LITMIR.BIZ

      • CHAPTER TWELVE •

      Councils

      PUG WAS RESTLESS.

      He sat looking out a window of the Prince’s palace in Krondor. Outside, the snow was falling, as it had been for the last three days. The Duke and Arutha had been meeting with the Prince of Krondor daily. On the first day Pug had told his story about finding the Tsurani ship, then had been dismissed. He remembered that awkward interview.

      He had been surprised to find the Prince to be young, in his thirties, if not a vigorous and well man. Pug had been startled during their interview when the Prince’s remarks were interrupted by a violent attack of coughing. His pale face, drenched with sweat, showed him to be in worse health than his manner indicated.

      He had waved off Pug’s suggestion that he should leave and come back when more convenient for him. Erland of Krondor was a reflective person, who listened patiently to Pug’s narration, lessening the boy’s discomfort at being before the heir apparent to the throne of the Kingdom. His eyes regarded Pug with reassurance and understanding, as if it were a common thing to have awkward boys standing before him. After listening to Pug’s narration, he had spent a short time talking with Pug about small things, such as his studies and his fortuitous rise to the nobility, as if these were important matters to his realm.

      Pug decided he liked Prince Erland. The second most powerful man in the Kingdom, and the single most powerful man in the West, was warm and friendly and cared for the comfort of his least-important guest.

      Pug looked around the room, still not used to the splendor of the palace. Even this small room was richly appointed, with a canopied bed instead of a sleeping pallet. It was the first time Pug had ever slept in one, and he found it difficult to get comfortable on the deep, soft, feather-stuffed mattress. In the corner of the room stood a closet with more clothing in it than he thought he could wear in his lifetime, all of costly weave and fine cut, and all seemingly in his size. Kulgan had said it was a gift from the Prince.

      The quiet of his room reminded Pug how little he had seen of Kulgan and the others. Gardan and his soldiers had left that morning with a bundle of dispatches for Prince Lyam from his father, and Meecham was housed with the palace guard. Kulgan was involved in the meetings as often as not, so Pug had a lot of time to himself. He wished he had his books with him, for then at least the time could be put to some good use. Since his arrival in Krondor there had been little for him to do.

      More than once Pug had thought of how much Tomas would have loved the newness of this place – seemingly fashioned from glass and magic more than stone – and the people in it. He thought about his lost friend, hoping Dolgan had somehow found him, but not believing he had. The pain of loss was now a dull ache, but still tender. Even after the last month, he would find himself turning, expecting to see Tomas close by.

      Not wishing to sit idle any longer, Pug opened the door and looked down the hallway that ran the length of the east wing of the Prince’s palace. He hurried down the hall, looking for any familiar face to break the monotony.

      A guard passed him by, going the other way, and saluted. Pug still couldn’t get used to the idea of being saluted every time a guard passed, but as a member of the Duke’s party he was given full honors due his Squire’s rank by the household staff.

      Reaching a smaller hallway, he decided to explore. One way was the same as another, he thought. The Prince had personally told him he had the run of the palace, but Pug had been shy about overstepping himself. Now boredom drove him to adventuring, or at least as much adventuring as possible under the circumstances.

      Pug found a small alcove with a window, providing a different view of the palace grounds. Pug sat upon the window seat. Beyond the palace walls he could see the port of Krondor lying below like a white-shrouded toy village. Smoke was coming from many of the buildings, the only sign of life in the city. The ships in the harbor looked like miniatures, lying at anchor, waiting for more propitious conditions under which to sail.

      A small voice behind him brought Pug out of his reverie. ‘Are you Prince Arutha?’

      A girl was standing behind him, about six or seven years old, with big green eyes and dark reddish brown hair done up in silver netting. Her dress was simple but fine looking, of red cloth with white lace at the sleeves. Her face was pretty, but was set in an expression of deep concentration that gave it a comic gravity.

      Pug hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘No, I’m Pug. I came with the Prince.’

      The girl made no attempt to hide her disappointment. With a shrug she came over and sat next to Pug. She looked up at him with the same grave expression and said, ‘I was so hoping that you might be the Prince, for I wanted to catch a glimpse of him before you leave for Salador.’

      ‘Salador,’ Pug said flatly. He had hoped the journey would end with the visit to the Prince. Lately he had been thinking of Carline.

      ‘Yes. Father says you are all to leave at once for Salador, then take a ship for Rillanon to see the King.’

      ‘Who’s your father?’

      ‘The Prince, silly. Don’t you know anything?’

      ‘I guess not.’ Pug looked at the girl, seeing another Carline in the making. ‘You must be Princess Anita.’

      ‘Of course. And I’m a real princess

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