Authors: Raymond E. Feist
Magician’s End (27 page)
‘The princes?’ asked Ty.
‘Back to their duties. Your friends are on their ships or in charge of their armies as the case warrants, and …’ She looked at Hal. ‘The princess is safely in the bosom of her family.’ Trying to make light of it, she added, ‘After all your adventures, I’m sure she misses you two rascals.’
If Hal hoped for anything more, he kept it to himself. He asked, ‘What of Jim Dasher? I’m surprised you didn’t just get a message to him and let him tell Edward about Roldem’s position.’
‘I would if I knew how to find him,’ she said. ‘But I have no idea where he is, so it fell to me to bring word to the prince. I was doing fine, but stayed one day too long in Salador. So instead of being at some inn along this highway, ready to see Prince Edward, I found myself in a city under martial law conspiring to find a way out.’
‘Well, luck smiled on us all,’ said Ty.
‘Clever lad,’ said Franciezka. Looking at Hal, she added, ‘If you ever decide being a duke isn’t enough excitement, I think Jim could turn you into a fair agent.’
‘Somehow I doubt it’s fun all the time.’
‘It’s never “fun”,’ she answered, ‘but sometimes it is entertaining.’
‘Still,’ said Hal, ‘too many people got a good enough look at us to ever try anything like that in Salador again.’
‘As I said, smart lad.’
‘We should reach Albalyn in three days,’ said Hal.
‘Good,’ said Franciezka. ‘I’m going to turn in under one of those wagons. Anyone have an extra blanket?’
‘Let me go see,’ said Ty.
When they were alone, Franciezka said, ‘For your ears alone, Hal. I am sorry for the loss of your father.’
He nodded. News of his father’s death hadn’t reached him until after he left Roldem with Ty to safely smuggle the Princess Stephané and her companion, the Lady Gabriella, to Rillanon.
‘As a duke of the Kingdom, you rank high enough to carry this message to Edward. King Carole will recognize Edward’s claim and reject Oliver’s. His majesty fears that with Oliver on the throne, his ties to the Eastern Kingdoms put the Duchy of Olasko at risk, and more, pose a threat to Roldem.’
‘What concessions does the king desire?’ asked Hal.
She paused and smiled. ‘As I said, you’re smarter than you look. At least one state marriage between Roldem and the Isles; two would be better. Prince Grandprey is the only brother not currently wed, so that would mean he needs to find a highly placed duke’s daughter, and Stephané needs to be wed to an equally high-ranked duke.’
Hal hid his pain on hearing that. He might be a duke, but even if Crydee was still in the possession of the Kingdom, by eastern standards he would be a rural noble, one only noteworthy due to a distant blood-tie to the Crown. Without a duchy he was a duke in name only and would rank lower than many eastern earls and even a few barons in terms of political power and wealth. He swallowed his bitterness; all he could say was, ‘Well, assuming there are any dukes left alive without wives, I’m sure Edward will give his blessing. What else?’
‘Nothing else. Both kingdoms are too scarred from the mauling Lord John Worthington and his twins in Kesh and the Isles inflicted to have much left to give in land or property. Besides, the marriage of two royals to Isles nobility sends a strong message to Kesh and the Eastern Kingdoms that no one can attack either nation without response from both. That, in itself in these times, is ample. Now, I’m for sleep. I suggest you do as well. We’re not safe until we see Edward’s camp ahead and no one behind.’
Hal nodded. Ty returned with a blanket from one of the wagons and gave it to Franciezka.
They watched her go, and then Ty said, ‘Which watch?’
‘I’ll take first,’ said Hal. Ty didn’t argue and turned in, leaving Hal alone by the fire. As hard as he tried, he could not take his mind off Stephané. The thought of her wedding another left him with a terrible, sinking feeling in his stomach.
Two days later, they could see the banners of Edward’s camp on the ridge ahead. Hal stood up to see better and when he sat back down, said, ‘Every banner of every lord in the west is flying. A few from the east, too, from what I see of the colours.’ He indicated a cluster of banners near the side of the road. ‘I see Malac’s Cross, Durrony’s Vale, and a couple I don’t recognize.’
Hal paused as they came a little more into view and said, ‘Timons …’ He stopped. ‘Now I see why Salador is moving against Silden. If Timons has already declared for Edward, Arthur faces potential attack from three sides.’ He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘Damn.’
