Magician: Master

by Raymond Feist

  Laurie stood as fascinated by the sight as Pug. Suddenly he put his lute aside, then jumped into the corral. “What do you think you’re doing?” yelled Pug.

  The troubadour dodged a protective feint by the grey stallion and jumped upon the back of another horse, the dominant mare of the small herd. “Trying to get the animals safely away.”

  Pug nodded and opened the gate. Laurie rode the horse out, but the grey kept the others from following, herding them back. Pug hesitated for a minute, then said, “Algon, I hope you knew what you taught.” He walked calmly toward the stallion, silently trying to convey a sense of command. When the stallion put back his ears and snorted at him, Pug said, “Stand!”

  The horse’s ears cocked at the command, and it seemed to be deciding. Pug knew timing was critical and did not break the rhythm of his approach. The horse studied him as he came alongside, and Pug said, “Stand!” again. Then before the animal could bolt, he grabbed a handful of mane and was up on its back.

  The battle-trained war-horse, whether by design or luck, decided Pug was close enough to his former master to respond. Perhaps it was due to the clamor of battle around, but for whatever reason, the grey leaped forward in response to Pug’s leg commands and was out the gate at a run. Pug gripped with his legs for his life. As the horse cleared the gate, Pug shouted, “Laurie, get the others!” as the stallion turned to the left. Pug glanced over his shoulder and saw the other animals following the herd leader as Laurie brought her past the gate.

  Pug saw Kasumi running from the tack house, a saddle in his hand, and shouted, “Whoa!” setting as hard a seat as he could manage bareback. The stallion halted and Pug commanded, “Stand!” The grey pawed the ground in anticipation of a fight. Kasumi shouted as he approached, “Keep the horses from fighting. This is a Blood Raid, and the Thūn will not retreat until each has killed at least once.” He called for Laurie to stop, and when the small herd was milling about, he quickly saddled a horse and turned it away from the others.

  Pug kicked, and the grey and the mare Laurie rode led the remaining four horses to the side of the estate house. They kept the animals closely bunched out of sight of the attacking Thūn.

  A soldier came running around the corner of the house, carrying weapons. He reached Pug and Laurie and shouted, “My master Kasumi commands you defend the horses with your lives.” He handed the two slaves each a sword and shield, then turned and dashed back toward the fighting.

  Pug regarded the strange sword and shield, lighter by half than any he had ever trained with. A shrill cry interrupted his examination as Kasumi came riding around the house, in a running fight with a Thūn warrior. The eldest son of the Shinzawai rode well, and though he had little training in fighting from horseback, he was a skilled swordsman. His inexperience was offset by the Thūn’s lack of experience with horses, for while it was not unlike fighting one of his own kind, the horse was also attacking, biting at the creature’s chest and face.

  Catching wind of the Thūn, Pug’s grey reared and nearly threw him. He held fiercely to the mane and gripped tightly with his lower legs. The other horses neighed, and Pug fought to keep his from charging. Laurie shouted, “They don’t like the way those things smell. Look at the way Kasumi’s horse is acting.”

  Another of the creatures came into sight, and Laurie let out a whoop and rode to intercept. They came together in a clash of weapons, and Laurie took the Thūn club blow on his shield. His own sword struck the creature across the chest, and it cried out in a strange, guttural language, staggering for a moment, then falling.

  Pug heard a scream from inside the house and turned to see one of the thin sliding doors erupt outward as a body hurled through it. A stunned house slave staggered to his feet, then collapsed, blood welling up from a wound on his head. Other figures came scurrying through the door.

  Pug saw Katala and Almorella running from the house with the others, a Thūn warrior in pursuit. The creature bore down upon Katala, club raised high overhead.

  Pug shouted her name, and the grey sensed his rider’s alarm. Without command the huge war-horse sprang forward, intercepting the Thūn as it closed with the slave girl. The horse was enraged, from the sounds of battle or the Thūn smell. It crashed heavily into the Thūn, biting and lashing out with heavy forelegs, and the Thūn’s legs went out from under it. Pug was thrown by the impact and landed heavily. He lay dazed for a moment, then he climbed to his feet. He staggered to where Katala sat huddled and pulled her away from the maddened stallion.

