The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

Pug’s expression showed he considered this an unsatisfactory explanation even if he didn’t say so. The traveler leaned forward. ‘I can effect a spell or two, if that answers your question, young Pug.’

Pug heard his name shouted from the courtyard. ‘Come,’ said the traveler. ‘Your friends call. We had best go and reassure them that you are all right.’

They left the bathing room and crossed the open court of the inner garden. A large anteroom separated the garden from the front of the house, and they passed through to the outside. When the others saw Pug in the company of the traveler, they looked around quickly, their weapons drawn. Kulgan and the Prince crossed the court to stand before them. The traveler put up his hands in the universal sign that he was unarmed.

The Prince was the first to speak. ‘Who is your companion, Pug?’

Pug introduced the traveler. ‘He means no harm. He hid until he could see that we were not pirates.’ He handed the knife to Meecham.

If the explanation was unsatisfactory, Arutha gave no sign. ‘What is your business here?’

The traveler spread his hands, with the staff in the crook of his left arm. ‘I abide here, Prince of Crydee. I should think that the question better serves me.’

The Prince stiffened at being addressed so, but after a tense moment relaxed. ‘If that is so, then you are correct, for we are the intruders. We came seeking relief from the solitary confines of the ship. Nothing more.’

The traveler nodded. ‘Then you are welcome at Villa Beata.’

Kulgan said, ‘What is Villa Beata?’

The traveler made a sweeping motion with his right hand. ‘This home is Villa Beata. In the language of the builders, it means “blessed home,” and so it was for many years. As you can see, it has known better days.’

Everyone was relaxing with the traveler, for they also felt a reassurance in his easy manner and friendly smile. Kulgan said, ‘What of those who built this strange place?’

‘Dead . . . or gone. They thought this the Insula Beata, or Blessed Isle, when they first came here. They fled a terrible war, which changed the history of their world.’ His dark eyes misted over, as if the pain of remembering was great. ‘A great king died . . . or is thought to have died, for some say he may return. It was a terrible and sad time. Here they sought to live in peace.’

‘What happened to them?’ asked Pug.

The traveler shrugged. ‘Pirates, or goblins? Sickness, or madness? Who can tell? I saw this home as you see it now, and those who lived here were gone.’

Arutha said, ‘You speak of strange things, friend traveler. I know little of such, but it seems that this place has been deserted for ages. How is it you knew those who lived here?’

The traveler smiled. ‘It is not so long ago as you would imagine, Prince of Crydee. And I am older than I look. It comes from eating well and bathing regularly.’

Meecham had been studying the stranger the entire time, for of all those who had come ashore, his was the most suspicious nature. ‘And what of the Black One? Does he not trouble you?’

The traveler looked over his shoulder at the top of the castle. ‘Macros the Black? The magician and I have little cause to be at odds. He suffers me the run of the island, as long as I don’t interfere with his work.’

A suspicion crossed Pug’s mind, but he said nothing, as the traveler continued. ‘Such a powerful and terrible sorcerer has little to fear from a simple hermit, I’m sure you’ll agree.’ He leaned forward and added in conspiratorial tones, ‘Besides, I think much of his reputation is inflated and overboasted, to keep intruders away. I doubt he is capable of the feats attributed to him.’

Arutha said, ‘Then perhaps we should visit this sorcerer.’

The hermit looked at the Prince. ‘I don’t think you would find a welcome at the castle. The sorcerer is oftentimes preoccupied with his work and suffers interruption with poor grace. He may not be the mythical author of all the world’s ills that some imagine him to be, but he could still cause more trouble than it is worth to visit him. On the whole he is often poor company.’ There was a faint, wry hint of humor in his words.

Arutha looked around and said, ‘I think we have seen all of interest we are likely to. Perhaps we should return to the ship.’

When none disagreed, the Prince said, ‘What of you, friend traveler?’

The stranger spread his hands in a general gesture. ‘I continue my habit of solitude, Your Highness. I have enjoyed this small visit, and the boy’s news of the occurrences of the world outside, but I doubt that you would find me tomorrow if you were to seek me.’

It was evident he was unlikely to provide any more information, and Arutha found himself growing irritated with the man’s obscure answers. ‘Then we bid you farewell, traveler. May the gods watch over you.’

‘And you as well, Prince of Crydee.’

As they turned to leave, Pug felt something trip his ankle, and he fell hard against Kulgan. Both went down in a tangle of bodies, and the traveler helped the boy up. Meecham and Gardan assisted the stout mage to his feet. Kulgan put weight upon his foot and started to fall. Arutha and Meecham grabbed him. The traveler said, ‘It appears your ankle is turned, friend magician. Here.’ He held out his staff. ‘My staff is stout oak and will bear your weight as you return to the ship.’

Kulgan took the offered staff and put his weight on it. He took an experimental step and found that he could negotiate the path with the aid of the staff. ‘Thank you, but what of yourself?’

The stranger shrugged. ‘A simple staff, easily replaced, friend magician. Perhaps I shall have the opportunity of reclaiming it someday.’

‘I will keep it against that day.’

The traveler turned away, saying, ‘Good. Then until that day, again farewell.’

They watched as he walked back into the building, and then turned to face each other, expressions of wonder upon their faces. Arutha was the first to speak. ‘A strange man, this traveler.’

Kulgan nodded. ‘More strange than you know, Prince. At his leaving I feel the lifting of some enchantment, as if he carries a spell about him, one that makes all near him trusting.’

Pug turned to Kulgan. ‘I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I didn’t seem to be able to make myself.’

Meecham said, ‘Aye, I felt that also.’

Gardan said, ‘There is a thought in my mind. I think we have been speaking to the sorcerer himself.’

Pug said, ‘That is my thought.’

Kulgan leaned on the staff and said, ‘Perhaps. If it is so, then he has his own reasons for masking his identity.’ They talked about this as they walked slowly up the path from the villa.

As they reached the cove where the boat was beached, Pug felt something brush against his chest. He reached inside his tunic and found a small folded piece of parchment. He withdrew it, startled by his find. He had not picked it up, as well as he could remember. The traveler must have slipped it inside his shirt when he had helped Pug to his feet.

Kulgan looked back as he started for the boat and, seeing Pug’s expression, said, ‘What have you there?’

Pug handed the parchment over, while the others gathered around the magician. Kulgan unfolded the parchment. He read it, and a surprised expression crossed his face. He read it again, aloud. ‘I welcome those who come with no malice in their hearts. You will know in days to come that our meeting was not by chance. Until we meet again, keep the hermit’s staff as a sign of friendship and goodwill. Seek me not until the appointed time, for that too is foreordained. Macros.’

Kulgan handed the message back to Pug, who read it. ‘Then the hermit was Macros!’

Meecham rubbed his beard. ‘This is something beyond my understanding.’

Kulgan looked up to the castle, where the lights still flashed in the single window. ‘As it is beyond mine, old friend. But whatever it means, I think the sorcerer wishes us well, and I find that a good thing.’

They returned to the ship and retired to their cabins. After a night of rest, they found the ship ready to leave on the midday tide. As they raised sail, they were greeted with unseasonably light breezes, blowing them directly for Krondor.

• CHAPTER TWELVE •

Councils

PUG WAS RESTLESS.

He sat looking out a window of the Prince’s palace in Krondor. Outside, the snow was falling, as it had been for the last three days. The Duke and Arutha had been meeting with the Prince of Krondor daily. On the first day Pug had told his story about finding the Tsurani ship, then had been dismissed. He remembered that awkward interview.