Magician (104 page)

Pug crossed over to the bed she sat
upon “You amaze me. You have been through so much tonight, and
yet you fret about me.”

She took his hand “When I am with
you, everything is as it should be. But you look as if the weight of
the world sits upon you.”

“The weight of two worlds, I
fear, love.”

They were awakened by the sound of
trumpets. As they rose from the bed, Pug and Katala were startled by
Laurie rushing into the tent. From the light behind him as he tossed
aside the tent flap, it was evident that they had slept late. “The
King comes!” He held out some clothing to Pug. “Put these
on.”

Seeing the wisdom of not walking the
camp in the black robe, Pug complied Katala pulled her robe on over
her head, while Laurie turned his back. She went over to William, who
was sitting up in his bed. looking frightened. He quickly calmed down
and started to pull on Fantus’s tail, causing the drake to
snort a protest over such indignities.

Pug and Laurie left the tent and walked
to the commander’s pavilion, overlooking the camp of the
Kingdom armies. Away to the southeastern end of the camp they could
see the royal party quickly approaching, and could hear the cheers of
the soldiers as they saw the royal banner pass. Thousands of soldiers
took up the cheer, for they had never seen the King before, and his
presence served to lift their spirits, badly sagging since the rout
by the Tsurani.

Laurie and Pug stood off to one side of
the command tent, but close enough to ensure they could hear what
transpired. Duke Brucal kept his eyes on the King, but Lyam noticed
the two and nodded his approval of their presence.

The two lines of Royal Household Guard
rode up to the front of the tent, then parted so the King might ride
to the fore. Rodric, King of the Realm, rode on a huge black
war-horse, who pawed at the ground as he came to a halt before the
two dukes. Rodric was dressed in a gaudy array of gold-trimmed battle
armor, with many flutings and reliefs fashioned into the breastplate.
His helm was golden, with a circlet crown. A royal purple plume flew
from the crest, blown by the morning wind.

When he had been sitting for a moment,
he removed his helm and handed it to a page. He stayed atop his horse
and studied the two commanders, looking down at them with a crooked
smile. “What, have you no greeting for your liege lord?”

The dukes bowed. Brucal said, “Your
Majesty. We were just surprised. We had no word.”

Rodric laughed, and the sound was
tinged with madness. “That is because I sent no word. I wanted
to surprise you.” He looked at Lyam. “Who is this in the
tabard of Crydee?”

“Lyam, Your Majesty,”
answered Brucal. “The Duke of Crydee.”

The King shouted, “He is Duke
only if I say he is Duke.” With a sudden change of mood, he
said, in solicitous tones, “I am sorry to hear of your father’s
death.” He then giggled. “But he was a traitor, you know.
I was going to hang him.” Lyam tensed at Rodric’s words,
and Brucal gripped his arm.

The King saw and screamed, “You
would attack your King? Traitor! You are one with your father and the
others. Guards, seize him!” He pointed at the young man.

Royal guards dismounted, and the
soldiers of the West who stood nearby moved to stop them. “Stop!”
commanded Brucal, and the western soldiers stopped. He turned to
Lyam. “On your word, we have civil war,” he hissed.

Lyam said, “I submit, Your
Majesty.” The western soldiers grumbled.

The King said coldly, “I shall
have to hang you, you know. Take him to his tent and keep him there.”
The guards complied. The King turned his attention to Brucal. “Are
you loyal to me, my lord Brucal, or shall there be a new Duke in
Yabon as well as Crydee?”

“I am ever loyal to the crown,
Your Majesty,” came the answer.

The King dismounted. “Yes, I
believe that.” He giggled again. “You knew my father
thought highly of you, didn’t you?” He took the Duke’s
arm, and they entered the command tent.

Laurie touched Pug’s shoulder and
said, “We had best stay in our tents. If one of those courtiers
recognizes me, I may join the Duke on the gibbet.”

Pug nodded. “Get Kulgan and
Meecham, and have them meet us in my tent.”

Laurie hurried off, and Pug returned to
his tent Katala was feeding William from a bowl of stew from the
night before. “I fear we have found another pot of trouble,
love,” Pug said. “The King is in camp, and he is madder
than I dreamed possible. We must leave soon, for he has ordered Lyam
imprisoned.”

Katala looked shocked. “Where
will we go?”

