Magician (64 page)

“The leading lords of each clan
sit in the High Council. They advise the Warlord. He rules in the
name of the Emperor, though the Emperor could overrule him.”

“Does the Emperor in fact ever
overrule the Warlord?” asked Laurie.

“Never.”

“How is the Warlord chosen?”
asked Pug.

“It is difficult to explain. When
the old Warlord dies, the clans meet. It is a large gathering of
lords, for not only the council comes, but also the heads of every
family. They meet and plot, and sometimes blood feuds develop, but in
the end a new Warlord is elected.”

Pug brushed back the hair from his
eyes. “Then what is to keep the Warlord’s clan from
claiming the office, if they are the most powerful?”

Kasumi looked troubled. “It is
not an easy thing to explain. Perhaps you would have to be Tsurani to
understand. There are laws, but more important, there are customs. No
matter how powerful a clan becomes, or a family within it, only the
lord of one of five families may be elected Warlord. They are the
Keda, Tonmargu, Minwanabi, Oaxatucan, and the Xacatecas. So there are
only five lords who may be considered. This Warlord is an Oaxatucan,
so the light of the Kanazawai clan burns dimly. His clan, the
Omechan, is in ascension now. Only the Minwanabi rival them, and for
the present they are allied in the war effort. That is the way of
it.”

Laurie shook his head “This
family and clan business makes our own politics seem simple.”

Kasumi laughed. “That is not
politics. Politics is the province of the parties.”

“Parties?” asked Laurie,
obviously getting lost in the conversation.

“There are many parties. The Blue
Wheel, the Golden Flower, the Jade Eye, the Party for Progress, the
War Party, and others. Families may belong to different parties, each
trying to further their own needs. Sometimes families from the same
clan will belong to different parties. Sometimes they switch
alliances to suit their needs for the moment. Other times they may
support two parties at once, or none.”

“It seems a most unstable
government,” remarked Laurie.

Kasumi laughed. “It has lasted
for over two thousand years. We have an old saying: ‘In the
High Council, there is no brother.’ Remember that and you may
understand.”

Pug weighed his next question
carefully. “Master, in all this you have not mentioned the
Great Ones. Why is that?”

Kasumi stopped rubbing down the horse
and looked at Pug for a moment, then resumed his ministrations. “They
have nothing to do with politics. They are outside the law and have
no clan.” He paused again. “Why do you ask?”

“It is only that they seem to
command a great amount of respect, and since one has called here so
recently, I thought you could enlighten me.”

“They are given respect because
the fate of the Empire is at all times in their hands. It is a grave
responsibility. They renounce all their ties, and few have personal
lives beyond their community of magicians. Those with families live
apart, and their children are sent to live with their former families
when they come of age. It is a difficult thing. They make many
sacrifices.”

Pug watched Kasumi closely. He seemed
somehow troubled by what he was saying. “The Great One who came
to see my father was, when a boy, a member of this family. He was my
uncle. It is difficult for us now, for he must observe the
formalities and cannot claim kinship. It would be better if he stayed
away, I think.” The last was spoken softly.

“Why is that, master?”
Laurie asked, in hushed tones.

“Because it is hard for Hokanu.
Before he became my brother, he was that Great One’s son.”

They finished caring for the horse and
left the shack. Bethel ran ahead, for she knew it was close to
feeding time. As they passed the kennel, Rachmad called her over, and
she joined the other dogs.

The entire way there was no
conversation, and Kasumi entered his room with no further remark for
either of the Midkemians. Pug sat on his pallet, waiting for the call
for dinner, and thought about what he had learned. For all their
strange ways, the Tsurani were much like other men. He found this
somehow both comforting and troublesome.

Two weeks later, Pug was faced with
another problem to mull over. Katala had been making it obvious she
was less than pleased with Pug’s lack of attention. In little
ways at first, then with more blatant signs, she had tried to spark
his interest. Finally things had come to a head when he had run into
her behind the cook shed earlier that afternoon.