‘What?’
‘Edward has enough strength of arms to win if he seizes the moment, but he doesn’t have enough votes in the Congress.’
‘Seems to me if he wins the war, who votes for what doesn’t matter.’
‘Maybe,’ said Hal and he fell silent.
They reached a checkpoint and Hal jumped down from the lead wagon. He and Ty had disposed of the tunics and tabards the day before, so now they resembled swords for hire again. A sergeant wearing the livery of Krondor, a dark-blue tabard showing an eagle over a mountain top, held up his hand. ‘What’s this?’
Hal donned his ducal signet. ‘I need to speak with Prince Edward.’
‘You do, do you?’ began the sergeant, a burly man with a suspicious eye.
Hal held out his hand. ‘I’m Henry, Duke of Crydee.’
Upon seeing the ring, the sergeant’s attitude changed at once.
Hearing the title, Jeremiah looked down from his driver’s seat with wide eyes.
Hal smiled and said, ‘Safe journey home.’
‘Yes … your grace.’
‘Let these wagons through. They’re heading home for Darkmoor.’
‘Yes, your grace,’ said the sergeant. ‘I’ll send word to his highness.’
Hal beckoned for Lady Franciezka and Ty to come with him and followed the sergeant while a private sprinted up the hill to the prince’s pavilion.
Moments later, they were standing before the massive pavilion, where a grey-haired man wearing a simple soldier’s tabard of Krondor waited. Hal knelt. ‘Majesty.’
The older man put his hands on Hal’s shoulders and raised him gently. ‘Not yet, my young friend.’
‘Lord James sent me,’ said Hal and then he introduced his companions. ‘Lady Franciezka brings a message from King Carole, and I think it’s a welcome one.’
‘Good,’ said Edward, his blue eyes taking in the beautiful noblewoman from Roldem. ‘Your reputation does not do you justice, my lady,’ he said, extending his hand to lead her inside the pavilion. ‘Lord Henry,’ he said, ‘there is someone here who will be most glad to see you.’
Inside the tent Hal saw a collection of nobles, men of rank from every quarter of the west and a few from the east, gathered around a massive table on which rested a battle map of the region. Nearby one familiar face lit up in delight at seeing Hal.
Martin took one step to reach his brother and embrace him. ‘You’re alive!’
‘As are you,’ said Hal with a laugh. ‘When did you get here?’
‘A few days ago, with tidings from the Grey Towers.’
‘You two catch up later,’ said the prince. ‘We have much to speak of, but first …’ To the assembled nobility, he said, ‘Gentlemen, Lady Franciezka Sorboz, envoy of Roldem.’
Lady Franciezka curtseyed then said, ‘My king sends you greetings, Prince Edward, but as a brother king. He recognizes your claim and will support you in any way Roldem can, short of armed intervention.’
Edward smiled. ‘As long as he’s not sending a similar message to Oliver, we welcome his support.’
An uncomfortable laugh greeted the remark, but Franciezka said, ‘No such duplicity … this time, your majesty.’
‘Highness will do,’ said Edward. ‘I’m uncomfortable with claiming the mantle; I’ll wait until the Congress of Lords bestows it.’ He looked at the map. ‘If Carole does nothing more than move a few ships around to make Oliver think twice about sailing his army to the mainland, that would suit us fair.’
‘Highness,’ said Hal.
‘Yes, Duke Henry?’
‘Salador moves against Silden.’
‘What?’ said one of the other nobles, while muttering erupted all around.
Hal walked over to the map and pointed. ‘Bas-Tyra sends this,’ and he handed him the letter given to him by Captain Reddic. ‘Chadwick of Ran has moved to join with Oliver.
‘Arthur of Salador fears a pincer movement from Timons, Durrony’s Vale and Malac’s Cross, so he moves against Silden to clear the road. I suggest Oliver wants to land his army at Silden before Bas-Tyra can march, move to take Malac’s Cross, then come at you here from the north.’
The prince studied the map. ‘Fair assessment.’
Martin motioned to Hal that he wanted to speak, so while the prince and his advisors considered the significance of the King of Roldem’s message, and Bas-Tyra’s pledge, Hal moved to the door and the two stepped outside.
‘What news?’ asked Hal. ‘Brendan?’
‘Well enough, last time I saw him. But I sent him off on an errand.’
‘Where?’
