Prince of the Blood

Erland chimed in. ‘She’s worked as hard as anyone to preserve the peace, or at least all the reports say that. Why would she want Borric dead? Who—’

Borric interrupted his brother. ‘Whoever wants war between the Kingdom and the Empire.’

Locklear nodded. ‘It’s such a shallow lie; so transparent an attempt that it is not believable.’

‘Yet …’ Arutha mused aloud, ‘what if that assassin was chosen to fail? A dupe. What if I am supposed to withhold my envoy, keep my sons at home with me?’

Gardan nodded. ‘Thereby insulting the Royal House of Kesh.’

James, who leaned against the wall behind Arutha said, ‘We’ve managed a fair job already by dispatching a member of the Empress’s house. He was a very distant cousin, true, but a cousin, nevertheless.’

Garden returned to rubbing the bridge of his nose, a gesture of frustration more than fatigue. ‘And what was I supposed to say to the Keshian Ambassador? “Oh, we’ve found this young fellow, who seems to be a member of your Royal House. We had no idea he was in Krondor. And we’re sorry to tell you he’s dead. Oh, by the way, he tried to murder Prince Borric.”’

Arutha leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming a tent before his face, absently flexing in a gesture that all in the room had come to recognize over the years. He glanced at last at James.

‘We could dump the body,’ offered the young Baron.

Gardan said, ‘I beg your pardon?’

James stretched. ‘Take the body down to the bay and toss it in.’

Erland grinned. ‘Rough treatment for a member of the Royal House of Kesh, wouldn’t you say?’

Arutha said, ‘Why?’

James moved to sit on the edge of Arutha’s desk, as the Prince over the years had come to conduct very informal sessions with close advisors and family. ‘He’s not officially a guest in the city. We aren’t supposed to know he’s here. No one is supposed to know. The only Keshians who will know he’s here are those who know why he’s here. And I doubt any of them will inquire as to his well-being. He’s now the forgotten man, unless we call attention to his whereabouts.’

Drily, Borric added, ‘And his condition.’

‘We can claim he tried to kill Borric,’ James acknowledged, ‘but all we have is a Keshian corpse, a blowgun, and some poisoned darts.’

‘And a dead merchant,’ added Gardan.

‘Dead merchants are a frequent enough commodity on any given day in the Western Realm, my Lord Duke,’ observed James. ‘I say we strip him of his ring and toss him into the bay. Let the Keshians who sent him wonder for a while. Should anyone inquire, we might gain an opportunity to learn more of who’s behind him. At worst, we can show considerable distress at his demise, insisting that had we but known he was in the city we would have made every effort to ensure his safety, but if bored royal visitors slip into the city incognito, and insist on frequenting the seedier parts of the city …?’ He shrugged dramatically.

Arutha said nothing for a while, then gave one affirmative nod. James indicated with a jerk of his head that Locklear should use Royal Guardsmen for the job, and the other young Baron slipped through the door. After a short conference with Lieutenant William outside, Locklear returned to his seat.

Arutha sighed. Looking at James, he said, ‘Kesh. What else?’

James shrugged. ‘Hints, rumours. Their new Ambassador is … an odd choice. He’s what they call a “trueblood”, but not of the Royal House, the assassin would have been a more logical choice. The Ambassador is a purely political appointment. It’s rumoured that he may actually have stronger influence in Kesh’s court than many with royal blood. I can’t find any obvious reason why he should be given such an honour – save as a compromise, to appease different factions in court.’

Arutha nodded. ‘While none of this makes apparent sense, still, we must play according to the rules of such games.’ He was silent for a while, and no one spoke as the Prince gathered his thoughts. ‘Send word to our people in Kesh,’ he instructed James. Years earlier, he had allowed James to begin creating a network of agents, starting inside the Principality, and slowly spreading through the Western Realm. Now Prince Arutha had operatives in the Royal Courts of Kesh and Queg and close to the most powerful men in the Free Cities. ‘I want our agents hard at work before my sons arrive. If someone seeks to suck us into war with Kesh, striking at the King’s nephews would be a logical choice. You will accompany the Princes to Kesh. There is no one I trust more to swim through these murky waters.’

Baron Locklear said, ‘Highness?’