  The grey reared above the still Thūn, and hooves came flashing down. Again and again the war-horse struck at the Thūn, until there was no doubt of there being a breath of life left in the fallen creature.

  Pug shouted for the horse to halt and stand, and with a contemptuous snort, the animal ceased the attack, but it kept its ears pinned back, and Pug could see it quiver. Pug approached it and stroked its neck, until the animal stopped trembling.

  Then it was quiet. Pug looked about and saw Laurie riding after the scattering horses. He left his own mount and returned to Katala. She sat trembling upon the grass, Almorella at her side.

  Kneeling before her, he said, “Are you all right?”

  She took a deep breath, then gave him a frightened smile. “Yes, but I was sure I was going to be trampled for a minute.”

  Pug looked at the slave girl who had come to mean so much to him and said, “I thought so, too.” Suddenly they were both smiling at each other. Almorella stood and made some comment about seeing to the others. “I was so afraid you’d been hurt,” Pug said. “I thought I would lose my mind when I saw you running from that creature.”

  Katala put her hand upon Pug’s cheek, and he realized they were wet with tears, “I was so frightened for you,” he said.

  “And I for you. I thought you’d be killed the way you came crashing into the Thūn.” Then she was weeping. She came slowly into his arms. “I don’t know what I would do if you were killed.” Pug gripped her with all his strength. They sat that way for a few minutes, until Katala regained her composure. Gently pulling away from Pug, she said, “The estate is a shambles. Septiem will have a thousand things for us to do.” She began to stand, and Pug gripped her hand.

  Rising before her he said, “I didn’t know, before I mean. I love you, Katala.”

  She smiled at him, touching his cheek. “And I you, Pug.”

  Their moment of discovery was interrupted by the appearance of the Lord of the Shinzawai and his younger son. Looking around, he surveyed the damage to his house as Kasumi rode around the corner, splattered in blood.

  Kasumi saluted his father and said, “They have fled, I have ordered men dispatched to the northern watch forts. They must have overwhelmed one of the garrisons to have broken through.”

  The Lord of the Shinzawai nodded he understood and turned to enter his house, calling for his First Adviser and his other senior servants to report the damage to him.

  Katala whispered to Pug, “We’ll talk later,” and answered the hoarse shouts of the hadonra, Septiem. Pug joined Laurie, who had ridden up to Kasumi’s side.

  The minstrel looked at the dead creatures on the ground and said, “What are they?”

  Kasumi said, “Thūn, They’re nomadic creatures of the northern tundra. We have forts along the foothills of the mountains separating our estates from their lands, at every pass. Once they roamed these ranges until we drove them north. Occasionally they seek to return to the warmer lands of the south.” He pointed to a talisman tied in the fur of one of the creatures. “This was a Blood Raid. They are all young males, unproved in their bands, without mates. They failed in the summer rites of combat and were banished from the herd by the stronger males. They had to come south, killing at least one Tsurani before they would be allowed to return to their band. Each would have to return with a Tsurani head, or not come back. It is their custom. Those who escaped will be hunted down, for they will not cross back to their home range.”

  Laurie sho
ok his head. “Does this happen often?”

  “Every year,” said Hokanu with a wry smile. “Usually the watch forts turn them back, but it must have been a large herd this year. Many must have already returned to the north with heads taken from our men at the forts.”

  Kasumi said, “They must have killed two patrols, as well.” He shook his head. “We’ve lost between sixty and a hundred men.”

  Hokanu seemed to reflect his older brother’s unhappiness at the setback. “I will personally lead a patrol to see to the damage.”

  Kasumi gave him permission, and he left. Kasumi turned toward Laurie. “The horses?” Laurie pointed to where the stallion Pug had ridden stood watch over a small herd.

  Suddenly Pug spoke up. “Kasumi, I do wish to ask your father permission to marry Katala.”

