Kulgan raised one eyebrow. He was still absorbing the changes in his former apprentice. This talk of Greater Path and Lesser Path was still difficult to understand, and he couldn’t believe the Tsurani attitude toward the boy. He amended that, the young man.
“After my confrontation with the Warlord, it became clear to me that I would serve the Empire by leaving, for my continued presence could only bring divisiveness at a time the Empire needs to heal itself. The war must be ended, and peace established, for the Empire is being drained.”
“Aye,” added Meecham, “as is the Kingdom. Nine years of war are bleeding us dry.”
Kasumi was equally discomforted by the casual tone these people took toward Pug. “Great One, what if the Emperor cannot stop the new Warlord? The council will surely be quick to elect one.”
“I don’t know, Kasumi. I will then have to try to close the rift.”
Kulgan pulled long on his pipe, then blew a thick cloud. “I am still not clear on everything you have said, Pug. From what you have said, I can see nothing that will prevent them from opening another rift.”
“There is nothing, except that rifts are unstable things. There is no way to control where a rift will go; it was mere chance that caused the one between this world and Kelewan. Once that one was established, others could follow, as if the path between the two worlds acted to other rifts like a lodestone to metal.
“The Tsurani could attempt to reestablish the rift, but each attempt would probably take them to other, new worlds. If they returned here, it would be by the merest chance, one in thousands. If the rift is closed, it would be years before they returned, if ever.”
“From what you said about the Warlord’s taking his own life,” said Kulgan, “can we expect a respite in the fighting?”
It was Kasumi who answered. “I fear not, friend Kulgan, for I know this Warlord’s Subcommander. He is Minwanabi, a proud family from a powerful clan, and it would serve his cause well when the High Council meets for his clan to bring word of a great victory. Most likely he will attack in force within days.”
Kulgan shook his head. “Meecham, you had best ask Lord Lyam to join us; he must hear this.” The tall franklin rose and left the tent.
Kasumi frowned. “I have come to know this world a little, and I agree with the Great One. Peace would surely profit us both, but I do not see it coming.”
The young Duke followed Meecham into the tent a few minutes later, and Kasumi repeated his warning. “We had best be ready, then, for the attack,” said Lyam.
Kasumi looked uncomfortable. “Lord, I must beg your pardon, but should fighting come, I cannot stand against my own people. May I have your permission to return to my own lines?”
The Duke considered this, and Pug noticed that his face was becoming lined with the strain of command. Gone were the laughing eyes and ever present smile. Now he resembled his father more than ever. “I understand. I will order you passed through the lines, if I have your parole that you will repeat nothing you have heard here.”
Kasumi agreed and rose to leave. Pug stood also and said, “I will issue one last order to you, Kasumi, as a magician of Tsuranuanni. Return to your father, for he has need of you. One more soldier dying will aid your nation little.”
Kasumi bowed his head. “Your will, Great One.”
Kasumi embraced Laurie and left with Lyam.
Kulgan said, “You have told me so much that is difficult to absorb. I think for now we had best retire, for I feel the need of resting.”
As the old magician rose, Pug said to him, “There is one thing I have been waiting to ask. What of Tomas?”
“Your childhood friend is well and with the elves of Elvandar. He is a warrior of great renown, as he had wished to be.”
Pug smiled. “I am glad to hear that. Thank you.”
Kulgan, Laurie, and Meecham bade them good night and left. Katala said, “Husband, you are tired. Come rest.”
Pug crossed over to the bed she sat upon. “You amaze me. You have been through so much tonight, and yet you fret about me.”
She took his hand. “When I am with you, everything is as it should be. But you look as if the weight of the world sits upon you.”
“The weight of two worlds, I fear, love.”
—
THEY WERE AWAKENED by the sound of trumpets. As they rose from the bed, Pug and Katala were startled by Laurie rushing into the tent. From the light behind him as he tossed aside the tent flap, it was evident that they had slept late. “The King comes!” He held out some clothing to Pug. “Put these on.”
Seeing the wisdom of not walking the camp in the black robe, Pug complied. Katala pulled her robe on over her head, while Laurie turned his back. She went over to William, who was sitting up in his bed, looking frightened. He quickly calmed down and started to pull on Fantus’s tail, causing the drake to snort a protest over such indignities.
