Shards of a Broken Crown (24 page)

Jimmy said, “But
he can’t just toss aside his loyalty to the Kingdom.”

Dash said,
“Don’t be so sure.”

“I don’t
think he’s going to toss anything aside,” said Nakor as
they walked into the courtyard. “At least not lightly.”

Pug popped into
view on the bank of a river. “Hello!” he called.

A moment later a
voice called back, “Welcome, magician.”

“Have I
leave to enter?”

“You are
welcome in Elvandar,” came the reply as a figure stepped out
from behind a tree.

“Galain!”
said Pug as he waded across the sandy ford he always preferred to use
to enter the elven woods.

The young—by
elvish standards—warrior stood with the tip of his longbow on
the ground in a relaxed posture. “I came to watch when Miranda
showed up two days ago. I thought you might come by shortly.”

“I’m
glad you did. What news of the court?”

“The court
is in mourning. He who was your companion, and once was Duke of
Crydee, has left us for the Blessed Isles.”

Pug nodded.
Martin Longbow had been approaching a hundred years of age and had
lived his last here, with the people who had raised him as a child.
“Marcus and Margaret?” asked Pug, referring to Martin’s
children.

“They
came, with their mates and children, and they collected the body of
their father. The returned him to Crydee, to bury in a vault as is
their custom.”

“How long
ago?”

“Not long,
a few weeks. Marcus and his party left the banks of the river less
than two weeks ago.”

Pug nodded.
“That would explain why word had not reached us. It will take
weeks more for Marcus to send word by ship to Port Vykor. The Prince
will not have heard it.” He looked at the elf. “Thank you
for telling me. That one was a true friend, the last save Tomas, from
my first years in Crydee.”

“He was
well loved by us all.”

“How are
the others?”

“Save that
loss, all is well.” He shouldered his bow and said, “The
Queen is well, as is Tomas. Prince Calin and Redtree hunt together.
Despite the war to the east of us, the invaders do not try to cross
into Crydee, so they do not trouble our borders.”

“How is
Calis?”

Galain smiled.
“He most of all is well. Since his birth I have not known him
to be as happy as he is. I think the release of the Lifestone has
freed him from a dreadful part of his heritage.”

Pug said, “I
am impatient to see my wife.”

“I
understand,” said Galain, “from what I’ve seen. So
far I have not had the fortune to meet she who will be my wife.”

“You’re
young,” said Pug dryly. “Barely past a century.”

Galain smiled.
“This is true.” He held up his hand and said, “I
will see you back at the court in a few days.”

“I can
take you with me,” said Pug.

“I have
other duties. I must make a patrol along the river you humans call
Crydee. I just came this way to greet you.”

Considering the
number of times he had visited the elves, Pug correctly interpreted
the remark and said, “Thank you for making the effort.”

“You are
welcome.”

Pug activated
the device he carried and found himself floating above the treetops a
half-mile from where he wanted to be. He barely got control of his
powers in time to keep from falling to his death and landed gently.
Feeling shaken, he examined the Tsurani sphere and saw a fading along
a portion of it that told him it was no longer usable. He regretted
the loss of the device. His ability to quickly move from place to
place was now gone, until he learned the trick Miranada had of moving
at will without aid.

He put it back
inside his robe. Several other such devices were being studied back
at his island by his students, and another might prove useful. He
remembered the days of free trading with the Empire of Tsurannuani
through the rift gates. Now there was only one, at Stardock, closely
monitored on both sides. For a dark moment he wondered if there was
anything mankind couldn’t make a mess of; not for the last time
in his life he cursed Makala, the Tsurani magician whose badly
conceived treachery had caused the estrangement between the two
worlds, all motivated by the highest ideals: to serve the Empire.

Well, he
thought, dwelling on past failures once you’d learned all there
was to learn was just heaping futility on failure. He put aside
reminiscences and started walking.

A short time
later he reached the large clearing that surrounded Elvandar, keeping
it apart from the surrounding forest. As every time before, he found
himself captivated by the sight of it. Even in the brightest daylight
the colors of the trees were otherworldly. The magic of the place was
powerful, but subtle, a sweet counterpoint to what nature had
fashioned, a wonderful feeling of lightness.

