Magician (108 page)

Laurie nodded. What the man was saying
made a great deal of sense. The stranger turned to leave, then said,
“By the way, I think you’d best not mention our meeting.”

Laurie said nothing, but accepted what
the stranger said without question. After the man was gone, he felt a
great sense of relief that he was on his way back from Elvandar and
that his message had been received.

The ceremony took place in a quiet
glade, with Aglaranna and Tomas exchanging vows before Tathar. No one
else was there, as was the elven way, while they pledged their love.
Tathar invoked the blessings of the gods and instructed them on their
duty, one to the other.

When the ceremony was complete, Tathar
said, “Now return to Elvandar, for it is time for feasting and
celebration. You have brought joy to your people, my Queen and my
Prince.”

They rose from their kneeling positions
and embraced. Tomas stepped back and said, “I would have this
day remembered, beloved.” He turned and cupped his hands around
his mouth. In the ancient language of the elves he cried, “Belegroch!
Belegroch! Attend us.”

The sound of hooves pounding the earth
could be heard. Then a small band of white horses raced into the
glade, ran toward them, and reared in salute to the Elf Queen and her
consort Tomas leaped upon the back of one. The elf steed stood
quietly, and Tathar said, “By no other way could you have shown
so well that you are now one with us.”

Aglaranna and Tathar mounted, and they
rode back to Elvandar. When they came into sight of the tree-city, a
great shout went up from the assembled elves. The sight of the Queen
and her Prince Consort riding the elf steeds was, as Tathar said, a
confirmation of Tomas’s place in Elvandar.

The feasting went on for hours, and
Tomas observed that the joy he felt was shared by everyone. Aglaranna
sat next to him, for a second throne had been placed in the council
hall, acknowledging Tomas’s rank. Every elf who was not keeping
watch over the outworlders came to stand before them, pledging
loyalty and offering blessings on the union. The dwarves also offered
their congratulations and joined in the festivities wholeheartedly,
filling the glades of Elvandar with their boisterous singing.

Long into the night the celebration
wore on Suddenly Tomas stiffened. A chilled wind seemed to pass
through him. Aglaranna gripped his arm, sensing something amiss
“Husband, what is it?”

Tomas stared into space “Something
. . . strange . . . like the other night: hopeful, but sad.”

Abruptly there was a shout from the
edge of the clearing below Elvandar. It cut through the sound of the
celebration, but what was being said was unclear. Tomas rose, with
Aglaranna at his side, and crossed to the edge of the huge platform.
Looking down, he could see an elven scout below, clearly out of
breath. “What is afoot?” Tomas shouted.

“My lord,” came the reply,
“the outworlders—they withdraw.”

Tomas was rooted in place. Those simple
words struck him like a blow. His mind couldn’t comprehend the
Tsurani’s leaving after all these years of fighting. He shook
off the feeling. “To what ends? Do they marshal?”

The scout shook his head. “No, my
lord, they are not staging. They move slowly, without alarm. Their
soldiers look dispirited. They break camp along every mile of the
Crydee and turn east.” The guard’s upturned face showed
an expression of stunned but joyful understanding. He looked at those
nearby, then with a smile said simply, “They are leaving.”

A shout of incredible joy went up, and
many openly wept, for it seemed that at last the war was ended. Tomas
turned and saw tears on the face of his wife. She embraced him, and
they stood quietly for a moment. After a time the new Prince Consort
of Elvandar said to Calin, who stood nearby, “Send runners to
follow, for it may be a trick.”

Aglaranna said, “Do you truly
think so, Tomas?”

He shook his head. “I only wish
to make sure, but something inside tells me this is truly the end. It
was the hope of peace with the sadness of defeat mingled together
that I felt.”

She touched his cheek, and he said, “I
will send runners to the Kingdom camp and inquire of Lord Borric what
is happening.”

She said, “If it is peace, he
will send word.”

Tomas looked at her. “True. We
shall wait, then.” He studied her face, centuries old, but
still filled with the beauty of a woman in her first bloom. “This
day will doubly be remembered as a day to celebrate.”

