Magician: Apprentice

by Raymond Feist

  Pug had been troubled by Roland’s hostility toward him of late, poorly hidden behind stiff manners. He had never been as close to Roland as Tomas had, but they had never before had cause to be angry with one another. Roland had always been one of the crowd of boys Pug’s age. He had never hidden behind his rank when he had cause to be at odds with the common boys, always standing ready to settle the matter in whatever way proved necessary. And already being an experienced fighter when he arrived in Crydee, his differences soon were settled peacefully as often as not. Now there was this dark tension between Pug and Roland, and Pug found himself wishing he was Tomas’s equal in fighting; Tomas was the only boy Roland was unable to best with fists, their one encounter ending quickly with Roland receiving a sound thumping. For as certain as the sun was rising in the morning, Pug knew a confrontation with the hotheaded young Squire was quickly approaching. He dreaded it, but knew once it came, he’d feel relief.

  Pug glanced at Tomas, finding his friend lost in his own discomfort. Pug returned his attention to Carline. He felt overwhelmed by the Princess, but her allure was tempered by a strange discomfort he felt whenever she was near. As beautiful as he found her—her black locks and blue eyes igniting some very uncomfortable flames of imagination—the images were always somehow hollow, colorless at heart, lacking the amber-and-rose glow such daydreams had possessed when Carline had been a distant, unapproachable, and unknown figure. Observing her closely for even as short a time as he had recently made such idealized musing impossible. She was proving herself to be just too complicated to fit into simple daydreams. On the whole he found the question of the Princess troublesome, but seeing her with Roland made him forget his internal conflicts over her, as a less intellectual, more basic emotion came to the fore. He was becoming jealous.

  Pug sighed, shaking his head as he thought about his own misery at this moment, ignoring Tomas’s. At least, thought Pug, I’m not alone. To Roland’s obvious discomfort, Carline was deeply involved at the moment in conversation with Prince Calin of Elvandar, son of Aglaranna. The Prince seemed to be the same age as Arutha, or Lyam, but then so did his mother, who appeared to be in her early twenties. All the elves, except the Queen’s seniormost adviser, Tathar, were quite young looking, and Tathar looked no older than the Duke.

  When the meal was over, most of the Duke’s court retired. The Duke rose and offered his arm to Aglaranna and led those who had been ordered to attend them to his council chamber.

  For the third time in two days, the boys found themselves in the Duke’s council chamber. Pug was more relaxed about being there than before, thanks in part to the large meal, but Tomas seemed more disturbed than ever. If the taller boy had spent the hour before dinner staring at the Elf Queen, in these close quarters he seemed to be looking everywhere but in her direction. Pug thought Aglaranna noticed Tomas’s behavior and smiled slightly, but he couldn’t be sure.

  The two elves who came with the Queen, Calin and Tathar, went at once to the side table that held the bowl and the artifacts taken from the Tsurani soldier. They examined them closely, fascinated by every detail.

  The Duke called the meeting to order, and the two elves came to chairs on either side of the Queen. Pug and Tomas stood by the door as usual.

  The Duke said, “We have told you what has occurred as well as we know, and now you have seen proof with your own eyes. If you think it would be helpful, the boys can recount the events on the ship.”

  The Queen inclined her head, but it was Tathar who spoke. “I would like to hear the story firsthand, Your Grace.”

  Borric motioned for the boys to approach. They stepped forward, and Tathar said, “Which of you found this outworlder?”

  Tomas threw Pug a look that indicated the shorter boy should do the talking. Pug said, “We both did, sir,” not knowing the proper address for the elf. Tathar seemed content with the general honorific. Pug recounted the events of that day, leaving out nothing he could remember. When he had done, Tathar asked a series of questions, each jogging Pug’s memory, bringing out small details he had forgotten.

  When he was done, Pug stepped back, and Tathar repeated the process with Tomas. Tomas began haltingly, obviously discomfited, and the Elf Queen bestowed a reassuring smile on him. That only served to make him more unsettled, and he was soon dismissed.

