Magician (106 page)

Pug said, “Perhaps it is still
not too late.”

Lyam looked at Pug. “What do you
mean? Kasumi must have already sent word that the peace was refused.”

“Yes, but there may still be time
to send word that there will be a new king who is willing to talk
peace.”

“Who will carry the message?”
asked Kulgan. “Your life might be forfeit if you return to the
Empire.”

“We may be able to solve two
problems at once. Your Highness, may I have your leave to promise the
Tsurani in the salient safe passage to their lines?”

Lyam considered this. “I will, if
I have their parole not to return for a year’s time.”

“I will go to them, then,”
said Pug. “Perhaps we can still end this war in spite of the
calamities that have befallen us.”

The Tsurani guards, nervous and alert,
tensed at the sound of an approaching rider. “They come!”
one shouted, and men seized weapons and hurried to the barricades.
The southern earthworks were still intact, but here at the western
edge of the former salient the pickets had thrown up a hasty barrier
of felled trees and shallow trenches.

Bowmen stood ready, arrows notched, but
the expected charge did not come. A single figure on horseback came
into view. His hands were raised overhead, palms together in the sign
for parley. And more, he wore the black robe.

The rider walked his horse to the edge
of the barricade and asked, in perfect Tsurani, “Who commands
here?”

A startled officer said, “Commander
Wataun.”

The rider snapped, “You forget
your manners, Strike Leader.” He took note of the colors and
devices on the man’s breastplate and helm. “Are the
Chilapaningo so lacking in civility?”

The officer came to attention. “Your
pardon, Great One,” the man stammered. “It is only that
you were unexpected.”

“Bring Commander Wataun here.”

“Your will, Great One.”

The commander of the Tsurani salient
came a short time later. He was a bandy-legged, barrel-chested old
fighter, and Great One or not, his first concern was for the welfare
of his troops. He looked at the magician suspiciously. “I am
here, Great One.”

“I have come to order you and
your soldiers back to the valley.”

Commander Wataun smiled ruefully and
shook his head. “I regret, Great One, that I may not. Word of
your exploits has been carried to us here, and that the Assembly has
called your status into question. You may be no longer outside the
law by now. If you had not come under a sign of parley, I would have
you taken, though it would cost us dearly.”

Pug felt a hot flush come to his
cheeks. He had known it was likely the Assembly would cast him out,
but to hear this still caused him pain. Ruefully, he knew that
because of the training he had undergone, he would still feel a sense
of loyalty to that alien place and would never fully feel at home in
his native land.

With a sigh Pug said, “What then
will you do?”

The Force Commander shrugged “Hold
our position. Die if we must.”

“Then I will make you an offer,
Commander. You must decide if it is a trick or not. Kasumi of the
Shinzawai carried an offer from the Light of Heaven to the Midkemian
King. It was an offer of peace. The King rejected it, but now there
is to be a new king who is willing to make peace. I would ask you to
carry word to the Holy City, to the Emperor, that Prince Lyam will
accept peace. Will you do so?”

The commander considered. “If
what you say is true, then I would be a fool to waste my men. What
guarantees are you willing to make?”

“I give you my word, as a Great
One—if that means anything still— that what I say is
true. I also promise that your men will be given safe conduct back to
the valley, on promise they return to the Empire for a year’s
time. And I will ride to the valley entrance, to your lines, as
hostage. Is that enough?”

The commander thought it over for a
moment as he surveyed his tired, thirsty troops. “I will agree,
Great One. If it is the Light of Heaven’s will that the war
end, who am I to prolong it?”

“The Oaxatucan have long been
known for their bravery. Let it be said they are also worthy of honor
for their wisdom.”

The commander bowed, then turned to his
soldiers. “Pass the word. We march home.”

Word that the Emperor would agree to
peace reached the camp four days later. Pug had given a message to
Wataun to be carried through the rift. It bore the black seal of the
Assembly, and no one would impede its swift delivery. It had been
addressed to Fumita, asking him to carry word to the Holy City that
the new King of the Realm would not require retribution but would
accept peace.

