Magician (88 page)

He reached out and put his arms around
her, holding her close. “Everything is fine. We’re safe
now.”

She sighed as she rested her head on
his shoulder. “Thank you for everything, Arutha.”

He said nothing, suddenly caught up in
strong emotion, a protective feeling, a need to keep Anita from
harm’s way, to care for her. For long moments they sat this
way, then Arutha regained control over his surging feelings. Pulling
away a little, he said, “You’d be hungry, I’d
think.”

She laughed, an honestly merry sound.
“Why yes, as a matter of fact I’m famished.”

He said, “I’ll have
something sent down, though it will be plain fare, I’m afraid,
even compared to what you were given by the Mockers.”

“Anything.”

He went on deck and ordered a seaman to
the galley to fetch something for the Princess, then returned to find
her combing her hair. “I must look a mess,” she said.

Arutha suddenly found himself fighting
the urge to grin. He didn’t know why, but he was inexplicably
happy. “Not at all,” he said. “You look quite nice,
actually.”

She stopped her combing, and Arutha
marveled at how she looked so young one minute, so womanly the next.
She smiled at him. “I remember sneaking a peek at you during
Father’s court dinner, when you were last in Krondor.”

“At me? What in heaven’s
name for?”

She seemed to ignore the question “I
thought you looked nice then as well, though a bit stern. There was a
boy there who held me up to see. He was with your father’s
party. I’ve forgotten his name, but he said he was apprentice
to a magician.”

Arutha’s smile faded. “That
was Pug.”

“What ever happened to him?”

“He was lost in the first year of
the war.”

She put aside her comb. “I’m
sorry. He was kind to a bothersome child.”

“He was a kind lad, given to
doing brave things, and he was very special to my sister. She grieved
for a long time when he was lost.” Fighting back a gloomy mood,
he said, “Now, why did a Princess of Krondor want to sneak a
look at a distant and rural cousin?”

Anita watched Arutha for a long moment,
then said, “I wanted to see you because our fathers thought it
likely we would marry.”

Arutha was stunned. It took all his
control to retain his composure. He pulled over the single chair and
sat. Anita said, “Didn’t your father ever mention it to
you?”

For want of anything clever to say,
Arutha merely shook his head.

Anita nodded. “I know, the war
and all. Things did get quite frantic soon after you left for
Rillanon.”

Arutha swallowed hard, finding his
mouth suddenly dry. “Now, what is this about our fathers’
plans for . . . our marriage?”

Arutha looked at Anita, her green eyes
flickering with reflected candlelight, and something else. “Matters
of state, I’m afraid. Father wanted my claim to the throne
bolstered, and Lyam’s too dangerous a match, being the older.
You’d be ideal, for the King would not likely object . . . or
wouldn’t have then, I guess. Now, with Guy set upon having me,
I suppose the King is in agreement.”

Arutha became suddenly irritated,
though he wasn’t certain why “And I suppose we’re
not to be consulted in the matter!” His voice rose.

“Please, it’s not my
doing.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to offend you. It’s only I’d never given much
thought to marriage, and certainly not for reasons of state.”
The wry grin reappeared. “That is usually the province of
eldest sons. We second-born as a rule are left to get by as best we
can, an old widowed countess, or a rich merchant’s daughter.”
He tried to make light of it. “A rich merchant’s
beautiful daughter, if we’re lucky, which we usually are not.”
He couldn’t manage a light tone and sat back Finally he said,
“Anita, you will stay at Crydee as long as need be. It may
prove dangerous because of the Tsurani for a time, but we’ll
see that through, somehow, send you down to Carse, perhaps. When this
war is over, you’ll go home in safety; I promise you. And
never, never shall anyone force you to do anything against your
will.”

The conversation was interrupted by a
knock on the door, and a seaman entered with a steaming bowl of
chowder, hard bread, and salted pork on a platter. As the seaman
placed the food on the table and poured a cup of wine, Arutha watched
Anita. When the sailor was gone, Anita began to eat.

Arutha spoke of little things with
Anita, finding himself once more captivated by the girl’s open,
appealing manner. When he finally bade her good night and closed the
door, he was abruptly aware the idea of a state marriage was causing
him only a little discomfort. He went up on deck; the fog had lifted,
and once more they were running before a light breeze. He watched the
stars above and, for the first time in years, whistled a happy air.

