Kitabı oxu: «Silverthorn»
RAYMOND E. FEIST
Silverthorn
Copyright
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Previously published in paperback by Grafton Books 1986
And by HarperCollins Science Fiction & Fantasy 1995
Reprinted ten times
And by Voyager 1997
Reprinted thirty-two times
And by HarperVoyager 2006, 2009
Copyright © Raymond E. Feist 1986
First Published in Great Britain By Grafton Books 1986
Raymond E. Feist asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013. Cover photograph © Nik Keevil
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Source ISBN: 9780007229420
Ebook Edition © January 2013 ISBN: 9780007370221
Version: 2017-09-07
This book is dedicated to my nephews and niece,
Benjamin Adam Feist
Ethan Aaron Feist,
Alicia Jeanne Lareau,
Little magicians, all
BOOK III
Arutha and Jimmy
Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote.
– MILTON, Paradise Lost, BOOK II, 1. 476
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Maps
Synopsis: Our Story So Far …
Prologue: Twilight
Chapter One: Reunion
Chapter Two: Krondor
Chapter Three: Plots
Chapter Four: Revelations
Chapter Five: Obliteration
Chapter Six: Reception
Chapter Seven: Wedding
Chapter Eight: Vow
Chapter Nine: Forest
Chapter Ten: Sarth
Chapter Eleven: Clash
Chapter Twelve: Northward
Chapter Thirteen: Stardock
Chapter Fourteen: Elvandar
Chapter Fifteen: Return
Chapter Sixteen: Moraelin
Chapter Seventeen: Warlord
Chapter Eighteen: Vengeance
Chapter Nineteen: Continuation
Epilogue: Retreat
Keep Reading
Acknowledgements
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
• SYNOPSIS •
Our Story So Far …
UPON THE WORLD OF MIDKEMIA, THE MIGHTY KINGDOM OF THE Isles arose, beside the vast Empire of Great Kesh to the south. The Kingdom was then nearing an era of greatness; the nation spanned a continent, from the Kingdom Sea to the Endless Sea.
In the twelfth year of the reign of Rodric the Fourth, in the westernmost province of the Kingdom, the Duchy of Crydee, an orphan kitchen boy named Pug was made apprentice to the magician Kulgan. An indifferent student of magic, he rose to high station, for he saved the daughter of Duke Borric conDoin, Princess Carline, from a dire fate and became a squire of the Duke’s court. Pug then found himself the object of Carline’s girlish infatuation and, as a result, rival to young Squire Roland, a member of the court.
With his best friend, Tomas, Pug discovered the wreckage of an alien vessel and a dying man of unknown nationality. The Duke’s priest, Father Tully, used his magic to learn that the dying man was from another world, Kelewan, dominated by a mighty empire of warriors, the Tsurani. They had reached Midkemia by a magic gate, a rift in space, and might be preparing the way for invasion. Duke Borric took council with the Elf Queen, Aglaranna, who agreed that some strange menace was approaching the Far Coast of the Kingdom; the elves had seen strange warriors mapping the West, men who vanished mysteriously.
Fearing this a prelude to invasion, Lord Borric and his younger son, Arutha, led a company of men to warn King Rodric of the possible attack, leaving Crydee to the care of his elder son, Lyam, and Swordmaster Fannon. The company numbered Kulgan the magician, Pug and Tomas, Sergeant Gardan, and fifty soldiers of Crydee. In the forest called the Green Heart the Duke’s party was attacked by the dreaded moredhel, the dark elves known as the Brotherhood of the Dark Path. After a long, bloody fight, the Duke and the other survivors were saved by Dolgan, a dwarven chief, and his companions.
Dolgan led them through the mines of Mac Mordain Cadal, where a wraith attacked, separating Tomas from the others in the company. Tomas fled deep into the ancient mine, while Dolgan led the others to safety.
Dolgan returned into the mine to find Tomas, discovering that the boy had been given refuge by one of the last of the mighty golden dragons, ancient and near death. The dragon, Rhuagh, told of his life, of his encounter with the strange sorcerer Macros the Black, and of other wonders. Rhuagh vanished in a wondrous final moment of glory, a boon of Macros, and left Tomas with a special gift, magic golden armour.
Duke Borric’s company reached the city of Bordon, where they took ship for Krondor, capital of the Western Realm of the Kingdom. They were driven by a storm to Sorcerer’s Isle, home of the legendary Macros the Black. There Pug met a mysterious hermit, discovered later to be Macros. He hints they shall meet again, but warns them not to seek him out.
In Krondor, Prince Erland, the King’s uncle and heir apparent, instructed the Duke to continue on to Rillanon, capital of the Kingdom, to see the King. While in Krondor, Pug met Princess Anita, Erland’s only child, and learned she was expected to marry Prince Arutha when she grew up.
In Rillanon, Duke Borric discovered the King to be a man of vision, also a man of doubtful sanity, given to outbursts of temper and rambling discourse. Duke Caldric of Rillanon, Borric’s uncle by marriage, warned that the burden of repelling the Tsurani, should they come, would fall to the western lords. The King distrusted the Prince of Krondor, dreaming of plots against the crown, and was even leery of Borric, who followed after Erland in the succession. He refused to allow the Armies of the East to leave the Eastern Realm. Then came the Tsurani invasion, and Rodric put aside his suspicions, giving Borric command of the Armies of the West. Borric and his companions rushed westward as the Riftwar began.
During the early part of the war, a raid into Tsurani-held territory was mounted, and Pug was captured.
Tomas was with Dolgan’s force of dwarves, among the first to resist the invaders. Something alien had manifested itself in Tomas’s armour, and while wearing it he became a warrior of awesome power. Haunted by strange visions, he was slowly changing in appearance. In a frantic battle in the dwarven mines, the Tsurani forced Tomas and Dolgan’s company to flee into the forests. Having no safe haven, the dwarves struck out for Elvandar, home of the elves, seeking to ally themselves with the elves. Reaching the court of the Elf Queen, they were made welcome. Something in Tomas’s appearance caused the old elven Spellweavers to be fearful, though they would not speak of it.