Lyam had shown visible emotion when Pug
had read the message. The Emperor himself would come through the rift
in a month’s time and would sign formal treaties with the
Kingdom. Pug had felt close to tears when he read the news, which
soon spread through the camp that the war was over. A great cheering
could be heard.

Pug and Kulgan sat in the older
magician’s tent. For the first time in years they had been
feeling something like their old relationship. Pug was finishing up a
long explanation of the Tsurani system of instructing novices.

“Pug,” said Kulgan around a
long pull on his pipe. “It seems that now the war is over, we
can return to the business of magicians. Only now it is you who are
master, and I who would be student.”

“There is much we may learn from
each other, Kulgan. But I fear old habits die hard I don’t
think I could ever get used to the idea of your being a student. And
there are many things you are capable of that I still cannot do.”

Kulgan seemed surprised. “Really?
I would have thought my simple arts beneath your greatness.”

Pug felt the old embarrassment from
when he had been Kulgan’s student. “You make sport of me
yet.”

Kulgan laughed. “Only a little,
boy. And you are still a boy to one of my advancing years. It is not
easy for me to see an indifferent apprentice become the most powerful
magician of another world.”

“Indifferent was the proper word
for it. At first I only wanted to be a soldier. I think you knew
that. Then when I had finally decided to devote myself to study, the
invasion began.” Pug smiled. “I think you felt sorry for
me that day when I stood alone before the Duke’s court, the
only boy not called.”

“That is partly true, though I
was the first to sense the power in you. And the judgment was borne
out, no matter the amazing events required to bring your ability to
fruition.”

Pug sighed. “Well, the Assembly
is nothing if not complete in its training. Once the power is
detected, there are but two options, success or death. With all other
thoughts banished, there is little to concern the student but the
study of magic. Without that, I doubt I would ever have amounted to
much.”

Kulgan said, “I think not. Had
the Tsurani never come, there would still have been a path to
greatness for you to follow.”

They sat and talked and were comforted
by each other’s presence. After a while they lit fires, for
darkness was falling. Katala came to the tent to see if her husband
was to join her and the boy at the celebration feast being given by
King Lyam. She looked inside and saw the two of them lost in
conversation.

She backed out and, with a faint smile
on her lips, returned to her son.

T
omas
awoke with a start.

In the predawn darkness something
strange called to him. He sat up, every sense extended, trying to
recapture what had awakened him.

Aglaranna stirred next to him. Since
his return from the confrontation with Martin over the Tsurani
prisoners, he had been free of the alien dreams and the blind rages.
He was no longer the boy from Crydee or the ancient Dragon Lord, but
a new being possessing qualities of both.

She came awake and slowly reached out
to touch his shoulder. The muscles were relaxed, free of the tension
that marked his grappling with an ancient dream. She breathed a long
sigh, then said, “Tomas, what is it?”

He reached up to cover her hand with
his own. “I don’t know. Something odd occurred a moment
ago.” He sat with his head slightly turned, as if listening to
something distant. “A change . . . a shift in the pattern of
things, perhaps.”

The Elf Queen said nothing. Since
becoming his lover she had grown used to his uncanny ability to sense
events elsewhere, an ability unmatched by even the most gifted of the
ancient Spellweavers. A remnant of his Valheru heritage, this
awareness had come fully into bloom since he recovered his humanity.
She thought it strange, yet reassuring, that his Valheru powers had
become more pronounced and acute only since regaining his humanity.
It was as if some force had conspired to keep them blunted until he
possessed the wisdom to use them.

Tomas stopped listening. “It is
something to the east, a mixture of rejoicing and a great sadness.”
His voice sounded thick with emotion. “An age is dying.”

He rolled off the sleeping pallet and
stood, powerful muscles revealed to Aglaranna’s elven eyes in
the dim light. He stood at the door of their sleeping chamber,
looking out over Elvandar, listening to the sounds of the night.
Everything appeared calm.

