Too Many Princes (7 page)

Unferth told them,
“
You shall accompany this messenger to Hawkwing House, and do whatever Lady Yriatt requires of you. Do not return until you have her leave.
”
As if he didn't even wish to look at them, his gaze shifted to the falcon.
“
Is that acceptable to the noble lady?
”

The great bird nodded.
“
It is.
”

“
Then so be it.
”

Brastigan swallowed, keeping back angry words. The old man didn't even ask for their agreement, just packed them off like unwanted luggage!

Unferth was saying,
“
Go forth, my sons, for the honor of Crutham.
”

If the king thought Brastigan was going to mouth some prettiness in agreement, he was mistaken. Lottres did find his tongue.
“
It shall be as you say, Father.
”

He rose, and Brastigan, stiffly, as well. What he really wanted was to spit in the old man's face, but that would give Oskar and his toadies too much satisfaction.

“
We shall depart at once.
”
Brastigan couldn't quite keep the snarl from his tone, so he contented himself with that and a curt bow. Then he stalked from the room as quickly as his long legs could carry him. After him came Lottres, with the men at arms behind.

They were a good ways out in the courtyard before Brastigan's fury cooled enough that his pace began to lag. Even Lottres didn't try to calm him. They simply concentrated on keeping up.

Brastigan stopped as quickly as he had started. Lottres regarded him anxiously, with the falcon, like some unnatural growth, on his shoulder. The men fell into military lines. There was an awkward pause as everyone waited to see who would take charge of the situation.

“
All right, you heard him,
”
Brastigan snapped.
“
Get your stuff together, if you haven't already.
”

He knew the squad leader well, for they often trained together. Pikarus was too good a soldier to reveal his thoughts, but some of his squad were less experienced. Their expressions confirmed his suspicion, that King Unferth had planned this eviction well in advance.

Before he could question them, Pikarus ventured,
“
Your highness, I must point out that you are not permitted to carry an unsheathed weapon in the castle.
”

He was looking at the unidentified dagger, still braced in Brastigan's belt. The dark prince had forgotten about it, but he wasn't about to admit that.

“
Too late now,
”
he sneered.

Ordinarily he liked Pikarus, but at the moment he didn't like anything at all. What he really wanted was to punch someone, but he knew better. Bare knuckles against armored men would only hurt him, and the king would feel no pain at all. Anyway, the brawl earlier nearly came to a bad end for him. He was in no mood to press his luck. Brastigan swallowed the fire in his chest and consciously diverted himself back to the matter he had been pursuing before King Unferth pronounced his sentence of exile.

“
I'll get rid of the knife,
”
Brastigan told Pikarus.
“
We meet at the stables at dawn.
”
He spun and stalked off, hoping the crowd would stay behind for once.

In his wake, Lottres was smoothing ruffled feathers.
“
Let me talk to him.
”

“
Very good, your highness,
”
Pikarus said, his bland voice fainter with distance.

“
Brastigan...
”
The younger man puffed, hurrying after him.

A weird, thin voice advised,
“
Let him sulk. It's best he get it out of his system early.
”

Brastigan whirled with a hot cry:
“
Iamnotsulking!
”

He knew he shouldn't let the king's
“
deed of honor
”
bother him so much. After all, he should be used to Unferth's rejection by now. It shouldn't have mattered. Yet still, his pride smarted. After all the years of boredom, something interesting was finally happening in Harburg—an attempt on his life, no less—and the old fool had to send him off on some idiot quest. Instead of defending himself, he'd be at the beck and call of... What? The Lady of Hawkwing House? He'd never heard of her, but the talking falcon alone made him wary. There was witchcraft at work, and that was bad news for sure.

But he wasn't going to argue with some stupid bird.
“
Come on, Pup.
”
Brastigan turned to walk on, but at a reasonable pace, and he did his best not to shuffle like a sulky boy.

“
Where are we going?
”
Lottres asked patiently.

“
To see Eben, remember? Before I lose the chance. Or,
”
he mocked,
“
get arrested for bearing naked steel in the castle.
”
Tarther, the captain of the keep's guard, would love to have the chance, too.

“
A wise choice,
”
observed the falcon.

He didn't want its advice.
“
Why don't you go catch a mouse or something?
”

The bird blinked at that. Had he annoyed it? Good.

“
All right, Bras,
”
Lottres agreed. No doubt he thought he should go with his brother and keep him out of trouble.
“
But why are you so angry?
”

“
Father always makes me mad,
”
Brastigan growled with a renewed surge of irritation. How dare he, the old man... Just because he was king... Why did he have so many kids, if he didn't want them around?

“
I know,
”
Lottres answered. He sighed.
“
Maybe I'm so used to being a disappointment to him, it just doesn't surprise me any more.
”

“
That is untrue,
”
the falcon told them.

“
What do you know about it?
”
Brastigan snarled.

Archly, the great bird answered,
“
I think I will go catch a mouse.
”

“
Wait!
”
cried Lottres, but it was already flapping away from his shoulder. It passed over the wall, from the shadows of the courtyard into the evening sunlight, and glided out of sight.

Lottres turned to Brastigan, sighing again. Brastigan wished he would stop doing that.

“
What did you do that for?
”
The creature must have caught Lottres with its claws, for he rubbed his neck and winced.