Lyam left Crydee to join his father, and Swordmaster Fannon assumed command of the castle, with Arutha his second-in-command. Carline grieved over Pug’s loss and turned to Roland for comfort. The Tsurani raided Crydee, using a captured ship; during the battle, Arutha rescued Amos Trask, the ship’s captain, a former pirate.
The Tsurani besieged Crydee and were repulsed many times. During a battle, Swordmaster Fannon was wounded and Arutha assumed command. After a terrible underground battle between Arutha’s men and Tsurani sappers, Arutha ordered the garrisons surrounding Crydee to coordinate for a final battle against the Tsurani. But before that battle could commence, the Tsurani commander, Kasumi of the Shinzawai, received orders to return home with his command.
Four years passed, and Pug was working as a slave in a swamp camp on Kelewan, the Tsurani homeworld, with a newcomer, Laurie of Tyr-Sog, a minstrel. After trouble with the camp overseer they were taken by Hokanu, younger son of the Shinzawai, to his father’s estate. They were ordered to train Kasumi in every aspect of Kingdom culture and language. There Pug also met a slave girl, Katala, with whom he fell in love. The brother of the Lord of the Shinzawai, Kamatsu, was one of the Great Ones, magicians of power, beings who were a law unto themselves. One night the Great One, Fumita, learned Pug had been apprenticed as a magician on Midkemia. He claimed Pug for the Assembly, the brotherhood of magicians, and they vanished from the Shinzawai estate.
Tomas by then had grown to a figure of stunning power, made so by his ancient armour, once worn by a Valheru – a Dragon Lord – one of the legendary first people of Midkemia, masters of all. Little was known about them save that they were cruel and powerful and had kept the elves and moredhel as slaves. Aglaranna, her son, Calin, and Tathar, her senior adviser, feared that Tomas was being consumed by the power of Ashen-Shugar, the ancient Dragon Lord whose armour he wore. They feared an attempt at a return of Valheru domination. Aglaranna was doubly troubled, for besides fearing Tomas, she was falling in love with him. The Tsurani invaded Elvandar and were driven back by Tomas and Dolgan’s forces, aided by the mysterious Macros the Black. After the battle, Aglaranna admitted her feelings to Tomas and took him as her lover, thereby losing her power to command him.
Pug was cleansed of his memory by the teachers of the Assembly and after four years of training became a magician. He learned he was a gifted follower of the Greater Path, a magic nonexistent upon Midkemia. Kulgan was a Lesser Path magician, so he had been unable to teach Pug. Pug was given the name Milamber when he became a Great One. His teacher, Shimone, watched as Milamber passed the final test, standing upon a thin spire at the height of a storm while the history of the Empire of Tsuranuanni was revealed to him. There he was steeped in the first duty of a Great One, to serve the Empire. Pug met his first friend in the Assembly. Hochopepa, a shrewd magician who instructed Pug in the pitfalls of Tsurani politics.
By the ninth year of the war, Arutha feared they were losing the struggle, then learned from a captive slave that new troops were arriving from Kelewan. With Martin Longbow, his father’s Huntmaster, and Amos Trask, Arutha travelled to Krondor to seek additional aid from Prince Erland. During the journey, Amos discovered Martin’s secret, that he was Lord Borric’s bastard. Martin made Amos swear never to reveal the secret until Martin allowed it. In Krondor, Arutha discovered the city under the control of Guy, Duke of Bas-Tyra, an avowed enemy of Lord Borric. Guy was clearly embarked on some plan to gain the crown for himself. Arutha then ran afoul of Jocko Radburn, Guy’s henchman and head of the secret police, who chased Arutha, Martin, and Amos into the arms of the Mockers, the thieves of Krondor. There they met Jimmy the Hand, a boy thief; Trevor Hull, a former pirate turned smuggler; and his first mate, Aaron Cook. The Mockers were hiding Princess Anita, who had fled the palace. Jocko Radburn was furiously trying to recapture Anita before Guy du Bas-Tyra returned from a border skirmish with the neighbouring Empire of Great Kesh. With the Mockers’ help, Arutha, his companions, and Anita fled the city. During a sea chase, Amos lured Radburn’s ship onto the rocks and the head of the secret police drowned. Upon returning to Crydee, Arutha learned that Squire Roland had been killed in a skirmish. By then Arutha was in love with Anita, though he would not admit as much to himself, counting her too young.
Pug, now Milamber, returned to the Shinzawai estate to claim Katala, and discovered he was a father. His son, William, had been born during his absence. He also learned that the Shinzawai were involved in a plot with the Emperor to force peace upon the Tsurani High Council, which was dominated by the Warlord. Laurie was to guide Kasumi, who had by then mastered the language and customs of the Kingdom, to the King, bearing the Emperor’s offer of peace. Pug wished them well and took his wife and child to his home.
Tomas underwent a great change, bringing the forces of the Valheru and the human into balance, but only after almost killing Martin Longbow. In a titanic inner battle, the human was nearly overcome, but at the end he mastered the raging thing that once was a Dragon Lord and at last discovered peace within his soul.
Kasumi and Laurie came through the rift and made their way to Rillanon, where they discovered that the King had become thoroughly mad. He accused them of being spies, and they fled with the aid of Duke Caldric. The Duke advised them to seek out Lord Borric, for it seemed civil war would surely come. Reaching Borric’s camp, Laurie and Kasumi met Lyam, who informed them Borric was close to death from a wound.
Milamber, as Pug was known, attended the Imperial Games, given by the Warlord to commemorate his smashing victory over Lord Borric. Milamber became enraged at the wanton cruelty, especially the treatment of Midkemian prisoners. In a fit of rage he destroyed the arena, shaming the Warlord, thereby throwing the politics of the Empire into shambles. Milamber then fled with Katala and William back to Midkemia, a Tsurani Great One no longer, but once again Pug of Crydee.
