Magician (107 page)

Pug nodded.

Kulgan finished his copy work and
handed the document to Lyam. He read it and said, “Thank you,
Kulgan. You’ve added just the right note of gentleness.”

The tent flap opened and Brucal
entered, his old, lined face animated with glee. “Bas-Tyra’s
fled!”

“How?” asked Lyam. “Our
soldiers must still be a week from Krondor, maybe more.”

The old Duke sat heavily in a chair.
“We found a hidden cage of messenger pigeons, belonging to the
late Richard of Salador. One of his men sent word to Guy of Rodric’s
death, and your being named Heir. We’ve questioned the fellow,
a valet of Richard’s He’s admitted to being one of
Bas-Tyra’s spies in Richard’s court. Guy’s fled the
city, knowing one of your first acts as King will be to have him
hung. My guess is he will make straight for Rillanon.”

“I would have thought that would
be the last place on Midkemia he would wish to be,” remarked
Kulgan.

“Black Guy is no man’s
fool, whatever else may be said of him. He’ll be underground,
no doubt, but you’ll see his handiwork again before we are
through. Until the crown is resting upon Lyam’s head, Guy is
still a power in the Kingdom.”

Lyam looked troubled at the last
remark, thinking of his father’s dying declaration. Since
Brucal’s admonition to say nothing of Martin, everyone had
spoken only of Lyam’s coronation, nothing of Martin’s
possible claim to the crown.

Lyam let these disturbing thoughts pass
by as Brucal continued speaking: “Still, with Bas-Tyra on the
sly, most of our troubles are now behind. And with the war near an
end, we can get back to the business of rebuilding the Kingdom. And I
for one am glad I am getting too old for much more of this nonsense
of war and politics. I only regret I am without a son, so I could
announce in his favor and retire.”

Lyam studied Brucal with affectionate
disbelief. “You’ll never bow down gracefully, old war
dog. You’ll go to your deathbed scratching and clawing every
inch of the way, and that day is years off.”

“Who’s talking of dying?”
snorted Brucal. “I mean to hunt my hounds and fly my falcons,
and do some fishing as well. Who knows? I may find some comely wench
hearty enough to keep up with me, say about seventeen or eighteen
years of age, and remarry and father a son yet. If that young fool
Vandros ever gathers his wits about him and marries my Felinah, you
just see how fast he’ll become Duke of Yabon when I retire.

“Why she still waits for him is
anybody’s guess.” He heaved himself up from his chair. “I
am for a hot bath and some sleep before supper. By your leave?”

Lyam motioned he might leave and, when
he was gone, said, “I will never get used to this business of
people needing my permission to come and go.”

Pug and Kulgan rose from their chairs.
Kulgan said, “You had better, for everyone will ask it of you
from now on. With your permission . . . ?”

Feigning disgust, Lyam motioned they
might go.

The council sat in assembly as
Aglaranna took her place upon the throne. Besides the normal council,
Martin Longbow was present, standing beside Tomas. When all were in
place, Aglaranna said, “You have asked for council, Tathar. Now
tell us what cause you bring before us.”

Tathar bowed slightly to the Queen. “We
of the council felt it time for an understanding.”

“Of what, Tathar?” asked
the Elf Queen.

Tathar said, “We have labored
long to bring a peaceful, secure ending to this business of Tomas. It
is known by all here that our arts were turned to calming the rage
within, softening the might of the Valheru, so the young man who was
transformed would not be overwhelmed in the course of time.”

He paused, and Martin leaned close to
Tomas. “Trouble.”

Tomas startled him with a slight smile
and a wink. Once more Martin was reassured that the mirthful boy he
had known in Crydee was as much present in this young man as the
Dragon Lord. “Everything will be fine,” said Tomas in a
whisper.

“We have,” said Tathar,
“come to judge this business done, for Tomas is no longer to be
feared as an Old One.”

Aglaranna said, “That is happy
news indeed. But is this then cause for a council?”

“No, lady. Something else must
also be laid to rest. For while we no longer fear Tomas, still we
will not place ourselves under his rule.”

Aglaranna stood, outrage clear upon her
face. “Who dares to presume this? Has there been a single word
from any to suggest that Tomas seeks to rule?”