Looking at the other young Baron, Arutha said, ‘You will accompany Baron James, as Master of Ceremonies, Chief of Protocol, and the rest of that idiocy. The Imperial Court is dominated by women. We will at last find a use for that infamous Locklear charm. Instruct Captain Valdis he will act in your place as Knight-Marshal. And have Cousin William take over the Household Guard as acting Captain.’ Absently he added, ‘He’s overdue for promotion, anyway.’ Arutha drummed his fingers on the table as he reflected for a moment. ‘I want you,’ he said to James, ‘shed of any office and protocol on this journey. Your only title will be “tutor”. You must be free to come and go as you need.’ He stood and the others followed suit. He looked at the boys and said, ‘Supper tonight.’

The twins nodded their understanding and rose, assuming this meant they were dismissed. As Locklear and James followed suit, Arutha said, ‘James, abide a moment longer.’

The twins exchanged glances, but said nothing, and left the room with Locklear a step behind. When only Arutha, James, and Gardan remained, the Prince asked, ‘What sort of intelligence are we getting out of the city of Kesh?’

Ten years previously, Arutha had quietly asked James to begin creating an intelligence system, primarily as a means to counteract a very well established network of agents working for Kesh in the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles. James had begun with his already established contacts in the Krondorian underworld. Within a year he had informants watching every ship and caravan in and out of the city as well as having identified a dozen likely recruits in the region in other cities and towns, from Land’s End up to Ylith.

A visit to Locklear’s father two years earlier had provided James with his best new agent on the border with Kesh. James had only been to Land’s End once, previously, as a boy, and used a very old acquaintance from that visit as his introduction around the city.

Bram had been the illegitimate son of the Baroness of Land’s End and his claim on the title had not been upheld by the crown, the title and estates being given to Locklear’s father. But as a reward for service done the crown, a bit of black murder which few besides James knew about, Bram, and his wife Lorri, had been set up as very wealthy farmers. By the time James reacquainted himself with them, they had established lucrative trading concerns down into Great Kesh, and finally, after years of work, James had positioned an agent in the Imperial palace.

James said, ‘I have someone as highly placed in the palace staff as possible without trying to recruit a trueblood.’ Both Arutha and Gardan knew that trying to recruit any trueblood Keshian into service for a foreign power would likely prove impossible. ‘The difficulty is sifting through rumour and gossip looking for useful information.

‘Here’s what we know,’ James continued, knowing both men had read every report he had prepared. ‘There are factions within the trueblood community with differing loyalties to the various claimants to the throne. The Empress has a daughter who is widowed, and who would normally be next in line, but for reasons we don’t yet understand is not openly acknowledged. She has a younger brother who is very popular with the military leaders. The Empress also has a granddaughter, who is very young, but who – if married to the right leader – would create even more division among the factions.’

‘Civil war,’ said Gardan. ‘If the Empress doesn’t clean up the question of succession before she dies, Kesh could be shattered.’

Arutha nodded. ‘The Confederation is always looking for an excuse to rebel, and nothing would suit them better than the Royal House of Kesh being torn apart.’

James said, ‘I’m still waiting for copies of the last year’s communications between our ambassador and your brother, Highness.’

Arutha nodded. One of his frustrations was that while he had a great deal of autonomy in dealing with the Western Realm, the Kingdom was still ruled from Rillanon, a city thousands of miles away. And while Kesh often sent envoys and ambassadors to the Western Realm as a concession to necessity, Arutha had no formal reciprocation. And for reasons not clear after years ruling Krondor, he still had trouble getting copies of the communications between the Isle’s ambassador in Kesh and the King. ‘You’ll have to wait longer, I’m afraid. By the time you return from Kesh, I expect you’ll be more informed than Lord Dougrey.’ The Kingdom’s ambassador to Kesh was a minor Earl with a talent for entertaining and a distinct lack of other gifts. ‘For he has been recalled by the King, so when you get there, you’ll have to rely on your agent in the palace, and your own wits.’

James sighed. ‘Well, at least that rids us of the problem of how to keep the ambassador busy and out from under foot.’

Arutha said, ‘We have two possibilities to consider. Either, someone wants to keep the Empire together, and what better way to avoid a civil war than by plunging the Empire into a major war with a neighbour?’

