The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

The King shifted topics again. ‘For four days cousin Borric has regaled me with tales of these aliens, these Tsurani. What do you think of all this business?’

Pug looked startled. He had not thought the King might ask him for an opinion on anything, let alone a matter as important as the security of the Kingdom. He thought for a long moment, trying to frame his answer as best he could, then said, ‘From everything I have seen and heard, Your Majesty, I think these Tsurani people not only are planning to invade, but are already here.’

The King raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh? I would like to hear your reasoning.’

Pug considered his words carefully. ‘If there have been as many sightings as we are aware of, Majesty, considering the stealth these people are employing, wouldn’t it be logical that there are many more occurrences of their coming and going than we know of?’

The King nodded. ‘A good proposition. Continue.’

‘Then might it also not be true that once the snows have fallen, we are less likely to find signs of them, as they are holding to remote areas?’

Rodric nodded and Pug continued. ‘If they are as warlike as the Duke and the others have said them to be, I think they have mapped out the West to find a good place to bring their soldiers in during the winter so they can launch their offensive this spring.’

The King slapped the table with his hand. ‘A good exercise in logic, Pug.’ Motioning for the servants to bring food, he said, ‘Now, let us eat.’

Food of an amazing variety and amount for just the two of them was produced, and Pug picked small amounts of many things, so as not to appear indifferent to the King’s generosity. Rodric asked him a few questions as they dined, and Pug answered as well as he could.

As Pug was finishing his meal, the King put his elbow on the table and stroked his beardless chin. He stared out into space for a long time, and Pug began to feel self-conscious, not knowing the proper courtesy toward a king who is lost in thought. He elected to sit quietly.

After a time Rodric came out of his revery. There was a troubled note in his voice as he looked at Pug and said, ‘Why do these people come to plague us now? There is so much to be done. I can’t have war disrupting my plans.’ He stood and paced around the balcony for a while, leaving Pug standing, for he had risen when the King had. Rodric turned to Pug. ‘I must send for Duke Guy. He will advise me. He has a good head for such things.’

The King paced, looking at the city for a few minutes more, while Pug stood by his chair. He heard the monarch mutter to himself about the great works that must not be interrupted, then felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw a palace steward standing quietly at his side. With a smile and a gesture toward the door, the steward indicated the interview was at an end. Pug followed the man to the door, wondering at the staff’s ability to recognize the moods of the King.

Pug was shown the way back to his room, and he asked the servant to carry word to Lord Borric that Pug wished to see him if he was not busy. He went into his room and sat down to think. A short time later he was brought out of his musing by a knock at the door. He gave permission for the caller to enter, and the same steward who had carried the message to the Duke entered, with the message that Borric would see Pug at once.

Pug followed the man from his room and sent him away, saying he could find the Duke’s room without guidance. He walked slowly, thinking of what he was going to tell the Duke. Two things were abundantly clear to the boy: the King was not pleased to hear that the Tsurani were a potential threat to his kingdom, and Lord Borric would be equally displeased to hear that Guy du Bas-Tyra was being called to Rillanon.

As with every dinner over the last few days, there was a hushed mood at the table. The five men of Crydee sat eating in the Duke’s quarters, with palace servants, all wearing the King’s purple-and-gold badge on their dark tunics, hovering nearby.

The Duke was chafing to leave Rillanon for the West. Nearly four months had passed since they left Crydee: the entire winter. Spring was upon them, and if the Tsurani were going to attack, as they all believed, it was only a matter of days now. Arutha’s restlessness matched his father’s. Even Kulgan showed signs that the waiting was telling upon him. Only Meecham, who revealed nothing of his feelings, seemed content to wait.

Pug also longed for home. He had grown bored in the palace. He wished to be back in his tower with his studies. He also wished to see Carline again, though he didn’t speak of this to anyone. Lately he found himself remembering her in a softer light, forgiving those qualities that had once irritated him. He also knew, with mixed feelings of anticipation, that he might discover the fate of Tomas. Dolgan should soon send word to Crydee, if the thaw came early to the mountains.

Borric had endured several more meetings with the King over the last week, each ending unsatisfactorily as far as he was concerned. The last had been hours ago, but he would say nothing about it until the room was emptied of servants.

As the last dishes were being cleared away, and the servants were pouring the King’s finest Keshian brandy, a knock came at the door and Duke Caldric entered, waving the servants outside. When the room was cleared, he turned to the Duke.

‘Borric, I am sorry to interrupt your dining, but I have news.’

Borric stood, as did the others. ‘Please join us. Here, take a glass.’

Caldric took the offered brandy and sat in Pug’s chair, while the boy pulled another over. The Duke of Rillanon sipped his brandy and said, ‘Messengers arrived less than an hour ago from the Duke of Bas-Tyra. Guy expresses alarm over the possibility that the King might be “unduly” distressed by these “rumors” of trouble in the West.’

Borric stood and threw his glass across the room, shattering it. Amber fluid dripped down the wall as the Duke of Crydee nearly roared with anger. ‘What game does Guy play at? What is this talk of rumors and undue distress!’

Caldric raised a hand and Borric calmed a little, sitting again. The old Duke said, ‘I myself penned the King’s call to Guy. Everything you had told, every piece of information and every surmise, was included. I can only think Guy is ensuring that the King reaches no decision until he arrives at the palace.’

Borric drummed his fingers on the table and looked at Caldric with anger flashing in his eyes. ‘What is Bas-Tyra doing? If war comes, it comes to Crydee and Yabon. My people will suffer. My lands will be ravaged.’