  Tathar’s questions provided more details about the ship, small things forgotten by the boys: fire buckets filled with sand tossed about the deck, empty spear-racks, substantiating Arutha’s surmise that it had been, indeed, a warship.

  Tathar leaned back. “We have never heard of such a ship. It is in many ways like other ships, but not in all ways. We are convinced.”

  As if by silent signal, Calin spoke. “Since the death of my Father-King, I serve as Warleader of Elvandar. It is my duty to supervise the scouts and patrols that guard our glades. For some time we have been aware that there were strange occurrences in the great forest, south of the river Crydee. Several times our runners have found tracks made by men, in isolated parts of the forest. They have been found as near as the borders of Elvandar, and as far as the North Pass near Stone Mountain.

  “Our scouts have tried for weeks to find these men, but only tracks could be seen. There were none of the usual things that would be expected of a scouting or raiding party. These people were taking great care to disguise their presence. Had they not passed so close to Elvandar, they might have remained undetected, but no one may intrude near our home and go unnoticed.

  “Several days ago, one of our scouts sighted a band of strangers passing the river, near the edge of our forests heading in the direction of the North Pass. He followed for a half day’s march, then lost them.”

  Fannon raised his eyebrows. “An elven tracker lost them?”

  Calin inclined his head slightly. “Not by his lack of skill. They simply entered a thick glade and never appeared on the other side. He followed their tracks up to the point where they vanished.”

  Lyam said, “I think we know now where they went.” He looked uncommonly somber, resembling his father more than usual.

  Calin continued. “Four days before your message arrived, I led a patrol that sighted a band near the place of last sighting. They were short and stocky men, without beards. Some were fair and others dark. There were ten of them, and they moved through the forest with little ease; the slightest sound put them on guard. But with all their caution, they still had no idea they were being tracked.

  “They all wore armor of bright colors, reds and blues, some green, others yellow, save one in black robes. They carried swords like the one on the table and others without the serration, round shields, and strange bows, short and curved in an odd doubled-back way.”

  Algon sat forward. “They’re recurved bows, like the ones used by Keshian dog-soldiers.”

  Calin spread his hands. “Kesh has long been gone from these lands, and when we knew the Empire, they used simple bows of yew or ash.”

  Algon interrupted in excited tones. “They have a way, secret to them, of fashioning such bows from wood and animal horn. They are small, but possess great power, though not as much as the longbow. Their range is surprisingly—”

  Borric cleared his throat pointedly, being unwilling to let the Horsemaster indulge himself in his preoccupation with weaponry. “If His Highness will please continue?”

  Algon sat back, blushing furiously, and Calin said, “I tracked them for two days. They stopped and made cold camp at night and took great care not to leave signs of their passing. All food scraps and body wastes were gathered together in a sack and carried by one of their band. They moved carefully, but were easy for us to follow.

  “When they came to the edge of the forest, near the mouth of North Pass, they made marks upon a parchment as they had several times during their trek. Then the one in black activated some strange device, and they vanished.” There was a stir from the Duke’s company. Kulgan especially looked disturbed.

  Calin paused. “The t
hing that was most strange, however, was their language, for their speech was unlike any we know. They spoke in hushed tones, but we could hear them, and their words were without meaning.”

  The Queen then spoke. “Hearing this, I became alarmed, for these outworlders are clearly mapping the West, ranging freely through the great forest, the hills of Stone Mountain, and now the coasts of the Kingdom. Even as we prepared to send you word, the reports of these outworlders became more frequent. Several more bands were seen in the area of the North Pass.”

  Arutha sat forward, resting his arms on the table. “If they cross the North Pass, they will discover the way to Yabon, and the Free Cities. The snows will have started to fall in the mountains, and they may discover we are effectively isolated from aid during the winter.”

  For a moment alarm flickered on the Duke’s face, betraying his stoic demeanor. He regained his composure and said, “There is still the South Pass, and they may not have mapped that far. If they were in that area, the dwarves would most likely have seen signs of them, as the villages of the Grey Towers are more widely scattered than those of Stone Mountain.”