Pug returned in time to be at Lord Borric’s side when he died. The Duke’s last act was to legitimize Martin. The King then arrived, angered by his commanders’ inability to end the long war. He led a mad charge against the Tsurani and, against all odds, broke their front, driving them back into the valley where they held their rift machine, their means of travel between the worlds. The King was mortally wounded and, in a rare lucid moment, named Lyam, the eldest conDoin male, his heir.
Lyam sent word to the Tsurani he would accept the peace offer Rodric had spurned, and the date for the truce talks was set. Macros then went to Elvandar, warning Tomas to expect deception at the peace meeting. Tomas agreed to bring his warriors, as would the dwarves.
At the peace meeting, Macros created an illusion, bringing chaos and battle where peace was the intent. Macros arrived, and he and Pug destroyed the rift, stranding four thousand Tsurani under Kasumi’s command on Midkemia. He surrendered them to Lyam, who granted them freedom if they swore fealty.
All returned to Rillanon for Lyam’s coronation, save Arutha, Pug, and Kulgan, who visited Macros’s isle. There they discovered Gathis, a goblin-like servant of the sorcerer, who gave them a message. Macros, it appeared, had died in the destruction of the rift. He left his vast library to Pug and Kulgan, who planned to start an academy for magicians. He explained his treachery by saying that a being known only as the Enemy, a vast and terrible power known to the Tsurani in ancient times, could find Midkemia by means of the rift. That was why he had forced a situation where the rift had to be destroyed.
Arutha, Pug and Kulgan went on to Rillanon, where Arutha discovered the truth about Martin. Since he was the eldest of Borric’s sons, Martin’s birth clouded Lyam’s inheritance, but the former Huntmaster renounced any claim to the throne, and Lyam became King. Arutha was made Prince of Krondor, as Anita’s father had died. Guy du Bas-Tyra was in hiding and in his absence was banished as a traitor. Laurie made the acquaintance of Princess Carline, who seemed to return his interest.
Lyam, Martin, who became Duke of Crydee, and Arutha left for a tour of the Eastern Realm, while Pug and his family, along with Kulgan, travelled to the island of Stardock, to begin the construction of the academy. For nearly a year, peace reigned in the Kingdom …
• PROLOGUE •
Twilight
THE SUN DROPPED BEHIND THE PEAKS.
The last rays of warmth touched the earth and only the rosy afterglow of the day remained. From the east, indigo darkness approached rapidly. The wind cut through the hills like a sharp-edged blade, as if spring were only a faintly remembered dream. Winter’s ice still clung to shadow-protected pockets, ice that cracked loudly under the heels of heavy boots. Out of the evening’s darkness three figures entered the firelight.
The old witch looked up, her dark eyes widening slightly at the sight of the three. She knew the figure on the left, the broad, mute warrior with the shaved head and single long scalp lock. He had come once before, seeking magic signs for strange rites. Though he was a powerful chieftain, she had sent him away, for his nature was evil, and while issues of good and evil seldom held any significance for the witch, there were limits even for her. Besides, she had little love for any moredhel, especially one who had cut out his own tongue as a sign of devotion to dark powers.
The mute warrior regarded her with blue eyes, unusual for one of his race. He was broader of shoulder than most, even for one of the mountain clans, who tended to be more powerful of arm and shoulder than their forest-dwelling cousins. The mute wore golden circle rings in his large, upswept ears, painful to affix, as the moredhel had no lobes. Upon each cheek were three scars, mystic symbols whose meaning was not lost upon the witch.
The mute made a sign to his companions, and the one to the far right seemed to nod. It was difficult to judge, for he was clothed in an all-concealing robe, with a deep hood revealing no features. Both hands were hidden in voluminous sleeves that were kept together. As if speaking from a great distance, the cloaked figure said, ‘We seek a reading of signs.’ His voice was sibilant, almost a hiss, and there was a note of something alien in it. One hand appeared and the witch pulled away, for it was misshapen and scaled, as if the owner possessed talons covered with snakeskin. She then knew the creature for what it was: a priest of the Pantathian serpent people. Compared to the serpent people, the moredhel were held in high regard by the witch.
She turned her attention from the end figures and studied the one in the centre. He stood a full head taller than the mute and was even more impressive in bulk. He slowly removed a bearskin robe, the bear’s skull providing a helm for his own head, and cast it aside. The old witch gasped, for he was the most striking moredhel she had seen in her long life. He wore the heavy trousers, jerkin, and knee-high boots of the hill clans, and his chest was bare. His powerfully muscled body gleamed in the firelight, and he leaned forward to study the witch. His face was almost frightening in its near-perfect beauty. But what had caused her to gasp, more than his awesome appearance, was the sign upon his chest.
‘Do you know me?’ he asked the witch.
She nodded. ‘I know who you appear to be.’
He leaned even farther forward, until his face was lit from below by the fire, revealing something in his nature. ‘I am who I appear to be,’ he whispered with a smile. She felt fear, for behind his handsome features, behind the benign smile, she saw the visage of evil, evil so pure it defied endurance. ‘We seek a reading of signs,’ he repeated, his voice the sound of ice-clear madness.
She chuckled. ‘Even one so mighty has limits?’
The handsome moredhel’s smile slowly vanished. ‘One may not foretell one’s own future.’
Resigned to her own likely lot, she said, ‘I require silver.’
The moredhel nodded. The mute dug a coin from out of his belt pouch and tossed it upon the floor before the witch. Without touching it, she prepared some ingredients in a stone cup. When the concoction was ready, she poured it upon the silver. A hissing came, both from the coin and from the serpent man. A green-scaled claw began to make signs, and the witch snapped, ‘None of that nonsense, snake. Your hot-land magic will only cant my reading.’