Pug and Laurie left the tent and walked to the commander’s pavilion, overlooking the camp of the Kingdom armies. Away to the southeastern end of the camp they could see the royal party quickly approaching, and could hear the cheers of the soldiers as they saw the royal banner pass. Thousands of soldiers took up the cheer, for they had never seen the King before, and his presence served to lift their spirits, badly sagging since the rout by the Tsurani.
Laurie and Pug stood off to one side of the command tent, but close enough to ensure they could hear what transpired. Duke Brucal kept his eyes on the King, but Lyam noticed the two and nodded his approval of their presence.
The two lines of Royal Household Guard rode up to the front of the tent, then parted so the King might ride to the fore. Rodric, King of the Realm, rode on a huge black war-horse, who pawed at the ground as he came to a halt before the two dukes. Rodric was dressed in a gaudy array of gold-trimmed battle armor, with many flutings and reliefs fashioned into the breastplate. His helm was golden, with a circlet crown. A royal purple plume flew from the crest, blown by the morning wind.
When he had been sitting for a moment, he removed his helm and handed it to a page. He stayed atop his horse and studied the two commanders, looking down at them with a crooked smile. “What, have you no greeting for your liege lord?”
The dukes bowed. Brucal said, “Your Majesty. We were just surprised. We had no word.”
Rodric laughed, and the sound was tinged with madness. “That is because I sent no word. I wanted to surprise you.” He looked at Lyam. “Who is this in the tabard of Crydee?”
“Lyam, Your Majesty,” answered Brucal. “The Duke of Crydee.”
The King shouted, “He is Duke only if I say he is Duke.” With a sudden change of mood, he said, in solicitous tones, “I am sorry to hear of your father’s death.” He then giggled. “But he was a traitor, you know. I was going to hang him.” Lyam tensed at Rodric’s words, and Brucal gripped his arm.
The King saw and screamed, “You would attack your King? Traitor! You are one with your father and the others. Guards, seize him!” He pointed at the young man.
Royal guards dismounted, and the soldiers of the West who stood nearby moved to stop them. “Stop!” commanded Brucal, and the western soldiers stopped. He turned to Lyam. “On your word, we have civil war,” he hissed.
Lyam said, “I submit, Your Majesty.” The western soldiers grumbled.
The King said coldly, “I shall have to hang you, you know. Take him to his tent and keep him there.” The guards complied. The King turned his attention to Brucal. “Are you loyal to me, my lord Brucal, or shall there be a new Duke in Yabon as well as Crydee?”
“I am ever loyal to the crown, Your Majesty,” came the answer.
The King dismounted. “Yes, I believe that.” He giggled again. “You knew my father thought highly of you, didn’t you?” He took the Duke’s arm, and they entered the command tent.
Laurie touched Pug’s shoulder and said, “We had best stay in our tents. If one of those courtiers recognizes me, I may join the Duke on the gibbet.”
P
ug nodded. “Get Kulgan and Meecham, and have them meet us in my tent.”
Laurie hurried off, and Pug returned to his tent. Katala was feeding William from a bowl of stew from the night before. “I fear we have found another pot of trouble, love,” Pug said. “The King is in camp, and he is madder than I dreamed possible. We must leave soon, for he has ordered Lyam imprisoned.”
Katala looked shocked. “Where will we go?”
“I can manage to take us to Crydee, to Prince Arutha. I know the court of Castle Crydee as well as if there were a pattern there. I should have no trouble transporting us.”
Laurie, Meecham, and Kulgan joined them a few minutes later, and Pug outlined his plan for escape. Kulgan shook his head. “You take the boy and Katala, Pug, but I must stay.”
Meecham added, “And I.”
Pug looked incredulous. “Why?”
“I served Lyam’s father, and now I serve him. If the King tries to execute Lyam, there will be fighting. The Armies of the West will not stand idly by and watch Lyam hanged. The King has only the Royal Guard, and they will be easily defeated. Once that happens, it is civil war. Bas-Tyra will lead the Armies of the East. Lyam will need my aid.”
