Magician (41 page)

The King paced, looking at the city for
a few minutes more, while Pug stood by his chair. He heard the
monarch mutter to himself about the great works that must not be
interrupted, then felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw a
palace steward standing quietly at his side. With a smile and a
gesture toward the door, the steward indicated the interview was at
an end. Pug followed the man to the door, wondering at the staff’s
ability to recognize the moods of the King.

Pug was shown the way back to his room,
and he asked the servant to carry word to Lord Borric that Pug wished
to see him if he was not busy.

He went into his room and sat down to
think. A short time later he was brought out of his musing by a knock
at the door. He gave permission for the caller to enter, and the same
steward who had carried the message to the Duke entered, with the
message that Borric would see Pug at once.

Pug followed the man from his room and
sent him away, saying he could find the Duke’s room without
guidance. He walked slowly, thinking of what he was going to tell the
Duke. Two things were abundantly clear to the boy: the King was not
pleased to hear that the Tsurani were a potential threat to his
kingdom, and Lord Borric would be equally displeased to hear that Guy
du Bas-Tyra was being called to Rillanon.

As with every dinner over the last few
days, there was a hushed mood at the table. The five men of Crydee
sat eating in the Duke’s quarters, with palace servants, all
wearing the King’s purple-and-gold badge on their dark tunics,
hovering nearby.

The Duke was chafing to leave Rillanon
for the West. Nearly four months had passed since they left Crydee:
the entire winter. Spring was upon them, and if the Tsurani were
going to attack, as they all believed, it was only a matter of days
now. Arutha’s restlessness matched his father’s. Even
Kulgan showed signs that the waiting was telling upon him. Only
Meecham, who revealed nothing of his feelings, seemed content to
wait.

Pug also longed for home. He had grown
bored in the palace. He wished to be back in his tower with his
studies. He also wished to see Carline again, though he didn’t
speak of this to anyone. Lately he found himself remembering her in a
softer light, forgiving those qualities that had once irritated him.
He also knew, with mixed feelings of anticipation, that he might
discover the fate of Tomas. Dolgan should soon send word to Crydee,
if the thaw came early to the mountains.

Borric had endured several more
meetings with the King over the last week, each ending
unsatisfactorily as far as he was concerned. The last had been hours
ago, but he would say nothing about it until the room was emptied of
servants.

As the last dishes were being cleared
away, and the servants were pouring the King’s finest Keshian
brandy, a knock came at the door and Duke Caldric entered, waving the
servants outside. When the room was cleared, he turned to the Duke.

“Borric, I am sorry to interrupt
your dining, but I have news.”

Borric stood, as did the others.
“Please join us. Here, take a glass.”

Caldric took the offered brandy and sat
in Pug’s chair, while the boy pulled another over. The Duke of
Rillanon sipped his brandy and said, “Messengers arrived less
than an hour ago from the Duke of Bas-Tyra. Guy expresses alarm over
the possibility that the King might be ‘unduly’
distressed by these ‘rumors’ of trouble in the West.”

Borric stood and threw his glass across
the room, shattering it. Amber fluid dripped down the wall as the
Duke of Crydee nearly roared with anger. “What game does Guy
play at? What is this talk of rumors and undue distress!”

Caldric raised a hand and Borric calmed
a little, sitting again. The old Duke said, “I myself penned
the King’s call to Guy. Everything you had told, every piece of
information and every surmise, was included. I can only think Guy is
ensuring that the King reaches no decision until he arrives at the
palace.”

Borric drummed his fingers on the table
and looked at Caldric with anger flashing in his eyes. “What is
Bas-Tyra doing? If war comes, it comes to Crydee and Yabon. My people
will suffer. My lands will be ravaged.”

Caldric shook his head slowly. “I
will speak plainly, old friend. Since the estrangement between the
King and his uncle, Erland, Guy plays to advance his own banner to
primacy in the Kingdom. I think that, should Erland’s health
fail, Guy sees himself wearing the purple of Krondor.”