The serpent man was restrained by a gentle touch and smile from the centre figure, who nodded at the witch.
In croaking tones, her throat dry with fear, the witch said, ‘Say you then truly: What would you know?’ She studied the hissing silver coin, covered now in bubbling green slime.
‘Is it time? Shall I do now that which was ordained?’
A bright green flame sprang from the coin and danced. The witch followed its movement closely, her eyes seeing something within the flame none but she could divine. After a while she said, ‘The Bloodstones form the Cross of Fire. That which you are, you are. That which you are born to do … do!’ The last word was a half-gasp.
Something in the witch’s expression was unexpected, for the moredhel said, ‘What else, crone?’
‘You stand not unopposed, for there is one who is your bane. You stand not alone, for behind you … I do not understand.’ Her voice was weak, faint.
‘What?’ The moredhel showed no smile this time.
‘Something … something vast, something distant, something evil.’
The moredhel paused to consider; turning to the serpent man, he spoke softly yet commandingly. ‘Go then, Cathos. Employ your arcane skills and discover where this seat of weakness lies. Give a name to our enemy. Find him.’
The serpent man bowed awkwardly and shambled out of the cave. The moredhel turned to his mute companion and said, ‘Raise the standards, my general, and gather the loyal clans upon the plains of Isbandia, beneath the towers of Sar-Sargoth. Raise highest that standard I have chosen for my own, and let all know we begin that which was ordained. You shall be my battlemaster, Murad, and all shall know you stand highest among my servants. Glory and greatness now await.
‘Then, when the mad snake has identified our quarry, lead forth the Black Slayers. Let those whose souls are mine serve us by seeking out our enemy. Find him! Destroy him! Go!’
The mute nodded once and left the cave. The moredhel with the sign on his chest faced the witch. ‘Then, human refuse, do you know what dark powers move?’
‘Aye, messenger of destruction, I know. By the Dark Lady, I know.’
He laughed, a cold humourless sound. ‘I wear the sign,’ he said, pointing to the purple birthmark upon his chest, which seemed to glow angrily in the firelight. It was clear that his was no simple disfigurement but some sort of magic talisman, for it formed a perfect silhouette of a dragon in flight. He raised his finger, pointing upwards. ‘I have the power.’ He made a circular motion with his upraised finger. ‘I am the foreordained. I am destiny.’
The witch nodded, knowing death raced to embrace her. She suddenly mouthed a complex incantation, her hands moving furiously through the air. A gathering of power manifested itself in the cave and a strange keening filled the night. The warrior before her simply shook his head. She cast a spell at him, one that should have withered him where he stood. He remained, grinning at her evilly. ‘You seek to test me with your puny arts, seer?’
Seeing no effect, she slowly closed her eyes and sat erect, awaiting her fate. The moredhel pointed his finger at her and a silver shaft of light came forth, striking the witch. She shrieked in agony, then exploded into white-hot fire. For an instant her dark form writhed within the inferno, then the flames vanished.
The moredhel cast a quick glance at the ashes upon the floor, forming the outline of a body. With a deep laugh he gathered up his robe and left the cave.
Outside, his companions waited, holding his horse. Far below he could see the camp of his band, still small but destined to grow. He mounted and said, ‘To Sar-Sargoth!’ With a jerk on the reins he spun his horse and led the mute and the serpent priest down the hillside.
• CHAPTER ONE •
Reunion
THE SHIP SPED HOME.
The wind changed quarter and the captain’s voice rang out; aloft, his crew scrambled to answer the demands of a freshening breeze and a captain anxious to get safely to port. He was a seasoned sailingmaster, nearly thirty years in the King’s navy, and seventeen years commanding his own ship. And the Royal Eagle was the best ship in the King’s fleet, but still the captain wished for just a little more wind, just a little more speed, since he would not rest until his passengers were safely ashore.
Standing upon the foredeck were the reasons for the captain’s concern, three tall men. Two, one blond and one dark, were standing at the rail, sharing a joke, for they both laughed. Each stood a full four inches over six feet, and each carried himself with the sure step of a fighting man or hunter. Lyam, King of the Kingdom of the Isles, and Martin, his elder brother and Duke of Crydee, spoke of many things, of hunting and feasting, of travel and politics, of war and discord, and occasionally they spoke of their father, Duke Borric.
The third man, not as tall or as broad of shoulder as the other two, leaned against the rail a short way off, lost in his own thoughts. Arutha, Prince of Krondor and youngest of the three brothers, also dwelt upon the past, but his vision was not of the father killed during the war with the Tsurani, in what was now being called the Riftwar. Instead he watched the bow wake of the ship as it sliced through emerald-green waters, and in that green he saw two sparkling green eyes.
The captain cast a glance aloft, then ordered the sails trimmed. Again he took note of the three men upon the foredeck and again he gave a silent prayer to Kilian, Goddess of Sailors, and wished Rillanon’s tall spires were in sight. For those three were the three most powerful and important men in the Kingdom, and the sailingmaster refused to think of the chaos that would befall the Kingdom should any ill chance visit his ship.
Arutha vaguely heard the captain’s shouts and the replies of his mates and crew. He was fatigued by the events of the last year, so he paid little attention to what was occurring about him. He could keep his thoughts only upon one thing: he was returning to Rillanon, and to Anita.
Arutha smiled to himself. His life had seemed unremarkable for the first eighteen years. Then the Tsurani invasion had come and the world had been forever changed. He had come to be counted one of the finest commanders in the Kingdom, had discovered an unsuspected eldest brother in Martin, and had seen a thousand horrors and miracles. But the most miraculous thing that had happened to Arutha had been Anita.
They had been parted after Lyam’s coronation. For nearly a year Lyam had been displaying the royal banner to both eastern lords and neighbouring kings, and now they were returning home.
Lyam’s voice cut through Arutha’s reverie. ‘What see you in the wave’s sparkle, little brother?’