The scent of the forest, thick, sweet,
and heady, was overlaid with the faint hints of aromas from last
night’s supper, and the smell of bread fresh from the oven for
this morning’s meal. Night birds sang, while day birds began
their predawn warbling, and the sun prepared to rise in the east. The
touch of cool air upon his naked skin was a caress to Tomas, and he
felt more complete and at peace than he had ever been in his young
life.

Aglaranna’s arms went around his
waist, and he felt her press tight against him. He could feel the
beat of her heart as she held him close. “My lord, my love,”
she said, “return to our bed.”

He turned within the circle of her arms
and felt the warmth of her body against his. “There is
something . . . “He gripped her close, but gently. “There
is a feeling of hope.”

She could feel his heat as his desire
answered hers. “Hope. Would that it is true.”

He looked down at her face, his senses
as acute in the gloom as hers, drinking in the sight of her. “Never
lose hope, my Queen.”

He kissed her deeply, and whatever
awakened him was quickly forgotten.

Lyam sat quietly in his tent. He was
composing the message he would send to Crydee when a guard entered
and announced the arrival of Pug and Kulgan. Lyam rose and greeted
them, and when the guards left, indicated they should sit. “I
am sorely in need of your wisdom.” He sat back and waved at the
parchments before him. “If Arutha is to reach us in time for
the peace conference, these must leave today. But I have never been
much for letters, and I also confess to great difficulty in sharing
the events of the last week.”

Kulgan said, “May I?”
pointing to the letter.

Lyam waved consent, and the magician
picked up the parchment and began to read. “ ‘To my
beloved brother and sister: It is with the deepest sorrow I must tell
you of our father’s death. He was injured mortally in the great
Tsurani offensive, leading a counterattack to rescue surrounded
soldiers, mainly Hadati hillmen, auxiliaries to the garrison of
Yabon. The Hadati sing his name and make sagas in his honor, such was
his bravery. He passed thinking of his children, and his love for us
all was undiminished.

“ ‘The King has also
passed, and it has fallen to me to lead our armies. Arutha, I would
have you here, for we now are at the war’s end. The Emperor is
willing to make peace. We shall meet in the north valley of the Grey
Towers in twenty-nine days time, at noon. Carline, I would have you
take ship to Krondor with Anita, for there is much to be done there,
and Princess Alicia will have need of her daughter. I will join you
with Arutha once peace has been made. With love, and sharing in your
sorrow, I am, your most loving brother, Lyam.’ ”

Kulgan was quiet for a moment, and Lyam
said, “I thought you might be able to add something or other,
to lend elegance to it.”

Kulgan said, “I think you
announced your father’s passing with simplicity and gentleness.
It is a fine message.”

Lyam shifted uncomfortably in his
chair. “There is so much yet to write. I have said nothing
about Martin.”

Kulgan took up a quill. “I will
copy this again, for your pen is a bit strangled, Lyam.” With a
warm smile he added, “You were always one to prefer the sword
to the quill. I’ll add some instructions to the end, asking
that Martin go to Krondor with your sister. Gardan and Fannon should
also make the journey. And an honor company of the castle garrison.
It will make it seem you mean to honor those who served so well in
Crydee. Then you will have ample time to decide how to tell Martin
what you must.”

Pug shook his head sadly. “I only
wish you could add Roland’s name to that list.” Since
coming to the camp, he had learned of the Squire of Tulan’s
death. Kulgan had told him of what he knew of events in Crydee and
elsewhere concerning his old friends over the last few years.

Lyam said, “Curse me for a fool!
Carline has no idea you are back, Pug. You must add that, Kulgan.”

Pug said, “I hope it will not
come as too much of a shock.”

Kulgan chuckled. “Not so much of
a shock as discovering you’ve a wife and child.”

Memories of his boyhood and his
tempestuous relationship with the Princess returned, and Pug said, “I
hope also she has outgrown some of the notions she held nine years
ago.”

Lyam laughed for the first time since
his father’s death, genuinely entertained by Pug’s
discomfort. “Rest assured, Pug I’ve had many long
communications with my brother and sister over the years, and I judge
Carline a greatly changed young woman from the girl you once knew.
She was fifteen years old when last you saw her. Think of your own
changes in the last nine years.”