Through clenched teeth Borric said,
“Then hear me clearly, Caldric. I would not put that burden on
myself or mine for any but the highest purpose. But if Erland is as
ill as I think, in spite of his claims otherwise, it will be Anita
who sits the throne in Krondor, not Black Guy. If I have to march the
Armies of the West into Krondor and assume the regency myself, that
is what shall be, even should Rodric wish it otherwise. Only if the
King has issue will another take the western throne.”

Caldric looked at Borric calmly. “And
will you be branded traitor to the crown?”

Borric slapped the table with his hand.
“Curse the day that villain was born. I regret that I must
acknowledge him kinsman.”

Caldric waited for a minute until
Borric calmed down, then said, “I know you better than you know
yourself, Borric You would not raise the war banner of the West
against the King, though you might happily strangle your cousin Guy.
It was always a sad thing for me that the Kingdom’s two finest
generals could hate each other so.”

“Aye, and with cause. Every time
there is a call to aid the West, it is cousin Guy who opposes. Every
time there is intrigue and a title is lost, it is one of Guy’s
favorites who gains. How can you not see? It was only because you,
Brucal of Yabon, and I myself held firm that the congress did not
name Guy regent for Rodric’s first three years. He stood before
every Duke in the Kingdom and called you a tired old man who was not
fit to rule in the King’s name. How can you forget?”

Caldric did look tired and old as he
sat in the chair, one hand shading his eyes, as if the room light
were too bright. Softly he said, “I do see, and I haven’t
forgotten. But he also is my kinsman by marriage, and if I were not
here, how much more influence do you think he would have with Rodric?
As a boy the King idolized him, seeing in him a dashing hero, a
fighter of the first rank, a defender of the Kingdom.”

Borric leaned back in his chair. “I
am sorry, Caldric,” he said, his voice losing its harsh edge.
“I know you act for the good of us all. And Guy did play the
hero, rolling the Keshian Army back at Deep Taunton, all those years
ago. I should not speak of things I have not seen firsthand.”

Arutha sat passively through all this,
but his eyes showed he felt the same anger as his father. He moved
forward in his chair, and the dukes looked at him. Borric said, “You
have something to say, my son?”

Arutha spread his hands wide before
him. “In all this the thought has bothered me: should the
Tsurani come, how would it profit Guy to see the King hesitate?”

Borric drummed his fingers on the
table. “That is the puzzle, for in spite of his scheming, Guy
would not peril the Kingdom, not to spite me.”

“Would it not serve him,”
said Arutha, “to let the West suffer a little, until the issue
was in doubt, then to come at the head of the Armies of the East, the
conquering hero, as he was at Deep Taunton?”

Caldric considered this. “Even
Guy could not think so little of these aliens, I would hope.”

Arutha paced the room “But
consider what he knows. The ramblings of a dying man. Surmise on the
nature of a ship that only Pug, here, has seen, and I caught but a
glimpse of as it slid into the sea. Conjecture by a priest and a
magician, both callings Guy holds in little regard. Some migrating
Dark Brothers. He might discount such news.”

“But it is all there for the
seeing,” protested Borric.

Caldric watched the young Prince pace
the room. “Perhaps you are right. What may be lacking is the
urgency of your words, an urgency lacking in the dry message of ink
and parchment. When he arrives, we must convince him.”

Borric nearly spat his words. “It
is for the King to decide, not Guy!”

Caldric said, “But the King has
given much weight to Guy’s counsel. If you are to gain command
of the Armies of the West, it is Guy who must be convinced.”

Borric looked shocked. “I? I do
not want the banner of the armies. I only wish for Erland to be free
to aid me, should there be need.”

Caldric placed both hands upon the
table. “Borric, for all your wisdom, you are much the rustic
noble. Erland cannot lead the armies. He is not well. Even if he
could, the King would not allow it. Nor would he give leave for
Erland’s Marshal, Dulanic. You have seen Rodric at his best, of
late. When the black moods are upon him, he fears for his life. None
dare say it, but the King suspects his uncle of plotting for the
crown.”

“Ridiculous!” exclaimed
Borric. “The crown was Erland’s for the asking thirteen
years ago. There was no clear succession Rodric’s father had
not yet named him heir apparent, and Erland’s claim was as
clear as the King’s, perhaps more so. Only Guy and those who
sought to use the boy pressed Rodric’s claim. Most of the
congress would have sustained Erland as King.”

