Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Miya came to Erland and stood a moment, adjusting his tunic, more for the closeness it brought than for any true need, and said, ‘I will see you sooner, my Prince. I am ordered to the Empress’s presence.’

  ‘Something’s amiss?’

  Miya shrugged. ‘Nothing. All who serve in the palace of She Who Is Kesh are occasionally permitted to share the glory of the Empress’s court.’

  ‘Good. I will see you there.’

  Erland motioned for the doors to his apartment to be opened and two young women swung them wide. Outside, four Krondorian Palace Guards stood waiting, in formal uniform. They fell in around Erland, and in lock step they marched down the large halls of the palace.

  Along the route, they were joined by James and Gamina, then Locklear, and finally Lord Kafi. When they reached the Imperial complex of the palace, the Krondorian Guards halted, as it was not permitted for soldiers of a foreign nation to approach the Imperial presence.

  Erland entered to the fanfare of trumpets. Leading his small band, as most senior in rank he was required to address the Empress first. The Keshian Master of Ceremonies intoned the long list of praise for the approaching Prince, and Erland knew from his coaching this signalled that the court was a formal one. He refrained from smiling as he thought that the difference between formal dining and informal was a matter of label with the Empress. He was sorely wishing to be back in Krondor, eating at a simple table with Borric in the corner of the kitchen, something they had done often, rather than endure state dinners with their parents.

  Reaching the foot of the dais, Erland bowed and the Master of Ceremonies, said, ‘O She Who Is Kesh, I have the honour of presenting to you His Highness, Prince Erland, Heir to the Throne of the Kingdom of the Isles, Knight-Captain of the Western Realm.’

  Erland stood upright and said, ‘Your Majesty, I thank you for the kindness of sharing your bounty with myself and my companions. May I present …’ and he went through the formality of presenting his companions, as he had each time they had come before the Empress. He wondered if this nonsense went on at every meal of the day for the Empress.

  The Empress said, ‘Your Highness had a busy day, from all reports.’ Erland waited for her to say more, but all she said was, ‘It is our pleasure that you join us again, Your Highness. Please, enjoy the bounty of our tables.’

  Entering the hall as Erland turned was Prince Awari, with several of his companions. One, closest to Erland as he passed, spat upon the floor before the Prince.

  Erland halted, his eyes widening and his face reddening. The young man who had spat began to move on, when Erland turned and said, ‘You!’

  All eyes turned to watch the two young men. The young man looked at Erland with narrow eyes. He was a trueblood, probably an important noble’s son, given his proximity to the Prince, and his body was muscular and strong. Erland smelled a fight coming, and was in no mood to avoid it.

  ‘Erland!’ James’s voice hissed in the Prince’s ear. ‘Back off!’

  The Empress watches, came Gamina’s warning.

  Erland glanced at the throne as the young noble came to stand before him. The Empress’s attention was riveted upon the two who now stood facing each other. A court noble moved to intercede, but the Empress ordered him to her side. She seemed disinclined to interfere. Rather, there was an avid glint in her eye. Erland wondered if this was some sort of test, to determine what sort of ruler of the Isles Kesh would face in years to come. If that were so, thought Erland, they will find a staunch opponent if needs be.

  When the young man was inches from the Prince he said, ‘What, sahdareen?’

  A few voices could be heard muttering. In this court, to be a non-hunter was to be less than noble, and to be called such was a deadly insult.

  Erland glanced at Prince Awari, to see if he would interfere. The Prince looked on, interest in his eyes, and a slight smile upon his lips. Erland then knew the young man had insulted him at Prince Awari’s bidding. Erland took a breath, then as quickly as he could, he brought his hand across his chest, and delivered a punishing back-handed blow to the young man’s face.

  The youth staggered as his knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor, but before he could complete the fall, Erland grabbed the ornamental torque around his throat and lifted him by it.

  ‘He who insults me in Kesh’s court insults the Kingdom of the Isles. I cannot let that pass.’ He released the young man’s torque, pushing him away. The youth staggered but retained his feet. Erland said, ‘You have the choice of weapons.’