Laurie and Kasumi were trying to build
a small lute, with the aid of a Shinzawai woodcrafter Kasumi had
expressed interest in the music of the troubadour and, the last few
days, had watched closely while Laurie argued with the artisan over
the selection of proper grains, the way to cut the wood, and the
manner of fashioning the instrument. He was perplexed about whether
or not needra gut would make suitable strings, and a thousand other
details. Pug had found all this less than engrossing, and after a few
days had found every excuse to wander off. The smell of curing wood
reminded him too much of cutting trees in the swamp for him to enjoy
being around the resin pots in the wood-carver’s shed.

This afternoon he had been lying in the
shade of the cook shed when Katala came around the corner. His
stomach constricted at the sight of her. He thought her very
attractive, but each time he had tried to speak to her, he found he
couldn’t think of anything to say. He would simply make a few
inane remarks, become embarrassed, then hurry off. Lately he had
taken to saying nothing. As she had approached this afternoon, he had
smiled noncommittally, and she started to walk past. Suddenly she had
turned and looked as if near to tears.

“What is the matter with me? Am I
so ugly that you can’t stand the sight of me?”

Pug had sat speechless, his mouth open
She had stood for a moment, then kicked him in the leg “Stupid
barbarian,” she had sniffed, then run off.

Now he sat in his room, feeling
confused and uneasy over this afternoon’s encounter Laurie was
carving pegs for his lute. Finally he put knife and wood aside and
said, “What’s troubling you, Pug? You look as if they’re
promoting you to slave master and sending you back to the swamp.”

Pug lay back on his pallet, staring at
the ceiling. “It’s Katala.”

“Oh,” Laurie said.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’?”

“Nothing, except that Almorella
tells me the girl has been impossible for the last two weeks, and you
look about as bright as a poleaxed steer these days. What’s the
matter?”

“I don’t know. She’s
just . . . she’s just . . . She kicked me today.”

Laurie threw back his head and laughed.
“Why in the name of heaven did she do that?”

“I don’t know. She just
kicked me.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Ha!” Laurie exploded with
mirth. “That’s the trouble, Pug. There is only one thing
I know of that a woman hates more than a man she doesn’t like
paying her too much attention—and that’s lack of
attention from a man she does like.”

Pug looked despondent. “I thought
it was something like that.”

Surprise registered on Laurie’s
face. “What is it? Don’t you like her?”

Leaning forward, his elbows on his
knees, Pug said, “It’s not that. I like her. She’s
very pretty and seems nice enough. It’s just that . . .”

“What?”

Pug glanced sharply over at his friend,
to see if he was being mocked. Laurie was smiling, but in a friendly,
reassuring way. Pug continued. “It’s just . . . there’s
someone else.”

Laurie’s mouth fell open, then
snapped shut “Who? Except for Almorella, Katala’s the
prettiest wench I’ve seen on this gods-forsaken world.”
He sighed. “In honesty, she’s prettier than Almorella,
though only a little. Besides, I’ve not seen you ever speak to
another woman, and I’d have noticed you skulking off with
anyone.”

Pug shook his head and looked down.
“No, Laurie. I mean back home.”

Laurie’s mouth popped open again,
then he fell over backward and groaned. “ ‘Back home!’
What am I to do with this child? He’s bereft of all wit!”
He pulled himself up on an elbow and said, “Can this be Pug
speaking? The lad who counsels me to put the past behind? The one who
insists that dwelling on how things were at home leads only to a
quick death?”

Pug ignored the sting of the questions.
“This is different.”

“How is it different? By
Ruthia—who in her more tender moments protects fools, drunks,
and minstrels—how can you tell me this is different? Do you
imagine for a moment you have one hope in ten times ten thousand of
ever seeing this girl again, whoever she is?”

“I know, but thinking of Carline
has kept me from losing my mind more times . . .” He sighed
loudly. “We all need one dream, Laurie.”

Laurie studied his young friend for a
quiet moment. “Yes, Pug, we all need one dream. Still,”
he added brightly, “a dream is one thing, a living, breathing,
warm woman is another.” Seeing Pug become irritated at the
remark, he switched topics. “Who is Carline, Pug?”

“My lord Borric’s
daughter.”