Neither Tomas nor Aglaranna was
surprised when Macros arrived in Elvandar, for they had ceased being
amazed at the sorcerer after his first visit. Without ceremony he
stepped forward from the trees surrounding the clearing and crossed
toward the tree-city.

The entire court was assembled,
including Longbow, when Macros came to stand before the Queen and
Tomas. He bowed and said, “Greetings, lady, and to your
consort.”

“Welcome, Macros the Black,”
said the Queen. “Have you come to unravel the mystery of the
outworlders’ withdrawal?”

Macros leaned upon his staff and nodded
“I bring news.” He seemed to consider his words
carefully. “You should know that both the King and the Lord of
Crydee are dead. Lyam is now Heir.”

Tomas noticed Martin. The Huntmaster’s
face was drained of blood. His features remained impassive, but it
was clear to Tomas that Martin was rocked by the news. Tomas turned
toward Macros. “I knew not the King, but the Duke was a fine
man. I am sorry for such news.”

Macros went over to Martin. Martin
watched the sorcerer, for while he had never met him, he knew him by
reputation, having been told by Arutha of the meeting upon his island
and by Tomas of his intervention during the Tsurani invasion of
Elvandar. “You, Martin Longbow, are to go at once to Crydee.
There you will sail with the Princesses Carline and Anita for
Krondor.” Martin was about to speak when Macros raised his
hand; those of the court paused as if taking a breath. In a
near-whisper Macros said, “At the last, your father spoke your
name in love.” Then his hand dropped, and all was as it had
been.

Martin felt no alarm, but rather a
sense of comfort from the sorcerer’s words, he knew no one else
had been aware of the brief remark.

Macros said, “Now hear more glad
tidings. The war is over Lyam and Ichindar meet in twenty days’
time to sign a peace treaty.”

A cheer went up in the court, and those
above shouted the news to those below. Soon all of the elven forests
echoed with the sound of rejoicing. Dolgan again entered the council,
wiping his eyes. “What’s this? Another celebration
without us while I nap? You’ll make me think we’re no
longer welcome.”

Tomas laughed “Nothing of the
kind, Dolgan. Fetch your brethren and have them join our celebration.
The war is over.”

Dolgan took out his pipe and knocked
the dottle from it, kicking the burned-out tabac over the edge of the
platform. “Finally,” he said as he opened his pouch. He
turned away, as if intent upon filling his pipe, and Tomas pretended
not to notice the wetness upon the dwarven chief’s face.

Arutha sat upon his father’s
throne, alone in the great hall. He held the message from his
brother, which he had read several times, trying to understand that
their father was truly gone. Grief sat heavy upon him.

Carline had taken the news well She had
gone to the quiet garden beside the keep, to be alone with her
thoughts.

Thoughts ran not through Arutha’s
mind. He remembered the first time his father had taken him hunting,
then another time when he had come back from hunting with Martin
Longbow and how proudly he had listened to his father exclaim over
the large buck he had taken. He vaguely recalled the ache when he had
learned of his mother’s death, but it was a distant thing,
dulled by time. The image of his father enraged in the King’s
palace suddenly came to him, and Arutha let out a slow sigh. “At
least,” he said to himself, “most of what you had wished
has come to pass, Father. Rodric is gone and Guy is in disgrace.”

“Arutha?” said a voice from
the other side of the hall.

Arutha looked up: stepping from the
shadows of the doorway came Anita, her satin-slippered feet making no
sound as she crossed the stone floor of the hall.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t
noticed her enter. She carried a small lamp, for evening had cast the
hall into deep gloom. “The pages were reluctant to disturb you,
but I couldn’t see you sitting alone in the darkness,”
she said. Arutha felt pleasure at the sight of her and relief she had
come. A young woman of uncommon sense and tender ways, Anita was the
first person Arutha had known to see beneath his surface calm and dry
humor. More than those who had known him since boyhood, she
understood his moods and could lighten them, knowing the right words
to comfort him.

Without waiting for him to answer, she
said, “I have heard the news, Arutha. I am so terribly sorry.”

Arutha smiled at her. “Not yet
over your own grief at your father’s passing, and you share
mine. You are kind.”

