Shards of a Broken Crown (21 page)

Soldiers hurried
along to take Pug and Nakor’s horses. The men were dressed in
both the garb of the Royal Pathfinders and the Crimson Eagles. Pug
and Nakor dismounted, and Pug asked one of the soldiers where Captain
Subai’s tent was located. The soldier indicated a large tent in
the very center of the camp, and Pug gave his thanks.

Pug turned to
the Sergeant leading his escort, and said, “Thank you,
Sergeant. Rest tonight, then lead your men back in the morning. We’ll
be fine here.”

The Sergeant
saluted. He turned and gave the order to dismount, and asked the
second soldier where his men could care for their mounts. As the
soldier directed the Sergeant, Pug and Nakor walked toward the
command tent.

There was a
single soldier sitting in a camp chair outside the tent. As they drew
near, Pug saw that it wasn’t a lazy sentry, but rather the
Pathfinder Commander himself. He was hard at work oiling up a leather
harness. Pug had heard that Pathfinders tended their own equipment
and didn’t relegate anything to the army’s usual cadre of
blacksmiths, tanners, and armorers. Erik had once commented to Pug
that they took very good care of their horses, an area in which Erik
was an expert. He glanced up and recognized the magician.

“Duke
Pug,” he said slowly as he stood and saluted. “To what do
I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Pug said, “To
Prince Patrick’s instructions, I’m afraid.”

The Captain, a
gaunt man with prematurely grey hair and a face and hands the color
of tanned leather, stood. “What orders?”

“I’m
to venture down to the flatland to the east of here, then strike up
into the Thunderhell Steppes, find the Saaur, and convince them not
to attack our forces again.”

The Captain
raised an eyebrow in his most expressive reaction since Pug had first
encountered him in Krondor. “Good luck to you, m’lord.”
He put down the harness and said, “Will you be needing anything
from me or my men?”

Pug said, “I
regret to say I must impose on you for an escort. The Prince thought
it necessary.”

The Captain
smiled. “From what I’ve heard of you, I find that
difficult to believe. Still, if the Prince commands, we obey. I’ll
have a patrol ready to accompany you at first light. Until then
you’ll have to make do with a rough camp. I’ll have a
couple of my men double up in a tent, so you and your friend here can
share one.”

“Thanks,”
said Pug. He glanced at Nakor. “You’ll sleep alone
tonight, my friend, as I plan on staying another night with my wife.”

“Going to
flit back down to Darkmoor?”

“No,
Miranda’s at Sorcerer’s Isle, and I want to see her
again.”

Nakor grinned.
“I remember what it was like to be in love.” He sighed.
“That was a while back, though.”

Pug took out a
Tsurani transportation orb and said, “This is the last one. I’m
going to have Miranda teach me the trick of getting around without
one of these things.” He started looking around the landscape.
To attempt to use the orb to go to a destination not well known to
the user’s mind was almost certain death. “Let me take a
few minutes and get the location of this camp fixed in my mind so I
can find my way back here in the morning.”

“By all
means,” said Nakor. “But don’t break it,” he
added with a laugh. “It’s going to take her a while to
teach you, and somehow I don’t imagine you’re going to
start learning tonight!” Pug ignored Nakor and wandered off,
looking intently at the surrounding landmarks. Nakor turned to Subai.
“Things quiet around here, Captain?”

Subai nodded.
“The invaders hold the other side of the northern passes, but
they’re not trying to cross the ridge of the mountains. Our
patrols can get within a few hundred yards of their positions before
they come swarming out, but they only chase us a little way. They
seem content to stay where they are.”

“Undoubtedly,”
said Nakor. “They’re fortifying defenses before every
avenue of attack.”

Subai nodded.

“I suppose
you’ve found a few ways over the mountains they haven’t
found out yet.”

“A few.
Mostly goat trails and footpaths. There are a couple of places we
might infiltrate a squad or two, potentially put men at their back as
we drive north, but no place we could stage on the other side for a
major offensive.” The Captain glanced westward, as if seeing
through the mountains to where the enemy was on the other side. “Over
there, just a week’s ride if it were a straight path, lies
Sarth. If we could somehow get inside there, seize the old abbey
above the town, and stage there, we could launch a flank attack in
support of any forces coming from the south and clear out the
invaders in a few days, rather than the weeks it’s going to
take.”

