Magician: Apprentice

by Raymond E. Feist

  When the doors clanged closed and the hall was empty, the Duke said, “Pay no heed to Roland, Pug. My daughter has him firmly under her spell; he counts himself in love with her and wishes someday to petition for her hand.” With a lingering look at the closed door, he added almost absently, “But he’ll have to show me he’s more than the rakehell he’s growing into now if he ever hopes for my consent.”

  The Duke dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. “Now, to other matters. Pug, I have an additional gift for you, but first I want to explain something to you.

  “My family is among the oldest in the Kingdom. I myself am descended from a King, for my grandfather, the first Duke of Crydee, was third son to the King. Being of royal blood, we are much concerned with matters of duty and honor. You are now both a member of my court and apprentice of Kulgan. In matters of duty you are responsible to him. In matters of honor you are responsible to me. This room is hung with the trophies and banners of our triumphs. Whether we have been resisting the Dark Brotherhood in their ceaseless effort to destroy us, or fighting off pirates, we have ever fought bravely. Ours is a proud heritage that has never known the stain of dishonor. No member of our court has ever brought shame to this hall, and I will expect the same of you.”

  Pug nodded, tales of glory and honor remembered from his youth spinning in his mind. The Duke smiled. “Now to the business of your other gift. Father Tully has a document that I asked him to draw up last night. I am going to ask him to keep it, until such time as he deems fit to give it to you. I will say no more on the subject, except that when he gives it to you, I hope you will remember this day and consider long what it says.”

  “I will, Your Grace.” Pug was sure the Duke was saying something very important, but with all the events of the last half hour, it did not register very well.

  “I will expect you for supper, Pug. As a member of the court, you will not be eating meals in the kitchen anymore.” The Duke smiled at him. “We’ll make a young gentleman out of you, boy. And someday when you travel to the King’s city of Rillanon, no one will fault the manners of those who come from the court of Crydee.”

  5

  Shipwreck

  The breeze was cool.

  The last days of summer had passed, and soon the rains of autumn would come. A few weeks later the first snows of winter would follow. Pug sat in his room, studying a book of ancient exercises designed to ready the mind for spell casting. He had fallen back into his old routine once the excitement of his elevation to the Duke’s court had worn off.

  His marvelous feat with the trolls continued to be the object of speculation by Kulgan and Father Tully. Pug found he still couldn’t do many of the things expected of an apprentice, but other feats were beginning to come to him. Certain scrolls were easier to use now, and once, in secret, he had tried to duplicate his feat.

  He had memorized a spell from a book, one designed to levitate objects. He had felt the familiar blocks in his mind when he tried to incant it from memory. He had failed to move the object, a candleholder, but it trembled for a few seconds and he felt a brief sensation, as if he had touched the holder with a part of his mind. Satisfied that some sort of progress was being made, he lost much of his former gloom and renewed his studies with vigor.

  Kulgan still let him find his own pace. They had had many long discussions on the nature of magic, but mostly Pug worked in solitude.

  Shouting came from the courtyard below. Pug walked to his window. Seeing a familiar figure, he leaned out and cried, “Ho! Tomas! What is afoot?” Tomas looked up.

  “Ho! Pug! A ship has foundered in the night. The wreck has beached beneath Sailor’s Grief. Come and see.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Pug ran to the door, pulling on a cloak, for while the day was clear, it would be cold near the water. Racing down the stairs, he cut through the kitchen, nearly knocking over Alfan, the pastry cook. As he bolted out the door, he heard the stout baker yell, “Squire or not, I’ll box your ears if you don’t watch where you’re going, boy!” The kitchen staff had not changed their attitude toward the boy, whom they considered one of their own, beyond feeling proud of his achievement.

  Pug shouted back with laughter in his voice, “My apologies, Mastercook!”

  Alfan gave him a good-natured wave as Pug vanished through the outside door and around the corner to where Tomas was waiting. Tomas turned toward the gate as soon as he saw his friend.

