Magician (5 page)

If he was not chosen, Pug—like
the others—would be free to leave Crydee to try to find a craft
in another town or city. If he stayed, he would have to either farm
the Duke’s land as a franklin, or work one of the town’s
fishing boats. Both prospects were equally unattractive, but he
couldn’t imagine leaving Crydee.

Pug remembered what Megar had told him,
the night before. The old cook had cautioned him about fretting too
much over the Choosing. After all, he had pointed out, there were
many apprentices who never advanced to the rank of journeyman, and
when all things were taken into account, there were more men without
craft in Crydee than with. Megar had glossed over the fact that many
fishers’ and farmers’ sons forsook the choosing, electing
to follow their fathers. Pug wondered if Megar was so removed from
his own Choosing he couldn’t remember that the boys who were
not chosen would stand before the assembled company of Craftmasters,
householders, and newly chosen apprentices, under their gaze until
the last name was called and they were dismissed in shame.

Biting his lower lip, Pug tried to hide
his nervousness. He was not the sort to jump from the heights of
Sailor’s Grief should he not be chosen, as some had done in the
past, but he couldn’t bear the idea of facing those who had
been chosen.

Tomas, who stood next to his shorter
friend, threw Pug a smile. He knew Pug was fretting, but could not
feel entirely sympathetic as his own excitement mounted. His father
had admitted that he would be the first called by Swordmaster Fannon.
Moreover, the Swordmaster had confided that should Tomas do well in
training, he might be found a place in the Duke’s personal
guard. It would be a signal honor and would improve Tomas’s
chance for advancement, even earning him an officer’s rank
after fifteen or twenty years in the guard.

He poked Pug in the ribs with an elbow,
for the Duke’s herald had come out upon the balcony overlooking
the courtyard. The herald signaled to a guard, who opened the small
door in the great gate, and the Craftmasters entered. They crossed to
stand at the foot of the broad stairs of the keep. As was
traditional, they stood with their backs to the boys, waiting upon
the Duke.

The large oaken doors of the keep began
to swing out ponderously, and several guards in the Duke’s
brown and gold darted through to take up their positions on the
steps. Upon each tabard was emblazoned the golden gull of Crydee, and
above that a small golden crown, marking the Duke a member of the
royal family.

The herald shouted, “Hearken to
me! His Grace, Borric conDoin, third Duke of Crydee, Prince of the
Kingdom; Lord of Crydee, Carse, and Tulan; Warden of the West;
Knight-General of the King’s Armies; heir presumptive to the
throne of Rillanon.” The Duke stood patiently while the list of
offices was completed, then stepped forward into the sunlight.

Past fifty, the Duke of Crydee still
moved with the fluid grace and powerful step of a born warrior.
Except for the grey at the temples of his dark brown hair, he looked
younger than his age by twenty years. He was dressed from neck to
boot in black, as he had been for the last seven years, for he still
mourned the loss of his beloved wife, Catherine. At his side hung a
black-scabbarded sword with a silver hilt, and upon his hand his
ducal signet ring, the only ornamentation he permitted himself.

The herald raised his voice. “Their
Royal Highnesses, the Princes Lyam conDoin and Arutha conDoin, heirs
to the House of Crydee; Knight-Captains of the King’s Army of
the West; Princes of the royal house of Rillanon.”

Both sons stepped forward to stand
behind their father. The two young men were six and four years older
than the apprentices, the Duke having wed late, but the difference
between the awkward candidates for apprenticeship and the sons of the
Duke was much more than a few years in age. Both Princes appeared
calm and self-possessed.

Lyam, the older, stood on his father’s
right, a blond, powerfully built man. His open smile was the image of
his mother’s, and he looked always on the verge of laughter. He
was dressed in a bright blue tunic and yellow leggings and wore a
closely trimmed beard, as blond as his shoulder-length hair.

Arutha was to shadows and night as Lyam
was to light and day. He stood nearly as tall as his brother and
father, but while they were powerfully built, he was rangy to the
point of gauntness. He wore a brown tunic and russet leggings. His
hair was dark and his face clean-shaven. Everything about Arutha gave
one the feeling of quickness. His strength was in his speed: speed
with the rapier, speed with wit. His humor was dry and often sharp.
While Lyam was openly loved by the Duke’s subjects, Arutha was
respected and admired for his ability, but not regarded with warmth
by the people.