  James gripped Erland’s arm. He whispered. ‘You cannot fight this duel. It is what they want.’

  But the young man only said, ‘I do not understand what you mean.’

  Erland said, ‘Sir, I’ve struck you! You have the right to name the weapons we shall use when we duel.’

  The young man’s face knotted in an expression of unfeigned perplexity. ‘Duel? Why would I fight you? You would surely kill me.’

  Erland did not know what to say. He was spared the need of saying anything by the Empress. ‘Lord Kilawa.’

  A man of middle years stood up, at a table located near the back of the room. ‘My Empress’s command?’

  ‘Your son is a buffoon, Kilawa. He insults a guest in my house. What is to be done with him?’

  The man’s face went pale. But he stood erect as he spoke. ‘Your wish, Majesty?’

  The Empress hesitated, then said, ‘I should have his head presented to Prince Erland in a jar of honey and wine, as a trophy, but as our ways are not His Highness’s, I think this would only serve to cause him more discomfort.’ She paused, then said, ‘Young Rasajani.’

  Instantly, the youth who had insulted Erland bowed his head toward the Empress. ‘Your Majesty?’

  ‘The sight of you causes me discomfort. You are banished from the upper city. Never set foot upon the plateau so long as the light shines from my eyes. When I have gone to the Hall of Eternal Beauty, then the one who rules after me may prove merciful and allow your return. That is as much forbearance as you’ll get from me – and only because your father is dear to me – I don’t have much mercy left in my bitter old bones. Now, be gone!’

  When he reached the table set aside for his party, Erland turned to Kafi and said, ‘What was that about?’

  The desertman seemed uncertain of the question.

  ‘My Prince?’

  ‘Why did he insult me if he didn’t wish to fight?’ Erland said as he sat down.

  Sitting. Kafi said, ‘It is a trueblood thing, Highness. You must understand: they are not a warrior people. They are hunters. Warriors are little more than dogs to be turned loose upon an opponent. Oh, they’ll fight if necessary and with ferocity, but they count no honour in it. It is only a bloody necessity in defence of the home or in time of war. No, honour is in the ability to track down your prey, to bring it to bay, and kill it with a single blow. That is honour to a trueblood. For young Rasajani to fight you would be unreasonable. You are a warrior of undoubted talents. You would quickly kill him. He knew that, so to fight you would be sheer folly. He insulted you merely to let the world know of his disdain for you.’

  Erland shook his head as he said, ‘This is a difficult thing to understand.’

  Kafi shrugged. ‘To them it is difficult to understand how a man would allow circumstances to force him into fighting someone he knew was a finer warrior over a matter of honour. It is, from their point of view, tantamount to suicide.’ Kafi took a bite of a small bit of fruit and added, ‘I have been with these people my entire life, Highness, and many of their ways are … difficult to understand. If you could follow Rasajani out of the palace, overtake him without being seen, then merely to touch him on the back with your weapon would do him as much injury as killing him … more, even, for then you would have proved to the world you were the superior hunter.’

  The party of Princess Sharana entered, and walking a step back was Miya. Erland turned his mind from the insult to drink in the sight of t
he golden-skinned Princess, then said to Kafi, ‘Why is my serving maid with the Princess tonight?’

  Kafi smiled. ‘Because your “serving maid” is Lady Miya, Sharana’s cousin.’

  Erland’s eyes widened. ‘Cousin? To the Princess? You’re joking?’

  Kafi said, ‘Of course not, Highness. The Empress would not allow slaves nor “inferiors” such as myself to attend to your personal needs.’ The word inferiors was snarled with barely hidden bitterness. ‘So only young men and women of noble birth – lesser sons and daughters – may serve the Empress and her guests.’

  Now Erland’s eyes grew round. ‘All of them!’

  Kafi said, ‘Yes, every servant in your chamber is a daughter of nobility.’ He waved absently at the others around the table, who were watching Erland’s discomfort. ‘Of course all those serving in your apartment, Your Highness, are related to the Empress and of royal blood.’

