His tone was flat, without emotion. Lyam was about to say something, but a signal from Pug silenced him. There was something the magician wanted to say. “Kasumi?”
“Yes, Great One?” Tomas looked surprised at the honorific, but said nothing. There had been time only for the most superficial exchange of histories between the two boyhood friends as they had returned to the camp.
“What would you have done if you had not surrendered to the Prince’s custody?”
“We would have fought to the death, Great One.”
Pug nodded “I understand. Then you are responsible for preserving the lives of nearly four thousand of your men? And thousands more Kingdom soldiers?”
Kasumi’s expression softened, revealing his shame. “I have been among your people, Great One. I may have forgotten my Tsurani training. I have brought dishonor upon my house. When the Prince has disposed of my men, I will ask permission to take my own life, though it may be too much of an honor for him to grant.”
Brucal and others looked shocked at this. Lyam showed no expression, but simply said, “You have earned no dishonor. You would have aided no cause in dying. There ceased to be one when the rift was destroyed.”
Kasumi said, “It is our way.”
Lyam said, “No longer. This is now your homeland, for you have no other. What Kulgan and Pug have said about rifts makes it unlikely you shall ever return to Tsuranuanni. Here you will remain, and it is my intention to see that prospect turned to good advantage for us all.”
A faint flicker of hope entered Kasumi’s eyes. The Heir turned toward Lord Brucal and said, “My lord Duke of Yabon. How do you judge the Tsurani soldiers?”
The old Duke smiled. “Among the finest I have ever beheld.” Kasumi showed a little pride at the remark. “They match the Dark Brotherhood for ferocity and are of nobler nature, they are as disciplined as Keshian dog-soldiers and have the stamina of Natalese Rangers. On the whole they are without question superior soldiers.”
“Would an army of such provide additional security for our troubled northern borders?”
Brucal smiled. “The LaMutian garrison was among the hardest hit during the war. They would be a valuable addition there.”
The Earl of LaMut echoed his Duke’s comment Lyam turned to Kasumi. “Would you still take your life if your men could remain freemen and soldiers?”
The Shinzawai son said, “How is that possible, Your Highness?”
“If you and your men will swear loyalty to the crown, I will place you under the command of the Earl of LaMut. You will be both freemen and citizens and will be given the charge to defend our northern border against the enemies of humanity who abide in the Northlands.”
Kasumi sat silently, unsure of what to say. Laurie stepped over to Kasumi and said, “There is no dishonor.”
Kasumi’s face broke into an expression of open relief. “I accept, as I am sure my men will.” He paused, then added, “We came as an honor guard for the Emperor. From what I have heard said here, we have been used by this sorcerer as much as anyone. I would not have any more blood spilled on his account. I thank Your Highness.”
Lord Vandros said, “I think a Knight-Captaincy would be proper for the leader of nearly four thousand Do you agree, my lord Duke?” Brucal nodded in agreement, and Vandros said, “Come, Captain, we should speak with your new command.”
Kasumi rose, bowed to Lyam, and left with the Earl of LaMut. Arutha touched his brother on the shoulder. Lyam turned his head, and the Prince said, “Enough of matters of state. It is time to celebrate the ending of the war.”
Lyam smiled. “True.” He turned to Pug. “Magician, run and fetch your lovely wife and fine son. I would have things that smack of home and family about.”
Tomas looked at Pug “Wife? Son? What is this?”
Pug laughed. “There is much to talk about. We can catch up with each other after I bring my family.”
He made his way to his own tent, where Katala was telling William a story. They both jumped up and ran to him, for they had not seen him since his return. He had sent a soldier with the news that he was well but busy with the Prince.
“Katala, Lyam would like you to join us for dinner.”
William tugged at his father’s robe. “I want to come too, Papa.”
Pug picked up his son. “You too, William.”
