Prince of the Blood, the King's Buccaneer

by Raymond E. Feist

  Pug shook his head and sighed. ‘If cho-ja magicians from Chakahar are at Stardock, then the Assembly’s control over the Empire has been ended.’ His eyes misted over and he said, ‘There are things I thought I would never see in my days, Nakor. The end of that tradition was foremost among them – much of what gave the Assembly its power was based on fear and lies: lies about magicians, lies about the Empire, and lies about those outside the Empire’s borders.’

  Nakor seemed to understand Pug’s words. ‘Lies can live a long time. But not forever. You should return and visit.’

  Pug shook his head, not certain if the little man meant Kelewan or Stardock. ‘For nearly nine years I have put my past behind me. My children now look of an age with me, and soon will look older. I’ve seen my wife die, and my teachers. Old friends on two worlds have traveled into death’s hall. I have no wish to watch my children grow old.’ Pug stood and paced a bit. ‘I do not know if I was wise, Nakor, only that I feared that more than anything.’

  Nakor nodded. ‘We are alike, in some ways.’

  Pug turned and stared at the little man. ‘In what ways?’

  Nakor grinned. ‘I have lived three times the normal span of a man. My birth was recorded in the census of Kesh in the time of the Emperor Sajanjaro, great-grandfather of the wife of Emperor Diiagái. I saw the Empress, his wife’s mother, nine years ago. She was an old woman who had ruled for more than forty years. I remember when she was a baby, and I was then as you see me now.’ Nakor sighed. ‘I have never been a man to trust others, perhaps because of my trade.’ He produced a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere and fanned it with one hand; then, with a flick of his wrist, the cards vanished. ‘But I understand what you say. No one I knew as a child lives today.’

  Pug sat again on the fountain and asked, ‘Why else have you come?’

  Nakor said, ‘I see things. I do not know how, but there are moments when I know. Nicholas is upon a voyage that will take him far beyond Crydee. And there is to be much danger in the boy’s future.’

  Pug was silent for a long time, thinking about what the small man had said. Finally he said, ‘What must I do to help?’

  Nakor shook his head. ‘I am not a wise man by nature. I have been called a frivolous man – by Watum and Korsh, and by Ghuda most recently.’ Pug smiled at that. ‘I do not understand my abilities, sometimes.’ He sighed. ‘You are a man of great gifts and attainments, by all accounts. You live among creatures of wonder and do not think it strange. I saw the work you left behind at Stardock, and it is impressive. For me to advise you is presumptuous.’

  ‘Presumptuous or not, advise.’

  Nakor bit his lower lip as he thought. ‘I think the boy is a nexus.’ Waving his hand in a vague circle, he said, ‘Dark forces move and they will be drawn to him. Nothing we do can change this; we must be ready to aid him.’

  Pug was silent for a long time. At last he said, ‘Nearly thirty years ago, Nicholas’s father was such a nexus, for his death would have been a victory for dark forces.’

  ‘The serpent people.’

  Pug looked astonished at the remark.

  Nakor shrugged. ‘I heard of the Battle of Sethanon long after it was over. But there was one rumor that I found interesting, that the leader of those invading your Kingdom had a Pantathian mystic as an adviser.’

  ‘You know of the Pantathians?’

  ‘I have run across the serpent priests before,’ Nakor said with a shrug. ‘I assume that whatever your dark elves of the north may have thought, it was the Pantathians who were behind the entire mess, but beyond that I don’t understand much of what occurred.’

  Pug said, ‘You would be even more surprising than you are if you had understood, Nakor.’ He nodded. ‘Very well. I shall help Nicholas.’

  Nakor rose. ‘We should go to bed. You would like us to leave tomorrow.’

  Pug smiled. ‘You I would like to stay. I think you could be a valuable addition to our community, but I understand what it is to be drawn to one’s fate.’

  Nakor’s expression darkened, and he looked as serious as Pug had seen him since meeting him. ‘Of this company, five shall cross the waters, with four more we have yet to meet.’ His eyes grew unfocused as if seeing something distant. ‘Nine shall depart, and some shall not return.’

  Pug looked worried. ‘Do you know who?’