Tathar stood firm before his Queen’s
displeasure. “My lady, you see with a lover’s eyes.”
Before she could answer, he held up his hand. “Speak not sharp
words with me, daughter of my oldest friend; I make no accusations.
That he shares your bed is no one’s concern save yourself. We
begrudge you nothing. But he now has the means of a claim, and we
would have the matter settled now.”

Aglaranna paled, and Tomas stepped
forward. “What means?” he said, his voice commanding.

Tathar looked slightly surprised. “She
carries your child. Did you not know?”

Tomas was bereft of words. Conflicting
feelings ran through him. A child! Yet he had not been told. He
looked at Tathar “How do you know?”

Tathar smiled, and there was no mockery
in it. “I am old, Tomas I can see the signs.”

Tomas looked to Aglaranna. “It is
true?”

She nodded. “I would not tell you
until it was no longer possible to hide the truth.”

He felt a stab of uncertainty. “Why?”

“To spare you any worry. Until
the war is through, you must put your mind to nothing else. I would
not burden you with other thoughts.”

Tomas stood quietly for a moment, then
threw back his head and laughed, a clear, joyous sound. “A
child Praise the gods!”

Tathar looked thoughtfully at Tomas.
“Do you claim the throne?”

“Aye, I do, Tathar,” Tomas
said, a smile upon his face.

Calin spoke for the first time. “It
is my inheritance, Tomas. You will have to contest with me for it.”

Tomas smiled at Calin. “I will
not cross swords with you, son of my beloved.”

“If you seek to be King among us,
then you must.”

Tomas walked over to Calin. There had
never been any affection between them, for more than the others,
Calin had feared Tomas’s potential threat to his people and now
stood ready to fight if need be.

Tomas placed his hand upon Calin’s
shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes. “You are Heir. I
speak not of being your King.” He stepped away and addressed
the council. “I am what you see before you, a being of two
heritages. I possess the power of the Valheru, though I was not born
to it, and my mind remembers ages long gone to dust. But I can
remember a boy’s memories and can again feel the joy in
laughter and a lover’s touch.” He looked at the Elf
Queen. “I claim only the right to sit beside my Queen, with
your blessings, as her consort. I will take only what rule she and
you give, nothing more. Should you give none, still I will remain at
her side.” Then, with firmness, he added, “But I will not
stand down from this: our child shall have a heritage unblemished by
a sinister birth.”

There was a general murmur of approval,
and Tomas faced Aglaranna. “If you will take me as husband?”
he said in the ancient elven language.

Aglaranna sat with eyes gleaming. She
looked to Tathar “I will. Is there any who denies me the
right?”

Tathar looked around at the other
councillors. Seeing no dissension, Tathar said, “It is
permitted, my lady.”

Abruptly there was a shout of approval
from the gathered elves, and soon others were coming to investigate
the unusual display of activity in the council. They in turn joined
in the celebration, for all knew of the Queen’s love for the
warrior in white and gold, and they judged him a fit consort.

Calin said, “You are wise in our
ways, Tomas. Had you done otherwise, there would have been strife, or
lingering doubt. I thank you for your prudence.”

Tomas took his hand in a firm grip. “It
is only just, Calin. Your claim is without question. When your Queen
and I have journeyed to the Blessed Isles, then our child will be
your loyal subject.”

Aglaranna came to Tomas’s side,
and Martin joined them, to say, “Joy in all things.”
Tomas embraced his friend, as did the Queen.

Calin shouted for silence. When the
noise had died, he said, “It is time for clear speaking. Let
all know that what has been fact for years is now openly
acknowledged. Tomas is Warleader of Elvandar, and Prince Consort to
the Queen. His words are to be obeyed by all save the Queen. I,
Calin, have spoken.”

“And I, too, say this is true,”
echoed Tathar. Then the council bowed before the Queen and her
husband-to-be.

Martin said, “It is well I shall
leave Elvandar as happiness returns.”

Aglaranna said, “You are
leaving?”

“I fear I must. There is still a
war, and I am still Huntmaster of Crydee. Besides,” he said
with a grin, “I fear young Garret is growing overly content to
rest and partake of your largess. I must harry him along the trail
before he gets fat.”

“You’ll stay for the
wedding?” asked Tomas.

As Martin began to apologize, Aglaranna
said, “The ceremony can be tomorrow.”

Martin conceded. “One more day? I
will be pleased.”