Together the two sons seemed to capture
most of the complex nature of their sire, for the Duke was capable of
both Lyam’s robust humor and Arutha’s dark moods. They
were nearly opposites in temperament, but both capable men who would
benefit the Duchy and Kingdom in years to come. The Duke loved both
his sons.

The herald again spoke. “The
Princess Carline, daughter of the royal house.”

The slim and graceful girl who made her
entrance was the same age as the boys who stood below, but already
beginning to show the poise and grace of one born to rule and the
beauty of her late mother. Her soft yellow gown contrasted strikingly
with her nearly black hair. Her eyes were Lyam’s blue, as their
mother’s had been, and Lyam beamed when his sister took their
father’s arm. Even Arutha ventured one of his rare half smiles,
for his sister was dear to him also.

Many boys in the keep harbored a secret
love for the Princess, a fact she often turned to her advantage when
there was mischief afoot. But even her presence could not drive the
day’s business from their minds.

The Duke’s court then entered.
Pug and Tomas could see that all the members of the Duke’s
staff were present, including Kulgan. Pug had glimpsed him in the
castle from time to time since the night of the storm, and they had
exchanged words once, Kulgan inquiring as to his well-being, but
mostly the magician was absent from sight. Pug was a little surprised
to see the magician, for he was not properly considered a full member
of the Duke’s household, but rather a sometime adviser. Most of
the time Kulgan was ensconced in his tower, hidden from view as he
did whatever magicians do in such places.

The magician was deep in conversation
with Father Tully, a priest of Astalon the Builder and one of the
Duke’s oldest aides. Tully had been adviser to the Duke’s
father and had seemed old then. He now appeared ancient—at
least to Pug’s youthful perspective—but his eyes betrayed
no sign of senility. Many a keep boy had been impaled upon the
pointed gaze of those clear grey eyes. His wit and tongue were
equally youthful, and more than once a keep boy had wished for a
session with Horsemaster Algon’s leather strap rather than a
tongue-lashing from Father Tully. The white-haired priest could
nearly strip the skin from a miscreant’s back with his caustic
words.

Nearby stood one who had experienced
Tully’s wrath upon occasion, Squire Roland, son of Baron
Tolburt of Tulan, one of the Duke’s vassals. He was companion
to both Princes, being the only other boy of noble birth in the keep.
His father had sent him to Crydee the year before, to learn something
of the management of the Duchy and the ways of the Duke’s
court. In the rather rough frontier court Roland discovered a home
away from home. He was already something of a rogue when he arrived,
but his infectious sense of humor and ready wit often eased much of
the anger that resulted from his prankish ways. It was Roland, more
often than not, who was Princess Carline’s accomplice in
whatever mischief she was embarked upon. With light brown hair and
blue eyes, Roland stood tall for his age. He was a year older than
the gathered boys and had played often with them over the last year,
as Lyam and Arutha were frequently busy with court duties. Tomas and
he had been boyish rivals at first, then fast friends, with Pug
becoming his friend by default, because where Tomas was, Pug was
certain to be nearby. Roland saw Pug fidgeting near the edge of the
assembled boys and gave him a slight nod and wink. Pug grinned
briefly, for while he was as often the butt of Roland’s jokes
as any other, he still found himself liking the wild young Squire.

After all his court was in attendance,
the Duke spoke. “Yesterday was the last day of the eleventh
year of the reign of our Lord King, Rodric the Fourth. Today is the
Festival of Banapis. The following day will find these boys gathered
here counted among the men of Crydee, boys no longer, but apprentices
and freemen. At this time it is proper for me to inquire if any among
you wishes to be released from service to the Duchy. Are there any
among you who so wish?” The question was formal in nature and
no response was expected, for few ever wished to leave Crydee. But
one boy did step forward.

The herald asked, “Who seeks
release of his service?”

