Magician (38 page)

When they were a half day’s ride
short of Salador, they encountered a patrol of city guards. The guard
captain rode forward. Pulling up his horse, he shouted, “What
business brings the Prince’s guard to the lands of Salador?”
There was little love lost between the two cities, and the
Krondorians rode without a heraldic banner. His tone left no doubt
that he regarded their presence as an infringement upon his
territory.

Duke Borric threw back his cloak,
revealing his tabard. “Carry word to your master that Borric,
Duke of Crydee, approaches the city and would avail himself of Lord
Kerus’s hospitality.”

The guard captain was taken aback. He
stammered, “My apologies, Your Grace. I had no idea . . . there
was no banner . . . .”

Arutha said dryly, “We mislaid it
in a forest sometime back.”

The captain looked confused. “My
lord?”

Borric said, “Never mind,
Captain. Just send word to your master.”

The captain saluted. “At once,
your Grace.” He wheeled his horse and signaled for a rider to
come forward. He gave him instructions, and the soldier spurred his
horse toward the city and soon galloped out of sight.

The captain returned to the Duke. “If
Your Grace will permit, my men are at your disposal.”

The Duke looked at the travel-weary
Krondorians, all of whom seemed to be enjoying the captain’s
discomfort. “I think thirty men-at-arms are sufficient,
Captain. The Salador city guard is renowned for keeping the environs
near the city free of brigands.”

The captain, not realizing he was being
made sport of, seemed to puff up at this. “Thank you, Your
Grace.”

The Duke said, “You and your men
may continue your patrol.”

The captain saluted again and returned
to his men. He shouted the order to move out, and the guard column
moved past the Duke’s party. As they passed, the captain
ordered a salute, and lances were dipped toward the Duke. Borric
returned the salute with a lazy wave of his hand, then when the
guards had passed, said, “Enough of this foolishness, let us to
Salador.”

Arutha laughed and said, “Father,
we have need of men like that in the West.”

Borric turned and said, “Oh? How
so?”

As the horses moved forward, Arutha
said, “To polish shields and boots.”

The Duke smiled and the Krondorians
laughed. The western soldiers held those of the East in low regard.
The East had been pacified long before the West had been opened to
Kingdom expansion, and there was little trouble in the Eastern Realm
requiring real skill in warcraft. The Prince of Krondor’s
guards were battle-proved veterans, while those of Salador were
considered by the guardsmen from the West to do their best soldiering
on the parade ground.

Soon they saw signs that they were
nearing the city: cultivated farmland, villages, roadside taverns,
and wagons laden with trade goods. By sundown they could see the
walls of distant Salador.

As they entered the city, a full
company of Duke Kerus’s own household guards lined the streets
to the palace. As in Krondor, there was no castle, for the need for a
small, easily defensible keep had passed as the lands around became
civilized.

Riding through the city, Pug realized
how much of a frontier town Crydee was. In spite of Lord Bornc’s
political power, he was still Lord of a frontier province.

Along the streets, citizens stood
gawking at the western Duke from the wild frontier of the Far Coast.
Some cheered, for it seemed like a parade, but most stood quietly,
disappointed that the Duke and his party looked like other men,
rather than blood-drenched barbarians.

When they reached the courtyard of the
palace, household servants ran to take their horses. A household
guard showed the soldiers from Krondor to the soldiers’
commons, where they would rest before returning to the Prince’s
city. Another, with a captain’s badge of rank on his tunic, led
Borric’s party up the steps of the building.

Pug looked with wonder, for this palace
was even larger than the Prince’s in Krondor. They walked
through several outer rooms, then reached an inner courtyard. Here
fountains and trees decorated a garden, beyond which stood the
central palace Pug realized that the building they had passed through
was simply one of the buildings surrounding the Duke’s living
quarters. He wondered what use Lord Kerus could possibly have for so
many buildings and such a large staff.