Caldric shook his head slowly. ‘I will speak plainly, old friend. Since the estrangement between the King and his uncle, Erland, Guy plays to advance his own banner to primacy in the Kingdom. I think that, should Erland’s health fail, Guy sees himself wearing the purple of Krondor.’

Through clenched teeth Borric said, ‘Then hear me clearly, Caldric. I would not put that burden on myself or mine for any but the highest purpose. But if Erland is as ill as I think, in spite of his claims otherwise, it will be Anita who sits the throne in Krondor, not Black Guy. If I have to march the Armies of the West into Krondor and assume the regency myself, that is what shall be, even should Rodric wish it otherwise. Only if the King has issue will another take the western throne.’

Caldric looked at Borric calmly. ‘And will you be branded traitor to the crown?’

Borric slapped the table with his hand. ‘Curse the day that villain was born. I regret that I must acknowledge him kinsman.’

Caldric waited for a minute until Borric calmed down, then said, ‘I know you better than you know yourself, Borric. You would not raise the war banner of the West against the King, though you might happily strangle your cousin Guy. It was always a sad thing for me that the Kingdom’s two finest generals could hate each other so.’

‘Aye, and with cause. Every time there is a call to aid the West, it is cousin Guy who opposes. Every time there is intrigue and a title is lost, it is one of Guy’s favorites who gains. How can you not see? It was only because you, Brucal of Yabon, and I myself held firm that the congress did not name Guy regent for Rodric’s first three years. He stood before every Duke in the Kingdom and called you a tired old man who was not fit to rule in the King’s name. How can you forget?’

Caldric did look tired and old as he sat in the chair, one hand shading his eyes, as if the room light were too bright. Softly he said, ‘I do see, and I haven’t forgotten. But he also is my kinsman by marriage, and if I were not here, how much more influence do you think he would have with Rodric? As a boy the King idolized him, seeing in him a dashing hero, a fighter of the first rank, a defender of the Kingdom.’

Borric leaned back in his chair. ‘I am sorry, Caldric,’ he said, his voice losing its harsh edge. ‘I know you act for the good of us all. And Guy did play the hero, rolling the Keshian Army back at Deep Taunton, all those years ago. I should not speak of things I have not seen first-hand.’

Arutha sat passively through all this, but his eyes showed he felt the same anger as his father. He moved forward in his chair, and the dukes looked at him. Borric said, ‘You have something to say, my son?’

Arutha spread his hands wide before him. ‘In all this the thought has bothered me: should the Tsurani come, how would it profit Guy to see the King hesitate?’

Borric drummed his fingers on the table. ‘That is the puzzle, for in spite of his scheming, Guy would not peril the Kingdom, not to spite me.’

‘Would it not serve him,’ said Arutha, ‘to let the West suffer a little, until the issue was in doubt, then to come at the head of the Armies of the East, the conquering hero, as he was at Deep Taunton?’

Caldric considered this. ‘Even Guy could not think so little of these aliens, I would hope.’

Arutha paced the room. ‘But consider what he knows. The ramblings of a dying man. Surmise on the nature of a ship that only Pug, here, has seen, and I caught but a glimpse of as it slid into the sea. Conjecture by a priest and a magician, both callings Guy holds in little regard. Some migrating Dark Brothers. He might discount such news.’

‘But it is all there for the seeing,’ protested Borric.

Caldric watched the young Prince pace the room. ‘Perhaps you are right. What may be lacking is the urgency of your words, an urgency lacking in the dry message of ink and parchment. When he arrives, we must convince him.’

Borric nearly spat his words. ‘It is for the King to decide, not Guy!’

Caldric said, ‘But the King has given much weight to Guy’s counsel. If you are to gain command of the Armies of the West, it is Guy who must be convinced.’

Borric looked shocked. ‘I? I do not want the banner of the armies. I only wish for Erland to be free to aid me, should there be need.’

Caldric placed both hands upon the table. ‘Borric, for all your wisdom, you are much the rustic noble. Erland cannot lead the armies. He is not well. Even if he could, the King would not allow it. Nor would he give leave for Erland’s Marshal, Dulanic. You have seen Rodric at his best, of late. When the black moods are upon him, he fears for his life. None dare say it, but the King suspects his uncle of plotting for the crown.’

‘Ridiculous!’ exclaimed Borric. ‘The crown was Erland’s for the asking thirteen years ago. There was no clear succession. Rodric’s father had not yet named him heir apparent, and Erland’s claim was as clear as the King’s, perhaps more so. Only Guy and those who sought to use the boy pressed Rodric’s claim. Most of the congress would have sustained Erland as King.’

‘I know, but times are different, and the boy is a boy no longer. He is now a frightened young man who is sick from fear. Whether it is due to Guy’s and the others’ influence or from some illness of the mind, I do not know. The King does not think as other men do. No king does, and Rodric less than most. Ridiculous as it may seem, he will not give the Armies of the West to his uncle. I am also afraid that once Guy has his ear, he will not give them to you either.’

Borric opened his mouth to say something, but Kulgan interrupted. ‘Excuse me, Your Graces, but may I suggest something?’

Caldric looked at Borric, who nodded. Kulgan cleared his throat and said, ‘Would the King give the Armies of the West to Duke Brucal of Yabon?’

Comprehension slowly dawned on Borric’s and Caldric’s faces, until the Duke of Crydee threw back his head and laughed. Slamming his fist on the table, he nearly shouted, ‘Kulgan! If you had not served me well in all the years I have known you, tonight you have.’ He turned to Caldric. ‘What do you think?’