‘Sorcerer’s Isle.’
Hal’s eyes widened. ‘Why?’
‘Because we’re going to need magicians, a lot of them: there are things happening in the west that make this war here trivial.’
Hal didn’t wish to know what his brother meant by that, but he stood and listened while Martin spoke of the Star Elves and their troubles. When Martin had finished, Hal suspected he was right, and that what was happening in the west would determine if this coming conflict between Edward and Oliver had any significance at all.
M
AGNUS STUMBLED.
One moment he had been propelled through a tunnel of light, and the next he was standing on a grass-covered hillside. He glanced around and was struck by how familiar his surroundings were, then he realized he was on the north side of Isla Beata.
He willed himself to his father’s study and a shock of pain struck him like a lightning bolt, knocking him to the ground and momentarily stunning him. He shook off his fuzzy-headedness after a moment and got to his feet. He took in a deep breath, then started walking.
While it was not a big island, it was large enough that to walk from the north shore, where he once had a personal retreat, a small fishing shack, to the villa took several hours. He listened, half-expecting to hear familiar sounds, but all he heard was the sound of distant breakers and the wind in the trees as he walked from the shore. Then he realized what was missing. There were no bird calls, no insect sounds. He wasn’t on his island.
Progress by foot was slow, and Magnus wished he had his usual staff and the old slouch hat he used to wear when travelling. They provided additional comfort and utility. The staff was useful for negotiating small streams and other places he didn’t feel like using his arts to bypass, and the hat had protected his very fair skin from the harsh sun.
As long as he was wishing, he thought, he might as well wish for a picnic basket with a fine, chilled wine.
‘Lovely place for a picnic, isn’t it?’ said a feminine voice from behind him.
Magnus hadn’t heard that voice in years, yet he recognized it instantly. ‘Helena,’ he whispered.
He turned and drank in the sight of her. She looked exactly as she had the day they had first become lovers. She had long, flowing wavy hair that reached the small of her back, and curled at the ends, unless the weather was dry – then she’d complain it was unruly. Her skin was naturally fair, but as she insisted on doing her studies outside and swimming as much as she could, she was always tanned. Her eyes were the dark brown of an island sable’s fur: almost black. She wore a wine-coloured dress, with a scooped neck and short sleeves trimmed in the palest yellow, almost white, and he knew she wore nothing under it, save sandals on her feet. She complained the island was too warm in summer, and wanted to be able to strip naked and leap into the ocean at whim.
He remembered her body. She was neither slender nor heavy, but exactly in the middle, athletic and strong, ideal from Magnus’s point of view, and her long legs were magnificent. Her nose was perfect, lacking the odd bumps and curves of most people’s. Years had passed and he occasionally wondered why he found her nose so memorable, but it was. And now he beheld it again, a straight bridge down to a tip exactly the right size, and perfectly centred and symmetrical. And below was her mouth, which most of the time was pursed as she concentrated on one thing or another; but then she’d smile as she did now, and his world became dazzling.
She was the only woman in his life who had captured his heart: no other woman had wounded it so deeply.
She pointed to the large picnic basket on a commodious blanket. In her hands she held his staff and hat, the one he had worn years before, larger-brimmed than the newer one. ‘You forgot your staff and hat, my love.’
He took a faltering step toward her and said, ‘How is this possible?’
She shrugged and glanced around. ‘Something’s different, Magnus.’ Then she closed her eyes for a moment, and he could see vitality flow away. At first she had moved almost as a dancer would, light upon her feet, then before his eyes he saw her manner change and her body settle into the movement of someone older, a woman with more years to carry.
‘I remember,’ she said softly. She came to stand before him and handed him his staff and hat. It wasn’t the staff he had lost leaping into the vortex, but rather the one he had carried as a youngster. The wood was still freshly carved, sanded and smoothed, and hand-polished by him every night in his room for hours over many weeks until he judged it just so. It was a youthful student’s affectation, for it was not a staff of power, nor was it even a sturdy yeoman’s stave, but really a very elegant walking stick. And the hat. He held it in his other hand and realized how foolish he must have looked as a youth, wearing this pointy-topped, broad-brimmed, floppy monstrosity. Though he did feel affection for it, and admitted it had been a very good hat for the many years he kept it. He couldn’t remember where he’d last seen it, over half a century before. And he was surprised to discover he was very glad to have it back.