  Pug grabbed his arm. “Wait. Has anyone from the court been told?”

  “I don’t know. Word just came from the fishing village a moment ago,” Tomas said impatiently. “Come on, or the villagers will pick the wreck clean.” It was commonly held that salvage could be legally carried away before any of the Duke’s court arrived. As a result, the villagers and townsfolk were less than timely in informing the authorities of such occurrences. There was also a risk of bloodshed, should the beached ship still be manned by sailors determined to keep their master’s cargo intact so that they would get their fair sailing bonus. Violent confrontation, and even death, had been the result of such dispute. Only the presence of men-at-arms could guarantee no commoner would come to harm from lingering mariners.

  “Oh, no,” said Pug. “If there is any trouble down there and the Duke finds out I didn’t tell someone else, I’ll be in for it.”

  “Look, Pug. Do you think with all these people rushing about, the Duke will be long in hearing of it?” Tomas ran his hand through his hair. “Someone is probably in the great hall right now, telling him the news. Master Fannon is away on patrol, and Kulgan won’t be back awhile yet.” Kulgan was due back later that day from his cottage in the forest, where he and Meecham had spent the last week. “It may be our only chance to see a shipwreck.” A look of sudden inspiration came over his face. “Pug, I have it! You’re a member of the court now. Come along, and when we get there, you declare for the Duke.” A calculating expression crossed his face. “And if we find a rich bauble or two, who’s to know?”

  “I would know.” Pug thought a moment. “I can’t properly declare for the Duke, then take something for myself…” He fixed Tomas with a disapproving expression. “…or let one of his men-at-arms take something either.” As Tomas’s face showed his embarrassment, Pug said, “But we can still see the wreck! Come on!”

  Pug was suddenly taken with the idea of using his new office, and if he could get there before too much was carried away or someone was hurt, the Duke would be pleased with him. “All right,” he said, “I’ll saddle a horse and we can ride down there before everything is stolen.” Pug turned and ran for the stable. Tomas caught up with him as he opened the large wooden doors. “But, Pug, I have never been on a horse in my life. I don’t know how.”

  “It’s simple,” Pug said, taking a bridle and saddle from the tack room. He spied the large grey he had ridden the day he and the Princess had their adventure. “I’ll ride and you sit behind me. Just keep your arms around my waist, and you won’t fall off.”

  Tomas looked doubtful. “I’m to depend on you?” He shook his head. “After all, who has looked after you all these years?”

  Pug threw him a wicked smile. “Your mother. Now fetch a sword from the armory in case there’s trouble. You may get to play soldier yet.”

  Tomas looked pleased at the prospect and ran out the door. A few minutes later the large grey with the two boys mounted on her back lumbered out the main gate, heading down the road toward Sailor’s Grief.

  —

  THE SURF WAS pounding as the boys came in sight of the wreckage. Only a few villagers were approaching the site, and they scattered as soon as a horse and rider appeared, for it could only be a noble from the court to declare the wreck’s salvage for the Duke. By the time Pug reined in, no one was about.

  Pug said, “Come on. We’ve got a few minutes to look around before anyone else gets here.”

  Dismounting, the boys left the mare to graze in a little stand of grass only fifty yards fro
m the rocks. Running through the sand, the boys laughed, with Tomas raising the sword aloft, trying to sound fierce as he yelled old war cries learned from the sagas. Not that he had any delusions about his ability to use it, but it might make someone think twice about attacking them—at least long enough for castle guards to arrive.

  As they neared the wreck, Tomas whistled a low note. “This ship didn’t just run on the rocks, Pug. It looks like it was driven by a storm.”

  Pug said, “There certainly isn’t much left, is there?”

  Tomas scratched behind his right ear. “No, just a section of the bow. I don’t understand. There wasn’t any storm last night, just a strong wind. How could the ship be broken up so badly?”

  “I don’t know.” Suddenly something registered on Pug. “Look at the bow. See how it’s painted.”