James finished. ‘Or, someone wants to use a war with the Isles or the threat of a war to pull the Empire apart.’

Gardan said, ‘And the list of those who would delight in seeing Kesh collapse is not short.’

Arutha stood. ‘I’m sending you into another mess, Jimmy. But this one has consequences as dire as any before if mistakes are made. I would not bother to inform you of the obvious, save this time you’re labouring with a grave handicap.’

James smiled. ‘Borric and Erland will be kept on a short leash.’

‘Don’t let them start a war, please?’ Then without another word, he departed, the Duke following after.

James had come to understand Arutha’s moods as well as any outside his family. A mind as complex and deep as the Prince’s was like a chess master’s; Arutha was planning every conceivable outcome as many moves in advance as possible.

James left the room and found Locklear and the twins waiting for him outside the door. ‘We leave early in the morning,’ James informed them.

Borric said, ‘We’re not due to leave for another three days.’

James said, ‘Officially. If your Keshian friend has compatriots about, I would prefer they not know our plans.’ He glanced at Locklear. ‘We’ll slip out of the palace before dawn, and gather at a tavern. Horses and supplies will be waiting for us. A small mounted troop, twenty guards, dressed as mercenaries. Couriers leave in an hour by fast horses. Arutha’s sending word to Shamata we’re going to need fresh mounts and stores enough for two hundred escorts.’

Locklear said, ‘We’ll be arriving in Shamata at the same time as any message and two hundred—’

James cut him off. ‘We’re not going to Shamata. We want any Keshian agents who might be paying attention to think we’ll travel in state to Shamata. But we’re not going to Shamata. We’re going to Stardock.’

• Chapter Three • Stardock

DUST SWIRLED.

Twenty-four riders moved at a steady pace along the edge of the Great Star Lake. A week and a half of hard riding had taken them southward from Krondor, to Landreth on the north coast of the Sea of Dreams. Then, from where it entered the sea, the Star River led them further southward, the rugged mountains of the Grey Range always in sight as they entered the lush Vale of Dreams. Years of border wars between the Kingdom and the Empire had seen this rich farming land changing hands many times. Those who lived in this part of the world spoke the languages of the Southern Kingdom and the Northern Empire with equal fluency. And the sight of twenty-four armed mercenaries evoked no notice. Many armed bands of men rode the vale.

At the midpoint of the river, near a small waterfall, they forded the currents, making for the south shore. Upon reaching the headwaters of the Star River, the Great Star Lake, they turned to track the shoreline southward, seeking that point closest to the island dominating the centre of the lake, Stardock. There they would find the ferry that provided passage from the shore to the island.

Along the banks of the shore they passed tiny fishing and farming villages, often no more than an extended family, little groups of huts and cottages, but all looking prosperous and well tended. The community of magicians upon Stardock had grown over the years, and now other communities had developed to meet the demands for food of those upon the island.

Borric urged his horse forward, as they rounded a small promontory of land, bringing them their first clear view of the large building upon the island. It nearly shone in the orange light of the sunset, while the advancing night behind turned the distant sky violet and grey. ‘Gods and demons, Uncle Jimmy, look at the size of that place!’

James nodded. ‘I had heard they were building a massive centre for learning, but the tales never did it justice.’

Locklear said, ‘Duke Gardan visited here many years ago. He told me they had laid a huge foundation for the building … but this is larger than anything I’ve seen.’

Glancing at the falling light, James said, ‘If we hurry, we’ll make the island within the next two hours. I’d rather a warm meal and clean bed than another night on the trail.’ Setting heels to his horse’s sides, he moved on.

Under a canopy of brilliant stars on one of the rare nights when all three moons had yet to rise, they passed through a small gap between hillocks and entered a prosperous-looking town. Torches and lanterns blazed at every storefront – an extravagance in all but the wealthiest of towns and cities – and children ran after them, shouting and laughing in the general confusion. Beggars and prostitutes asked favours or offered them respectively, and ramshackle taverns stood open to provide the weary traveller with a cool drink, hot meal, and warm company.

Locklear shouted over the noise, ‘Quite a prosperous little metropolis growing here.’

James glanced about at the dirt and squalor. ‘Quite. The blessings of civilization,’ he observed.

Borric said, ‘Perhaps we should investigate one of these small pubs—’

‘No,’ answered James. ‘They’re certain to offer you refreshments at the Academy.’