Near the helm Martin and Amos shared a
wineskin and spoke low. “The Prince seems unusually cheerful
tonight,” said Amos.

Martin blew a puff of smoke from a
pipe, which was quickly carried away on the wind. “And it’s
a good bet he’s not even aware why he feels so cheerful.
Anita’s young, but not so young he’ll be able to ignore
her attentions for very long. If she’s made up her mind, and I
think she has, she’ll have him snared within the year. And
he’ll be glad to be caught.”

Amos laughed “Though it will be
some time before he owns up to it. I’m willing to wager young
Roland is hauled up before the altar sooner than Anita.”

Martin shook his head. “That’s
no wager. Roland’s been caught for years. Anita has some work
to do yet.”

“You’ve never been in love,
then, Martin?”

Martin said, “No, Amos.
Foresters, like sailors, make poor husbands. Never at home long and
spending days, even weeks, alone. Tends to make them a brooding,
solitary lot. You?”

“Not so you’d notice.”
Amos sighed “The older I get, the more I wonder what I’ve
missed.”

“But would you change anything?”

With a chuckle Amos said, “Probably
not, Martin, probably not.”

As the ship put in at the quayside,
Fannon and Gardan dismounted. Arutha led Anita down the gangway and
introduced her to the Swordmaster of Crydee.

“We’ve no carriages in
Crydee, Highness,” Fantion said to her, “but I’ll
have a cart sent for at once. It’s a long walk to the castle.”

Anita smiled “I can ride, Master
Fannon. Any horse that’s not too spirited will do.”

Fannon ordered two of his men to ride
to the stable and bring one of Carline’s palfreys with a proper
sidesaddle. Arutha asked, “What news?”

Fannon led the Prince off a short
distance and said, “A late thaw in the mountains, Highness, so
there has been no major Tsurani movement as yet. A few of the smaller
garrisons have been raided, but there is nothing to indicate a spring
offensive here Perhaps they’ll move against your father.”

“I hope you’re right, for
Father’s received most of the Krondonan garrison.” He
quickly outlined what had occurred in Krondor, and Fannon listened
closely.

“You did well not sailing for
your father’s camp. I think you judged things correctly.
Nothing could prove more disastrous than a major Tsurani offensive
against Duke Borric’s position as he was marshaling to march
against Guy. Let us keep this to ourselves for a time. Your father
will learn what has occurred soon enough, but the more time it takes
for him to discover Guy’s treachery, the more chance we have of
keeping the Tsurani at bay another year.”

Arutha looked troubled. “This
cannot continue much longer, Fannon. We must soon see an end to this
war.” He turned for a moment and saw townspeople begin to gawk
at the Princess. “Still, we at least have a little time to come
up with something to counter the Tsurani, if we can but think of it.”

Fannon thought a moment, started to
speak, then stopped His expression became grim, almost painful.
Arutha said, “What is it, Swordmaster?”

“I have grave and sorry news to
greet you with, Highness. Squire Roland is dead.”

Arutha was rocked by the news. For a
brief moment he wondered if Fannon made some tasteless joke, for his
mind would not accept what he had heard Finally he said, “What
. . . how?”

“News came three days ago from
Baron Tolburt, who is most sorely grieved. The Squire was killed in a
Tsurani raid.”

Arutha looked at the castle upon the
hill. “Carline?”

“As you would expect. She weeps,
but she also bears up well.”

Arutha fought back a choking sensation.
His face was a grim mask as he moved back to Anita, Amos, and Martin.
Word had spread that the Princess of Krondor was upon the wharf. The
soldiers who had ridden with Fannon and Gardan formed a quiet ring
around her, keeping the townsfolk at a respectful distance, while
Arutha shared the sad news with Amos and Martin.

Soon the horses arrived and they were
in the saddle, riding toward the castle. Arutha spurred his horse on
and was dismounted before the others had entered the courtyard. Most
of the household staff awaited him, and with little ceremony he
shouted to Housecarl Samuel, “The Princess of Krondor is
guesting with us. See rooms are made ready. Escort her to the great
hall and tell her I will join her shortly.”

