Gamina, daughter of Duke Pug and Duchess Katala, have come to this place and company to pledge themselves one to the other, and we are to bear witness to that pledge. If there is any here among you who knows why this should not be, speak now or go forever in silence.” If there was to be any objection, Marias didn’t wait to hear it. Plunging on, he said, “James and Gamina, understand that from this moment forward, each of you is now a part of the other. No longer separate, you are now as one.

  “James, this woman seeks to spend her life with you. Do you take her to you as mate and wife, without reservation and knowing that she is now one with you, holding her to you, and putting away any other, from now until death?”

  James nodded, as he said, “I do.”

  With a wave, Marias motioned for Locklear to hand James a golden ring. “Put that upon your bride’s hand.” James did as he was asked, placing the ring upon the ring finger of Gamina’s left hand.

  “Gamina, this man seeks to spend his life with you. Do you take him to you as mate and husband, without reservation and knowing that he is now one with you, holding him to you, and putting away any other, from now until death?”

  Gamina smiled and answered, “I do.”

  Marias instructed Gamina to place a ring upon James’s hand, and she did so.

  “Inasmuch as James and Gamina have agreed to live as one, in the sight of gods and men, we do hereby bear witness.”

  The assembled company of guests repeated, “So do we bear witness.”

  With a grin, the ruddy-cheeked priest said, “Well, that’s it, then. You’re married.”

  James glanced around. “That’s all?”

  Marias laughed. “We keep it simple in the country, my lord. Now, kiss your wife, and let’s get on with the feast.”

  James laughed, grabbed Gamina, and kissed her. The crowd cheered and hats were thrown in the air.

  At the edge of the crowd two men did not cheer as they observed the celebration. An angular, thin man with three days’ growth of unshaven beard took the other by the elbow and led him a discreet distance away. Both were wearing clothing best described as ragged and torn, and both would have warranted a wide berth by anyone with an acute sense of smell. Glancing around to see they were not overheard, the first man said, “Earl James of Krondor. Baron Locklear. That means those two red-haired fighting lads are Arutha’s sons.”

  The second man, stout and short, yet powerful in the shoulders, was obviously impressed at his companion’s keen observation. His cherubic face appeared almost innocent as he said, “Don’t see many Princes in these parts, ’s true, Lafe.”

  “You’re a fool, Reese,” answered the other in a gravelly voice. “There are those who would pay well to know this. Get to the Inn of the Twelve Chairs at the desert’s edge—they are almost certain to ride that route. You know who to ask for. Tell our Keshian friends that the Princes of Krondor and their company ride from Stardock, and travel not in state but in stealth. Their numbers are small. And wait there for me at the inn. And don’t drink up all the money he’ll give you or I’ll cut your liver out!”

  Reese looked at his companion as if such duplicity was unthinkable.

  Lafe continued, “I’ll follow after them that’s here and if they change route, I’ll send word. They’re surely carrying gold and gifts to the Empress for her birthday. With no more than twenty men at arms, we can be rich for life once the bandits cut their throats and give us our share.”

  Glancing around the deserted shore, the man named Reese said, “How can I get there, Lafe? The ferryman’s at the wedding.”

  Hissing through teeth black with decay, the taller man said, “Steal a boat, stupid.”

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nbsp; A glimmer of delight at the obvious answer shone in Reese’s eyes. “Good. I’ll get some food, then—”

  “You’ll go now!” ordered his companion, pushing him off to an uneasy trot toward the shore and the unguarded boats. “You can steal something in the town. With everyone dining here, that should be easy enough. But a few still linger, so be cautious.” Reese turned and waved, then scampered along the shore, looking for a boat small enough to manage alone.

  Snorting in derision, the man called Lafe turned back toward the feasting. His hunger told him that Reese’s suggestion wasn’t all that bad, but his avarice made him alert to the every move of the wedding party.

  The two Princes sat quietly at the dinner table, oblivious to the joy of the newlyweds. Each was intent on their own impatience to be on their way. James had been uncommunicative about when they were leaving, though Locklear had mentioned their stay wouldn’t be extended too long, despite the unexpected events of the last two days.

  If the twins had been surprised by their mentor’s sudden encounter with love, they were equally unsurprised by the hasty permission from their father and the quick wedding. Little in their lives had allowed them to take anything for granted.

  The twins lived in a world of the unexpected, where the tranquillity of the moment could be shattered at any time by disaster. Warfare, natural cataclysm, famine, and disease were constant threats, and they lived most of their young lives in the heart of the palace, where they had observed their father dealing with such problems on a daily basis. From the most important border clash with Kesh to deciding if one guild or another had jurisdiction over a new trade, their father had dealt with problem after problem.

  But as they had when watching their father, their present mood didn’t reflect the excitement of the moment. Rather they were bored.

  Borric drank deep of a simple ale and said, “Is this the best they have?”