The celebration within the tent was of a quieter sort than the one taking place outside. Still, they had been entertained by Laurie’s ballads and had enjoyed the exhilaration of knowing that peace had finally come. The food was the same camp fare as before, but somehow it tasted better. A great deal of wine had also added to the festive mood.
Lyam sat with a cup of wine in his hand. Around the tent the others were engaged in quiet conversation. The Heir was a little drunk, and none grudged him that relief, for he had endured much in the last month Kulgan, Tully, and Arutha, who knew him best, understood that Lyam was thinking of his father, who but for a Tsurani arrow would now be sitting here with them. With the responsibility of first the war, then the succession thrust upon him, Lyam had not found time for mourning as his brother had. Now he was fully feeling the loss.
Tully stood. In a loud voice he said, “I am tired, Your Highness. Have I your leave to withdraw?”
Lyam smiled at his old teacher. “Of course. Good night, Tully.”
The others in the tent quickly followed suit and took leave of the Heir. Outside the pavilion the guests bade each other good night. Laurie, Kulgan, Meecham, and the dwarves also left, leaving Pug and his family standing with Calin and Tomas.
The childhood friends had spent the evening exchanging histories of the last nine years. Each was equally amazed at the other’s story. Pug had expressed interest in the Dragon Lords’ magic, as had Kulgan. They expressed an interest in visiting the Dragon’s Hall someday. Dolgan allowed he would be willing to guide them should they wish to make the journey.
Now the reawakened friendship glowed within the two young men, though they understood it was not what it had once been, for there had been many and great changes in both. As much as by the dragon armor and the black robe, this point was dramatized by the presence of William and Katala.
Katala had found the dwarves and elves fascinating—William had found everything fascinating, especially the dwarves, and now lay asleep in his mother’s arms. Of Tomas she didn’t know what to make. He resembled Calin in many ways, but still looked a great deal like the other men in camp.
Tomas regarded the sleeping boy. “He has his mother’s looks, but there is enough devil in him to put me in mind of another boy I knew.”
Pug smiled at that. “His life will be far calmer, I hope.”
Arutha left his brother’s tent and came to join them. He stood beside the two boys who had ridden with him to the mines of Mac Mordain Cadal so many years ago. “I should probably not say this, but years ago — when you first came to visit my father, Calin — two boys were overheard in conversation while they tussled in a hay wagon.”
Tomas and Pug both looked at the Prince uncomprehendingly. “You don’t remember, do you?” Arutha asked “A blond thin-ribbed lad was sitting atop a shorter boy promising he would someday be a great warrior who would be welcomed in Elvandar.”
Pug and Tomas both laughed at that. “I remember,” said Pug.
“And the other promised to become the greatest magician in the Kingdom.”
Katala said, “Perhaps William will also grow up to realize his dream.”
Arutha smiled with a wicked light in his eyes. “Then watch him closely. We had a long chat before he went to sleep, and he told me he wanted to grow up to be a dwarf.” All of them laughed, except Katala, who looked at her son for a moment with worry upon her face, but then she, too, joined in the merriment.
Arutha and Calin bade the others good night, and Tomas said, “I, too, will be to bed.”
Pug said, “Will you come to Rillanon with us?”
“No, I may not I would be with m
y lady. But when the child is born, you must guest with us, for there will be a great celebration.” They promised they would come Tomas said, “We are for home in the morning. The dwarves will return to their villages, for there is much work to be done there. They have been overlong from their families. And with the return of Tholin’s hammer, there is talk of a moot, to name Dolgan King in the West.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Though my old friend will most likely use that hammer on the first dwarf to openly suggest it in his presence.” Placing his hand upon Pug’s shoulder, he said, “It is well we both came through this; even in the depths of my strange madness, I never forgot about you.”
Pug said, “I never forgot you either, Tomas.”
“When you unravel this mystery on Sorcerer’s Isle, I trust you will send word?”
Pug said he would. They embraced, saying good-bye, and Tomas walked away, but stopped and looked back, a boyish glint in his eyes. “Still, I would love to be there when you meet Carline again with a wife and son in tow.”