They crossed the garden courtyard and
mounted another series of steps toward a reception committee that
stood in the door of the central palace. Once this building might
have been a citadel, protecting the surrounding town, but Pug
couldn’t bring himself to imagine it as it might have been ages
ago, for numerous renovations over the years had transformed an
ancient keep into a glittering thing of glass and marble.

Duke Kerus’s chamberlain, an old
dried-up stick of a man with a quick eye, knew every noble worth
noting—from the borders of Kesh in the south to Tyr-Sog in the
north—by sight. His memory for faces and facts had often saved
Duke Kerus from embarrassment. By the time Borric had made his way up
the broad stairway from the courtyard, the chamberlain had provided
Kerus with a few personal facts and a quick evaluation of the right
amount of flattery required.

Duke Kerus took Borric’s hand.
“Ah, Lord Borric, you do me great honor by this unexpected
visit. If you had only sent word of your arrival, I would have
prepared a more fitting welcome.”

They entered the antechamber of the
palace, the Dukes in front. Borric said, “I am sorry to put you
to any trouble, Lord Kerus, but I am afraid our mission is dependent
on speed, and that the formal courtesies will have to be put aside. I
bear messages for the King and must put to sea for Rillanon as soon
as is possible.”

“Of course, Lord Borric, but you
will surely be able to stay for a short while, say a week or two?”

“I regret not. I would put to sea
tonight if I could.”

“That is indeed sorry news. I so
hoped that you could guest with us for a time.”

The party reached the Duke’s
audience hall, where the chamberlain gave instructions to a company
of household servants, who jumped to the task of readying rooms for
the guests. Entering the vast hall, with its high vaulted ceiling,
gigantic chandeliers, and great arched glass windows, Pug felt
dwarfed. The room was the largest he had ever seen, greater than the
hall of the Prince of Krondor.

A huge table was set with fruits and
wine, and the travelers fell to with vigor. Pug sat down with little
grace, his whole body one mass of aches. He was turning into a
skilled horseman simply from long hours in the saddle, but that fact
didn’t ease his tired muscles.

Lord Kerus pressed the Duke for the
cause of his hurried journey, and between mouthfuls of fruit and
drinks of wine, Borric filled him in on the events of the last three
months. After he was done, Kerus looked distressed. “This is
grave news indeed, Lord Borric. Things are unsettled in the Kingdom.
I am sure the Prince has told you of some of the trouble that has
occurred since last you came to the East.”

“Yes, he did. But reluctantly and
in only the most cursory manner Remember, it has been thirteen years
since I journeyed to the capital, at Rodric’s coronation when I
came to renew my vassalage. He seemed a bright enough young man then,
able enough to learn to govern. But from what I’ve heard in
Krondor, there seems to have been a change.”

Kerus glanced around the room, then
waved away his servants. Looking pointedly at Borric’s
companions, he raised one eyebrow questioningly.

Lord Borric said, “These have my
trust and will not betray a confidence.”

Kerus nodded. Loudly he said, “If
you would like to stretch your legs before retiring, perhaps you’d
care to see my garden?”

Borric frowned and was about to speak
when Arutha put his hand upon his father’s arm, nodding
agreement.

Borric said, “That sounds
interesting. Despite the cold I could use a short walk.”

The Duke motioned for Kulgan, Meecham,
and Gardan to remain, but Lord Kerus indicated Pug should join them.
Borric looked surprised, but nodded agreement. They left through a
small set of doors to the garden, and once outside, Kerus whispered,
“It will look less suspicious if the boy comes with us. I can’t
even trust my own servants anymore. The King has agents everywhere.”

Borric seemed infuriated. “The
King has placed agents in your household?”

“Yes, Lord Borric, there has been
a great change in our King. I know Erland has not told you the entire
story, but it is one you must know.”

The Duke and his companions watched
Duke Kerus, who looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat as he
glanced around the snow covered garden. Between the light from the
palace windows and the large moon above, the garden was a winterscape
of white and blue crystals, undisturbed by footprints.