Martin smiled as Arutha looked up, and the former Huntmaster of Crydee, once called Martin Longbow, nodded towards his youngest brother. ‘I wager a year’s taxes he sees a pair of green eyes and a pert smile in the waves.’
Lyam said, ‘No wager, Martin. Since we departed Rillanon I’ve had three messages from Anita on some matter or other of state business. All conspire to keep her in Rillanon while her mother returned to their estates a month after my coronation. Arutha, by rough estimate, has averaged better than two messages a week from her the entire time. One might draw a conclusion or two from that.’
‘I’d be more than anxious to return if I had someone of her mettle waiting for me,’ agreed Martin.
Arutha was a private person, ill humoured when it came to revealing deep feelings, and he was doubly sensitive to any question involving Anita. He was impossibly in love with the slender young woman, intoxicated with the way she moved, the way she sounded, the way she looked at him. And while these were possibly the only two men on all Midkemia to whom he felt close enough to share his feelings, he had never, even as a boy, shown good grace when he felt he was the butt of a jest.
As Arutha’s expression darkened, Lyam said, ‘Put away your black looks, little storm cloud. Not only am I your King, I’m still your older brother and I can box your ears if the need arises.’
The use of the pet name their mother had given him and the improbable image of the King boxing the ears of the Prince of Krondor made Arutha smile slightly. He was silent a moment, then said, ‘I worry I misread her in this. Her letters, while warm, are formal and at times distant. And there are many young courtiers in your palace.’
Martin said, ‘From the moment we escaped from Krondor, your fate was sealed, Arutha. She’s had you in her bow mark from the first, like a hunter drawing down on a deer. Even before we reached Crydee, when we were hiding out, she’d look at you in a certain way. No, she’s waiting for you, have no doubt.’
‘Besides,’ added Lyam, ‘you’ve told her how you feel.’
‘Well, not in so many words. But I have stated my fondest affection.’
Lyam and Martin exchanged glances. ‘Arutha,’ said Lyam, ‘you write with all the passion of a scribe doing year-end tax tallies.’
All three laughed. The months of travel had allowed a redefinition of their relationship. Martin had been both tutor and friend to the other two as boys, teaching hunting and woodcraft. But he had also been a commoner, though as Huntmaster he stood as a highly placed member of Duke Borric’s staff. With the revelation that he was their father’s bastard, an elder half brother, all three had passed through a time of adjustment. Since then they had endured the false camaraderie of those seeking advantage, the hollow promises of friendship and loyalty from those seeking gain, and during this time they had discovered something more. In the others, each had found two men who could be trusted, who could be confided in, who understood what this sudden rise to preeminence meant, and who shared the pressures of newly inflicted responsibilities. In the other two, each had found friends.
Arutha shook his head, laughing at himself. ‘I guess I have known from the first as well, though I had doubts. She’s so young.’
Lyam said, ‘About our mother’s age when she wed Father, you mean?’
Arutha fixed Lyam with a sceptical look. ‘Do you have an answer for everything?’
Martin clapped Lyam on the back. ‘Of course,’ he said. Then softly he added, ‘That’s why he’s the King.’ As Lyam turned a mock frown upon Martin, the eldest brother continued. ‘So when we return, ask her to wed, dear brother. Then we can wake old Father Tully from before his fireplace and we can all be off to Krondor and have a merry wedding. And I can stop all this bloody travel and return to Crydee.’
A voice from above cried out, ‘Land ho!’
‘Where away?’ shouted the captain.
‘Dead ahead.’
Gazing into the distance, Martin’s practised hunter’s eye was the first to perceive the distant shores. Quietly he placed his hands upon his brothers’ shoulders. After a time all three could see the distant outline of tall towers against an azure sky.
Softly Arutha said, ‘Rillanon.’
The sounds of the light tapping of footfalls and the rustle of a full skirt held above hurrying feet accompanied the sight of a slender figure marching purposefully down a long hallway. The lovely features of the lady rightly acknowledged the reigning beauty of the court were set in an expression of less than pleasant aspect. The guards posted along the hall stood face front, but eyes followed her passage. More than one guard considered the likely target of the lady’s well-known temper and smiled inwardly. The singer was in for a rude awakening, literally.
In a most unladylike fashion, Princess Carline, sister to the King, swept past a startled servant who tried to jump aside and bow to her at the same time, a feat that landed him on his backside as Carline vanished into the guest wing of the palace.
Coming to a door, she paused. Patting her loose dark hair into place, she raised her hand to knock, then halted. Her blue eyes narrowed as she became irritated by the thought of waiting for the door to open, so she simply pushed it open without announcing herself.
The chamber was dark, as the night curtains were still drawn. The large bed was occupied by a large lump beneath the blankets that groaned as Carline slammed the door behind her. Picking her way across the clothing-strewn floor, she yanked aside the curtains, admitting the brilliant midmorning light. Another groan emitted from the lump as a head with two red-rimmed eyes peeked out over the bedcovers. ‘Carline,’ came the dry croak, ‘are you trying to wither me to death?’
Coming to stand over the bed, she snapped, ‘If you hadn’t been carousing all night, and had been to breakfast as expected, you might have heard that my brothers’ ship had been sighted. They’ll be at the dock within two hours.’
Laurie of Tyr-Sog, troubadour, traveller, former hero of the Riftwar, and lately court minstrel and constant companion to the Princess, sat up, rubbing at tired eyes. ‘I was not carousing. The Earl of Dolth insisted on hearing every song in my repertoire. I sang until near dawn.’ He blinked and smiled up at Carline. Scratching at his neatly trimmed blond beard, he said, ‘The man has inexhaustible endurance, but also excellent taste in music.’
Carline sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, and kissed him briefly. She deftly disengaged herself from arms that sought to entangle her. Holding him at bay with her hand upon his chest, she said, ‘Listen, you amorous nightingale, Lyam, Martin, and Arutha will be here soon, and the minute Lyam holds court and gets all the formalities done with, I’m talking to him about our marriage.’
