The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
to there, one place to another. I haven’t seen such a to-do since the Prince of Krondor visited seven years ago!’
Tomas grabbed an apple from a platter and jumped up to sit on a table. Between bites he recounted to his father what had taken place.
Pug leaned on the counter while listening. Tomas told the story with a minimum of embellishment. When he was done, Megar shook his head. ‘Well, well. Aliens, is it? I hope they’re not marauding pirates. We have had peaceful enough times lately. Ten years since the time the Brotherhood of the Dark Path’ – he gestured spitting – ‘curse their murderous souls, stirred up that trouble with the goblins. Can’t say as I’d welcome that sort of mess again, sending all those stores to the outlying villages. Having to cook based on what will spoil first and what will last longest. I couldn’t make a decent meal for a month.’
Pug smiled. Megar had the ability to take even the most difficult possibilities and break them down to basics: how much inconvenience they were likely to cause the scullery staff.
Tomas jumped down from the counter. ‘I had best return to the soldiers’ commons and wait for Master Fannon. I’ll see you soon.’ He ran from the kitchen.
Megar said, ‘Is it serious, Pug?’
Pug shook his head. ‘I really can’t say. I don’t know. I know that Tully and Kulgan are worried, and the Duke thinks enough of the problem to want to talk to the elves and dwarves. It could be.’
Megar looked out the door that Tomas had used. ‘It would be a bad time for war and killing.’ Pug could see the poorly hidden worry in Megar’s face and could think of nothing to say to a father of a son who had just become a soldier.
Pug pushed himself away from the counter. ‘I’d better be off, as well, Megar.’ He waved good-bye to the others in the kitchen and walked out of the kitchen and into the courtyard. He had little temper for study, being alarmed by the serious tone of the meeting in the Duke’s chambers. No one had come out and said as much, but it was obvious they were considering the possibility that the alien ship was the vanguard of an invasion fleet.
Pug wandered around to the side of the keep and climbed the three steps to the Princess’s small flower garden. He sat on a stone bench, the hedges and rows of rosebushes masking most of the courtyard from sight. He could still see the top of the high walks, with the guards patrolling the parapets. He wondered if it was his imagination, or were the guards looking especially watchful today?
The sound of a delicate cough made him turn. Standing on the other side of the garden was Princess Carline, with Squire Roland and two of her younger ladies-in-waiting. The girls hid their smiles, for Pug was still something of a celebrity in the keep. Carline shooed them off, saying, ‘I would like to speak with Squire Pug in private.’ Roland hesitated, then bowed stiffly. Pug was irritated by the dark look Roland gave him as he left with the young ladies.
The two young ladies looked over their shoulder at Pug and Carline, giggling, which seemed only to add to Roland’s irritation.
Pug stood as Carline approached and made an awkward bow. She said, in short tones, ‘Oh, sit down. I find that rubbish tiring and get all I need from Roland.’
Pug sat. The girl took her place next to him, and they were both silent for a moment. Finally she said, ‘I haven’t seen you for more than a week. Have you been busy?
Pug felt uncomfortable, still confused by the girl and her mercurial moods. She had been only warm to him since the day, three weeks ago, when he had saved her from the trolls, stirring up a storm of gossip among the staff of the castle. She remained short-tempered with others, however, especially Squire Roland.
‘I have been busy with my studies.’
‘Oh, pooh. You spend too much time in that awful tower.’
Pug didn’t consider the tower room the least bit awful – except for being a bit drafty. It was his own, and he felt comfortable there.
‘We could go riding, Your Highness, if you would like.’
The girl smiled. ‘I would like that. But I’m afraid Lady Marna won’t allow it.’
Pug was surprised. He thought that after the way he had protected the Princess, even the girl’s surrogate mother would allow that he was proper company. ‘Why not?’
Carline sighed. ‘She says that when you were a commoner, you would keep your place. Now that you are a courtier, she suspects you of having aspirations.’ A slight smile played across her lips.
‘Aspirations?’ Pug said, not understanding.
Carline said shyly, ‘She thinks that you have ambitions to rise to higher station. She thinks you seek to influence me in certain ways.’
Pug stared at Carline. Abruptly comprehension dawned on him, and he said, ‘Oh,’ then, ‘Oh! Your Highness.’ He stood up. ‘I never would do such a thing. I mean, I would never think to . . . I mean . . .’
Carline abruptly stood and threw Pug an exasperated look. ‘Boys! You’re all idiots.’ Lifting the hem of her long green gown, she stormed off.
Pug sat down, more perplexed than before by the girl. It was almost as if . . . He let the thought trail away. The more it seemed possible that she could care for him, the more anxious the prospect made him. Carline was quite a bit more than the fairy-tale Princess he had imagined a short time back. With the stamp of one little foot, she could raise a storm in a saltcellar, one that could shake the keep. A girl of complex mind was the Princess, with a contradictory nature tossed into the bargain.
Further musing was interrupted by Tomas, dashing by. Catching a glimpse of his friend, he leapt up the three steps and halted breathlessly before him. ‘The Duke wants us. The man from the ship has died.’
They hastily assembled in the Duke’s council chamber, except Kulgan, who had not answered when a messenger knocked at his door. It was supposed he was too deeply engrossed in the problem of the magic scroll.
Father Tully looked pale and drawn. Pug was shocked by his appearance. Only a little more than an hour had passed, yet the old cleric looked as if he had spent several sleepless nights. His eyes were redrimmed and deep-set in dark circles. His face was ashen, and a light sheen of perspiration showed across his brow.
Borric poured the priest a goblet of wine from a decanter on a sideboard and handed it to him. Tully hesitated, for he was an abstemious man, then drank deeply. The others resumed their former positions around the table.
Borric looked at Tully and said, simply, ‘Well?’
‘The soldier from the beach regained consciousness for only a few minutes, a final rally before the end. During that time I had the opportunity to enter into a mind contact with him. I stayed with him through his last feverish dreams, trying to learn as much about him as I could. I nearly didn’t remove the contact in time.’
Pug paled. During the mind contact, the priest’s mind and the subject become as one. If Tully had not broken contact with the man when he died, the priest could have died or been rendered mad, for the two men shared feelings, fears, and sensations as well as thought. He now understood Tully’s exhausted state: the old priest had spent a great deal of energy maintaining the link with an uncooperative subject and had been party to the dying man’s pain and terror.
Tully took another drink of wine, then continued. ‘If this man’s dying dreams were not the product of fevered imaginings, then I fear his appearance heralds a grave situation.’ Tully took another sip of wine and pushed the goblet aside. ‘The man’s name was Xomich. He was a simple soldier of a nation, Honshoni, in something called the Empire of Tsuranuanni.’
Borric said, ‘I have never heard of this nation, nor of that Empire.’
Tully nodded and said, ‘I would have been surprised if you had. That man’s ship came from no sea of Midkemia.’ Pug and Tomas looked at each other, and Pug felt a chilling sensation, as, apparently, did Tomas, whose face had turned pale.
Tully