  Erland said, ‘Gods and demons. I’ve bedded half the royal daughters in the Empire, I fear.’

  Kafi laughed. ‘Not by a tenth, Highness. Many are related, albeit distantly, to Her Majesty. And what if you did? The true-blood look upon questions of the body differently than you or I. Their women are as free to take lovers as the men. It comes from having as many Empresses as Emperors.’ Again there was a hint of bitterness in the last observation.

  As protocol dictated, the Princess Sojiana and her retinue were the last to enter, and she made a formal enquiry as to her mother’s health. The forms were met as required, and the meal commenced.

  Servants appeared when the Princess’s party was seated and the dinner began. Little talking occurred around Erland’s table, as both the Prince and Locklear seemed content to stare across the room, Erland at Princess Sharana and Lady Miya, and Locklear at Princess Sojiana.

  James leaned over to ask Kafi a question. ‘Who is that sitting next to Lord Nirome? I’ve not seen him before.’

  James indicated a powerful-looking man with ebony skin who wore the black armour of the Inner Legion, the core army of the Empire. He had a clean, shaved head and wore a single golden earring, but otherwise no finery.

  Kafi said, ‘That is General Beruck. He has just returned from crushing a rebellion in the south.’

  ‘Interesting-looking fellow,’ observed the Earl

  Kafi said, ‘Indeed.’ Lowering his voice, he said, ‘It is suggested that he is not entirely of trueblood stock. His father was elderly, and one particular guardsman in his mother’s service was very dark of skin.’ James glanced around the room and had to concede that Beruck was clearly the darkest skinned noble in the room. ‘Of course, no one suggests such a thing to his face. He is not only a great hunter, but given his skill with a sword and his temper, he would not back away from a duel.’ Lowering his voice even more, he said, ‘He is a very dangerous man.’ Kafi looked as if he was about to say more, then thought better of it, and lapsed into silence.

  James studied the newcomer and marked him as being exactly what Kafi said: dangerous.

  Later that evening, James requested Erland accompany Gamina and himself upon a stroll through one of the many palace gardens. Assuming there was a reason for the odd request, the Prince agreed.

  As they were entering the garden, Gamina’s voice entered Erland’s mind. James asks that you speak through me, as he is certain that even in the centre of this garden we are likely to be overheard. Aloud she said, ‘Not like home, but lovely, don’t you think?’

  Erland said, ‘I agree, completely.’

  James’s voice came into Erland’s mind, with Gamina’s aide. I have finally been contacted by our agent in the palace.

  Finally? Has there been a problem?

  A problem? There was a feeling of humour with James’s answer. Only that we’re under constant supervision. Half the ‘servants’ in our quarters are most likely Keshian spies – which is a faint differentiation, as anything we do would be reported as a matter of course by those who are not spies. I think something very important is happening.

  Erland asked Gamina how her day passed, and they chatted about inconsequential things, as they found a magnificent marble water fountain: three demons of comic aspect seemed to be trapped in motion, and above them beautiful nude women hunted them from chariots. Water poured out of the rear of the three chariots as the demons were herded toward the centre of the pool. Somehow a light shone from below, by what means Erland couldn’t guess, and the effect was truly wonderful.

  Aloud he said, ‘I must ask how this light effect is done. I must have one like it built in Krondor.’ Mentally, he said. What do you think is going on?

  I’m not sure yet, answered James. I’ve pieced together this much. The Empress’s health is failing. She is more ill than is apparent. That is common gossip in the palace and the city below. What isn’t known is that she is expected to name Prince Awari her heir, but every sign points to her naming Sojiana, or even Sharana, before her own son. The Empress and her son have had differences for years and at times have barely spoken.

  So there’s a question of inheritance of the throne?

  Apparently, answered James. The throne usually passes to the eldest child.

  ‘Lovely night,’ said Erland aloud. But that’s Sojiana.

