Book 1 - Magician

by Raymond E. Feist

  “Perhaps someday.”

  Hochopepa said to Shimone, “Who can understand such a man? Taking to building such a strange home.” He turned to Milamber. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’re taking a wife.”

  Milamber laughed. “Why, Hocho, how did you guess?”

  Hochopepa’s eyes grew wide. “You’re not! “

  “And why shouldn’t I?”

  “Milamber, it is not a wise course, believe me. To this day I have regretted my own marriage.”

  “Hocho, I didn’t know you were a married man.”

  “I choose not to speak of it much. My wife is a fine woman, though given to an overly sharp tongue and scathing wit. In my own home I’m not much more than another servant to be ordered about. That is why I see her only on prescribed holidays, it would be bad for my nerves to see her more often.”

  Shimone said, “Who is your intended, Milamber? A noble daughter?”

  “No. She was a slave with me at the Shinzawai estate.”

  Hochopepa mused, “A slave girl . . . hmm. That might work out.”

  Milamber laughed, and Shimone chuckled. Several other magicians regarded them with curiosity, for the Assembly was not a regular forum for mirth.

  Fumita held up his hand, and the Assembly became quiet. “Today there is a matter being brought before the Assembly by Hodiku.”

  A thin Great One, with shaved head and hooked nose, walked from his seat in front of Milamber and Hochopepa to the center of the floor.

  He surveyed the magicians in the hall, then spoke. “I come today so that I may speak about the Empire.” It was the formal opening of any business brought before the Assembly. “I speak for the good of the Empire,” he added, completing the ritual. “I am concerned about the demand made today by the Warlord for aid so he may broaden the war against the Midkemian world.”

  A chorus of jeers and cries of “Politics” and “Sit down!” erupted from around the room. Soon Shimone and Hochopepa were on their feet with others crying, “Let him speak!”

  Fumita held up a hand for silence, and soon the room quieted Hodiku continued “We are precedented. Fifteen years ago the Assembly sent an order to the Warlord to end the war against the Thunl Confederation.”

  Another magician jumped to his feet “If the Thuril conquest had continued, there would have been too few in the north to repulse the Thün migration that year. It was a clear case of the salvation of Szetac Province and the Holy City. Now our borders in the north are secure. The situation is not the same.”

  Arguments erupted over the entire hall, and it took several minutes for Fumita to restore order. Hochopepa rose and said, “I would like to hear Hodiku’s reasons for considering this request vital to the security of the Empire. Any magician who is willing is free to work on behalf of the conquest.”

  “That is the point,” responded Hodiku. “There is no reason for any magician who feels this war into another space-time is right and proper for the Empire not to work in support of the conquest. Without the Black Robes who already serve the Warlord, the rift would never have been prepared for such an undertaking. It is that he now makes demands of the Assembly itself I find objectionable If five or six magicians choose to serve in the field, even to traveling to this other world to risk their lives in the battle, then it is their own concern. But if one magician responds to this demand without considering the issues, it will appear the Assembly is now subject to the will of the Warlord.”

  Several magicians applauded this sentiment, and others seemed to weigh its merits. Only a few booed and jeered. Hochopepa stood again. “I would like to offer a proposal. I will undertake on behalf of the Assembly to send a message to the Warlord expressing our regret that the Assembly as a body may not order any magician to perform as requested, but that he is free to seek the services of any magician willing to work on his behalf.”

  A general murmur of approval ran through the room, and Fumita asked, “Hochopepa offers a proposition to send a statement of policy to the Warlord on behalf of the Assembly. Does anyone find this objectionable?” When no objections were forthcoming, he said, “The Assembly thanks Hochopepa for his wisdom.”

  He paused for a moment, then said, “Another matter needs our attention: the novice Shiro has been found lacking in the moral qualities necessary for the Greater Art. The mind probes reveal that he harbors anti-Imperial feelings, learned as a youth from his maternal grandmother, a Thuril woman. Is the Assembly agreed?”