Nakor said,
“Maybe there’s a way.”

“What are
you suggesting?” asked the Captain.

“I’m
trying to remember a story Duke James told me a long time ago.”
He was silent a while, then said, “I need to send a message to
Duke Arutha. Do you have something I can write with?”

“In my
tent,” said Subai.

“Good,”
said Nakor, heading inside.

Subai looked up
to see where Pug was now, and saw that the magician had vanished.

Miranda looked
up and saw Pug standing there. She jumped up, hurried to him, and
threw her arms around him. “I missed you.”

Pug echoed the
sentiment. They hadn’t been apart since the end of fighting
almost six months earlier, and it had taken him almost a week to
reach Subai’s camp in the mountains.

“How are
things around here?” Pug asked after their embrace.

Miranda said,
“Much as we left it. Gathis conducts the daily business of the
island in an exemplary fashion and it seems Robert d’Lyes has
become something of an organizer around here. He’s taken to
reestablishing the class schedule that lapsed with your last
departure.”

Pug smiled.
“Good. I’ll have to speak to him before I leave in the
morning.”

She kissed him.
“But not until after dinner. I want you to myself for the next
few hours.”

He smiled and
said, “Not until then.”

They spent the
next two hours alone, then sent word to have supper brought to their
quarters. After dining, Gathis appeared outside the door as servants
were removing the dinner trays.

“Master
Pug,” he said in greeting. The tall goblinlike creature was
always formal when addressing anyone, from Pug to the most menial of
servants. Though, even the most menial of servants on this island was
a student of magic, from one end of Midkemia to the other, and from
distant worlds.

“Gathis,”
Pug acknowledged. “How is everything?”

“That is
why I wished to speak to you. I fear something is amiss.”

“What is
that?”

“It would
be better if you and Mistress Miranda were to accompany me.”

Pug and Miranda
exchanged glances, but said nothing, nodding to Gathis, who turned
and led them out the door and along the long hallway which separated
Pug’s personal quarters from the rest of the large central
house that dominated Villa Beata—the Beautiful House as it was
known in the ancient language of Queg.

He led them
outside and across a meadow, and instantly Pug knew where he was
leading them. As before, when he reached a grassy hillside, Gathis
waved his hand and a cave materialized. They entered and again Pug
saw the small altar upon which rested the statue of Sarig, the lost
God of Magic. Miranda gasped. The first time they had seen the
statue, the features upon it resembled those of her father, Macros
the Black. “The face is blank!”

“Yes,
mistress,” said Gathis. “I came here a few days ago and
saw what you see now.”

“What does
it mean?” asked Miranda.

Pug said, “The
gods are waiting.”

“For
what?” she asked, touching the statue.

Pug’s
voice was soft. “For Sarig’s new avatar, his new human
agent on this world.”

Miranda said,
“Does this mean you?”

“No,”
said Pug. “When I lay near death in the healing glade of
Elvandar, when Lims-Kragma spoke to me, I was given three choices.
Death was the first.” He looked at Miranda. “I could not
leave you.”

She smiled.

“The
second choice was eternal life, but the price was becoming Sarig’s
next avatar. I would have replaced your father.”

“I don’t
think I would have cared much for that.” Then she looked at
Pug. “What was the third choice?”

Pug said,
“Nothing I care to talk about.”

Anger flared up
in Miranda’s voice as she said, “Tell me!”

“I will
die someday.”

She moved around
to stand directly before him, between Pug and the statue. “You’re
not telling me something. What?”

“Only that
at the end of my life I will know . . . hardship.”

Miranda’s
eyes widened. “What have we known already?”

“That was
how I looked at it. If we can get through what we’ve already
survived, what more should I worry about.”

Coolly, she
said, “Are you telling me everything?”

Pug shrugged.
“I’m probably forgetting something.” With a light
tone he said, “Remember, I was almost dead at the time I had
this conversation.”