Kerus pointed to a set of tracks in the
snow and said, “I made those this afternoon when I came here to
think about what I could safely tell you.” He glanced around
one more time, seeing if anyone could overhear the conversation, then
continued. “When Rodric the Third died, everyone expected
Erland would take the crown. After the official mourning, the Priests
of Ishap called all the possible heirs forward to present their
claims. You were expected to be one of them.”

Borric nodded “I know the custom.
I was late getting to the city. I would have renounced the claim in
any event, so there was no importance in my absence.”

Kerus nodded. “History might have
been different had you been here, Borric.” He lowered his
voice. “I risk my neck by saying this, but many, even those of
us here in the East, would have urged you to take the crown.”

Borric’s expression showed he did
not like hearing this, but Kerus pressed on. “By the time you
got here, all the back-hallway politics had been done—with most
lords content to give the crown to Erland—but it was a tense
day and a half while the issue was in doubt. Why the elder Rodric
didn’t name an heir I don’t know. But when the priests
had chased away all the distant kin with no real claim, three men
stood before them, Erland, young Rodric, and Guy du Bas-Tyra. The
priests asked for their declarations, and each gave them in turn.
Rodric and Erland both had solid claims, while Guy was there as a
matter of form, as you would have been had you arrived in time.”

Arutha interjected dryly, “The
time of mourning ensures no western Lord will be King.”

Borric threw a disapproving glance at
his son, but Kerus said, “Not entirely. If there had been any
doubt to the rights of succession, the priest would have held off the
ceremony until your father arrived, Arutha. It has been done before.”

He looked at Borric and lowered his
voice. “As I said, it was expected Erland would take the crown.
But when the crown was presented to him, he refused, conceding the
claim to Rodric. No one at that time knew of Erland’s ill
health, so most lords judged the decision a generous affirmation of
Rodric’s claim, as the only son of the King. With Guy du
Bas-Tyra’s backing the boy, the assembled Congress of Lords
ratified his succession. Then the real infighting began, until at
last your late wife’s uncle was named as King’s Regent.”

Borric nodded. He remembered the battle
over who would be named the then boy King’s Regent. His
despised cousin Guy had nearly won the position, but Borric’s
timely arrival and his support of Caldric of Rillanon, along with the
support of Duke Brucal of Yabon and Prince Erland, had swung the
majority of votes in the congress away from Guy.

“For the next five years there
was only an occasional border clash with Kesh. Things were quiet.
Eight years ago”—Kerus paused to glance around
again—”Rodric embarked upon a program of public
improvements, as he calls them, upgrading roads and bridges, building
dams, and the like. At first they were of little burden, but the
taxes have been increased yearly until now the peasants and freemen,
even the minor nobles, are being bled white. The King has expanded
his programs until now he is rebuilding the entire capital, to make
it the greatest city known in the history of man, he says.

“Two years ago a small delegation
of nobles came to the King and asked him to abjure this excessive
spending and ease the burden upon the people. The King flew into a
rage, accused the nobles of being traitors, and had them summarily
executed.”

Borric’s eyes widened. The snow
under his boot crunched dryly as he turned suddenly. “We’ve
heard nothing of this in the West!”

“When Erland heard the news, he
went immediately to the King and demanded reparation for the families
of the nobles who were executed, and a lessening of the taxes. The
King—or so it is rumored—was ready to seize his uncle,
but was restrained by the few counselors he still trusted. They
advised His Majesty that such an act, unheard of in the history of
the Kingdom, would surely cause the western lords to rise up against
the King.”

Borric’s expression darkened
“They were right. Had that boy hanged Erland, the Kingdom would
have been irretrievably split.”

“Since that time the Prince has
not set foot in Rillanon, and the business of the Kingdom is handled
by aides, for the two men will not speak to one another.”

The Duke looked skyward, and his voice
became troubled. “This is much worse than I had heard. Erland
told me of the taxes and his refusal to impose them in the West. He
said that the King was agreed, for he understood the need of
maintaining the garrisons of the North and West.”

Kerus slowly shook his head no. “The
King agreed only when his aides painted pictures of goblin armies
pouring down from the Northlands and plundering the cities of his
Kingdom.”