  “Lord Borric,” said Aglaranna, “I would never have ventured from Elvandar if I had not thought the situation critical. From what you have told us of the outworld Empire, if they are as powerful as you say, then I fear for all the free peoples of the West. While the elves have little love for the Kingdom as such, we respect those of the Crydee, for you have ever been honorable men and have never sought to extend your realm into our lands. We would ally with you should these outworlders come for conquest.”

  Borric sat quietly for a moment. “I thank the Lady of Elvandar for the aid of the elven folk should war come. We are also in your debt for your counsel, for now we can act. Had we not known of these happenings in the great forests, we would likely have given the aliens more time for whatever trouble they are preparing.” He paused again, as if considering his next words. “And I am convinced that these Tsurani plan us ill. Scouting an alien and strange land I could see, trying to determine the nature and temper of the people who live there, but extensive mapping by warriors can only be a prelude to invasion.”

  Kulgan sounded fatigued as he said, “They most likely will come with a mighty host.”

  Tully shook his head. “Perhaps not.” All eyes turned to him as he said, “I am not so certain. Much of what I read in Xomich’s mind was confused, but there is something about this Empire of Tsuranuanni that makes it unlike any nation we know of; there is something very alien about their sense of duty and alliances. I can’t tell you how I know, but I suspect they may choose to test us first, with but a small part of their might. It’s as if their attentions are elsewhere, and we’re an afterthought.” He shook his head in admitted confusion. “I have this sense, nothing more.”

  The Duke sat upright, a commanding tone coming into his voice. “We will act. I will send messages to Duke Brucal of Yabon, and again to Stone Mountain and the Grey Towers.”

  Aglaranna said, “It would be good to hear what the dwarven folk know.”

  Borric said, “I had hoped for word by now, but our messengers have not returned, nor have the pigeons they carry.”

  Lyam said, “Hawks, perhaps. The pigeons are not always reliable, or perhaps the messengers never reached the dwarves.”

  Borric turned to Calin. “It has been forty years since the siege of Carse, and we have had little traffic with the dwarves since. Who commands the dwarven clans now?”

  The Elf Prince said, “As then. Stone Mountain is under the banner of Harthorn, of Hogar’s line, at village Delmoria. The Grey Towers rally to the banner of Dolgan, of Tholin’s line, at village Caldara.”

  “Both are known to me, though I was but a boy when they raised the Dark Brothers’ siege at Carse,” said Borric. “They will prove fierce allies if trouble comes.”

  Arutha said, “What of the Free Cities, and the Prince in Krondor?”

  Borric sat back. “I must think on that, for there are problems in the East, or so I have word. I will give thought to the matter this night.” He stood. “I thank you all for this counsel. Return to your quarters and avail yourselves of rest and refreshments. I will ask you to consider plans for dealing with the invaders, should they come, and we will meet again tomorrow.”

  As the Elf Queen rose, he offered her his arm, then escorted her through the doors that Tomas and Pug held open. The boys were the last to exit. Fannon took Tomas in tow, leading him to the soldiers’ commons, while Kulgan stood outside the hall with Tully and the two elven advisers.

  The magician turned to his apprentice. “Pug, Prince Calin expressed an interest in your small library of magic books. Would you please show them to him?”

  Pug said he would and led the Prince up the stairs to his door and opened it for him. Calin stepped through, and Pug followed. Fantus was asleep and woke with a start. He threw the elf a distrustful look.

  Calin slowly crossed over to the drake and spoke a few soft words in a language that Pug didn’t understand. Fantus lost his nervousness and stretched forth his neck to allow the Prince to scratch his head.

  After a moment the drake looked expectantly to Pug. Pug said, “Yes, dinner is over. The kitchen will be full of scraps.” Fantus moved to the window with a wolfish grin and used his snout to push it open. With a snap of his wings he was out, gliding toward the kitchen.

