Pug shrugged. They were the Dukes council; today the boys had not been asked to attend, and the last four hours had passed slowly.
Abruptly the courtyard became busy as servants began to rush toward the front gate. Come on, said Tomas. Pug jumped off the bale and followed his friend.
They rounded the keep in time to see the guards turning out as they had the day before. It was colder than yesterday, but there was no rain. The boys climbed on the same wagon, and Tomas shivered. I think the snows will come early this year. Maybe tomorrow.
If they do, it will be the earliest snowfall in memory. You should have worn your cloak. Now youre all sweaty from the drill, and the air is chilling you.
Tomas looked pained. Gods, you sound like my mother.
Pug mimicked an exasperated manner. In a tone that was high-pitched and nasal, he said, And dont come running to me when youre all blue with chill, and coughing and sneezing, looking for comfort, for youll find none here, Tomas Megarson.
Tomas grinned. Now you sound exactly like her.
They turned at the sound of the great doors opening. The Duke and Elf Queen led the other guests from the central keep, the Duke holding the Queens hand in a parting gesture of friendship. Then the Queen placed her hand to her mouth and sang out a musical series of words, not loud, but carrying over the noise of the crowd. The servants who were standing in the court became silent, and soon the sound of hoof-beats could be heard outside the castle.
Twelve white horses ran through the gates and reared up in greeting to the Elf Queen. The elves quickly mounted, each springing up on an elf steeds back without assistance. They raised their hands in salute to the Duke, then turned and raced out the gate.
For a few minutes after they were gone, the crowd stood around, as if loath to admit that they had seen their last of the elves, probably their last in this lifetime. Slowly they began to drift back to work.
Tomas looked far away, and Pug turned toward him. What is it?
Tomas said softly, I wish I could see Elvandar, someday.
Pug understood. Maybe you will. Then he added, in lighter tones, But I doubt it. For I will be a magician, and you will be a soldier, and the Queen will reign in Elvandar long after we are dead.
Tomas playfully jumped atop his friend, wrestling him down in the straw. Oh! Is that so. Well, I will too go to Elvandar someday. He pinned Pug under him, sitting atop his chest. And when I do, Ill be a great hero, with victories over the Tsurani by the score. Shell welcome me as an honored guest. What do you think of that?
Pug laughed, trying to push his friend off. And Ill be the greatest magician in the land.
They both laughed. A voice broke through their play. Pug! There you are.
Tomas got off, and Pug sat up. Approaching them was the stocky figure of Gardell the smith. He was a barrel-chested man, with little hair but a thick black beard. His arms were grimy with smoke, and his apron was burned through with many small holes. He came to the side of the wagon and placed fists on hips. Ive been looking all over for you. I have that hood Kulgan asked me to fashion for your fire pot.
Pug scrambled out of the wagon, with Tomas close behind. They walked after Gardell toward the smithy behind the central keep. The burly smith said, Damned clever idea, that hood. Ive worked the forge for nearly thirty years and never thought of using a hood for a fire pot. Had to make one as soon as Kulgan told me of the plan.
They entered the smithy, a large shed with a large and small forge and several different-sized anvils. All manner of things lay about waiting for repair: armor, stirrup irons, and kitchen utensils. Gardell walked to the larger forge and picked up the hood. It was about three feet to a side, about three feet high, and formed a cone with a hole at the top. Lengths of round metal pipe lay nearby, fashioned especially thin.
Gardell held out his creation for them to study. I made it fairly thin, using a lot of tin for lightness, for were it too heavy, it would collapse. With his toe he pointed to several lengths of metal rods. Well knock some little holes in the floor and use these for support. It may take a bit of time to get it right, but I think this thing of yours is going to work.
Pug smiled broadly. He found great pleasure in seeing an idea of his taking concrete form. It was a novel and gratifying sensation. When can we install it?
Now if you like. I would like to see it work, I must confess.
Pug gathered up some of the pipe, and Tomas the rest, as well as the rods. Juggling the awkward load, they set out toward the magicians tower, with the chuckling smith following.
Kulgan was deep in thought as he started to mount the stairs to his room. Suddenly a shout from above sounded: Watch out! Kulgan glanced up in time to see a block of stone come tumbling down the stairs, bounding over the steps as if in some fit of drunken craziness. He leapt aside as it struck against the wall where he had stood and came to rest at the bottom of the stairs. Mortar dust filled the air, and Kulgan sneezed.