Pug flushed, for he viewed that coming reunion with mixed feelings. He waved to Tomas as he walked from sight, then found Katala regarding him with a determined look upon her face. In even, measured tones she said, “Who is Carline?”
Lyam looked up as Arutha entered the command tent. The younger brother said, “I thought you would have retired by now. You’re exhausted.”
“I wanted some time to think, Arutha. I have had little time alone and wanted to put things in order.” His voice was tired and troubled.
Arutha sat next to his brother “What sort of things?”
“This war, Father, you, I”—he thought of Martin— “other things . . . Arutha, I don’t know if I can be King.”
Arutha raised his eyebrows a little. “It is not as if you had a choice, Lyam. You will be King, so make the best of it.”
“I could refuse the crown in favor of my brother,” said Lyam slowly, “as Erland renounced it in favor of Rodric.”
“And what a fine kettle of soup that became. Should you want a civil war, that would be one way to get it. The Kingdom cannot afford a debate in the Congress of Lords. There are still too many wounds to be healed between East and West. And du Bas-Tyra is still at large.”
Lyam sighed. “You would make a better king, Arutha.”
Arutha laughed. “Me? I am little pleased at the prospect of being Prince of Krondor Look, Lyam, when we were boys, I envied you the affection you gained so quickly People always preferred you to me. As I grew older, I understood it wasn’t that I was disliked; it was simply there was something about you that brings out trust and love in people. That is a good quality for a king to possess. I never envied the fact you would follow Father as Duke, nor do I now envy your crown. I once thought I might take some time after the war to travel, but now that will not be possible, for I must rule Krondor. So do not wish this additional burden of the entire Kingdom upon me. I would not take it.”
“Still, you would make a better king.” Lyam caught Arutha’s gaze and held it.
Arutha paused, frowned, then fixed his brother with a skeptical look. “Perhaps, but you are to be King, and I expect you will remain King for quite some time.” He stretched as he rose. “I am for bed. It has been a long and hard day.” Nearing the entrance to the tent, he said, “Ease your doubts, Lyam. You will be a good ruler. With Caldric to advise you, and the others, Kulgan, Tully, and Pug, you will lead us through this time of rebuilding.”
Lyam said, “Arutha, before you go . . .” Arutha waited, as Lyam made a decision. “I wish you to go with Kulgan and Pug to Sorcerer’s Isle. You’ve been there once before, and I’d like your judgment on what is found there.” Arutha was displeased and started to object. Lyam cut him off. “I know you wish to go to Krondor, but it will take only a few days. There will be twelve days between the time we reach Rillanon and the coronation, ample time for you to join us.”
Arutha again began to object, then with a wry smile, acceded. “Trust in yourself, Lyam. If I won’t take the crown, you’re left with it.” As he departed the tent, he added with a laugh, “There’s no other brother to claim it.”
Lyam sat alone, absently sipping at his wine. With another long sigh he said to himself, “There is one other, Arutha, and may the gods help me decide what is right to do.”
THIRTY-THREE - Legacy
The ship dropped anchor.
The crew secured the sails aloft while the landing party made ready Meecham watched the preparation of the longboat. The magicians were anxious to reach the castle of Macros, for they had more questions than the others. Arutha was also curious, after resigning himself to the voyage. He found he also had little desire to take part in the long funeral procession that had left from Ylith the day they sailed. He had buried his grief for his father deep inside and would deal with it in his own time. Laurie had stayed with Kasumi to aid the assimilation of the Tsurani soldiers into the LaMutian garrison, and would meet them later in Rillanon.
Lyam and his nobles had shipped for Krondor, escorting the bodies of Borric and Rodric. They would be joined by Anita and Carline, then all would convey the dead in a procession of state to Rillanon, where they would be laid to rest in the tomb of their ancestors. After the traditional period of twelve days’ mourning, Lyam would be crowned King. By then all who would attend the coronation would have gathered in Rillanon. Pug and Kulgan’s business should be completed in ample time for them to reach the capital.