  Pug offered Calin a stool, but the Prince said, “Thank you, but your chairs and stools are of little comfort to my kind. I will just sit on the floor, with your leave. You have a most unusual pet, Squire Pug.” He gave Pug a small smile. Pug was a little uncomfortable hosting the Elf Prince in his poor room, but the elf’s manner was such that the boy started to relax.

  “Fantus is less a pet than a permanent guest. He has a mind of his own. It is not unusual for him to disappear for weeks at a time, now and again, but mostly he stays here. He must eat outside the kitchen now that Meecham has gone.”

  Calin inquired who Meecham was. Pug explained, adding, “Kulgan has sent him over the mountains to Bordon, with some of the Duke’s guards, before the North Pass is snowed in. He didn’t say why he was going, Highness.”

  Calin looked at one of the boy’s books. “I prefer to be called Calin, Pug.”

  Pug nodded, pleased. “Calin, what do you think the Duke has in mind?”

  The elf gave him an enigmatic smile. “The Duke will reveal his own plans, I think. My guess is that Meecham is preparing the way should the Duke choose to journey east. You will most probably know on the morrow.” He held up the book he had glanced at. “Did you find this interesting?”

  Pug leaned over and read the title. “Dorcas’s Treatise on the Animation of Objects? Yes, though it seemed a little unclear.”

  “A fair judgment. Dorcas was an unclear man, or at least I found him so.”

  Pug started. “But Dorcas died thirty years ago.”

  Calin smiled broadly, showing even white teeth. His pale eyes shone in the lantern light. “Then you know little of elven lore?”

  “Little,” Pug agreed. “You are the first elf I have ever spoken with, though I may have seen another elf once, when I was very little. I’m not sure.” Calin tossed aside the book. “I know only what Martin Longbow has told me, that you can somehow speak with animals, and some spirits. That you live in Elvandar and the surrounding elven forests, and that you stay among your own kind mostly.”

  The elf laughed, a soft, melodic sound. “Nearly all true. Knowing friend Longbow, I wager some of the tales were colorful, for while he is not a deceiving man, he has an elf’s humor.” Pug’s expression showed he did not understand. “We live a very long time by your standards. We learn to appreciate the humor in the world, often finding amusement in places where men find little. Or you can call it simply a different way of looking at life. Martin has learned this from us, I think.”

  Pug nodded. “Mocking eyes.”

  Calin raised an eyebrow in question. Pug explained, “M
any people here find Martin difficult to be with. Different, somehow. I once heard a soldier say he had mocking eyes.”

  Calin sighed. “Life has been difficult for Martin. He was left on his own at an early age. The Monks of Silban are good, kindly men, but ill equipped to raise a boy. Martin lived in the woods like a wild thing when he could flee his tutors. I found him one day, fighting with two of our children—we are not very much different from men when very young. Over the years he has grown to be one of the few humans who is free to come to Elvandar at will. He is a valued friend. But I think he bears a special burden of loneliness, not being fully in the world of elves nor of men, but partially in both.”

  Pug saw Martin in a new light and resolved to attempt to know the Huntmaster better. Returning to the original topic, he said, “Is what he said true?”

  Calin nodded. “In some respects. We can speak to animals only as men do, in tones to make them easy, though we are better at it than most humans, for we read the moods of wild things more readily. Martin has some of this knack. We do not, however, speak with spirits. There are creatures we know whom humans consider spirits—dryads, sprites, pixies—but they are natural beings who live near our magic.”

  Pug’s interest was piqued. “Your magic?”

  “Ours is a magic that is part of our being, strongest in Elvandar. It is a heritage ages old, allowing us to live at peace within our forests. There we work as others do, hunting, tending our gardens, celebrating our joys, teaching our young. Time passes slowly in Elvandar, for it is an ageless place. That is why I can remember speaking with Dorcas, for in spite of my youthful appearance, I am over a hundred years old.”

  “A hundred…” Pug shook his head. “Poor Tomas, he was distressed to hear you were the Queen’s son. Now he will be desolate.”

  Calin inclined his head, a half-smile playing across his face. “The lad who was with us in the council hall?”