“I can manage to take us to
Crydee, to Prince Arutha I know the court of Castle Crydee as well as
if there were a pattern there I should have no trouble transporting
us.”

Laurie, Meecham, and Kulgan joined them
a few minutes later, and Pug outlined his plan for escape Kulgan
shook his head. “You take the boy and Katala, Pug, but I must
stay.”

Meecham added, “And I.”

Pug looked incredulous. “Why?”

“I served Lyam’s father,
and now I serve him. If the King tries to execute Lyam, there will be
fighting. The Armies of the West will not stand idly by and watch
Lyam hanged. The King has only the Royal Guard, and they will be
easily defeated. Once that happens, it is civil war. Bas-Tyra will
lead the Armies of the East. Lyam will need my aid.”

Meecham said, “The issue won’t
be quickly decided. The Armies of the West are veteran, but they’re
tired. There’s little spirit left in them. The Armies of the
East are fresh, and Black Guy is the best general in the Kingdom.
Lyam’s unproved. It’ll be a long struggle.” Pug
understood what they were saying. “It may not reach that point,
though. Brucal seems ready to follow Lyam’s lead, but if he
changes his mind? Who knows if Ylith, Tyr-Sog, and the others will
follow Lyam without Yabon’s lead?”

Kulgan sighed. “Brucal will not
waver. He hates Bas-Tyra as much as Borric did, though for less
personal reasons. He sees Guy’s hand in every move to break the
West. I think the Duke of Yabon would happily take Rodric’s
head, but even so, Lyam may submit rather than risk a civil war and
lose the West to the Tsurani. We shall have to see what passes.

“Which is all the more reason you
must go to Crydee, Pug. If Lyam dies, then Arutha is heir to the
crown. Once begun, the King cannot stop the killing until Arutha is
dead. Even Martin—whose claim would be blemished by his
illegitimacy—and Carline would be hunted down and killed.
Perhaps Anita as well. Rodric would not risk a western heir to the
throne. Upon Lyam’s death, the bloodletting will not end until
either Rodric or Arutha sits the throne of the Kingdom uncontested.
You are the most powerful magician in the Kingdom.” Pug started
to protest “I know enough of the arts to know your skills from
the events you related to us. And I remember your promise as a boy.
You are capable of feats unmatched by any in our world. Arutha will
have grave need of your aid, for he would not let his brother’s
death go unpunished. Crydee, Carse, and Tulan will march once the
Tsurani have been dealt with. Others, especially Brucal, would join
them. Then we would have civil war.”

Meecham spat out of the tent. He froze,
holding aside the tent flap for a moment, then said, “I think
the argument is over. Look.”

They joined him at the opening. None
had the franklin’s sharp eyesight, and at first they couldn’t
see what he was pointing out. Then slowly they recognized the cloud
of dust hanging in the air, far to the southeast. It spread across
the horizon for miles, a dirty brown ribbon that ran below the blue
of the sky.

The franklin turned to look at the
others “The Armies of the East.”

They stood near the command pavilion,
among a group of LaMutian soldiers. With Laurie, Kulgan, Pug, and
Meecham was Earl Vandros of LaMut, the former cavalry officer who had
commanded the raid through the valley years ago, when they had first
seen the rift. He had gained the title upon his father’s death,
less than a year after Pug’s capture, and had proven to be one
of the Kingdom’s most able field commanders.

A company of nobles was riding up the
hill toward the pavilion. The King and Brucal stood waiting for them.
Next to each lord rode a standard-bearer, who held the banner of that
noble Vandros announced the name of each army represented. “Rodez,
Timons, Sadara, Ran, Cibon, they’re all here.” He turned
to Kulgan. “I doubt there are a thousand soldiers left between
here and Rillanon.” Laurie said, “There is one whose
banner I don’t see. Bas-Tyra.” Vandros looked. “Salador,
Deep Taunton, Pointer’s Head . . . no, you are right. The
golden eagle on black is not among the standards.”

Meecham said, “Black Guy is no
fool. He is already upon the throne of Krondor. Should Lyam be
hanged, and Rodric fall in battle, it would be only a short step to
the throne in Rillanon.”

Vandros looked back at the gathering
nobles. “Nearly the entire Congress of Lords is present. Should
they return to Krondor without the King, then Guy would be King in
short order. Many of these are his men.”