  Hands were raised, and each bore a nimbus of light as the magicians voted. Green for life, red for death, and blue for abstention. Milamber abstained, but the vote was otherwise unanimous for death. One Black Robe rose, and Milamber knew that within minutes the novice would be stunned senseless, then teleported to the bottom of the lake, where his lifeless body would remain, too cold to rise to the surface.

  After the meeting broke up, Shimone said, “You should make a point of coming more often, Milamber. We hardly see you anymore. And you spend too much time alone.”

  Milamber smiled. “That is true, but I plan to remedy the situation tomorrow.”

  The chime sounded throughout the house, and servants jumped to make ready for the Great One’s visit. Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, knew that a Great One had struck a chime in the halls of the Assembly, willing the sound to come here, to announce his imminent appearance.

  In Kasumi’s room, Laurie and the elder son of the house sat engrossed in a game of pashawa, played with painted pieces of stiff paper. It was common to alehouses and inns in Midkemia and was one more detail in the young Tsurani’s drive to master every facet of Midkemian life.

  Kasumi stood. “It is most likely he who once was my uncle; I had best go.”

  Laurie smiled. “Or could it be that you wish to stem your losses?”

  The Tsurani shook his head. “I fear I have created a problem in my own house. You were never a good slave, Laurie, and if anything, you have grown more intractable. It is a good thing I like you.”

  They both laughed, and the elder son of the house left. A few minutes later a house slave came running to Laurie and informed him that the lord of the house commanded him to come at once. Laurie jumped up, more from the slave’s obvious agitation than from any inbred obedience. He hurried to the lord’s room and knocked on the doorjamb. The door slid to one side, and Kasumi held it. Laurie stepped through and saw the Shinzawai lord and his guest, and then confusion overtook him.

  The guest was wearing the black robe of the Tsurani Great Ones, but the face was Pug’s. He started to speak, stopped, and started again “Pug?”

  The lord of the house looked outraged at this forward behavior by the slave, but his nearly voiced command was stopped by the Great One. “May I have the use of this room for a few minutes, lord? I wish to speak to this slave in private.”

  Kamatsu, Lord of the Shinzawai, bowed stiffly. “Your will, Great One.” He left the room with his son behind, he was still in shock over the appearance of the former slave and confused at the conflicts within himself. The Great One he was, there could be no thought of fraud: his manner of arrival proved it. But Kamatsu couldn’t help feeling that his arrival heralded disaster for the plan he and his son had so carefully nurtured for the last nine years.

  Milamber spoke “Shut the door, Laurie.”

  Laurie shut it, then studied his former friend. He looked fit, but vastly changed. His bearing was nearly regal, as if the mantle of power he now wore reflected some inner strength he had lacked before.

  “I . . . ,” Laurie began, then lapsed into silence, confused about what to say. Finally he said, “Are you well?”

  Milamber nodded. “I am well, old friend.”

  Laurie smiled and crossed the room and embraced his friend, then pushed himself away. “Let me look at you.”

  Milamber smiled. “I am called Milamber, Laurie. The boy you knew as Pug is as dead as last year’s flowers. Come, sit and we will talk.”

  They sat at the table and poured two cup
s of chocha Laurie sipped at the bitter brew and said, “We heard nothing about you. After the first year I gave you up for lost I’m sorry.”

  Milamber nodded, “It is the way of the Assembly. As a magician I am expected to forgo all my former ties, except for those that can be maintained in a socially acceptable manner. Being without clan or family, I had nothing to forgo. And you were always a poor slave who never knew his place. What better friend for a renegade, barbarian magician?”

  Laune nodded. “I am glad you have returned. Will you stay?”

  Milamber shook his head no “I have no place here. Besides, there is work I must be about. I now have an estate of my own, near the city of Ontoset. I have come for you. And Katala, if . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he were fearful of asking about her.

  Sensing his distress, Laurie said, “She is still here and has not taken a husband. She would not forget you.” He broke into a grin. “Gods of Midkemia! It completely slipped my mind. You would have no way of knowing.”

  “What?”

  “You have a son.”

  Milamber sat dumbstruck. “A son?”