Tomas and Pug came running down the stairs, expressions of worry on their faces. When they saw no one was hurt, they both looked relieved.
Kulgan leveled a baleful gaze upon the pair and said, What is all this?
Pug appeared sheepish, while Tomas tried to blend in with the wall. Pug spoke first. We were trying to carry the stone down to the yard, and it sort of slipped.
Sort of slipped? It looked more like a mad dash for freedom. Now, why were you carrying the stone, and where did it come from?
Its the loose one from my wall, answered Pug. We took it out so that Gardell could put the last pipe in place. When Kulgan still appeared uncomprehending, Pug said, Its for my fire pot hood, remember?
Ah, said Kulgan, yes. Now I do. A servant arrived to investigate the noise, and Kulgan asked him to fetch a couple of workmen from the yard to carry the block away. He left, and Kulgan said to the boys, I think it would be better to let someone a little larger tote that stone out. Now let us see this marvel.
They climbed the stairs to the boys room and found Gardell installing the last length of pipe. The smith turned when they entered and said, Well, what do you think?
The pot had been moved a little closer to the wall, and the hood sat on four metal rods of equal length over it. All of the smoke was trapped by the hood and carried away through the light metal pipe. Unfortunately, the hole where the stone was missing was considerably larger than the pipe, so most of the smoke was blown back into the room by the wind.
Kulgan, what do you think? said Pug.
Well, boy. It looks rather impressive, but I cant see much improvement in the atmosphere here.
Gardell gave the hood a solid whack with his hand, causing it to ring out with a tinny sound. His thick calluses kept his hand from being burned by the hot metal. Shell do, soon as I plug up that hole, magician. Ill fetch some bull hide that I use for making shields for the horsemen and cut a hole in a piece, slip it around the pipe, and nail it to the wall. A few slaps of tanning agent on it, and the heat will dry it out all stiff and hard. It will take the heat and keep the rain and wind out of the room, as well as the smoke. The smith looked pleased with his handiwork. Well, Ill fetch the hide. Back in a moment.
Pug looked as if he would burst from pride, seeing his invention before him, and Tomas reflected Pugs glory. Kulgan chuckled softly to himself for a moment. Suddenly Pug turned to the magician, remembering where he had spent the day. What is the news from the council?
The Duke sends messages to all the nobles of the West, explaining what has occurred in great detail, and asking that the Armies of the West be made ready. I am afraid Tullys scribes have some rigorous days ahead of them, since the Duke wants them all finished as soon as possible. Tullys in a state, for he has been commanded to stay and act as Lyams adviser, along with Fannon and Algon, during the Dukes absence.
Lyams adviser? Absence? asked Pug, uncomprehendingly.
Yes, the Duke, Arutha, and I are going to journey to the Free Cities, and on to Krondor, to speak with Prince Erland. I am going to send a dream message to a colleague of mine tonight, if I can. Belgan lives north of Bordon. He will send word to Meecham, who should be there by now, to find us a ship. The Duke feels it best that he should carry the word in person.
Pug and Tomas looked excited. Kulgan knew they both wanted to come along. To visit Krondor would be the greatest adventure of their young lives. Kulgan stroked his grey beard. It will be difficult to continue your lessons, but Tully can brush you up on a trick or two.
Pug looked as if he were going to burst. Please, Kulgan, may I come too?
Kulgan feigned surprise. You come? I never thought of that. He paused for a moment while the suspense built. Well . . . Pugs eyes pleaded. . . . I guess it would be all right. Pug let out a yelp and jumped in the air.
Tomas struggled to hide his disappointment. He forced a thin smile and tried to look happy for Pug.
Kulgan walked to the door. Pug noticed Tomass dejected expression. Kulgan? Pug said. The magician turned, a faint smile on his lips.
Yes, Pug?
Tomas, too?
Tomas shook his head, for he was neither a member of the court nor the magicians charge, but his eyes looked at Kulgan imploringly.
Kulgan smiled broadly. I guess were better off keeping you together, so we need look for trouble in only one place. Tomas, too. Ill arrange things with Fannon.
Tomas shouted, and the two boys slapped each other on the back.
Pug said, When do we leave?
Kulgan laughed. In five days time. Or sooner, if the Duke hears from the dwarves. Runners are being sent to the North Pass to see if it is clear. If not, we ride by the South Pass.