  Nakor said, ‘I am one of the nine. No man may know his own fate.’

  Pug said, ‘You never met Macros the Black.’

  Nakor grinned, and suddenly the mood was lighter again. ‘I did once, but that is a long story.’

  Pug stood. ‘We must return to my guests. I would like to hear that tale sometime.’

  ‘What of the boy?’ asked Nakor.

  Pug said, ‘For the reasons I have just given you, I am not pleased with the prospect of becoming involved with any mortal, even if they are counted kin.’ He shook his head as if irritated. ‘But I cannot abandon those for whom I profess affection. I will help the boy when the time comes.’

  Nakor said, ‘Good. This is why I told his father we had to come here.’

  Pug said, ‘You are indeed an unusual man, Nakor the Blue Rider.’

  Nakor laughed and nodded in agreement.

  They came back into the dining hall and found Amos finishing another of his tall tales, to the delight of Ghuda and Nicholas. Ryana seemed perplexed, and Harry oblivious to it, as he was completely enraptured by her.

  Pug called for coffee and a fortified wine, and the discussion turned again to mundane matters of common gossip in Krondor. After a short while, yawns gave evidence that the guests were ready to retire.

  Pug bade his guests good night and gave his hand to the Lady Ryana, whom he escorted from the hall. Nicholas and his companions rose and made their way back to their own rooms. Nicholas discovered the bedding turned down and candles lit upon the night tables. Across the foot of the bed a nightshirt had been provided for his comfort.

  Nicholas turned in and had just fallen asleep when a hand shook him. He came awake with his heart pounding, to find Harry leaning over him. The boy was wearing a nightshirt similar to his own.

  ‘What?’ he asked groggily.

  ‘You won’t believe this. Come on!’

  Nicholas jumped out of bed and followed Harry back to his own room at the far end of the hallway. Harry said, ‘I was almost asleep when I heard a strange sound.’

  He motioned for Nicholas to come to the window and said, ‘Be quiet.’

  Nicholas looked out Harry’s window and saw the Lady Ryana standing in the distant meadow. Harry said, ‘She was making these really strange noises, like chanting or singing, but not quite.’ There was no mistaking the golden hair, almost aglow in the light from two of Midkemia’s moons. Nicholas’s mouth almost fell open. ‘She’s nude!’

  Harry stared. ‘She had clothes on a moment ago, honestly!’ The lady was indeed without clothing and seemed in some sort of a trance. Harry whistled softly. ‘What’s she doing?’

  Nicholas suppressed a shiver. Despite the astonishing beauty of the woman in the meadow, there was nothing remotely titillating or erotic about her appearance. He felt uneasy. Not only did he feel as if he was intruding, he felt a sense of danger.

  Harry said, ‘I’ve heard tales of witches mating with demons in the moonlight.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Look!’

  A golden nimbus of light gathered around the woman and soon became blinding. The boys were forced to avert their eyes as the light grew in intensity. For long moments the night seemed broken by a beam of sunlight, then it started to fade. They looked again and the light had expanded to many times the size of the woman. As large as a house, then as large as Amos’s ship, the envelope of light grew, and inside, something took shape. Then the light faded, and where the Lady Ryana had stood, now a mighty creature of legend spread wings a hundred yards across. Golden scales gleamed with silver highlights in the moons’ light, and a long neck with silver crest extended, as the reptilian
head looked skyward. Then with a leap, a snap of the giant wings, and a small blast of flame, the dragon lifted into the sky.

  Harry gripped Nicholas hard enough to raise a bruise, but neither boy could move. When she had vanished into the sky, the boys turned to regard each other. Both had tears running down their faces, in mixed fear and awe. The great dragons were not real. There were smaller flying reptiles called dragons, but they were merely flying wyverns with no intelligence. None lived in the Western Realm, but rumor had them common in the western mountains of Kesh. But the golden dragons who could speak and work magic did not exist. They were creatures of myth, yet there, in the moonlight, the boys had seen a woman they had dined with transform herself into the most majestic creature to fly the skies of Midkemia.

  Nicholas could not stop the tears, so moved was he by the sight. Harry at last gathered his wits and said, ‘Should we wake Amos?’