“
Because it isn't natural,
”
Brastigan snapped.
“
How can I talk to you with that thing listening to us?
”

“
I wanted to hear what it was saying,
”
his brother complained.
“
The information could be useful.
”

“
Or it could be feeding you a cock and bull story. Don't get sucked into this romantic garbage, Pup. Ancient pact, my eye! Sorcery is nothing but bad news to plain folks like us.
”

“
Bras,
”
Lottres began to argue, then stopped.
“
It's only for a little while. We'll see what Lady Yriatt wants and be back before you know it.
”

But Brastigan wasn't sure he wanted to return. Not after this.

* * *

Eben lived in the northernmost tower on the inner ward. It was the also highest, built more for spying out invaders than defense. Still, its slender column contained more private space than even the king and queen had. That in itself was odd, since Eben wasn't an official of the court. He was the king's close friend, however, and he had been there for so long that nobody questioned it any more.

Like a good brother, Lottres trailed after Brastigan. He was left behind, as usual, but his mind was as much in a hurry as his legs, thinking about Eben and the falcon, and their quest.

Brastigan might be too caught up in his temper to see the advantages, but Lottres wasn't. A talking falcon! It was the most exciting thing to happen in years—and they got to be part of it. Lottres looked forward to the brotherhood of the road, new places, thrilling exploits. He could have danced for joy, if his brother would just slow down a moment.

Because he was good with numbers, Lottres spent his days in a fusty port office, calculating tariffs and the like. He never saw anything interesting, aside from the occasional transposed number. Lottres felt so bored and cooped-up, he was ready for any adventure. Even Brastigan felt the same way. He'd said it himself,
“
Have you noticed how boring it is around here?
”
Brastigan didn't like being surprised, that was all. Surely he'd come around once he got over the shock.

Meanwhile, Lottres could never pass up a chance to see Eben. He felt a shiver of anticipation. Eben was a wizard. He seldom showed it off, but everyone knew. If you wanted to know somebody's secrets, Eben was the one to ask.

Ah, how Lottres would love to do that! It would set him apart from all his burly brothers, and no mistake. Of course, he was already set apart just by being so short. What Lottres wanted was to choose the difference for himself.

To reach Eben, they had to pass through the massive gate to the inner ward and cross the narrow courtyard beyond. As a child, Lottres remembered hearing the stone walls echo with voices of the king's offspring, for the children and their mothers had lived directly across from the royal chambers. Sometimes they could see their father watching them, smiling when they waved to him. Alustra hadn't liked it, not the noise or the proximity of the other women, with the result that the current living quarters had been constructed away from her sight. Since then, none of them saw Unferth often enough. Lottres suspected that weighed on Brastigan, as it did on him.

The vacant rooms had since been converted into royal archives and the offices of various functionaries. It was a strange feeling to pass through his old quarters, which had seemed so large, and find them stuffy and cramped.

The two princes began to climb upward, into territory that had been forbidden them as youngsters. The castle watchmen still used the two lower stories. Eben had the upper three and the roof. That was where they found him, leaning between two crenels to watch the sunset. Amber light ran like syrup over the slate roofs of Harburg. Far below, a mote of bright gold glided against the weathered gray of the mountains. The falcon?

“
Welcome,
”
said Eben in his dry, smooth voice. He smiled and nodded to Lottres, who felt a flutter of pleasure. He could see why Brastigan, too, trusted Eben. He was a lot like Joal.

 The king's unofficial advisor was not elderly. Still, he had a timeless, leathery look. Hair and eyes were dark brown, the hue of well-worn hide. His garb was simple, a woolen robe of deep blue with a hood to raise against foul weather.

It didn't take long for Brastigan to explain what had happened. The wizard's eyes lit with delight when Brastigan showed him the dagger. Lottres felt a squirming jealousy, deep inside.

Eben took the weapon, supporting the pommel and point with his fingertips, and held it up in the light.
“
Ah,
”
he breathed, as if it were beautiful.
“
At last, something I can work with. You have no idea how long I've been waiting. Excellent work, Prince Brastigan.
”

“
Actually, since my brothers keep dying, I think I do know,
”
Brastigan retorted.

“
Of course,
”
Eben said, ignoring the sarcasm.
“
Thank you for sharing this with me, your highness.
”

Brastigan shrugged, and Eben went back to gazing at the dagger, turning it thoughtfully from side to side. The two princes waited and exchanged glances. Lottres wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next, but he felt disappointed somehow.

“
Master Eben,
”
he suddenly said,
“
may I ask a question?
”

Eben blinked. He seemed surprised they were still there, but he nodded.
“
Of course, your highness.
”

“
Who is the Lady of Hawkwing House?
”

Eben's face, his whole body, went still. Only his eyes, hooded suddenly, flicked to Brastigan for a moment and then returned to Lottres.

“
So the message has come,
”
he mused.

“
Message?
”
Lottres pressed. A surge of excitement returned to his belly.

“
You knew about this?
”
Brastigan interrupted.

“
I was aware of the possibility,
”
Eben admitted,
“
but there are many possibilities. Not all become realities. I truly hoped this one wouldn't.
”

Despite the suggestion of an apology, Brastigan wasn't mollified.

“
I'm sure,
”
he snapped.
“
Well, let me know what you find out. If it's
possible.
”

“
Bras!
”
Lottres gasped. Even as well as he knew his brother, Brastigan's rudeness still shocked him sometimes.

“
You must learn to trust your father's counsel,
”
Eben answered, unruffled. Meaning that they should trust him. Lottres did trust Eben, but Brastigan seemed determined to view this as a personal betrayal.

“
Leave me alone!
”
He stalked across the flat roof and stared at the darkening mountains.