The Complete Krondor’s Sons 2-Book Collection: Prince of the Blood, The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist
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‘You’re going to love that chain when we reach the edge of the desert.’
Erland’s retort was interrupted by the appearance of Gamina and her parents. Pug held Katala’s arm and it was now clear to James that she was indeed ill. Whether it was due to the demands of her daughter’s wedding the day before or her realization that now her children no longer needed her or the illness asserting itself, James could not know. But it was clear to anyone with eyes that Katala’s life was numbered now in weeks at the most.
They came to where James waited, and Katala spoke to her son-in-law in quiet tones. ‘This is good-bye, James.’
James could only nod. Katala’s people were warriors and proud and always direct. So Pug had impressed on him and so she behaved. ‘You will be missed,’ he said at last.
‘As I will miss all of you.’ She placed her hand on his chest, gently, and he could feel the frail fingers touching him lightly over his heart. ‘We only pass on from view. We live here as long as we are remembered.’
James lowered his head and kissed her lightly upon the cheek, a gesture of both affection and respect. ‘Always remembered,’ he said.
She returned his kiss, and then turned away to say good-bye to her daughter.
Pug motioned James to walk with him a short distance away. When they were out of earshot of the others, he said, ‘Katala returns to her home world tonight, James. There’s no reason to delay any longer, and if we linger, she might not have the strength to make the journey from the site of the rift on Kelewan to the Thuril border. I have friends who will help, but it will still be an arduous trip for someone in her condition to make alone.’
James’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘You’re not travelling with her?’
Pug just shook his head. ‘I must be about other business.’
James sighed. ‘Will we see you …?’ He had been about to say soon, but something in Pug’s expression caused him to let the sentence fall off.
Pug glanced over his shoulder at his wife and daughter, who stood holding hands silently. Both Pug and James knew they were speaking with their minds. ‘Probably not. I suspect if I come this way again, few will welcome the sight of me, for I imagine it will herald only the most dreadful circumstances, perhaps something akin to the terrors we faced at Sethanon.’
James was quiet a moment. He had been only a boy when the armies of the moredhel, the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, marched under the banner of their false prophet, Murmandamus. But that time was forever etched in stark relief in his memory. He still recalled the battles of Armengar and Sethanon in detail and could vividly recall the sight of the sky torn open by the return of the Dragon Lords, and the nearly catastrophic end of life their return heralded. The seemingly miraculous victory over them, directed by Pug, Tomas of Elvandar, Macros the Black, and Arutha was still something he could not fully comprehend. Finally James said, ‘That would be when you were the most needed, though.’
Pug shrugged, as if to say that wasn’t necessarily true. ‘In any event, I am now dependent upon others to carry forth the work begun under my guidance. You must help.’
‘What can I do?’
With a faint smile. Pug said, ‘The first should be no issue between us. Love my daughter and care for her.’
James smiled. ‘No more could any man do.’
‘And keep an eye on her brother.’
‘Willy is a more than competent officer, Pug. He needs very little looking after. I expect he will be Knight-Marshal of Krondor in a few years. Locklear’s tenure was a stopgap to do administrative work after Gardan was named Duke.’ He didn’t truly understand the estrangement between Pug and his son; William had one very odd talent, the ability to understand animals and talk to them in some fashion they could comprehend, but as far as James could tell, the total net effect was to make him an exceptional horseman. Other than that, he showed no particular skills in the area of magic. Trying to help, James said, ‘I will never know what it’s like to be a father until we have one, so I won’t presume to know what caused your differences with Willie, but you must know that he’s happy in his work and more, he has exceptional talent, perhaps even genius, and that’s where his true talents lie.’
Pug shrugged again, showing only a small hint of his disappointment that his son was not here to follow after him. ‘I’ll think on that,’ said Pug. ‘Secondly, I need your voice in support of Stardock’s autonomy.’
‘Agreed.’
‘And remember what I told you when you need to speak on my behalf, the secret I shared with you.’
James tried to find humour in the sad departure, but could only say, ‘As you wish. I will remember. Though standing upon an island where men work spells of great art every day makes me wonder at what nonsense I’m to remember.’
Pug patted his arm as he moved to return to his wife and daughter. ‘Not nonsense. Never fall into the trap of judging that which you don’t understand as nonsense. That error can destroy you.’
James followed after, and then they were leaving. As they walked to where three large barges waited to ferry them across the lake, James glanced over at the Princes.
Borric and Erland stood chatting about the coming trip, obviously relieved to be away from what they judged unwelcome tranquillity, and for a brief moment James wondered if they might not all regret having no more such tranquillity.
Light gusts blew stinging sand, and the twins reined in their horses. Gamina studied the horizon and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. ‘I don’t think it’s a serious storm. The sky looks wrong. But it may be bothersome.’ They rode at the edge of the Jal-Pur, along the road to Nar Ayab, the northernmost city of consequence in the Empire. The rough plateau landscape was almost as desolate as the desert itself, with few trees and bushes, and most of those thickly bunched along the banks of the few small streams that coursed down out of the hills below the mountains called the Pillars of the Stars by the Keshians.
James motioned toward the far end of the road, where it crested a distant hill, as a company of riders slowly made their way toward them. ‘Keshian border guards,’ he shouted over the rising wind. ‘Sergeant! Time to display the guidons.’ The sergeant of the company motioned two guards forward, and they quickly broke segments of wooden standards out of their saddlebags. Hastily screwing the segments together, they raised two small standards just as the Keshian riders breasted the hill upon which James and his companions waited. Two Royal Krondorian House flags, each with a different cadence mark overlaid, Borric and Erland’s royal standards, now greeted the suspicious eye of the advancing Keshian leader.
A dark-skinned man, his nappy beard matted with grey dust, motioned his own company to halt. They were a rough-looking band. Each man had a bow slung over the saddle horn as well as a round hide shield with a metal bosk; each rider wore a curved scimitar at his belt and carried a light lance. All wore heavy trousers tucked into high boots, white linen shirts, leather vests, and metal helms with long linen head coverings hanging over their necks. Borric motioned to Erland. ‘Clever, isn’t it? They keep the sun off their necks and can hook the cloth over their faces if the wind gets vicious.’
Erland simply let out a heavy breath and said nothing. He was feeling the heat in the heavy chain-mail coat.
The leader of the Keshian patrol kicked his horse and trotted forward, pulling up before James. He examined the ragged-looking company, unconvinced that such dirty, tired-looking travellers would indeed be a royal caravan from the Isles. At last he saluted no one in particular, a lazy gesture of bringing his right hand to his head, palm out, then let his hand fall to his horse’s neck. ‘Welcome, my lords … and lady.’
James moved to the fore. ‘I am James, Earl of Krondor, and I have the honour of presenting Their Royal Highnesses, Princes Borric and Erland.’
The two Princes inclined their heads slightly, and the Keshian patrol leader bowed his head slightly in return. ‘I am Sergeant Ras-al-Fawi,