Kulgan departed, leaving the two boys dancing arm in arm and whooping with excitement.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Understanding
PUG HURRIED ACROSS THE COURTYARD.
Princess Carline had sent him a note asking him to meet her in her flower garden. It was the first word from the girl since she had stormed away from their last meeting, and Pug was anxious. He did not want to be on bad terms with Carline, regardless of any conflicts he might be feeling. After his brief discussion with Calin, two days earlier, he had sought out Father Tully and talked with him at length.
The old priest had been willing to take time out to speak with the boy, in spite of the demands the Duke was placing upon his staff. It had been a good talk for Pug, leaving him with a surer sense of himself. The final message from the old cleric had been: Stop worrying about what the Princess feels and thinks, and start discovering what Pug feels and thinks.
He had taken the clerics advice and was now sure of what he would say should Carline start referring to any sort of understanding between them. For the first time in weeks he felt something like a sense of direction even if he was not sure what destination he would eventually reach, holding to such a course.
Reaching the Princesss garden, he rounded a corner, then stopped, for instead of Carline, Squire Roland stood by the steps. With a slight smile, Roland nodded. Good day, Pug.
Good day, Roland. Pug looked around.
Expecting someone? said Roland, forcing a note of lightness that did little to hide a belligerent tone. He casually rested his left hand on the pommel of his sword. Apart from his sword, he was dressed as usual, in colorful breeches and tunic of green and gold, with tall riding boots.
Well, actually, I was expecting to see the Princess, Pug said, with a small note of defiance in his manner.
Roland feigned surprise. Really? Lady Glynis mentioned something about a note, but I had come to understand things were strained between the two of you . . .
While Pug had tried to sympathize with Rolands situation over the last few days, his offhanded, superior attitude and his chronic antagonism conspired to irritate Pug. Letting his exasperation get the better of him, he snapped, As one squire to another, Roland, let me put it this way: how things stand between Carline and myself is none of your business!
Rolands face took on an expression of open anger. He stepped forward, looking down at the shorter boy. Be damned its none of my business! I dont know what youre playing at, Pug, but if you do anything to hurt her, Ill
Me hurt her! Pug interrupted. He was shocked by the intensity of Rolands anger and infuriated by the threat. Shes the one playing us one against the other
Abruptly Pug felt the ground tilt under him, rising up to strike him from behind. Lights exploded before his eyes and a bell-like clanging sounded in his ears. It was a long moment before he realized Roland had just hit him. Pug shook his head and his eyes refocused. He saw the older, larger squire standing over him, both hands balled into fists. Through tightly clenched teeth, Roland spat his words. If you ever say ill of her again, Ill beat you senseless.
Pugs anger fired within him, rising each second. He got carefully to his feet, his eyes upon Roland, who stood ready to fight. Feeling the bitter taste of anger in his mouth, Pug said, Youve had two years and more to win her, Roland. Leave it alone.
Rolands face grew livid and he charged, bowling Pug off his feet. They went down in a tangle, Roland striking Pug harmlessly on the shoulders and arms. Rolling and grappling, neither could inflict much damage. Pug got his arm around Rolands neck and hung on as the older squire thrashed in a frenzy. Suddenly Roland wedged a knee against Pugs chest and shoved him away. Pug rolled and came to his feet. Roland was up an instant later, and they squared off. Rolands expression had changed from rage to cold, calculating anger as he measured the distance between them. He advanced carefully, his left arm bent and extended, his right fist held ready before his face. Pug had no experience with this form of fighting, called fist-boxing, though he had seen it practiced for money in traveling shows. Roland had demonstrated on several occasions that he had more than a passing acquaintance with the sport.
Pug sought to take the advantage and swung a wild, roundhouse blow at Rolands head. Roland dodged back as Pug swung completely around; then the squire jumped forward, his left hand snapping out, catching Pug on the cheek, rocking his head back with a stinging blow. Pug stumbled away, and Rolands right hand missed Pugs chin by a fraction.
Pug held up his hands to ward off another blow and shook his head, clearing it of the dancing lights that obscured his vision, barely managing to duck beneath Rolands next blow. Under Rolands guard, Pug lunged, catching the other boy in the stomach with his shoulder, knocking him down again. Pug fell on top of him and struggled to pin the larger boys arms to his side. Roland struck out, catching Pugs temple with an elbow, and the dazed magicians apprentice fell away, momentarily confused.