High above large
branches with flattened tops formed walkways between boles, and along
the base of the trees cooking fires and tanning racks, pottery
wheels, and other craft areas sat. Pug was greeted by several elves
who recognized him, and those who did not nevertheless nodded in
greeting.

He made his way
along the climbing path of steps and branches until he was at the
center of the great elven city. At the boundary to the Queen’s
court, he found Tathar, the Queen’s seniormost advisor,
waiting. “Magician!” Tathar said, extending his hand to
shake in the human fashion. “It is good to see you again.”

Pug said, “It
is good to see you as well, old friend.” He glanced around and
said, “It is good to again be in Elvandar.” He looked at
Tathar. “My wife?”

“She is
with the Queen and Tomas,” answered the old advisor. “Come.”

He led Pug into
the heart of the Queen’s court, where Queen Aglaranna, Tomas,
and Miranda were sitting in conversation. Seeing his boyhood friend,
Tomas rose, but it was Miranda who reached her husband first. “I
didn’t think you were coming!” she said, delighted to be
wrong.

“I didn’t
think I was either,” said Pug. “But I had a bit of an
argument with Patrick—”

“The
Prince of Krondor?” asked Tomas. He smiled down at his short
friend.

Pug looked up at
his boyhood foster brother; even in that tall, slightly alien figure,
Pug glimpsed the image of the kitchenboy with whom he had lived as a
child. “The very same. He wanted me to go obliterate the Saaur
and I thought offering them a peaceful alternative might prove a
wiser course.”

Tomas nodded.
“Crush your enemies without mercy.” He shook his head. “I
remember those impulses all too well, my friend.”

Pug allowed
Miranda to escort him to Aglaranna’s throne, where he bowed and
said, “Greetings, My Lady.”

“Welcome,
Pug.”

“I am
grieved to learn of a friend’s departure,” Pug said.

Aglaranna said,
“He passed as happy as he could be, given his life. No one can
ask more. He bade us good night and never awoke. He was at peace. For
one of your race, he lived a very long time.”

Pug nodded. “But
I will miss him. As I miss all the other friends of my youth.”

“I
understand,” said the Queen. “That is why you should
visit more often. We eledhel abide far longer than you humans.”
Then considering Pug’s and Miranda’s age, she amended
that to, “Most of you humans, that is.”

Pug said, “This
is true.” Glancing around, he said, “Where is Calis?”

Miranda smiled.
“He’s not too far away. I suspect, anyway.”

Tomas grinned.
“There’s a woman. . .” He shrugged and winked.

Pug said,
“Calis?”

“One from
across the ocean, whom Miranda brought to us. With two beautiful boys
who need a father.”

“Is it. .
. serious?” asked Pug.

Tomas laughed.
“My wife’s people are very different from you and me,
Pug. And from my son. He is but half-elf, unique in the world, and he
has spent a great deal of time among humans.” Tomas leaned over
and whispered in a mock-conspiratorial tone, “I think he’s
taken, but he doesn’t even know he’s tasted the hook!”

Tathar laughed
and said, ‘ “This is true. Among our people we have the
recognition, the sudden knowledge that a mate is before you. Not all
our people know this certainty, and to them falls the difficult task
of slowly building a bond with another who has also not known the
recognition. With Calis and Elien, it is the difficult way. But often
it ends in a love as profound as the first.”

Miranda smiled.
“I think I sensed something in her when I first found her and
the boys. I think it will all work out.”

Aglaranna turned
to an elf nearby and said, “Would you carry word to my son,
please, and have him attend us for supper this evening. Have him
bring Elien and her sons, too.”

The elf bowed
and hurried off.

“What
brings you to us?” asked Tomas.

“I wished
to see my wife,” said Pug with a smile. “And I wished an
evening among friends, where the air doesn’t carry the memory
of war, smoke, and blood. I wanted a quiet night before I start
another quest.”

“A quest?”
asked the Queen. “For what do you seek this time, magician?”

“I need to
find the Saaur a homeland,” said Pug. “Else we may have
yet another war upon us before we sort out the one already here.”