Meecham said, “The issue won’t be quickly decided. The Armies of the West are veteran, but they’re tired. There’s little spirit left in them. The Armies of the East are fresh, and Black Guy is the best general in the Kingdom. Lyam’s unproved. It’ll be a long struggle.”
Pug understood what they were saying. “It may not reach that point, though. Brucal seems ready to follow Lyam’s lead, but if he changes his mind? Who knows if Ylith, Tyr-Sog, and the others will follow Lyam without Yabon’s lead?”
Kulgan sighed. “Brucal will not waver. He hates Bas-Tyra as much as Borric did, though for less personal reasons. He sees Guy’s hand in every move to break the West. I think the Duke of Yabon would happily take Rodric’s head, but even so, Lyam may submit rather than risk a civil war and lose the West to the Tsurani. We shall have to see what passes.
“Which is all the more reason you must go to Crydee, Pug. If Lyam dies, then Arutha is heir to the crown. Once begun, the King cannot stop the killing until Arutha is dead. Even Martin—whose claim would be blemished by his illegitimacy—and Carline would be hunted down and killed. Perhaps Anita as well. Rodric would not risk a western heir to the throne. Upon Lyam’s death, the bloodletting will not end until either Rodric or Arutha sits the throne of the Kingdom uncontested. You are the most powerful magician in the Kingdom.” Pug started to protest. “I know enough of the arts to know your skills from the events you related to us. And I remember your promise as a boy. You are capable of feats unmatched by any in our world. Arutha will have grave need of your aid, for he would not let his brother’s death go unpunished. Crydee, Carse, and Tulan will march once the Tsurani have been dealt with. Others, especially Brucal, would join them. Then we would have civil war.”
Meecham spat out of the tent. He froze, holding aside the tent flap for a moment, then said, “I think the argument is over. Look.”
They joined him at the opening. None had the franklin’s sharp eyesight, and at first they couldn’t see what he was pointing out. Then slowly they recognized the cloud of dust hanging in the air, far to the southeast. It spread across the horizon for miles, a dirty brown ribbon that ran below the blue of the sky.
The franklin turned to look at the others. “The Armies of the East.”
—
THEY STOOD NEAR the command pavilion, among a group of LaMutian soldiers. With Laurie, Kulgan, Pug, and Meecham was Earl Vandros of LaMut, the former cavalry officer who had commanded the raid through the valley years ago, when they had first seen the rift. He had gained the title upon his father’s death, less than a year after Pug’s capture, and had proven to be one of the Kingdom’s most able field commanders.
A company of nobles was riding up the hill toward the pavilion. The King and Brucal stood waiting for them. Next to each lord rode a standard-bearer, who held the banner of that noble. Vandros announced the name of each army represented. “Rodez, Timons, Sadara, Ran, Cibon, they’re all here.” He turned to Kulgan. “I doubt there are a thousand soldiers left between here and Rillanon.”
Laurie said, “There is one whose banner I don’t see. Bas-Tyra.”
Vandros looked. “Salador, Deep Taunton, Pointer’s Head…no, you are right. The golden eagle on black is not among the standards.”
Meecham said, “Black Guy is no fool. He is already upon the throne of Krondor. Should Lyam be hanged, and Rodric fall in battle, it would be only a short step to the throne in Rillanon.”
Vandros looked back at the gathering nobles. “Nearly the entire Congress of Lords is present. Should they return to Krondor without the King, then Guy would be King in short order. Many of these are his men.”
Pug said, “Who is that under the banner of Salador? It is not Lord Kerus.”
Vandros spat upon the ground. “It is Richard, formerly Baron of Dolth, now Duke of Salador. The King hung Kerus, and his family fled to Kesh. Now Richard rules the third most powerful duchy in the East. He is one of Guy’s favorites.”
When the nobles were assembled before the King, Richard of Salador, a red-faced bear of a man, said, “My liege, we are assembled. Where are we to camp?”
“Camp? We make no camp, my lord Duke. We ride!” He turned to Lord Brucal. “Marshal the Armies of the West, Brucal.” The Duke gave the signal, and heralds ran through the camp, shouting the order to muster. The battle drums and war trumpets were shortly sounding throughout the western camp.