Word of Erland’s death had come a
week before on a ship from Krondor. Anita shook her head, her soft
red hair moving in a rippling wave around her face. “Father was
very ill for many years. He prepared us well for his death. It was a
near-certainty when he was put into the dungeon. I knew that when we
left Krondor.”

“Still, you show strength. I hope
I am able to bear up as well. There is so much to be done.”

She spoke quietly. “I think you
will rule wisely, Lyam in Rillanon, you in Krondor.”

“I? In Krondor? I’ve
avoided thinking about that.”

She sat at his side, taking the throne
Carline sat in when at her father’s side in court. She reached
over and placed her hand upon Arutha’s, resting on the arm of
the throne. “You must. After Lyam, you are Heir to the crown.
The Prince of Krondor is the Heir’s office. There is no one to
rule there but you.”

Arutha looked uncomfortable. “Anita,
I have always assumed I would someday become Earl of some minor keep,
or perhaps seek a career as an officer in one of the Border Barons’
armies. But I had never thought to rule. I am not sure I welcome
being Duke of Crydee, let alone Prince of Krondor. Besides, Lyam will
marry, I am sure—he always caught the girls’ eyes, and as
King he’ll certainly have his pick. When he has a son, the boy
can be Prince of Krondor.”

Anita shook her head firmly. “No,
Arutha. There is too much work to be done now. The Western Realm
needs a strong hand, your hand. Another Viceroy is not likely to win
trust, for each lord will suspect any other who is named. It must be
you.”

Arutha studied the young woman. In the
five months she had been at Crydee, he had come to care dearly for
her, though he had been unable to express his feelings, finding words
lacking when they were together. She was each day more a beautiful
woman, less a girl. She was still young, which made him
uncomfortable. With the war in progress, he had kept his thoughts
away from their respective fathers’ plans for a possible
marriage, revealed to him that night aboard the
Sea Swift
.
Now, with peace at hand, Arutha was suddenly confronted with that
question.

“Anita, what you say is possibly
true, but you also have a claim to the throne. Didn’t you say
your father’s plan for our marriage was designed to bolster
your claim to Krondor?”

She looked at him with large green
eyes. “That was a plan to foil Guy’s ambitions. It was to
strengthen your father’s or brother’s claim to the crown
should Rodric die heirless. Now you need not feel bound to those
plans.”

“Should I take Krondor, what will
you do?”

“Mother and I have other estates.
We can live quite well upon the revenues, I am sure.”

Struggling with emotions within
himself, Arutha spoke slowly. “I have not had time to weigh
this in my mind. When I was last in Krondor, I learned how little I
know of cities, and I know less than that of governing.

“You were raised for such
undertakings. I . . . I was only a second son. My education is
lacking.”

“There are many able men, here
and in Krondor, who will advise you. You have a good head for things,
Arutha, the ability to see what must be done, and the courage to act.
You will do well as Prince of Krondor.”

She rose and leaned over to kiss his
cheek. “There is time for you to decide how best to serve your
brother, Arutha Try not to let this new responsibihty weigh too
heavily upon you.”

“I will try Still, I would feel
better knowing vou were close by—you and your mother.” he
added with a rush.

She smiled warmly “We will be
close at hand should you have need of our advice, Arutha. We will
likely stay upon our estate in the hills near Krondor, just a few
hours’ ride from the palace. Krondor is the only home I’ve
known, and Mother has lived nowhere else since she was a girl. Should
you wish to see us, you have but to command, and we will happily come
to court. And should you wish to find respite from the burdens of
office, you will be a welcome guest.”

Arutha smiled at the girl “I
suspect I will be visiting with regularity, and I hope I do not wear
out my welcome.”

“Never, Arutha.”

Tomas stood alone on the platform,
watching the stars through the branches above. His elven senses
informed him someone had come up behind. With a nod he greeted the
sorcerer. “I am but twenty-five years in this life, Macros,
though I bear memories of ages. All my adult life I have been waging
war. It seems a dream.”

“Let us not turn this dream into
a nightmare.”

Tomas studied the sorcerer. “What
do you mean?”

Macros said nothing for a time, and
Tomas awaited his words with patience. At last the sorcerer spoke.
“There is this thing which must be done, Tomas, and it has
fallen to you to finish this war.”