Laurie looked around as if seeking a corner in which to disappear. Over the last year their relationship had developed in depth and passion, but Laurie had a near-reflexive avoidance of the topic of marriage. ‘Now, Carline –’ he began.
‘ “Now, Carline,” indeed!’ she interrupted with a jab of her finger into his bare chest. ‘You buffoon, I’ve had eastern princes, sons of half the dukes in the Kingdom, and who knows how many others simply begging for permission to pay court to me. And I’ve always ignored them. And for what? So some witless musician can trifle with my affections? Well, we shall have an accounting.’
Laurie grinned, pushing his tousled blond hair back. He sat up and, before she could move, kissed her deeply. When he pulled away, he said, ‘Carline, love of my being, please. We’ve covered this ground.’
Her eyes, which had been half-closed during the kiss, instantly widened. ‘Oh! We’ve covered this ground before?’ she said, infuriated. ‘We will be married. That is final.’ She stood up to avoid his embrace again. ‘It has become the scandal of the court, the Princess and her minstrel lover. It’s not even an original tale. I am becoming a laughing-stock. Damn it all, Laurie, I’m nearly twenty-six. Most women my age are eight, nine years married. Would you have me die a spinster?’
‘Never that, my love,’ he answered, still amused. Besides the fact of her beauty, and the slim chance of anyone’s calling her an old maid, she was ten years his junior and he regarded her as young, a perception constantly furthered by her outbursts of childish temper. He sat up fully and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness as he stifled his mirth. ‘I am what I am, darling, no more or less. I’ve been here longer than I’ve been anywhere when I was a free man. I’ll admit, though, this is a far more pleasant captivity than the last.’ He was speaking of the years he had been a slave on Kelewan, the Tsurani homeworld. ‘But you’ll never know when I’ll want to roam once more.’ He could see her temper rising as he spoke, and was forced to admit to himself that he was often what brought out the worst in her nature. He rapidly changed tack. ‘Besides, I don’t know if I’d make a good … whatever the husband of the King’s sister is called.’
‘Well, you’d better get used to it. Now get up and get dressed.’
Laurie grabbed the trousers she tossed to him and quickly put them on. When he was finished dressing he stood before her and put his arms around her waist. ‘Since the day we met I have been your adoring subject, Carline. I have never loved, nor will I love, anyone as I love you, but –’
‘I know. I have had months of the same excuses.’ She jabbed him in the chest again. ‘You’ve always been a traveller,’ she mocked. ‘You’ve always been free. You don’t know how you would fare being tied to one spot – though I’ve noticed you’ve managed to endure settling down here in the King’s palace.’
Laurie cast his eyes heavenwards. ‘This is true enough.’
‘Well, lover mine, those excuses may serve you as you bid farewell to some poor tavern keeper’s daughter, but they’ll do you little good here. We shall see what Lyam thinks of all this. I should imagine there is some old law or other in the archives dealing with commoners becoming involved with nobles.’
Laurie chuckled. ‘There is. My father is entitled to a golden sovereign, a pair of mules, and a farm for your having taken advantage of me.’
Suddenly Carline giggled, tried to smother it, then laughed aloud. ‘You bastard.’ Tightly hugging him, she rested her head upon his shoulder and sighed. ‘I can never stay angry with you.’
He cradled her gently in the circle of his arms. ‘I do give you reason upon occasion,’ he said softly.
‘Yes, you do.’
‘Well, not all that often.’
‘Look you well, boyo,’ she said. ‘My brothers are nearing the harbour as we speak, and you stand here arguing. You may dare make free with my person, but the King may take a dim view of things as they stand.’
‘So I have feared,’ Laurie said, with obvious concern in his voice.
Suddenly Carline’s mood softened. Her expression changed to one of reassurance. ‘Lyam will do whatever I ask. He’s never been able to say no to anything I’ve truly wished for since I was tiny. This is not Crydee. He knows things are different here, and that I’m no longer a child.’
‘So I have noticed.’
‘Rogue. Look, Laurie. You’re no simple farmer or cobbler. You speak more languages than any “educated” noble I have known. You read and write. You have travelled widely, even to the Tsurani world. You have wits and talents. You are much more able to govern than many who are born to it. Besides, if I can have an older brother who was a hunter before becoming a duke, why not a husband who was a singer?’
‘Your logic is impeccable. I simply don’t have a good answer. I love you without stint, but the rest –’
‘Your problem is you have the ability to govern, but you just don’t want the responsibility. You’re lazy.’
He laughed. ‘That’s why my father tossed me out of the house when I was thirteen. Said I’d never make a decent farmer.’
She pushed away from him gently, her voice taking on a serious note. ‘Things change, Laurie. I’ve given this much consideration. I thought I was in love before, twice, but you’re the only man who could get me to forget who I am and act this shamelessly. When I’m with you, nothing makes sense, but that’s all right, because then I don’t care if the way I feel makes sense. But now I must care. You’d better make a choice, and make it soon. I’ll bet my jewels Arutha and Anita will announce they are betrothed before my brothers are in the palace a day. Which means we’ll all be off to Krondor for their wedding.
‘When they are wed, I’ll return here with Lyam. It will be up to you to decide if you will be coming back with us, Laurie.’ She locked gazes with him. ‘I have had a wonderful time with you. I’ve feelings I couldn’t imagine possible when I dreamed my girl’s dreams of Pug and then Roland. But you must get ready to choose. You are my first lover, and will always be my dearest love, but when I return here you will be either my husband or a memory.’
Before he could answer, she walked to the door. ‘In all ways I love you, rogue. But time is short.’ She paused. ‘Now come along and help me greet the King.’
He came to her side and opened the door for her. They hurried to where carriages were waiting to take the reception committee to the docks. Laurie of Tyr-Sog, troubadour, traveller, and hero of the Riftwar, was acutely aware of the presence of this woman at his side and wondered how it would feel to be denied that presence for good and all. He felt decidedly unhappy at the prospect.