Laurie’s eyes grew round.
“Princess Carline?” Pug nodded. Laurie’s voice
showed amusement. “The most eligible noble daughter in the
Western Realm after the daughter of the Prince of Krondor? There are
sides to you I never would have thought possible! Tell me about her.”

Pug began to speak slowly at first,
telling of his boyhood infatuation for her, then of how their
relationship developed. Laurie remained silent, putting aside
questions, letting Pug relieve himself of the pent-up emotions of
years. Finally Pug said, “Perhaps that’s what bothers me
so much about Katala. In certain ways Katala’s like Carline.
They’ve both got strong wills and make their moods known.”

Laurie nodded, not saying anything. Pug
lapsed into silence, then after a moment said, “When I was at
Crydee, I thought for a time I was in love with Carline. But I don’t
know. Is that strange?”

Laurie shook his head. “No, Pug.
There are many ways to love someone. Sometimes we want love so much,
we’re not too choosy about who we love. Other times we make
love such a pure and noble thing, no poor human can ever meet our
vision. But for the most part, love is a recognition, an opportunity
to say, There is something about you I cherish.’ It doesn’t
entail marriage, or even physical love. There’s love of
parents, love of city or nation, love of life, and love of people.
All different, all love. But tell me, do you find your feelings for
Katala much as they were for Carline?”

Pug shrugged and smiled. “No,
they’re not, not quite the same. With Carline, I felt as if I
had to keep her away, you know, at arm’s length. Sort of
keeping control of what went on, I think.”

Laurie probed lightly. “And
Katala?”

Pug shrugged again. “I don’t
know. It’s different. I don’t feel as if I have to keep
her under control. It’s more as if there are things I want to
tell her, but I don’t know how. Like the way I got all jammed
up inside when she smiled at me the first time. I could talk to
Carline, when she kept quiet and let me. Katala keeps quiet, but I
don’t know what to say.” He paused a moment, then made a
sound that was half sigh, half groan. “Just thinking about
Katala makes me hurt, Laurie.”

Laurie lay back, a friendly chuckle
escaping his lips. “Aye, it’s well I’ve known that
ache. And I must admit your taste runs to interesting women. From
what I can see, Katala’s a prize. And the Princess Carline . .
.”

A little snappishly, Pug said, “I’ll
make a point of introducing you when we get back.”

Laurie ignored the tone “I’ll
hold you to that. Look, all I mean is it seems you’ve developed
an excellent knack for finding worthwhile women.” A little
sadly, he said, “I wish I could claim as much. My life has been
mostly caught up with tavern wenches, farmers’ daughters, and
common street whores. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Laurie,” said Pug. Laurie
sat up and looked at his friend. “I don’t know . . . I
don’t know what to do.”

Laurie studied Pug a moment, then
comprehension dawned and he threw back his head, laughing. He could
see Pug’s anger rising and put his hands up in supplication.
“I’m sorry, Pug. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It
was just not what I expected to hear.”

Somewhat placated, Pug said, “I
was young when I was captured, less than sixteen years of age. I was
never of a size like the other boys, so the girls didn’t pay
much attention to me, until Carline, I mean, and after I became a
squire, they were afraid to talk to me. After that . . . Damn it all,
Laurie. I’ve been in the swamps for four years. What chance
have I had to know a woman?”

Laurie sat quietly for a moment, and
the tension left the room. “Pug, I never would have imagined,
but as you said, when have you had the time?”

“Laurie, what am I to do?”

“What would you like to do?”
Laurie looked at Pug, his expression showing concern.

“I would like to . . . go to her.
I think. I don’t know.”

Laurie rubbed his chin. “Look,
Pug, I never thought I’d have this sort of talk with anyone
besides a son someday if I ever have one. I wasn’t meaning to
make sport of you. You just caught me off guard.” He looked
away, gathering his thoughts, then said, “My father threw me
out when I was just shy twelve years old; I was the oldest boy, and
he had seven other mouths to feed. And I was never much for farming.
A neighbor boy and I walked to Tyr-Sog and spent a year living on the
streets. He joined a mercenary band as a cook’s monkey and
later became a soldier. I hooked up with a traveling troupe of
musicians. I apprenticed to a jongleur from whom I learned the songs,
sagas, and ballads, and I traveled.