The boy looked down, clearly nervous.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I am Robert, son of Hugen.”
Pug knew him, but not well. He was a netmender’s son, a town
boy, and they rarely mixed with the keep boys. Pug had played with
him upon a few occasions and had a sense the lad was well regarded.
It was a rare thing to refuse service, and Pug was as curious as any
to hear the reasons.

The Duke spoke kindly. “What is
your purpose, Robert, son of Hugen?”

“Your grace, my father is unable
to take me into his craft, for my four brothers are well able to
ascend to the craft as journeymen and masters after him, as are many
other netmender’s sons. My eldest brother is now married and
has a son of his own, so my family no longer has room for me in the
house. If I may not stay with my family and practice my father’s
craft, I beg your grace’s leave to take service as a sailor.”

The Duke considered the matter. Robert
was not the first village boy to be called by the lure of the sea.
“Have you found a master willing to take you into his company?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Captain
Gregson, master of the ship Green Deep from Margrave’s Port is
willing.”

“I know this man,” said the
Duke. Smiling slightly he said, “He is a good and fair man. I
recommend you into his service and wish you well in your travels. You
will be welcomed at Crydee whenever you return with your ship.”

Robert bowed, a little stiffly, and
left the courtyard, his part in the Choosing done. Pug wondered at
Robert’s adventuresome choice. In less than a minute the boy
had renounced his ties with his family and home and was now a citizen
of a city he had never seen. It was custom that a sailor was
considered to owe his loyalty to the city that was his ship’s
home port. Margrave’s Port was one of the Free Cities of Natal,
on the Bitter Sea, and was now Robert’s home.

The Duke indicated the herald should
continue.

The herald announced the first of the
Craftmasters, Sailmaker Holm, who called the names of three boys. All
three took service, and none seemed displeased. The Choosing went
smoothly, as no boy refused service. Each boy went to stand next to
his new master.

As the afternoon wore on and the number
of boys diminished, Pug became more and more uncomfortable. Soon
there were only two boys besides Pug and Tomas standing in the center
of the court. All the Craftmasters had called their apprentices, and
only two of the Duke’s household staff beside the Swordmaster
had not been heard from. Pug studied the group on the top of the
steps, his heart pounding with anxiety. The two Princes regarded the
boys, Lyam with a friendly smile, Arutha brooding on some thought or
another. The Princess Carline was bored by the entire affair and took
little pains to hide the fact, as she was whispering to Roland. This
brought a disapproving look from Lady Marna, her governess.

Horsemaster Algon came forth, his
brown-and-golden tabard bearing a small horsehead embroidered over
his left breast. The Horsemaster called the name of Rulf, son of
Dick, and the stocky son of the Duke’s stableman walked over to
stand behind the master. When he turned, he smiled condescendingly at
Pug. The two boys had never gotten along, the pock-scarred boy
spending many hours taunting and tormenting Pug. While they both
worked in the stable under Dick, the stableman had looked the other
way whenever his son sprang a trap on Pug, and the orphan was always
held responsible for any difficulty that arose. It had been a
terrible period for Pug, and the boy had vowed to refuse service
rather than face the prospect of working next to Rulf the rest of his
life.

Housecarl Samuel called the other boy,
Geoffry, who would become a member of the castle’s serving
staff, leaving Pug and Tomas standing alone. Swordmaster Fannon then
stepped forward, and Pug felt his heart stand still as the old
soldier called, “Tomas, son of Megar.”

There was a pause, and Pug waited to
hear his own name called, but Fannon stepped back and Tomas crossed
over to stand alongside him. Pug felt dwarfed by the gaze of all upon
him. The courtyard was now larger than he had ever remembered it, and
he felt ill fashioned and poorly dressed. His heart sank in his chest
as he realized that there was no Craftmaster or staff member present
who had not taken an apprentice. He would be the only boy uncalled.
Fighting back tears, he waited for the Duke to dismiss the company.

As the Duke started to speak, sympathy
for the boy showing clearly in his face, he was interrupted by
another voice. “Your Grace, if you would be so kind.”

All eyes turned to see Kulgan the
magician step forward. “I have need of an apprentice and would
call Pug, orphan of the keep, to service.”