The boat was readied, and Arutha, Pug, and Kulgan joined Meecham. The longboat was lowered, and six guards bent their backs to the oars.
The sailors had been greatly relieved that they were not required to accompany the landing party, for in spite of the magicians’ reassurances, they had no desire to set foot upon Sorcerer’s Isle.
The boat was beached, and the passengers stepped out. Arutha looked about. “There seems to have been no change here since we last came.”
Kulgan stretched, for the ship’s quarters had been cramped, and he enjoyed the sensation of dry land under his feet again. “I would have been surprised to find it otherwise. Macros was one to keep his house in order, I wager.”
Arutha turned and said, “You six will stay here. If you hear our call, come quickly.” The Prince started toward the path up the hill, and the others fell in without comment. They reached the place where the path forked, and Arutha said, “We come as guests. I thought it best not to appear invaders.”
Kulgan said nothing, being occupied with observing the castle they were approaching. The strange blue light that had been so visible when they had last visited the island was absent from the window of the high tower. The castle had the look of a place deserted, without movement or sound. The drawbridge was down and the portcullis raised. Meecham observed, “At least we won’t have to storm the place.”
When they reached the edge of the drawbridge, they halted. The castle rose above them, its high walls, and taller towers, forbidding. It was built of dark stone, unfamiliar to them. Around the great arch over the bridge, strange carvings of alien creatures regarded them with fixed gazes. Horned and winged beasts sat perched atop ledges, seemingly frozen in an instant, so cleverly were they fashioned.
They stepped on the bridge and crossed the deep ravine that separated the castle from the rest of the island Meecham looked down, seeing the rock walls of the crevice fall away to the level of the sea, where waves crashed through the passage between. “It serves better than most moats I’ve seen. You’d think twice before trying to cross this while someone was shooting at you from the walls.”
They entered the court and looked about, as if expecting to see someone appear at one of the many doors in the walls at any moment. Nowhere was there sign of any living creature, yet the grounds about the central keep were well tended and in order.
When no one was forthcoming, Pug said, “I imagine we’ll find what we’re after in the keep.” The others moved with him toward the broad stairs that led to the main doors. As they mounted
the steps, the large doors began to swing open, until they could all see a figure standing in the darkness beyond. As the doors finished their movement with a loud thump against the keep walls, the figure stepped forward into the sunlight.
Meecham’s sword was in his hand without thinking, for the creature before them bore a strong resemblance to a goblin. After a brief examination, Meecham put up his weapon; the creature had made no threatening gesture, but simply stood waiting for them at the top of the stairs.
It was taller than the average goblin, being nearly Meecham’s height. Thick ridges dominated its forehead, and a large nose was the focus of its face, but it was nobler in features than a goblin. Two black, twinkling eyes regarded them as they resumed their climb. As they came up to it, the creature gave a toothy grin. Its head was covered with a thick mat of black hair, and its skin was tinged with the faint green of the goblin tribe, but it lacked the hunched-shouldered posture of a goblin, instead standing erect much like a man. It wore a finely fashioned tunic and trousers, both bright green. Upon its feet were a pair of polished black boots, reaching nearly to its knees.
The creature said, grinning, “Welcome, masters, welcome. I am Gathis, and I have the honor of acting as your host in my master’s absence.” There was a slight hiss to its speech.
Kulgan said, “Your master is Macros the Black?”
“Of course. It has been ever thus. Please enter.”
The four men accompanied Gathis into the large entry hall and stopped to look about. Except for the absence of people and of the usual heraldic banners, this hall looked much like the one in Castle Crydee.
“My master has left explicit instructions for your visit, as much as was possible to anticipate, so I have prepared the castle for your arrival. Would you care for some refreshments? There are food and wine ready.”