He hurried through the entrance of the
keep, past guards who snapped to attention as their Prince strode by.
He reached Carline’s suite and knocked upon the door.

“Who is it?” came the soft
voice from within.

“Arutha.”

The door flew open, and Carline rushed
into her brother’s arms, holding him tightly. “Oh, I’m
so glad you are back. You don’t know how glad.” She
stepped back and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I was going
to ride down to meet you, but I just couldn’t seem to gather
myself together.”

“Fannon just told me. I’m
so very sorry.”

She regarded him calmly, her face set
in an expression of acceptance. She took him by the hand and led him
to her chambers. Sitting upon a divan, she said, “I always knew
it might happen. It was the silliest thing, you know. Baron Tolburt
wrote a very long letter, the poor man. He saw so little of his son
and was stricken.” Tears began to come, and she swallowed hard,
looking away from Arutha. “Roland died . . .”

“You don’t have to tell
me.”

She shook her head. “It’s
all right. It hurts . . .” Again tears came, but she spoke
through them. “Oh, it hurts, but I’ll get over the pain.
Roland taught me that, Arutha. He knew there were going to be risks,
and should he die, I’d have to keep living my own life. He
taught me well I think because I finally learned how much I loved
him, and told him so, I gained the strength to cope with this loss.

“Roland died trying to save some
farmer’s cows.” Through the tears, she smiled. “Isn’t
that like him? He spent the entire winter building up the fort, and
then the first time there’s trouble, it’s some hungry
Tsurani trying to steal some skinny cows Roland went riding out with
his men to chase them away, but got shot by an arrow. He was the only
one hurt, and he died before they could get him back to the fort.”
She sighed long. “He was such a jester at times, I almost think
he did it on purpose.”

She began to weep, and Arutha watched
in silence. Quickly she regained control over herself and said, “No
good comes from this, you know.” She rose and looked out a
window and said, quietly, “Damn this stupid war.”

Arutha came over to her, holding her
tightly for a moment. “Damn all wars,” he said.

For a few more minutes they were quiet,
then she said, “Now tell me, what news from Krondor?”

Arutha gave her a brief account of his
experiences in Krondor, half his attention on her. She seemed much
more accepting of Roland’s loss than she had when grieving for
Pug. Arutha shared her pain, but also felt certain she would be all
right. He was pleased to discover just how much Carline had matured
over the last few years. When he finished telling of Anita’s
rescue, Carline interrupted “Anita, the Princess of Krondor, is
here?”

Arutha nodded, and Carline said, “I
must look a fright, and you bring the Princess of Krondor here.
Arutha, you are a monster.” She rushed to a polished metal
mirror and fussed with her face, daubing at it with a damp cloth.

Arutha smiled. Under the mantle of
mourning, his sister still showed a spark of her natural spirit.

Combing her hair out, Carline turned to
face her brother. “Is she pretty, Arutha?”

Arutha’s wry smile was replaced
by a grin. “Yes, I’d say she is pretty.” Carline
studied Arutha’s face. “I can see I’ll have to get
to know her well.” She put down her comb and straightened her
gown. Extending her hand to him, she said, “Come, we can’t
keep your young lady waiting.”

Hand in hand they left the room and
walked down the stairs to the main hallway, to welcome Anita to
Crydee.

A
n
abandoned house overlooked the city.

The site upon which the house had been
constructed had once seen the lights of a great family manse On top
of the highest of many rolling hills surrounding the city of Ontoset,
it was considered the choicest view of the city and the sea beyond.
The family had come to low estate, the result of being on the losing
side in one of the Empire’s many subtle but lethal political
struggles. The house had fallen into disrepair and the property been
ignored, for while it was as fine a building site as any found in the
area, the association of ill fortune with the property was too real
for the superstitious Tsurani.

One day news reached the city that some
kula herders had awakened to the sight of a single black-robed figure
walking up the hill toward the old house. They all acted with haste
to avoid him, in the socially correct fashion for their station. They
stayed within the area, tending their animals—the source of
their meager income: kula wool—when, near midday, they heard a
great noise, as if the heavens above them had erupted with the
grandfather of all thunder peals. The herd scattered in terror, some
running up the hill. The herders were no less terrified, but true to
their trade, they put aside their fears and chased after the animals.