  Nicholas shook his head. ‘Never tell anyone. Do you understand?’

  Harry nodded, with no hint of his usual braggadocio, looking like nothing more than a scared little boy. ‘I won’t.’

  Nicholas left his friend and returned to his own room. He entered and his heart almost seized up as he discovered Pug sitting upon his bed.

  ‘Close the door.’

  Nicholas complied and Pug said, ‘Ryana could not long live on the meager food she could eat at supper and maintain her pretense. She will hunt for the next few hours.’

  Nicholas’s face was pale. For the first time in his life he felt far from home and the comfort of his father’s protection and his mother’s love. He knew Pug was considered a family member, but he was also a magician of mighty arts, and Nicholas had seen something not meant for him to see. ‘I won’t say anything,’ he whispered.

  Pug smiled. ‘I know. Sit down.’

  Nicholas sat down next to Pug on the bed, and Pug said, ‘Give me your foot.’

  Nicholas didn’t have to ask which one and lifted his left leg so that Pug could examine the deformed foot. Pug studied it for several moments, then said, ‘Years ago, your father asked me if I could mend your foot. Did he tell you?’

  Nicholas shook his head. He still was frightened enough by what he had just witnessed that he didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke.

  Pug studied the boy. ‘At the time I had heard of this deformity, and of the efforts to correct it.’

  Nicholas whispered, ‘Many tried.’

  ‘I know.’ Pug stood and walked to the window, looking out at the clear night brilliant with stars. Turning back toward Nicholas, he said, ‘I told Arutha that I could not. That was not true.’

  Nicholas asked, ‘Why?’

  Pug said, ‘Because no matter how much your father loves you, Nicholas – and Arutha loves his children deeply, no matter how difficult it is for him to show it – no parent has the right to change a child’s nature.’

  Nicholas said, ‘I’m not sure I understand.’ The fear within was subsiding, and the boy asked, ‘Why would healing me be wrong?’

  Pug said, ‘I don’t know if I can make you understand yet, Nicholas.’ He returned and sat next to the boy. ‘We each of us have it within to make ourselves over, if we choose to do so. Most of us not only do not try, but don’t even acknowledge that ability to ourselves.

  ‘By any understanding of magic I possess, the healing used upon you when you were young should have worked. Something prevented those spells from being effective.’

  Nicholas frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Are you saying I wasn’t letting them heal me?’

  Pug nodded. ‘Something like that. But it’s not quite so simple.’

  Nicholas said, ‘I would give anything to be normal.’

  Pug stood. ‘Would you?’

  Nicholas was silent for a long moment, then said, ‘I think I would.’

  Pug smiled, his manner reassuring. ‘Go to sleep, Nicholas.’ He withdrew something from a large pocket in his robe and placed it upon the night table. ‘This amulet is a gift. It is much like one I gave your father. Should you need me for anything, grip it tightly in your right hand while you wear it, and say my name three times. I will come.’

  Nicholas picked up the amulet and saw it bore the symbol of the three dolphins he had seen in the fountains around the magician’s estate. ‘Why?’

  Pug’s smile broadened. ‘Because I’m a cousin, and a friend. And in days to come, you may need both. And because I’m letting you and your friend keep a trust.’

  ‘The Lady Ryana.’

  ‘She is very young, and foolish to be seen so. In her race, the first stages of life are spent with little more thought than that of common animals. Every ten years the dragon hides in a cave to shed its skin, emerging a different color each time. Not a few perish during that time, for molting in the dark, they are helpless. Only those that live the longest span, surviving many human lifetimes, emerge with a golden skin and awareness. When intelligence at last comes, it is an unsettling thing. The sudden consciousness of self, and the sense of a larger universe, to a creature that is already old by human standards is a very great shock. In ancient times, others of her race would teach her.’ Pug opened the door. ‘There are few of the greater dragons left. Ryana’s mother once aided me on a quest, so I help the child. It would not be wise to let men know that among them walk those who are not men.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Father has told me that over time there will be many things I shall learn that I cannot tell others about. I understand.’

  Pug said nothing more as he closed the door. Nicholas lay back upon the bed, but sleep was a long time coming.

  • CHAPTER THREE •

  Crydee

  THE SHIP DROPPED ANCHOR.