  Laurie laughed “He was born eight months after you were taken. He is a fine boy, and Katala is a fine mother.”

  Milamber felt overwhelmed at the news and said, “Please. Would you bring her here?”

  Laurie jumped to his feet “At once.”

  He rushed from the room Milamber sat fighting down the upsurge of emotion. He composed himself, using his magician’s skills to relax his mind.

  The door slid open, and Katala was revealed, uncertainty on her face Laurie stood behind, a boy of about four in his arms.

  Milamber rose and spread his arms to her Katala rushed to him, and he nearly cried in his joy. They clung quietly for a moment, then she murmured, “I thought you gone. I hoped . . . but I thought you gone.”

  They stood for several minutes, each lost in the pure pleasure of the other’s presence, until she pushed herself away “You must meet your son, Pug.”

  Laurie brought the boy forward. He regarded Milamber with large brown eyes. He was a well-formed boy, with a stronger likeness to his mother, but something in the way he tilted his head made him resemble the boy from Crydee keep. Katala took him from Laurie and passed him to Milamber. “William, this is your father.”

  The boy seemed to take this in with some skepticism. He ventured a shy smile, but leaned back, keeping his distance. “I want down,” he said abruptly. Milamber laughed and put the boy down. He looked at his father, then immediately lost interest in the stranger in black. “Ooh!” he cried, and rushed over to play with the Lord of the Shinzawai’s shah pieces.

  Milamber watched him for a moment, then said, “William?”

  Katala stood next to him with her arm around his waist, hugging him as if afraid he would disappear again. Laurie said, “She wanted a Midkemian name for him, Milamber.”

  Katala started. “Milamber?”

  “It is my new name, love. You must get used to calling me that.” She frowned, not entirely pleased with the thought. “Milamber,” she repeated, testing the sound. She then shrugged. “It is a good name.”

  “How did he become William?”

  Laurie went over to the boy, who was trying to stand the pieces one atop the other, and gently took them away. The boy threw him a black look. “I want to play,” he said indignantly.

  Laurie picked him up and said, “I gave her a bunch of names, and she picked that one.”

  “I liked its sound,” she said; “William.”

  At the sound of his name the boy looked at his mother. “I’m hungry.”

  “I favored James or Owen, but she insisted,” Laurie said, while the boy tried to wriggle out of his arms.

  Katala took him. “I must feed him. I’ll take him to the kitchen.” She kissed Milamber and left the room.

  The magician stood quietly for a moment. “It is all more than I had hoped for. I was afraid she’d have found another.”

  “Not that one, P—Milamber. She would have nothing to do with any of the men who paid court to her, and there were a few. She’s a good woman. You need never doubt her.”

  “I never will, Laurie.”

  They seated themselves; a discreet cough at the door made them turn. Kamatsu stood at the door “May I enter, Great One?”

  Milamber and Laurie started to rise, and the lord of the house waved them back into place. “Please, stay seated.” Kasumi entered behind his father and closed the door. Milamber noticed for the first time that the son of the house was wearing garments that were Midkemian in fashion. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  The head of the Shinzawai family looked deeply troubled and tried to collect his thoughts. After a few moments he said, “Great One, may I be frank with you? Your arrival today is something unexpected and the source of some possible difficulty.”

  “Please,” said Milamber. “I do not intend to cause disruption in your household, lord. I want only my wife and son. And I will require this slave also.” He indicated Laurie.

  “Your will, Great One. The woman and the boy should, of course, go with you. But if I may beg of you, please allow the slave to remain.”

  Milamber looked from face to face. The two Shinzawai maintained control, but by the way they glanced from one to the other and at Laurie, their distress was poorly hidden. Something had changed here in the last five years. The relationship between the men in the room was not what it should have been between masters and slave.

  “Laurie?” Milamber looked at his friend. “What is this?”

  Laurie looked at the other two men, then at Milamber “I will have to ask you to promise me something.”

  Kamatsu’s shock was signaled by a sharp intake of breath “Laurie! You dare too much. One does not bargain with a Great One His words are as law.”

  Milamber held up a hand. “No. Let him speak.”