Pug said, “Who is that under the
banner of Salador? It is not Lord Kerus.”

Vandros spat upon the ground. “It
is Richard, formerly Baron of Dolth, now Duke of Salador. The King
hung Kerus, and his family fled to Kesh. Now Richard rules the third
most powerful duchy in the East. He is one of Guy’s favorites.”

When the nobles, were assembled before
the King, Richard of Salador, a red-faced bear of a man, said, “My
liege, we are assembled. Where are we to camp?”

“Camp? We make no camp, my lord
Duke We ride!” He turned to Lord Brucal. “Marshal the
Armies of the West, Brucal.” The Duke gave the signal, and
heralds ran through the camp, shouting the order to muster. The
battle drums and war trumpets were shortly sounding throughout the
western camp.

Vandros left to join his soldiers, and
soon there were few observers nearby. Kulgan, Pug, and the others
moved off to one side, keeping clear of the King’s gaze.

The King said to the assembled nobles,
“We have had nine years of the western commander’s tender
ways. I shall lead the attack that will drive the foe from out of our
lands.” He turned to Brucal. “In deference to your
advancing years, my lord Duke, I am giving command of the infantry to
Duke Richard. You will stay here.”

The old Duke of Yabon, who was in the
process of donning his armor, looked stung. He said nothing save,
“Your Majesty,” his tone cold and strained. He stiffly
turned and entered the command tent.

The King’s horse was brought, and
Rodric mounted. A page handed up his crowned helm, and the King
placed it upon his head. “The infantry shall follow as quickly
as possible. Now we ride!”

The King spurred his horse down the
hill, followed by the Royal Guard and the assembled nobles. When he
was out of sight, Kulgan turned to the others and said, “Now we
wait.”

The day grew long. Every hour that
passed was like a slowly unfolding day. They sat in Pug’s tent,
wondering what was occurring to the west.

The army had marched forward, under the
King’s banner, with drums and trumpets sounding. Over ten
thousand horsemen and twenty thousand foot soldiers had advanced upon
the Tsurani. There were only a few soldiers left in camp, the wounded
and an orderly company. The quiet outside was unnerving after the
almost constant camp noise of the previous day.

William had grown restless, and Katala
had taken him outside to play. Fantus welcomed the opportunity to
rest untroubled by his tireless playmate.

Kulgan sat quietly, puffing on his
pipe. He and Pug passed the time by occasionally speaking of matters
magical, but mostly were silent.

Laurie was the first to break the
tension. He stood and said, “I can’t take this waiting
anymore. I think we should go to Lord Lyam and help decide what is to
be done once the King returns.”

Kulgan waved him back into his seat.
“Lyam will do nothing, for he is his father’s son and
would not start a civil war, not here.”

Pug sat absently toying with a dagger.
“With the Armies of the East in camp, Lyam knows that an
outbreak of fighting would hand the West to the Tsurani and crown to
Bas-Tyra. He’ll walk to the gibbet and put the rope around his
own neck rather than see that.”

“It’s the worst kind of
foolishness,” countered Laurie.

“No,” answered Kulgan, “not
foolishness, minstrel, but a matter of honor. Lyam, like his father
before him, believes that the nobility have a responsibility to give
their lives’ work, and their lives if need be, for the Kingdom.
With Borric and Erland dead, Lyam is next in line for the throne. But
the succession is unclear, for Rodric has not named an heir. Lyam
could not bear to wear the crown if he would be thought a usurper
Arutha is another matter, for he would simply do what was expedient,
take the throne—though he would not wish to—and worry
about what was said of him when it was said.”

Pug nodded. “I think that Kulgan
has the right of things. I do not know the brothers as well as he,
but I think it might have been a better thing had the order of their
birthing been reversed. Lyam would make a good king, but Arutha would
make a great one. Men would follow Lyam to their deaths, but the
younger brother would use his shrewdness to keep them alive.”

“A fair assessment,”
conceded Kulgan. “If there is anyone who could find a way out
of this mess, it is Arutha. He has his father’s courage, but he
also has a mind as quick as Bas-Tyra’s. He could weather the
intrigues of court, though he hates them.” Kulgan smiled “When
they were boys, we called Arutha the ‘little storm cloud,’
for when he got angry, he would turn to black looks and rumbles,
while Lyam would be quick to anger, quick to fight, and quick to
forget.”