LITMIR.BIZ

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very life from his adversary.

      Suddenly an alarm rang within Pug’s mind. A deep sense of wrongness, of evil, struck him. Months of training came to the fore, and it was as if he could hear Kulgan’s voice crying, ‘This is not how the power is to be used!’ Ripping aside the mental shroud that covered him, Pug opened his eyes.

      Through blurred vision and sparkling lights, Pug saw Roland kneeling a mere yard before him, eyes enlarged, vainly struggling with the invisible fingers around his neck. Pug felt no sense of contact with what he saw, and with returning clarity of mind knew at once what had occurred. Leaning forward, he seized Roland’s wrists. ‘Stop it, Roland! Stop it! It isn’t real. There are no hands but your own at your throat.’ Roland, blind with panic, seemed unable to hear Pug’s shouts. Mustering what remaining strength he possessed, Pug yanked Roland’s hands away, then struck him a stinging slap to the face. Roland’s eyes teared and suddenly he breathed in, a gasping, ragged sound.

      Still panting, Pug said, ‘It’s an illusion. You were choking yourself.’

      Roland gasped and pushed himself back from Pug, fear evident on his face. He struggled weakly to pull his sword. Pug leaned forward and firmly gripped Roland’s wrist. Barely able to speak, he shook his head and said, ‘There’s no reason.’

      Roland looked into Pug’s eyes, and the fear in his own began to subside. Something inside the older squire seemed to break, and there was only a fatigued, drained young man sitting on the ground. Breathing heavily, Roland sat back, tears forming in his eyes, and asked, ‘Why?’

      Pug’s own fatigue made him lean back, supporting himself on his hands. He studied the handsome young face before him, twisted by doubt. ‘Because you’re held under a spell more compelling than any I could fashion.’ He looked Roland in the eyes. ‘You truly love her, don’t you?’

      The last vestige of Roland’s anger slowly evaporated and his eyes showed some slight fear remaining, but also Pug saw deep pain and anguish as a tear fell to his cheek. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, his breath ragged as he tried to speak. For a moment he was on the verge of crying, but he fought off his pain and regained his poise. Taking a deep breath, Roland wiped away the tears and took another deep breath. He looked directly at Pug, then guardedly asked, ‘And you?’

      Pug sprawled on the ground, feeling some strength returning. ‘I . . . I’m not sure. She makes me doubt myself. I don’t know. Sometimes I think of no one else, and other times I wish I were as far from her as I could be.’

      Roland indicated understanding, the last residue of fear draining away. ‘Where she’s concerned, I don’t have a whit of wit.’

      Pug giggled. Roland looked at him, then also began to laugh. ‘I don’t know why,’ said Pug, ‘but for some reason, I find what you said terribly funny.’ Roland nodded and began to laugh too. Soon they were both sitting with tears running down their faces as the emotional vacuum left by the fleeing anger was replaced by giddiness.

      Roland recovered slightly, holding back the laughter, when Pug looked at him and said, ‘A whit of wit!’ which sent both of them off on another jag of laughter.

      ‘Well!’ a voice said sharply. They turned and found Carline, flanked by two ladies-in-waiting, surveying the scene before her. Instantly both boys became silent. Casting a disapproving look upon the pair as they sprawled upon the ground, she said, ‘Since you two seem so taken with each other, I’ll not intrude.’

      Pug and Roland exchanged looks and suddenly erupted into uproarious laughter. Roland fell over backward, while Pug sat, legs stretched before him, laughing into his cupped hands. Carline flushed angrily and her eyes widened. With cold fury in her voice she said ‘Excuse me!’ and turned, sweeping by her ladies. As she left, they could hear her loudly exclaim, ‘Boys!’

      Pug and Roland sat for a minute until the near-hysterical fit passed; then Roland rose and extended his hand to Pug. Pug took it and Roland helped him to his feet. ‘Sorry, Pug. I had no right to be angry with you.’ His voice softened. ‘I can’t sleep nights thinking of her. I wait for the few moments we’re together each day. But since you saved her, all I ever hear is your name.’ Touching his sore neck, Roland said, ‘I got so angry, I thought I’d kill you. Damn near got myself killed instead.’

      Pug looked at the corner where the Princess had disappeared, nodding agreement. ‘I’m sorry, too, Roland. I’m not very good at controlling magic yet, and when I lose my temper, it seems all sorts of terrible things can happen. Like with the trolls.’ Pug wanted Roland to understand he was still Pug, even though he was now a magician’s apprentice. ‘I would never do something like that on purpose – especially to a friend.’

      Roland studied Pug’s face a moment and grinned, half-wryly, half-apologetically. ‘I understand. I acted badly. You were right: she’s only setting us one against the other. I am the fool. It’s you she cares for.’

      Pug seemed to wilt. ‘Believe me, Roland, I’m not so sure I’m to be envied.’

      Roland’s grin widened. ‘She is a strong-willed girl, that’s clear.’ Caught halfway between an open display of self-pity and mock-bravado, Roland selected mock-bravado.

      Pug shook his head. ‘What’s to be done, Roland?’

      Roland looked surprised, then laughed loudly. ‘Don’t look to me for advice, Pug. I dance to her tune more than any. But “there are as many changes in a young girl’s heart as in the fickle winds,” as the old saying goes. I’ll not blame you for Carline’s actions.’ He winked at Pug conspiratorially. ‘Still, you won’t mind if I keep an eye out for a change in the weather?’

      Pug laughed in spite of his exhaustion. ‘I thought you seemed a little too gracious in your concessions.’ A thoughtful look came over his face. ‘You know, it would be simpler – not better, but simpler – if she’d ignore me forever, Roland. I don’t know what to think about all this. I’ve got my apprenticeship to complete. Someday I’ll have estates to manage. Then there’s this business with the Tsurani. It’s all come so quickly, I don’t know what to do.’

      Roland regarded Pug with some sympathy. He put his hand upon the younger boy’s shoulder. ‘I forget this business of being apprentice and noble is all rather new to you. Still, I can’t say I’ve given too much time to such weighty considerations myself, even though my lot was decided before I was born. This worrying about the future is a dry sort of work. I think it would be benefited by a mug of strong ale.’

      Feeling his aches and bruises, Pug nodded agreement. ‘Would that we could. But Megar will be of a different mind, I’m afraid.’

      Roland placed his finger alongside his nose. ‘We shan’t let the Mastercook smell us out, then. Come on, I know a place where the boards of the ale shed are loose. We can quaff a cup or two in private.’

      Roland began to walk away, but Pug halted him by saying, ‘Roland, I am sorry we came to blows.’

      Roland stopped, studied Pug a moment, and grinned. ‘And I.’ He extended his hand. ‘A peace.’

      Pug gripped it. ‘A peace.’

      They turned the corner, leaving the Princess’s garden behind, then stopped. Before them was a scene of unalloyed misery. Tomas was walking the length of the court, from the soldiers’ commons to the side gate, in full armor – old chain mail over gambeson, full helm, and heavy metal greaves over knee boots. On one arm he bore a heater shield, and in the other hand he held a heavy spear, twelve feet long and iron-tipped, which bore down cruelly upon his right shoulder. It also gave him a comic appearance, as it caused him to lean a little to the right and wobble slightly as he struggled to keep it balanced while he marched.

      The sergeant of the Duke’s Guard stood counting out cadence for him. Pug knew the sergeant, a tall, friendly man named Gardan. He was Keshian by ancestry, evident in his dark skin. His white teeth split his dark, nappy beard in a grin at the sight of Pug and Roland. He stood nearly as broad in the shoulders as Meecham, with the same loose-gaited movement of a hunter or fighter. Though

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