LITMIR.BIZ

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I quickly learned that when Father gave an order, he expected it to be obeyed without question.’ Arutha sighed, and in that sound both boys heard uncertainty from their father for the first time in their lives. ‘We all assumed Prince Randolph would be King someday. When he drowned, we assumed Lyam would have another son. Even as daughters arrived and the prospects for a Royal Heir in Rillanon lessened with the passing years, we still never considered that someday you—’ he put his finger on Borric’s chest ‘—would be ruler of this nation.’

      He looked over at his other son and in an uncharacteristic gesture, reached out and placed his hand over Erland’s. ‘I am not given to speaking of strong feelings, but you are my sons and I love you both, though you try my patience to distraction.’

      Both sons were suddenly uncomfortable with this atypical revelation. They loved their father but, like him, were discomforted by any attempt to express such feelings openly. ‘We understand,’ was all Borric could manage.

      Looking Borric directly in the eyes, he said, ‘Do you? Do you really? Then understand that from this day forth you are no longer my sons alone, Borric. You are both now sons to the Kingdom. Each of you is a Royal. You are to be King someday, Borric. Wrap your mind around that fact, for it is so, and nothing this side of death will change that. And from this day on a father’s love of his son will no longer shield you from life’s harshness. To be a king is to hold men’s lives by a thread. A thoughtless gesture will end those lives as certainly as if you had chosen to tear the threads.’

      To Erland, he said, ‘Twins pose a serious threat to peace in our Kingdom, for should old rivalries surface, you’ll find some claiming the birth order was reversed, some who will raise your cause without your consent, as an excuse to make war upon old foes.

      ‘You both have heard the story, of the First King Borric and how he was forced to slay his own brother, Jon the Pretender. And you have also heard, often enough, of how I stood with the King and our brother Martin in the hall of our ancestors, before the Congress of Lords, each of them with a just claim to the crown. By Martin’s signal act of nobility, Lyam wears his crown and no blood was shed.’ He held his thumb and forefinger a scant fraction of an inch apart. ‘Yet we were but this far from civil war that day.’

      Borric said, ‘Father, why are you telling us this?’

      Arutha stood, sighed, and put his hand upon his eldest son’s shoulder. ‘Because your boyhood is at an end, Borric. You are no longer the son of the Prince of Krondor. For I have decided that should I survive my brother, I will renounce my own claim upon the crown in favour of yours.’ Borric began to protest, but Arutha cut him off. ‘Lyam is a vigorous man. I may be an old one when he dies, if I don’t precede him. It is best if there is not a short rule between Lyam’s and your own. You will be the next King of the Isles.’

      Glancing at Erland, he said, ‘And you will always stand in your brother’s shadow. You will forever be one step from the throne, yet never permitted to sit upon it. You will always be sought out for favour and position, but never your own; you will be seen as a stepping-stone to your brother. Can you accept such a fate?’

      Erland shrugged. ‘It doesn’t seem too grave a fate, Father. I shall have estates and title, and responsibilities enough, I am certain.’

      ‘More, for you need stand with Borric in all things, even when you disagree with him in private. You will never have a public mind that you may call your own. It must be so. I cannot stress this enough. Never once in the future can you publicly oppose the King’s will.’ Moving a short way off, he turned and regarded them both. ‘You have never known anything but peace in our Kingdom. The raids along the border are trivial things.’

      Erland said, ‘Not to those of us who fought those raiders! Men died, Father.’

      Arutha said, ‘I speak of nations now, and dynasties, and the fate of generations. Yes, men died, so that this nation and its people may live in peace.

      ‘But there was a time when border skirmishes with Great Kesh and the Eastern Kingdoms were a monthly occurrence, when Quegan galleys took our ships at their leisure, and when invaders from the Tsurani world held part of your grandfather’s lands – for nine years!

      ‘You will be asked to give up many things, my sons. You will be asked to marry women who will most likely be strangers to you. You will be asked to relinquish many of the privileges lesser men know: the ability to enter a tavern and drink with strangers, to pick up and travel to another city, to marry for love and watch your children grow without fear of their being used for others’ designs.’ Gazing out over the city, he added, ‘To sit at day’s end with your wife and discuss the small matters of your life, to be at ease.’

      Borric said, ‘I think I understand.’ His voice was subdued.

      Erland only nodded.

      Arutha said, ‘Good, for in a week you leave for Great Kesh, and from this moment forward you are the Kingdom’s future.’ He moved toward the stairs that led down into the palace and halted at them. ‘I wish I could spare you this, but I can’t.’ Then he was gone.

      Both boys sat quietly for a time, then as one, turned to look out over the harbour. The afternoon sun beat down, yet the breeze from the Bitter Sea was cooling. In the harbour below, boats moved as punts and barges carried cargo and passengers back and forth between the docks and great sailing ships anchored in the bay. In the distance white dots signalled approaching ships, traders from the Far Coast, the Kingdom of Queg, the Free Cities of Yabon, or the Empire of Great Kesh.

      Then Borric’s face relaxed as a smile spread. ‘Kesh!’

      Erland laughed. ‘Yes, to the heart of Great Kesh!’

      Both shared the laughter at the prospect of new cities and people, and travel to a land considered exotic and mysterious. And their father’s words vanished upon the wind to the east.

      Some institutions linger for centuries, while others pass quickly. Some arrive quietly, others with fanfare. In years past it was considered a general practice to give apprentices and other servants the latter half of the sixth day of the week for themselves. Now the practice had come to include a general closing of businesses on sixthday at noon, with seventhday generally held to be a day of devotions and meditations.

      But within the last twenty years another ‘tradition’ had arisen. From the first sixthday following the winter equinox, boys and young men, apprentices and servants, commoner and noble, began preparing. For upon the holiday of First Thaw, held six optimistic weeks after the equinox, often despite inclement weather, football season commenced.

      Once called barrel ball, the game had been played for as long as boys had kicked balls of rags into barrels. Twenty years before, the young Prince Arutha had instructed his Master of Ceremonies to draw up a standard set of rules for the game, more for the protection of his young squires and apprentices, for then the game was rough in the extreme. Now the game had been institutionalized in the minds of the populace; come spring, football returned.

      On all levels, from boys playing in open fields up to a City League, with teams fielded by guilds, trading associations, or rich nobles eager to be patrons, players could be seen racing up and down attempting to kick a ball into a net.

      The crowd shouted its approval as the Blues’ swiftest forward broke away from the pack with the ball, speeding toward the open goal net. The Reds’ goalkeeper hunkered down, ready to leap between ball and net. With a clever feint, the Blues’ player caused the Reds’ to overbalance, then shot it past him on his off side. The goalkeeper stood with hands on hips, evidencing disgust at himself while the Blues’ players mobbed the scorer.

      ‘Ah, he should have seen it coming,’ commented Locklear. ‘It was so obvious. I could see it up here.’

      James laughed. ‘Then why don’t you go down and play for him?’

      Borric and Erland shared in James’s laughter. ‘Certainly, Uncle Locky. We’ve heard a hundred times how you and Uncle Jimmy invented this game.’

      Locklear shook his head. ‘It was nothing like

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