Miranda said,
“Well, then, we’ll leave in the morning.”

“I was
going to go alone,” said Pug, “but the Tsurani orb is no
longer working—I almost broke my neck when it left me hanging
in midair—and I don’t know where I’m bound for.”

“So you
need me to show you how to get around?”

“Something
like that.”

Miranda smiled.
“I don’t know if I will.”

“What?
Why?” asked Pug.

Poking a finger
into his chest, she said, “Because I like being able to do
something better than you.”

At that the rest
of the Queen’s court laughed, and they relaxed as pages brought
wine and food; soon they were joined by Calis and the woman from
across the sea, and her sons. And at least for this one night, they
put thoughts of war and the threat of war away and enjoyed the
company of good friends.

Jimmy frowned.

Prince Patrick
had just leaned over to whisper something in Francie’s ear and
she blushed as she laughed. The Duke of Silden pointedly chose to
ignore this breech of etiquette. The Dukes of Rodez, Euper, Sadara,
and Timons glanced over and returned to their conversations. Their
daughters, all resplendent in their finest gowns, allowed their gazes
to linger a bit longer before returning their attentions to the
various young courtiers at the table.

Dash had to turn
away so as not to laugh at his brother’s unhappiness.

The hall at
Castle Darkmoor was now overtaxed in the opinion of the Prince’s
Master of Ceremony, a dour man named Wiggins. He had been a clerk in
the court of Krondor, but had occasionally helped with state
functions for the old Master, Jerome. Because of that small
advantage, he had been named to the office on Patrick’s
resurrection of the court in Darkmoor. He resembled nothing as much
as a very nervous bird as he fluttered about the room, from one noble
to the next, attempting to insure everyone’s needs were met,
despite shortages of food, ale, and wine.

Mathilda,
Dowager Baroness of Darkmoor, sat on the left of the Duke of Silden.
While no longer young, she still possessed a court-bred ease and
charm, learned while growing up among the powerful eastern nobles.
The Duke, a widower, was an obvious target for a woman of her
breeding. He appeared mildly interested.

Dash cast a
glance back at his brother and saw that Jimmy was attempting to be
interested in something said by the daughter of an eastern Earl;
which one he couldn’t remember. She was a pretty enough girl in
a vapid way, and Dash’s amusement at his brother’s
frustration turned to sympathy. Francie was clearly the most
interesting young woman in court, if not the most beautiful, and the
time Jimmy had spent with her over the last couple of weeks had
awakened something; at the very least, a proprietary impulse if not
something deeper.

Dash knew that
neither he nor his brother would be free to follow their heart’s
call as long as they were in service to the crown. They were too
highly born, being the sons and grandsons of Dukes. Jimmy would most
likely advance to a similar high office, and Dash would probably end
up an Earl if he continued in service.

Which meant
neither son would have a great deal to say in the matter of whom they
would wed. That detail would be up to their father to a lesser
extent, and the King’s pleasure to a greater extent. Factionism
in the Kingdom was a way of life, and keeping the two realms closely
allied an ongoing problem. The East had the population, the wealth,
and the political strength. The West had the natural resources, the
potential for growth, and all the problems of a frontier: enemies,
disorder, and constant difficulty governing. Marrying off the
eligible daughters of one realm to the sons of the other was a
time-honored method of keeping the two realms close, and no more
eligible son existed than the future King.

Francie glanced
over at Jimmy and smiled at him, then returned her attention to
Patrick. Dash leaned over and said, “We should ask Father.”

“Ask him
what?” Jimmy turned, looking confused.

“Who the
King wants his son to marry. You don’t think for a moment that
hasn’t already been decided, do you?”

Jimmy considered
this, then smiled. “You’re probably right. If Father
doesn’t know, then no one does.”

Jimmy waited
until Duke Arutha looked his way, then motioned with his head. Arutha
nodded, then rose and came around to stand behind Baroness Mathilda.
He whispered something to the Prince, who waved him away with a
smile, and moved around to where his sons stood. They bowed toward
the Prince, who wasn’t looking at them, then walked from the
table.