  Crydee bustled with midday activity as the dock crew made the Royal Eagle secure. Nicholas examined his new home, drinking in the novelty of it. His bouts of homesickness had returned during the long voyage, only vanishing while passing through the dangerous Straits of Darkness, which had taken an eventful day and a half. Then northward past Tulan and Carse, and now to Crydee.

  The town had grown in the last twenty years, with signs of expansion everywhere. As they had sailed northward, Amos had pointed out where a fishing village had grown up south of the promontory he named Sailor’s Grief. New buildings were visible high upon a distant hillside to the southeast as the ship entered the harbor. Nicholas squinted against the bright sun reflected off the white façades of the buildings. He saw two carriages and a pair of wagons draw up and halt before a building bedecked by a large royal standard, which proclaimed it the customs house. Servants sitting atop the rear of the carriages leaped from their stations and opened the doors. From the first emerged a tall woman, followed by a taller man. Nicholas recognized them as his aunt and uncle. A flurry of activity followed as the other vehicles came to a halt.

  Amos ordered the gangway run out. Nicholas and Harry stood nearby waiting to disembark. Duke Martin, Duchess Briana, and their court stood ready to welcome the Royal Prince and his companions. Amos saw the reception below and said, ‘Well, we know at least one pigeon made it from Ylith.’

  For the twenty-eight years since the Riftwar, a relay of messengers between Krondor and the Far Coast had been kept intact, including fast horses and carrier pigeons. With the sudden decision to sent Nicholas made only the day before he departed, word of his impending arrival reached Crydee just days before they came into sight of the harbor.

  As the sailors made ready, Harry said, ‘Who are those girls?’

  Nicholas had noticed the two young girls who had accompanied the Duke and said, ‘I expect one of them is my cousin Margaret. I don’t know who the other one is.’

  Harry grinned. ‘I’ll find out.’

  When the gangway was out, Amos turned to Nicholas and formally said, ‘Your Highness?’ – indicating that Nicholas was expected to be the first one off the ship.

  Harry stepped forward, to discover Amos’s hand planted firmly on his chest. ‘By rank, Squire,’ he said poi
ntedly.

  Harry blushed and took a step back.

  Nicholas descended to the quay and a tall man stepped forward. Martin, Duke of Crydee, smiled warmly as he bowed to his nephew. ‘Your Highness, we are most pleased to welcome you to Crydee.’ Martin resembled Arutha slightly, but was taller and heavier. His hair was nearly all grey, and his face was lined by sun and age, yet there was an air of strength about him that was clear for anyone to see. This was no sedentary noble who spent his days drinking wine and issuing orders to servants. This was a man who despite his age still spend nights sleeping on the ground under star-filled skies and who carried game home upon his back.

  Nicholas smiled, a little embarrassed at the ceremony, and said, ‘Uncle, I am pleased to be here.’

  Amos was second off the ship, and said, ‘Your Grace,’ as he clapped Martin roughly on the shoulder.

  All formality evaporated as Martin threw his arms around Amos. ‘You old pirate,’ he said, laughing. ‘It’s been too many years.’ They slapped each other on the back and shook hands. Amos inclined his head toward Nicholas.

  Martin returned his attention to the Prince. ‘Your Highness. May I present my wife, the Duchess Briana.’ Nicholas had not seen her since he was a toddler, and his memories of her were vague. It was like meeting her for the first time. A tall woman inclined her head toward Nicholas. Her hair, grey with a startling white streak at the left temple, flowed back from a high brow. There was nothing pretty about the Duchess, but she was a striking woman. Blue eyes set with lines from weather and age regarded the Prince from a face otherwise free of any mark of aging, though she was past fifty. She wore a very practical-looking outfit of leather vest over a silk shirt and trousers tucked into high boots. ‘M’lady,’ said Nicholas, taking her extended hand and squeezing it slightly in greeting. The grip he received was strong, and Nicholas knew the tales of his uncle’s strange lady were mostly true. From the fallen city of Armengar – where women were soldiers alongside the men – Lady Briana could ride, hunt, and fight better than most men, from all reports. Looking at her, Nicholas didn’t doubt it.