Erland smiled ruefully. ‘A sweet and slightly feeble wine, no doubt. What else would one expect from an assemblage of old scholars, poking around in musty piles of manuscripts.’

James shook his head. They came to what was obviously the crossroads of the two main streets in the town and turned toward the lake. As James expected, down near the waterfront a large pier had been constructed and several ferries of differing sizes waited to haul goods and people to the island. Despite the late hour, workers still stacked sacks of grain against the need of hauling them the next morning.

Reining in, James called down to the nearest ferryman, ‘Good evening. We seek passage to Stardock island.’

A face, dominated by a hawk-beaked nose, with ill-cut bangs almost hiding the eyes, was revealed as the man glanced over his shoulder and said, ‘I can make one quick run across, sir. Five coppers a man, sir, but you need stable your horses here.’

Jimmy smiled. ‘How about ten gold pieces for the lot of us, including the mounts?’

The man returned to his work. ‘No bargaining, sir.’

Borric rattled his sword a bit as he said, half-jokingly, ‘What, you turn your back upon us?’

The man turned again to face them. Touching his forehead, in slightly sarcastic tones, he said, ‘Sorry, young sir, but no disrespect was intended.’

Borric was about to respond, when James tapped his arm with a gloved hand and pointed. In the gloom, just out of the light of a guttering torch, a young man in a plain robe of homespun sat at the dockside watching the interplay calmly.

Borric said, ‘What?’

‘The local constable, I expect.’

‘Him?’ said Borric. ‘He looks more a beggar or monk than any sort of fighting man.’

The ferryman nodded. ‘Right you are, sir. He’s our Peacekeeper.’ He grinned up at James. ‘You know your way around, sir. Yes, you do. That’s one of the magicians from the island. The council that runs the place keeps it peaceful-like over here in Stardock Town, so they make sure that we have the means. He has no sword, young sir,’ he said to Borric, ‘but with a wave of his hand he can stun you worse than a poleaxe to the noggin. Believe me, sir, I found that out the hard way.’ His voice falling to a near mutter, he added, ‘Or, it could be the magic what sets you to itching so bad you wish to die …’ Returning to the topic at hand, he raised his voice, ‘And as far as hagglin’, sir, as much as I do enjoy a good round of lying about how much injury a good profit does my children’s diet, the fact is the Academy sets the rates.’ He scratched his chin. ‘Suppose you could haggle with that young spellcaster over there, but I expect he’ll tell you the same. Given the traffic back and forth, the prices are fair.’

‘Where is the stable?’ James asked, but just then several small boys pushed from the crowd and offered to take their horses.

‘The boys will see your mounts to a clean stable.’ James nodded and dismounted. The other riders followed suit. Instantly, small hands removed reins from James’s grasp as other children did likewise throughout the company. ‘Very well,’ said James, ‘but see they have clean stalls and fresh hay and oats. And have a farrier check shoes, will you?’

James ceased his commentary as something caught his eye. He turned abruptly, reached out, and yanked a small boy away from Borric’s horse. James lifted the boy off the ground and looked him hard in the eyes. ‘Give it back,’ he said with a calm note of menace. The boy began to protest, then when James shook him for emphasis, thought better of it and held out a small coin purse to Borric. Borric’s mouth opened as he patted himself down and then accepted the purse.

James put the boy down but held onto his shirt front, then leaned down so he was eye to eye with the would-be cutpurse. ‘Boy, before I was half your size I knew more than twice what you’ll ever know about thieving. Do you believe me?’ The boy could only nod, so frightened was he at discovery. ‘Then take my word on the matter. You haven’t the knack. You’ll end up at the end of a short rope waiting for a long drop before you’re twelve if you keep this up. Find an honest trade. Now, if anything is missing when we leave, I’ll know who to look for, won’t I?’ The boy nodded again.

James sent him scurrying and turned to the ferryman. ‘Then it’ll be twenty-four of us on foot to the island.’

At this, the young magician rose to his feet and said, ‘It’s not often we have armed soldiers come to the Academy. May I ask your business?’

‘You may ask,’ said James. ‘But we’ll save our answers for another. If we need your permission, send word to the magician Pug that old friends come to call.’