Another shout went up, and Tomas could
see Dolgan pushing through the crowd When the dwarf chief stood
before them, he said, “We were not invited to the council, but
when we heard the shouts, we came.” Behind him Tomas and
Aglaranna could see the other dwarves approaching.

Tomas placed his hand upon Dolgan’s
shoulder. “Old companion, you are welcome. You have come to a
celebration. There is to be a wedding.”

Dolgan fixed them both with a knowing
smile. “Aye, and high time.”

The rider spurred his horse past the
lines of Tsurani soldiers. He was still discomforted by the sight of
so many of them passing to the east, and the recent enemy watched him
ride by with guarded expressions as he headed toward Elvandar.

Laurie pulled in his horse near a large
outcropping of rock where a Tsurani officer in black-and-orange armor
supervised the passing soldiers. From his officer’s plume and
insignia, he was a Force Leader, surrounded by his cadre of Strike
Leaders and Patrol Leaders. To the Force Leader he said, “Where
lies the closest ford across the river?”

The other officers regarded Laurie with
suspicion, but if the Force Leader felt any surprise at the
barbarian’s nearly perfect Tsurani, he did not show it. He
inclined his head back the way his men marched from and said, “A
short way from here. Less than an hour’s march. Faster on your
beast, I’m sure. It is marked by two large trees on either side
of a clearing, above a place where the river falls a short way.”

Laurie had no difficulty identifying
the house colors the man wore, as it was one of the Five Great
Families, and said, “Thank you, Force Leader. Honor to your
house, son of the Minwanabi.”

The Force Leader stood erect. He did
not know who this rider was, but he was courteous, and that courtesy
must be returned. “Honor to your house, stranger.”

Laurie rode forward past the dispirited
Tsurani soldiers plodding along the banks of the river. He found the
clearing above the small falls and rode into the water. The river ran
swiftly here, but the horse managed to cross without incident Laurie
could feel the spray from the falls as the wind blew it back in his
direction. It felt cool and refreshing after the hot ride. He had
been in the saddle since before daybreak and would not finish his
ride until after night had fallen. By then he would be close enough
to Elvandar to be intercepted by elven sentries. They would certainly
be watching the Tsurani withdrawal with interest, and one could guide
him to their Queen.

Laurie had volunteered to carry the
message, for it was felt that the messenger would be less likely to
encounter trouble if he could speak Tsurani. He had been challenged
three times during his ride, and each time he had explained his way
past suspicious Tsurani officers. There might be a truce, but there
was little trust yet.

When he was clear of the river, Laurie
dismounted, for his horse was tired. He walked the animal to cool it
off. He pulled the saddle from the mount’s back and was rubbing
him down with a brush carried in his saddlebags when a figure stepped
out from among the trees. Laurie was startled, for the figure was not
an elf. He was a dark-haired man with grey at the temples, dressed in
a brown robe, and holding a staff. He approached the minstrel,
without hurry and seemingly at ease. He stopped a few feet away and
leaned on his staff. “Well met, Laurie of Tyr-Sog.”

The man possessed a strange manner, and
Laurie did not remember having met him before. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I have knowledge of you,
troubadour.”

Laurie edged closer to his saddle,
where his sword lay. The man smiled and waved his hand in the air.
Abruptly Laurie was filled with calm, and he stopped moving for his
sword. Whoever this man was, he was obviously harmless, he thought.

“What brings you to the elven
forest, Laurie?”

Without knowing why, Laurie answered.
“I bring messages to the Elf Queen.”

“What are you to say?”

“That Lyam is now Heir, and peace
has been restored. He invites the elves and the dwarves to the valley
in three weeks’ time, for there will they seal the peace.”

The man nodded. “I see. I am on
my way to see the Elf Queen. I will carry word. You must have better
things you can do with your time.”

Laurie started to protest, but stopped.
Why should he travel to Elvandar when this man was bound there
anyway? It was a waste of time.

Laurie nodded. The man chuckled. “Why
don’t you rest here for the night? The sound of water is
soothing, and there is little chance of rain. Tomorrow return to the
Prince and tell him that you carried the message to Elvandar. You
spoke with the Queen and Tomas, and they were agreed to the Prince’s
wishes. The dwarves of Stone Mountain will hear also. Then tell Lyam
that the elves and the dwarves will come. He may rest assured, they
will come.”