  True, but there is a major faction of nobles who would see Awari upon the throne. First because the last two rulers have been women, and many of the subject nations of Kesh are fiercely patriarchal and fear that three women rulers in a row might turn Kesh into a matriarchy. In ancient times, the people of Kesh went through such a period. But the major reason for wanting Awari named heir is he’s seen by many as simply being more able. Sojiana is … seen as weak by many. Her late husband was a powerful voice in the Gallery of Lords and Masters, their equivalent to our own Congress of Lords. But others fear her as being … dangerous. She is able to manipulate Awari and other lords … enough so that if Awari is named the next Emperor, she could still cause difficulties in the Gallery.

  Does this have anything to do with the attempt … the killing of my brother? ‘Let’s see what other marvels this garden offers.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gamina. ‘It is so lovely here.’

  James said, ‘For a while. I fear we have a terribly busy day tomorrow. It is the official welcome and beginning of the Jubilee. All the rulers of the Empire will be here and gathered together for the first time. We must look our best.’

  James’s thoughts then came to Erland. It possibly has something to do with the attack in the desert. Awari’s faction is very strong throughout the Empire, while Sojiana’s strength is concentrated upon this plateau. Should war erupt in the north and the usual companies of Dog Soldiers be sent against us, it weakens Awari’s presence here. Also, he is the likely choice to oversee the army sent against us. Aber Bukar, Lord of Armies, is getting too old. Lord Jaka would make a logical choice, but the Brothers of the Horse and a few other factions already count the Imperial Charioteers too influential, so it’s unlikely the Empress would risk an open breach by giving him command. No, the Prince would be the only binding figure they would all follow without question. Also, another lord wishes pre-eminence in the Gallery.

  Who? asked the Prince.

  Lord Ravi, Master of the Brothers of the Horse. But he is not trueblood, and while his cavalry units are critical for the success of any move against us the Empire might make, they lack the prestige of the charioteers. Awari’s faction seems to favour General Beruck to succeed Abu Bukar. The Inner Legion lacks the prestige of the Charioteers or the Brothers of the Horse, but they are the single largest military presence in the heart of the empire, as large as all others combined. If Beruck is named paramount commander of all Kesh’s armies, it will be almost impossible for the Empress to name anyone besides Awari heir.

  You paint a picture of a court in shambles, Erland thought.

  Perhaps, but remember, as long as the Empress rules, all obey her. It is possible that when she does die, chaos, even civil war, may come. Whoever is trying to
start a war with the Isles is obviously not waiting for her death. Parts of this puzzle are still unclear.

  Aloud Erland said, ‘Well, if we are to be fresh tomorrow, we should be getting back.’ Turning back toward the hallway that led to his apartments, he seemed to lapse into silence. Parts? Most of this puzzle is unclear. Let us hope we can solve it before we come to any conflict.

  There was silent agreement.

  • CHAPTER TWELVE •

  Evasion

  BORRIC POINTED.

  ‘What in the world is that?’ asked Ghuda.

  The caravan was travelling the well-used Imperial highway from Farafra to Kesh, passing through miles of farm land. The journey had proven uneventful, until now.

  To the north of the road, three men on horseback were attempting to capture another man on foot, a strange-looking fellow wearing an unadorned knee-length yellow robe. His head was shaved in the fashion of monks, but his garment was unlike any of those worn by any order in the Kingdom Borric had ever seen. And he appeared to be having too much fun, and making a great deal more noise than any monk Borric had ever observed. For as the horsemen attempted to grab hold of the man’s robe, he would dodge away, occasionally ducking under the horses’ necks, keeping up a terrific whooping and laughing the entire time.

  All this was accomplished despite the fact he carried a wooden staff and a rucksack of some size slung over one shoulder, its cloth broadband across his chest. He ran, laughing and chittering nonsense to torment his would-be captors. The insane caper had Ghuda and Borric laughing. One of the riders turned at the sound and the humour seemed to enrage him more.

  The rider pulled a club of exotic fashion and rode at the dancing man, attempting to strike him, but the man ducked under the blow, rolling on the ground, and before the first rider could turn the horse, he was up and dancing again. He turned his backside to all three and wiggled it, making a flatulent noise to show his contempt for the three.

  ‘Who are they?’ asked Borric, laughing at the comedy.