  In imploring tones Laurie said to his friend, “I know little of these matters, Milamber. You know I have no sense about protocol. I may be violating custom, but I ask you for the sake of our former friendship, will you keep a trust and vow to keep what you hear in this room to yourself?”

  The magician pondered the matter. He could command the Shinzawai lord to tell all, and the man would, as automatically as a soldier following orders, but his friendship with the troubadour was important to him. “I give you my word that I will not repeat what you tell me.”

  Laurie gave a sigh and smile, and the Shinzawai seemed to lose some of their tension Laurie said, “I have struck a bargain with my lord here. When we have completed certain tasks, I am to be given my freedom.”

  Milamber shook his head. “That is not possible. The law does not permit a slave to be freed. Even the Warlord cannot free a slave.”

  Laurie smiled. “And yourself?”

  Milamber looked stern. “I am outside the law. None may command me. Are you claiming to be a magician?”

  “No, Milamber, nothing like that. It is true that I can only be a slave here. But I won’t be here. I will return to Midkemia.”

  Milamber looked puzzled. “How is that possible? There is only one rift into Midkemia, and that is controlled by the Warlord’s pet magicians. There are no others, or I would know of them.”

  “We have a plan. It is involved and will take much explaining, but simply put, it is this: I will accompany Kasumi, disguised as a priest of Turakamu the Red. He will be leading soldiers replacing troops at the front No one is likely to notice my height, for the Red One’s priests are given wide berth. The troops are all loyal to the Shinzawai. Once in Midkemia, we will slip through the lines and find our way to the Kingdom forces.”

  Milamber nodded. “Now I understand the language lessons and the clothes. But tell me, Laurie. Are you willing to spy for the Tsurani in exchange for your freedom?” There was no disapproval in his voice, it was a simple question.

  Laurie flushed. “I am not going as a spy. I am going as a guide. I am to take Kasumi t
o Rillanon, for an audience with the King.”

  “Why?” Milamber was surprised.

  Kasumi interrupted. “I go to meet the King and bring him an offer of peace.”

  Milamber raised an argument. “How can you possibly expect to end the war with the War Party still in control of the High Council?”

  “There is one thing in our favor,” responded Kamatsu. “This war has lasted for nine years, and the end is nowhere in sight. Great One, I don’t presume to instruct you, but if I may explain some things?”

  Milamber nodded that he should continue Kamatsu sipped his drink and went on. “Since the end of the war with the Thuril Confederation, the War Party has been pressed to maintain its dominance over the High Council. Each border clash with Thuril brought the call for a renewal of the conflict. Between the fighting on the border, and the constant attempts by the Thün to break through the passes in the north and regain their former southern range, the War Party managed barely to maintain a majority. A coalition led by the Blue Wheel Party was on the verge of dislodging them ten years ago, when the Assembly discovered the rift into your former homeland. The call for war rang out in the council as soon as the rich metals of your homeland were known to exist. All the progress we had made over the years was lost in that instant.

  “So we began at once to counter this madness. The metals being mined on your former world are, from what Laurie has told us, the leavings of abandoned mines, not considered worth the bother by those you call dwarves. There is nothing in this for Tsuranuanni but an excuse to raise the War Banner again and shed blood.

  “You know our history. You know how difficult it is for us to settle our differences in a peaceful manner. I have been a soldier and know the glories of war. I also know its waste Laurie has convinced me that my suspicions about those who live in the Kingdom were correct. You are not a very warlike people, in spite of your nobles and their armies You would have been willing to trade.”

  Milamber interrupted. “This is all true. But I am not sure that it has any bearing on things as they stand now. My former nation had not fought a major war in nearly fifty years, except for skirmishes with the goblins of the north and along the Keshian border. But now the battle drums sound in the West. The Armies of the Kingdom have been blooded. The nation has been invaded without cause. They would not, I think, be willing simply to stop and forgive. There would be demands for retribution, or at least reparation Would the High Council be willing to surrender the honor of Tsuranuanni and make restitution for the wrong done at the hands of its soldiers?”