  Kasumi’s eyes narrowed. “Listen well, Pug. I tried to instruct you, but you did not seem to catch my meaning. You are not of a subtle people. Now I will put it plainly. You may ask, but it will be refused.”

  Pug began to object, but Kasumi cut him off. “I have said, you are impatient people. There are reasons. More I cannot say, but there are reasons, Pug.”

  Anger flared in Pug’s eyes, and Kasumi said, in the King’s Tongue, “Say a word in anger within earshot of any soldier of this house, especially my brother, and you are a dead slave.”

  Stiffly Pug said, “Your will, master.”

  Witnessing the bitterness of Pug’s expression, Kasumi softly repeated, “There are reasons, Pug.” For a moment he was trying to be other than a Tsurani master, a friend trying to ease pain. He locked gaze with Pug, then a veil dropped over Kasumi’s eyes, and once more they were slave and master.

  Pug lowered his eyes as was expected of a slave, and Kasumi said, “See to the horses.” He strode away, leaving Pug alone.

  —

  PUG NEVER SPOKE of his request to Katala. She sensed that something troubled him deeply, something that seemed to add a bitter note to their otherwise joyful time together. He learned the depth of his love for her and began to explore her complex nature. Besides being strong-willed, she was quick-minded. He only had to explain something to her once, and she understood. He learned to love her dry wit, a quality native to her people, the Thuril, and sharpened to a razor’s edge by her captivity. She was an observant student of everything around her and commented unmercifully upon the foibles of everyone in the household, to their detriment and Pug’s amusement. She insisted upon learning some of Pug’s language, so he began teaching her the King’s Tongue. She proved an apt student.

  Two months went by uneventfully; then one night Pug and Laurie were called to the dining room of the master of the house. Laurie had completed work upon his lute and, though dissatisfied in a hundred little ways, judged it passable for playing. Tonight he was to play for the Lord of the Shinzawai.

  They entered the room and saw that the lord was entertaining a guest, a black-robed man, the Great One whom they had glimpsed months ago. Pug stood by the door while Laurie took a place at the foot of the low dining table. Adjusting the cushion he sat upon, he began to play.

  As the first notes hung in the air, he started singing: an old tune that Pug knew well. It sang of the joys of harvest and the riches of the land, and was a favorite in farm villages throughout the Kingdom. Besides Pug, only Kasumi understood the words, though his father could pick out a few that he had learned during his chess matches with Pug.

  Pug had never heard Laurie sing before, and he was genuinely impressed. For all the troubadour’s braggadocio, he was better than any Pug had heard. His voice was a clear, true instrument, expressive in both words and music of what he sang. When he was finished, the diners politely struck the table with eating knives, in what Pug assumed was the Tsurani equivalent of applause.

  Laurie began another tune, a merry air played at festivals throughout the Kingdom. Pug remembered when he had last heard it, at the Festival of Banapis the year before he had left Crydee for Rillanon. He could almost see once more the familiar sights of home. For the first time in years, Pug felt a deep sadness and longing that nearly overwhelmed him.

  Pug swallowed hard, easing the tightness in his throat. Homesickness and hopeless frustration warred within him, and he could feel his hard-learned self-control slipping away. He quickly invoked one of the calming exercises he had been taught by Kulgan. A sense of well-being swept over him, and he relaxed. While Laurie performed, Pug used all his concentration to fend off the haunting memories of home. All his skills created an aura of calm he could stand within, a refuge from useless rage, the only legacy of reminiscence.

  Several times during the performance, Pug felt the gaze of the Great One upon him. The man seemed to study him with some question in his eyes. When Laurie was finished, the magician leaned over and spoke to his host.

  The Lord of the Shinzawai beckoned Pug to the table. When he was seated, the Great One spoke. “I must ask you something.” His voice was clear and strong, and his tone reminded Pug of Kulgan when he was preparing Pug for lessons. “Who are you?”

  The direct, simple question caught everyone at the table by surprise. The lord of the house seemed uncertain as to the magician’s question and started to reply. “He is a slave—”

  He was interrupted by the Great One’s upraised hand. Pug said, “I am called Pug, master.”