The young magician raised an eyebrow. ‘Who should I tell him comes to call?’

James smiled, ‘Tell him … Baron James of Krondor, and …’ he glanced at the twins, ‘some of his kinsmen.’

A small group waited to welcome the company as the ferry came to rest against the shore with a bump. A loading dock was the only sign that this was the entrance to perhaps the strangest community upon Midkemia, the Academy of Magicians. Workers aided the soldiers as they negotiated the dock. Many were unsteady after their first ride on a flat-bottomed ferry. Lanterns hung from the dock posts, illuminating the welcoming committee.

A short man of middle years, wearing only a black robe and sandals, was at the centre of the group. To his right stood a striking, dark-skinned woman with iron-grey hair. An old man in robes stood to his left, a large huntsman in leather tunic and trousers at his shoulder. Behind them two younger men, attired in robes, waited patiently.

As James, Locklear, and the twins stepped off the ferry, the short man stepped forward and bowed slightly. ‘Your Highnesses honour us.’ Then he said, ‘Welcome to Stardock.’

Borric and Erland stepped forward, and awkwardly held out their hands to exchange a less formal hello with the man. While they were Princes born, used to some degree of deference and awe at their rank at times, here before them stood a man legends and tales had grown around. ‘Cousin Pug,’ Borric said, ‘thank you for receiving us.’

The magician smiled and everyone relaxed. Though nearly forty-eight years old, he looked a man in his early thirties. Brown eyes almost shone with warmth and, despite his age, the dark beard couldn’t hide an expression that was almost boyish. This youthful face could not belong to the man reputed to be the single most powerful individual in the world.

Erland and he quickly exchanged greetings, and James stepped forward. ‘Lord Pug …’ James began.

‘Just Pug, James.’ He smiled. ‘Around here we have little use for formal titles within our community. Despite King Lyam’s generous intentions in creating a tiny duchy out of Stardock and naming me its lord and master, we rarely think of such things.’ He took James by the arm. ‘Come; you remember my wife?’

James and his companions bowed slightly and took the woman’s slender hand. Upon close inspection, James was surprised at how delicate the woman looked. He hadn’t seen her for over seven years, but she had been a robust, healthy woman in her early forties, with suntanned cheeks and raven dark hair. Now she looked ten years her husband’s senior. ‘My Lady,’ said James, bowing over her hand.

The woman smiled and years vanished from her. ‘Just Katala, James. How is our son?’

James grinned. ‘William is happy. He is Acting Captain of Arutha’s Guard. He is well thought of, and I expect will hold the office when Valdis steps down. He’s a fine officer and will rise high, perhaps even to Knight-Marshal someday.’

Katala said, ‘And … otherwise?’

James’s smile faded. ‘He pays court to several lovely ladies of the Princess’s retinue.’ For a brief instant Katala’s expression lightened. ‘But no one holds his interest, I’m afraid.’ Katala’s face turned sombre again. Nothing more need be said; Katala, Pug, and James remembered the young woman who had been very dear to William, a young woman lost in serving the Kingdom. Softly James said, ‘That wound doesn’t seem to heal, does it?’

Pug said, ‘He should be here.’ Seeing his wife’s features darken, he said, ‘I know, dearest, we have put that argument to rest. Now,’ he said to the Princes, ‘may I present the others?’

When Borric nodded, Pug said, ‘I think you boys will remember Kulgan, my old teacher. And Meecham, who oversees our community’s food stores and a thousand other tasks.’ The two men named both bowed, and Borric and Erland shook each hand in turn. The old magician who had been Pug’s teacher moved with difficulty, aided by a cane and the hand of the other man.

Meecham, a powerful-looking man of advancing years, scolded the old magician like a nagging wife. ‘You should have stayed in your room …’

Kulgan shook off the aiding hand as Erland moved to take Borric’s place before Pug’s old master. ‘I’m old, Meecham, not dying.’ The man’s hair was white as winter’s first snow, and the skin was lined and tanned like old leather. But the blue eyes were still bright and alert. ‘Your Highness,’ he said to Erland.

The Prince smiled back. As boys they had delighted in Kulgan’s visits, for the old magician had entertained them with stories punctuated by small feats of magic. ‘Seems we’re informal, here. Uncle Kulgan. It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long.’