Vandros left to join his soldiers, and soon there were few observers nearby. Kulgan, Pug, and the others moved off to one side, keeping clear of the King’s gaze.
The King said to the assembled nobles, “We have had nine years of the western commander’s tender ways. I shall lead the attack that will drive the foe from out of our lands.” He turned to Brucal. “In deference to your advancing years, my lord Duke, I am giving command of the infantry to Duke Richard. You will stay here.”
The old Duke of Yabon, who was in the process of donning his armor, looked stung. He said nothing save, “Your Majesty,” his tone cold and strained. He stiffly turned and entered the command tent.
The King’s horse was brought, and Rodric mounted. A page handed up his crowned helm, and the King placed it upon his head. “The infantry shall follow as quickly as possible. Now we ride!”
The King spurred his horse down the hill, followed by the Royal Guard and the assembled nobles. When he was out of sight, Kulgan turned to the others and said, “Now we wait.”
—
THE DAY GREW long. Every hour that passed was like a slowly unfolding day. They sat in Pug’s tent, wondering what was occurring to the west. The army had marched forward, under the King’s banner, with drums and trumpets sounding. Over ten thousand horsemen and twenty thousand foot soldiers had advanced upon the Tsurani. There were only a few soldiers left in camp, the wounded and an orderly company. The quiet outside was unnerving after the almost constant camp noise of the previous day.
William had grown restless, and Katala had taken him outside to play. Fantus welcomed the opportunity to rest untroubled by his tireless playmate.
Kulgan sat quietly, puffing on his pipe. He and Pug passed the time by occasionally speaking of matters magical, but mostly were silent.
Laurie was the first to break the tension. He stood and said, “I can’t take this waiting anymore. I think we should go to Lord Lyam and help decide what is to be done once the King returns.”
Kulgan waved him back into his seat. “Lyam will do nothing, for he is his father’s son and would not start a civil war, not here.”
Pug sat absently toying with a dagger. “With the Armies of the East in camp, Lyam knows that an outbreak of fighting would hand the West to the Tsurani and crown to Bas-Tyra. He’ll walk to the gibbet and put the rope around his own neck rather than see that.”
“It’s t
he worst kind of foolishness,” countered Laurie.
“No,” answered Kulgan, “not foolishness, minstrel, but a matter of honor. Lyam, like his father before him, believes that the nobility have a responsibility to give their lives’ work, and their lives if need be, for the Kingdom. With Borric and Erland dead, Lyam is next in line for the throne. But the succession is unclear, for Rodric has not named an heir. Lyam could not bear to wear the crown if he would be thought a usurper. Arutha is another matter, for he would simply do what was expedient, take the throne—though he would not wish to—and worry about what was said of him when it was said.”
Pug nodded. “I think that Kulgan has the right of things. I do not know the brothers as well as he, but I think it might have been a better thing had the order of their birthing been reversed. Lyam would make a good king, but Arutha would make a great one. Men would follow Lyam to their deaths, but the younger brother would use his shrewdness to keep them alive.”
“A fair assessment,” conceded Kulgan. “If there is anyone who could find a way out of this mess, it is Arutha. He has his father’s courage, but he also has a mind as quick as Bas-Tyra’s. He could weather the intrigues of court, though he hates them.” Kulgan smiled. “When they were boys, we called Arutha the ‘little storm cloud,’ for when he got angry, he would turn to black looks and rumbles, while Lyam would be quick to anger, quick to fight, and quick to forget.”
Kulgan’s reminiscences were interrupted by the sound of shouting from outside. They jumped up and rushed out of the tent.
A blood-covered rider, in the tabard of LaMut, sped past them, and they ran to follow. They reached the command tent as Lord Brucal came out. The old Duke of Yabon said, “What news?”
“The Earl Vandros sends word. Victory!” Other riders could be heard approaching the camp. “We rode through them like the wind. The line on their east is breached, and the salient is rent. We broke them, isolating those in the salient, then wheeled to the west and rolled back those who sought to aid them. The infantry now holds fast, and the cavalry drives the Tsurani back into the North Pass. They flee in confusion! The day is ours!”