  The bow rested on the rocks, held there until the tide rose. From the deck line down, the hull was painted a bright green, and it shone with reflected sunlight, as if it had been glazed over. Instead of a figurehead, intricate designs were painted in bright yellow, down to the waterline, which was a dull black. A large blue-and-white eye had been painted several feet behind the prow, and all the above-deck railing that they could see was painted white.

  Pug grabbed Tomas’s arm. “Look!” He pointed to the water behind the prow, and Tomas could see a shattered white mast extending a few feet above the surging foam.

  Tomas took a step closer. “It’s no Kingdom ship, for certain.” He turned to Pug. “Maybe they were from Queg?”

  “No,” answered Pug. “You’ve seen as many Quegan ships as I have. This is nothing from Queg or the Free Cities. I don’t think a ship like this has ever passed these waters before. Let’s look around.”

  Tomas seemed suddenly timid. “Careful, Pug. There is something strange here, and I have an ill feeling. Someone may still be about.”

  Both boys looked around for a minute, before Pug concluded, “I think not; whatever snapped that mast and drove the ship ashore with enough force to wreck it this badly must have killed any who tried to ride her in.”

  Venturing closer, the boys found small articles lying about, tossed among the rocks by the waves. They saw broken crockery and boards, pieces of torn red sailcloth, and lengths of rope. Pug stopped and picked up a strange-looking dagger fashioned from some unfamiliar material. It was a dull grey and was lighter than steel, but still quite sharp.

  Tomas tried to pull himself to the railing, but couldn’t find a proper footing on the slippery rocks. Pug moved along the hull until he found himself in danger of having his boots washed by the tide; they could board the hulk if they waded into the sea, but Pug was unwilling to ruin his good clothing. He walked back to where Tomas stood studying the wreck.

  Tomas pointed behind Pug. “If we climb up to that ledge, we could lower ourselves down to the deck.”

  Pug saw the ledge, a jutting single piece of stone that started twenty feet back on their left, extending upward and out to overhang the bow. It looked like an easy climb, and Pug agreed. They pulled themselves up and inched along the ledge, backs flat to the base of the bluffs. The path was narrow, but by stepping carefully, they ran little risk of falling. They reached a point above the hull; Tomas pointed. “Look. Bodies!”

  Lying on the deck were two men, both dressed in bright blue armor of unfamiliar design. One had his head crushed by a fallen spar, but the other, lying facedown, didn’t show any injuries, beyond his stillness. Strapped across that man’s back was an alien-looking broadsword, with strange serrated edges. His head was covered by an equally alien-looking blue helmet, potlike, with an outward flaring edge on the sides and back. Tomas shouted over the sound of the surf, “I’m going to let myself down. After I get on the deck, hand me the sword, and then lower yourself so I can grab you.”

  Tomas handed Pug the sword, then turned around slowly. He knelt with his face against the cliff wall. Sliding backward, he let himself down until he was almost hanging free. With a shove he dropped the remaining four feet, landing safely. Pug reversed the sword and handed it down to Tomas, then followed his friend’s lead, and in a moment they both stood on the deck. The foredeck slanted alarmingly down toward the water, and they could feel the ship move beneath their feet.

  “The tide’s rising,” Tomas shouted. “It’ll lift what’s left of the ship and smash it on the rocks. Everything will be lost.”

  “Look around,” Pug shouted back. “Anything that looks worth saving we can try to throw up on the ledge.”

  Tomas nodded, and the boys started to search the deck. Pug put as much space as he could between the bodies and himself when he passed them. All across the deck, debris created a confused spectacle for the eye. Trying to discern what might prove valuable and what might not was difficult. At the rear of the deck was a shattered rail, on either side of a ladder to what was left of the main deck below: about six feet of planking remaining above the water. Pug was sure that only a few feet more could be underwater, or else the ship would be higher on the rocks. The rear of the ship must have already been carried away on the tide.