“I know, but times are different,
and the boy is a boy no longer. He is now a frightened young man who
is sick from fear. Whether it is due to Guy’s and the others’
influence or from some illness of the mind, I do not know. The King
does not think as other men do. No king does, and Rodric less than
most. Ridiculous as it may seem, he will not give the Armies of the
West to his uncle. I am also afraid that once Guy has his ear, he
will not give them to you either.”

Borric opened his mouth to say
something, but Kulgan interrupted. “Excuse me, Your Graces, but
may I suggest something?”

Caldric looked at Borric, who nodded.
Kulgan cleared his throat and said, “Would the King give the
Armies of the West to Duke Brucal of Yabon?”

Comprehension slowly dawned on Borric’s
and Caldric’s faces, until the Duke of Crydee threw back his
head and laughed. Slamming his fist on the table, he nearly shouted,
“Kulgan! If you had not served me well in all the years I have
known you, tonight you have.” He turned to Caldric. “What
do you think?”

Caldric smiled for the first time since
entering the room “Brucal? That old war dog? There is no more
honest man in the Kingdom. And he is not in the line of succession.
He would be beyond even Guy’s attempts to discredit. Should he
receive the command of the armies . . .”

Arutha finished the thought “He
would call Father to be his chief adviser. He knows Father is the
finest commander in the West.”

Caldric sat up straight in his chair,
excitement on his face. “You would even have command of the
armies of Yabon.”

“Yes,” said Arutha, “and
LaMut, Zun, Ylith, and the rest.”

Caldric stood. “I think it will
work. Say nothing to the King tomorrow. I will find the proper time
to make the ‘suggestion.’ Pray that His Majesty
approves.”

Caldric took his leave, and Pug could
see that for the first time there was hope for a good ending to this
journey. Even Arutha, who had fumed like black thunder all week,
looked nearly happy.

Pug was awakened by a pounding on his
door. He sleepily called out for whoever was out there to enter, and
the door opened. A royal steward peeked in. “Sir, the King
commands all in the Duke’s party to join him in the throne
room. At once.” He held a lantern for Pug’s convenience.

Pug said he would come straight away
and hurriedly got dressed. Outside it was still dark, and he felt
anxious about what had caused this surprise summons. The hopeful
feeling of the night before, after Caldric had left, was replaced by
a gnawing worry that the unpredictable King had somehow learned of
the plan to circumvent the arrival of the Duke of Bas-Tyra.

He was still buckling his belt about
his tunic when he left his room. He hurried down the hall, with the
steward beside him holding a lantern against the dark, as the torches
and candles usually lit in the evening had all been extinguished.

When they reached the throne room, the
Duke, Arutha, and Kulgan were arriving, all looking apprehensively
toward Rodric, who paced by his throne, still in his night-robes.
Duke Caldric stood to one side, a grave expression on his face. The
room was dark, save for the lanterns carried by the stewards.

As soon as they were gathered before
the throne, Rodric flew into a rage. “Cousin! Do you know what
I have here?” he screamed, holding out a sheaf of parchment.

Borric said he didn’t. Rodric’s
voice lowered only a little. “It is a message from Yabon! That
old fool Brucal has let those Tsurani aliens attack and destroy one
of his garrisons. Look at these!” he nearly shrieked, throwing
the parchments toward Borric. Kulgan picked them up and handed them
to the Duke. “Never mind,” said the King, his voice
returning to near-normalcy. “I’ll tell you what they say.

“These invaders have attacked
into the Free Cities, near Wahnor. They have attacked into the elven
forests. They have attacked Stone Mountain. They have attacked
Crydee.”

Without thinking, Borric said, “What
news from Crydee?”

The King stopped his pacing. He looked
at Borric, and for a moment Pug saw madness in his eyes. He closed
them briefly, then opened them, and Pug could see the King was
himself again. He shook his head slightly and raised his hand to his
temple. “I have only secondhand news from Brucal. When those
messages left six weeks ago, there had only been one attack at
Crydee. Your son Lyam reports the victory was total, driving the
aliens deep into the forest.”