Gathis said,
“The future is not fixed, though it can be difficult to change
if events gain enough momentum.”

Pug nodded, and
Miranda said, “I have no idea what that means. What are you
hiding?”

Pug said, “Only
that in exchange for a very long life and a great deal of power I
will have to eventually pay a high price.”

Miranda said,
“There’s no ‘only’ about that.”

Gathis said, “We
all have prices to pay.”

Pug changed the
subject. “You’ve been the keeper of this shrine for ages,
Gathis. What do you think this means?”

“I think a
time of change is upon us, Master Pug, and soon someone will present
himself to fill the void left by Macros’s death.”

Pug said, “I
think you are right. Perhaps it’s one of the students.”
Pug remained silent a moment, then said, “Someone will find
this shrine.”

Gathis said, “I
have evolved a very subtle but powerful spell to disguise it, Master
Pug.”

“I know. I
lived on this island for decades and never suspected it was here, but
whoever is fated to become Sarig’s next tool will somehow find
this place.”

Gathis pondered
that observation, and said, “I think that is a likely
possibility.”

“We will
await that day. In the meantime,” he said to Miranda, “let’s
return to the house. I want to see a little of how things are running
here, then I want to rest before returning to Subai’s camp in
the morning.”

They returned to
the house, and as they crossed the center courtyard, they encountered
a group of students sitting around the fountain, enjoying the quiet
spring evening. As Pug approached, they all respectfully rose, save
for a Brunangee Fire Singer whose snakclike lower body made it
impossible for her to do more than raise her roughly humanoid upper
torso in an approximation of a slight bow. Pug waved them all back to
where they had sat.

Robert d’Lyes
said, “Pug, it is good to see you again.”

“How have
you found life on our tidy little island?” asked Pug. He had
brought the young magician along with Miranda to the island during
the winter. Robert had resigned as a member of the council at
Stardock and had nowhere else to go. Patrick seemed indifferent to
the idea of a court magician, so Pug decided to employ him at the
island.

“It’s
a wonderful place,” said Robert. “I’ve learned more
about my arts in the last month than I did in the previous two years
at Stardock.”

Miranda and Pug
glanced at one another. “That’s impressive,” said
Pug, motioning for Gathis and Miranda to sit on a nearby bench. “You
were the youngest member of the council and rose faster in the
learning of your craft than any student we had at Stardock. And
you’re learning even faster here?”

Robert smiled.
He had chosen to affect a beard in imitation of Pug, a flattery Pug
didn’t find appealing, but which he chose not to comment upon.
“It’s astonishing. What I find even more wonderful is
that with practitioners of magic from other worlds I’m learning
things Chalmers and Kalied never would have dreamt of.”

Pug was now
genuinely intrigued. “Oh, really? Care to give me an example?”

Robert nodded,
his youthful enthusiasm clearly evident. He turned to the Fire Singer
and said, “Takkek snowed me something a few days ago that I’ve
been practicing.” He moved away from the group and started to
sing. It was a faint sound, as if half-whispered, but clearly
singing. The words were impossible to understand, as if the mind
refused to grasp them and they were forgotten as soon as they were
heard. Yet there was a pattern to them, a mildly hypnotic rhythm that
caused Pug to glance around at the other students. They were sitting
and watching with rapt expressions as Robert continued his song.

A flame appeared
in the air, a foot or so before Robert’s face. It was the size
of a baby’s finger, but clearly it was a flame. It flickered
and danced in the wind, then suddenly went out. Robert looked tired,
but elated, as he said, “I’m just now starting to
understand a little of what Takkek has shown me, but give me time.”

“I am
impressed,” said Pug. “Under the old labels used by the
Tsurani Assembly, that’s Lesser Path magic, and should be close
to impossible for you to perform.”

Robert laughed.
“I’m convinced Nakor was right: there is no magic, just
tricks, and if we open our minds, we can learn anything.”

Rising, Pug
said, “Well, enjoy the evening and don’t set fire to the
house. Miranda and I are off. Oh, Robert,” said Pug, turning to
face the student.

“Yes,
sir?”