  Pug lay down on the deck and hung his head over the edge. He saw a door to the right of the ladder. Yelling for Tomas to join him, he made his way carefully down the ladder. The lower deck was sagging, the undersupports having been caved in. He grasped the handrail of the ladder for support. A moment later Tomas stood beside him, stepped around Pug, and moved to the door. It hung half-open, and he squeezed through with Pug a step behind. The cabin was dark, for there was only a single port on the bulkhead next to the door. In the gloom they could see many rich-looking pieces of fabric and the shattered remnants of a table. What looked like a cot or low bed lay upside down in a corner. Several small chests could be seen, with their contents spread around the room as if tossed about by some giant hand.

  Tomas tried to search through the mess, but nothing was recognizable as important or valuable. He found one small bowl of unusual design glazed with bright colored figures on the sides, and he put it inside his tunic.

  Pug stood quietly, for something in the cabin commanded his attention. A strange, urgent feeling had overtaken him as soon as he had stepped in.

  The wreck lurched, throwing Tomas off balance. He caught himself on a chest, dropping the sword. “The ship’s lifting. We’d better go.”

  Pug didn’t answer, his attention focused on the strange sensations. Tomas grabbed his arm. “Come on. The ship’ll break up in a minute.”

  Pug shook his hand off. “A moment. There is something…” His voice trailed off. Abruptly he crossed the disordered room and pulled open a drawer in a latched chest. It was empty. He yanked open another, then a third. In it was the object of his search. He drew out a rolled parchment with a black ribbon and black seal on it and thrust it into his shirt.

  “Come on,” he shouted as he passed Tomas. They raced up the ladder and scrambled over the deck. The tide had raised the ship high enough for them to pull themselves up to the ledge with ease, and they turned to sit.

  The ship was now floating on the tide, rocking forward and back, while the waves sent a wet spray into the boys’ faces. They watched as the bow slid off the rocks, timbers breaking with a loud and deep tearing sound, like a dying moan. The bow lifted high, and the boys were splashed by waves striking the cliffs below their ledge.

  Out to sea the hulk floated, slowly leaning over to its port side, until the outward surging tide came to a halt.

  Ponderously, it started back toward the rocks. Tomas grabbed at Pug’s arm, signaling him to follow. They got up and made their way back to the beach. When they reached the place where the rock overhung the sand, they jumped down.

  A loud grinding sound made them turn to see the hull driven onto the rocks. Timbers shattered, and separated with a shriek. The hull heaved to starboard, and debris started sliding off the deck into the sea.

  Suddenly Tomas reached over and caught Pug’s arm. “Look.” He pointed at the wreck sliding backward on
the tide.

  Pug couldn’t make out what he was pointing at. “What is it?”

  “I thought for a moment there was only one body on deck.”

  Pug looked at him. Tomas’s face was set in an expression of worry. Abruptly it changed to anger. “Damn!”

  “What?”

  “When I fell in the cabin, I dropped the sword. Fannon will have my ears.”

  A sound like an explosion of thunder marked the final destruction of the wreck as the tide smashed it against the cliff face. Now the shards of the once fine, if alien, ship would be swept out to sea, to drift back in along the coast for miles to the south over the next few days.

  A low groan ending in a sharp cry made the boys turn. Standing behind them was the missing man from the ship, the strange broadsword held loosely in his left hand and dragging in the sand. His right arm was held tightly against his side; blood could be seen running from under his blue breastplate, and from under his helmet. He took a staggering step forward. His face was ashen, and his eyes wide with pain and confusion. He shouted something incomprehensible at the boys. They stepped back slowly, raising their hands to show they were unarmed.

  He took another step toward them, and his knees sagged. He staggered erect and closed his eyes for a moment. He was short and stocky, with powerfully muscled arms and legs. Below the breastplate he wore a short skirt of blue cloth. On his forearms were bracers, and on his legs, greaves that looked like leather, above thonged sandals. He put his hand to his face and shook his head. His eyes opened, and he regarded the boys again. Once more he spoke in his alien tongue. When the boys said nothing, he appeared to grow angry and yelled another series of strange words, from the tone seemingly questions.