Rillanon, capital of the Kingdom of the Isles, waited to welcome home her King. The buildings were bedecked in festive bunting and hothouse flowers. Brave pennants flew from the rooftops and bold banners of every colour were strung between the buildings over the streets the King would travel. Called Jewel of the Kingdom, Rillanon rested upon the slopes of many hills, a marvellous place of graceful spires, airy arches, and delicate spans. The late King, Rodric, had embarked upon a restoration of the city, adding lovely marble and quartz stone facing to most of the buildings before the palace, rendering the city a sparkling wonderland in the afternoon sunlight.
The Royal Eagle approached the King’s dock, where the welcoming party waited. In the distance, upon those buildings and hillside streets affording a clear view of the dock, throngs of citizens were cheering the return of their young King. For many years Rillanon had abided under the black cloud of King Rodric’s madness, and though Lyam was still a stranger to most of the city’s populace, he was adored, for he was young and handsome, his bravery in the Riftwar was widely known, and his generosity had been great. He had lowered taxes.
With a master’s ease, the harbour pilot guided the King’s ship into its appointed place. It was quickly made secure and the gangway run out.
Arutha watched as Lyam was the first to descend. As tradition dictated, he dropped to his knees and kissed the soil of his homeland. Arutha’s eyes scanned the crowd, seeking Anita, but in the press of nobles moving forward to greet Lyam he saw no sign of her. A momentary cold stab of doubt struck him.
Martin nudged Arutha, who, protocol dictated, was expected to be the second to disembark. Arutha hurried down the gangway, with Martin a step behind. Arutha’s attention was caught by the sight of his sister leaving the side of the singer, Laurie, to rush forward and fiercely hug Lyam. While others in the reception committee were not as free with ritual as Carline, there was a spontaneous cheer from the courtiers and guards awaiting the King’s pleasure. Then Arutha had Carline’s arms about his neck as she bestowed a kiss and hug on him. ‘Oh, I’ve missed your sour looks,’ she said happily.
Arutha had been wearing the dour expression he exhibited when lost in thought. He said, ‘What sour looks?’
Carline looked up into Arutha’s eyes and, with an innocent smile, said, ‘You look as if you’d swallowed something and it moved.’
Martin laughed aloud at that, then Carline was hugging him in turn. He stiffened at first, for he was still less comfortable with a sister than with two brothers, then he relaxed and hugged her back. Carline said, ‘I’ve grown bored without you three around.’
Seeing Laurie a short distance off, Martin shook his head. ‘Not too bored, it seems.’
Carline playfully said, ‘There’s no law that says only men can indulge themselves. Besides, he’s the best man I’ve met who’s not my brother.’ Martin could only smile at that while Arutha continued looking for Anita.
Lord Caldric, Duke of Rillanon, First Adviser to the King, and Lyam’s great-uncle, smiled broadly as the King’s huge hand engulfed his own in a vigorous shake. Lyam nearly had to shout over the cheers from those nearby. ‘Uncle, how stands our Kingdom?’
‘Well, my King, now that you’ve returned.’
As Arutha’s expression grew more distressful, Carline said, ‘Put away that long face, Arutha. She’s in the eastern garden, waiting for you.’
Arutha kissed Carline’s cheek, hurried away from her and a laughing Martin, and as he dashed past Lyam, shouted, ‘With Your Majesty’s permission.’
Lyam’s expression ran quickly from surprise to mirth, while Caldric and the other courtiers were amazed at the Prince of Krondor’s behaviour. Lyam leaned close to Caldric and said, ‘Anita.’
Caldric’s old face beamed with a sunny smile as he chuckled in understanding. ‘Then you’ll soon be off again, this time for Krondor and your brother’s wedding?’
‘We’d sooner hold it here, but tradition dictates the Prince weds in his own city, and we must bow before tradition. But that won’t be for a few weeks yet. These things take time, and we have a kingdom to govern in the meantime, though it seems you’ve done well enough in our absence.’
‘Perhaps, Your Majesty, but now that there is a King again in Rillanon, many matters held in abeyance this last year will be unloosed for your consideration. Those petitions and other documents forwarded to you during your travels were but a tenth part of what you will see.’
Lyam gave a mock groan. ‘We think we shall have the captain put to sea again at once.’
Caldric smiled. ‘Come, Majesty. Your city wishes to see its King.’
The eastern garden was empty save for one figure. She moved quietly between well-tended planters of flowers not quite ready to send forth blooms. A few heartier varieties were already beginning to take on the bright green of spring and many of the bordering hedges were evergreen, but the garden still seemed more the barren symbol of winter than the fresh promise of spring, which would manifest itself within a few weeks.
Anita looked across the vista of Rillanon below. The palace sat atop a hill, once the site of a large keep that still served as its heart. Seven high-arched bridges spanned the river that surrounded the palace with the loops of its meandering course. The afternoon wind was chill, and Anita drew a shawl of fine silken material close about her shoulders.
Anita smiled in remembrance. Her green eyes misted over slightly as she thought of her late father, Prince Erland, and of all that had occurred in the last year and more: how Guy du Bas-Tyra had arrived in Krondor and attempted to force her into a marriage of state, and how Arutha had come to Krondor incognito. They had hidden together under the protection of the Mockers – the thieves of Krondor – for over a month until their escape to Crydee. At the end of the Riftwar she had travelled to Rillanon to see Lyam crowned. During all those months she had also fallen deeply in love with the King’s younger brother. And now Arutha was returning to Rillanon.