  Again the man’s dark eyes studied him. “Who are you?”

  Pug felt flustered. He had never liked being the center of attention, and this time it was focused upon him as never before in his life.

  “I am Pug, once of the Duke of Crydee’s court.”

  “Who are you, to stand here radiating the power?” At this all three men of the Shinzawai household started, and Laurie looked at Pug in confusion.

  “I am a slave, master.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  Pug reached out, and his hand was taken by the Great One. The man’s lips moved, and his eyes clouded over. Pug felt a warmth flow through his hand and over him. The room seemed to glow with a soft white haze. Soon all he could see was the magician’s eyes. His mind fogged over, and time was suspended. He felt a pressure inside his head as if something were trying to intrude. He fought against it, and the pressure withdrew.

  His vision cleared, and the two dark eyes seemed to withdraw from his face until he could see the entire room again. The magician let go of his hand. “Who are you?” A brief flicker in his eyes was the only sign of his deep concern.

  “I am Pug, apprentice to the magician Kulgan.”

  At this the Lord of the Shinzawai blanched, confusion registering on his face. “How…”

  The black-robed Great One rose and announced, “This slave is no longer property of this house. He is now the province of the Assembly.”

  The room fell silent. Pug couldn’t understand what was happening and felt afraid.

  The magician drew forth a device from his robe. Pug remembered that he had seen one before, during the raid on the Tsurani camp, and his fear mounted. The magician activated it, and it buzzed as the other one had. He placed his hand on Pug’s shoulder, and the room disappeared in a grey haze.

  3

  Changeling

  The Elf Prince sat quietly.

  Calin awaited his mother. There was much on his mind, and he needed to speak with her this night. There had been little chance for that of late, for as the war had grown in scope, he found less time to abide in the bowers of Elvandar. As Warleader of the elves, he had been in the field nearly every day since the last time the outworlders had tried to forge across the river.

  Since the siege of Castle Crydee three years before, the outworlders had come each spring, swarming across the river like ants, a dozen for each elf. Each year elven magic had defeated them. Hundreds would enter the sleeping glades to fall into the endless sleep, their bodies being consumed by the soil, to nourish the magic trees. Others would answer the dryads’ call, following the enchanted sprites’ songs until in their passion for th
e elemental beings they would die of thirst while still in their inhuman lovers’ embrace feeding the dryads with their lives. Others would fall to the creatures of the forests, the giant wolves, bears, and lions who answered the call of the elven war horns. The very branches and roots of the trees of the elven forests would resist the invaders until they turned and fled.

  But this year, for the first time, the Black Robes had come. Much of the elven magic had been blunted. The elves had prevailed, but Calin wondered how they would fare when the outworlders returned.

  This year the dwarves of the Grey Towers had again aided the elves. With the moredhel gone from the Green Heart, the dwarves had made swift passage from their wintering in the mountains, adding their numbers to the defense of Elvandar. For the third year since the siege at Crydee, the dwarves had proved the difference in holding the outworlders across the river. And again with the dwarves came the man called Tomas.

  Calin looked up, then rose as his mother approached. Queen Aglaranna seated herself upon her throne and said, “My son, it is good to see you again.”

  “Mother, it is good to see you also.” He sat at her feet and waited for the words he needed to come. His mother sat patiently, sensing his dark mood.

  Finally he spoke. “I am troubled by Tomas.”

  “As am I,” said the Queen, her expression clouded and pensive.

  “Is that why you absent yourself when he comes to court?”

  “For that…and other reasons.”

  “How can it be the Old Ones’ magic still holds so strong after all these ages?”

  A voice came from behind the throne. “So that’s it, then?”

  They turned, surprised, and Dolgan stepped from the gloom, lighting his pipe. Aglaranna looked incensed. “Are the dwarves of the Grey Towers known for eavesdropping, Dolgan?”

  The dwarven chief ignored the bite of the question. “Usually not, my lady. But I was out for a walk—those little tree rooms fill with smoke right quickly—and I happened to overhear. I did not wish to interrupt.”