The tread of boots upon flagstone caused her to turn. Anita expected to see a servant or guard, come to tell of the King’s arrival in the harbour. Instead a weary-looking man in fine but rumpled traveller’s clothing approached across the garden. His dark brown hair was tousled by the breeze and his brown eyes were ringed with dark circles. His near-gaunt face was set in the half-frown which he assumed when he was dwelling upon something serious, and which she found so dear. As he neared, she silently marvelled at the way he walked, lithe, almost catlike in his quickness and economy of movement. As he came up to her, he smiled, tentatively, even shyly. Before she could muster years of court-taught poise, Anita found tears coming to her eyes. Suddenly she was in his arms, clinging tightly to him. ‘Arutha’ was all she said.
For a time they stood saying nothing, holding each other tight. Then he slowly tilted her head back and kissed her. Without words he spoke of his devotion and longing and without words she answered. He looked down at eyes as green as the sea and a nose delightfully dusted by a small scattering of freckles, a pleasing imperfection upon her otherwise fair skin. With a tired grin he said, ‘I’ve returned.’
Then he was laughing at the obvious remark. She laughed as well. He felt buoyant to be holding this slender young woman in his arms, smelling the faint scent of her dark red hair, which was caught up in some complex fashion popular at court this season. He rejoiced to be with her again.
She stepped away but held tightly to his hand. ‘It has been so very long,’ she said softly. ‘It was only to be for a month … then another, then more. You’ve been gone over half a year. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the dock. I knew I’d cry at sight of you.’ Her cheeks were wet from tears. She smiled and wiped them away.
Arutha squeezed her hand. ‘Lyam kept finding more nobles to visit. The business of the Kingdom,’ he said with a wry note of deprecation. From the day he had met Anita, Arutha had been unable to articulate his feelings for the girl. Strongly attracted to her from the first, he had wrestled with his emotions constantly after their escape from Krondor. He was powerfully drawn to her and yet saw her as little more than a child, only about to come of age. But she had been a calming influence on him, reading his moods like no one else, sensing how to ease his worry, stem his anger, and draw him from his dark introspection. And he had come to love her soft ways.
He had remained silent until the night before he had departed with Lyam. They had walked in this garden, speaking late into the night, and while little of consequence had been said, Arutha had left feeling as if an understanding had been reached. The light, and occasionally somewhat formal, tone of her letters had caused him worry, fear that he had misread her that night, but now, looking down at her, he knew he had not. Without preamble he said, ‘I have done little but think of you since we left.’
He saw tears come again to her eyes, and she said, ‘And I of you.’
‘I love you, Anita. I would have you always at my side. Will you consent to marry me?’
She squeezed his hand as she said, ‘Yes,’ then embraced him again. Arutha’s mind reeled under the sheer weight of happiness he felt. Holding her close, he whispered, ‘You are my joy. You are my heart.’
They stood there for a time, the tall, rangy Prince and the slender Princess, whose head barely reached his chin. They spoke softly and nothing seemed of importance except the other’s presence. Then the self-conscious sound of someone clearing his throat brought them both out of their reverie. They turned to find a palace guardsman standing at the entrance to the garden. He said, ‘His Majesty approaches, Your Highnesses. He will be entering the great hall within a few minutes.’
Arutha said, ‘We shall go there at once.’ He led Anita by the hand past the guard, who fell in behind them. Had Arutha and Anita looked over their shoulders, they would have seen the experienced palace guardsman fighting hard to overcome a broad grin.
Arutha gave Anita’s hand a final squeeze, then stationed himself next to the door as Lyam entered the grand throne room of the palace. As the King moved towards the dais upon which his throne rested, courtiers bowed to him, and the Court Master of Ceremonies struck the floor with the iron-shod butt of his ceremonial staff. A herald shouted, ‘Hearken to me! Hearken to me! Let the word go forth: Lyam, first of that name and by the grace of the gods rightwise ruler, is returned to us and again sits upon his throne. Long live the King!’
‘Long live the King!’ came the response of those gathered in the great hall.
When he was seated, his simple gold circlet of office upon his brow and his purple mantle upon his shoulders, Lyam said, ‘We are pleased to be home.’
The Master of Ceremonies struck the floor again and the herald shouted out Arutha’s name. Arutha entered the hall, Carline and Anita behind him, and Martin behind them, as protocol dictated. Each was announced in order. When all were in place at Lyam’s side, the King motioned to Arutha.
Arutha came to his side and leaned over. ‘Did you ask her?’ said the king.
With a lopsided smile Arutha responded. ‘Ask her what?’
Lyam grinned. ‘To marry, jackanapes. Of course you did, and from that sloppy smile, she said yes,’ he whispered. ‘Go get back in place and I’ll make the announcement in a moment.’ Arutha went back to Anita’s side and Lyam motioned Duke Caldric over. ‘We are weary, my lord Chancellor. We would be pleased to keep the day’s business brief.’
‘There are two matters I judge require Your Majesty’s attention this day. The balance may wait.’
Lyam indicated that Caldric should proceed. ‘First, from the Border Barons and Duke Vandros of Yabon, we have reports of unusual goblin activity in the Western Realm.’
Arutha’s attention was drawn from Anita at this. The Western Realm was his to govern. Lyam looked over towards him, then Martin, indicating they should attend.
Martin said, ‘What of Crydee, my lord?’
Caldric said, ‘No word from the Far Coast, Your Grace. At this time we’ve only reports from the area between Highcastle to the east and the Lake of the Sky to the west – steady sightings of goblin bands moving northward, and occasional raids as they pass villages.’
‘Northward?’ Martin glanced at Arutha.
Arutha said, ‘With Your Majesty’s permission?’ Lyam nodded. ‘Martin, do you think the goblins move to join the Brotherhood of the Dark Path?’
Martin considered. ‘I would not dismiss such a possibility. The goblins have long served the moredhel. Though I would have thought it more likely the Dark Brothers would be moving south, returning to their homes in the Grey Tower Mountains.’ The dark cousins to the elves had been driven northward from the Grey Towers by the Tsurani invasion during the Riftwar. Martin said to Caldric, ‘My lord, have there been reportings of the Dark Brotherhood?’
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
