The Complete Krondor’s Sons 2-Book Collection: Prince of the Blood, The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist
Читать онлайн книгу.
bait. This could only mean an escalation in the provocations. And the only thing James could imagine more provocative than killing one would be killing both of them. He felt personally responsible for Borric’s death, and he had put his own grieving aside for a time while he protected Erland. Glancing at his side, he noticed his wife watching him. To Gamina, he thought, How are you doing, my love?
I will be glad to be off this horse, at last, my love, came the answer, as Lady Gamina showed no outward signs of discomfort. She had born up under the rigors of the long trip without complaint, and each night as she lay at James’s side, she was well aware that their happiness at being together took away the day’s discomfort but could not eradicate James’s pain at Borric’s death, nor his concern for Erland’s well-being. She nodded toward the front of the procession. The most official welcome yet, my darling.
At least a hundred officials stood just a short distance beyond the white-and-gold banner, to welcome the Prince and his retinue to the upper city. Erland’s eyes opened slightly at the sight. The first impression was disbelief, as if some odd joke was being perpetrated upon him. For standing before him were men and women wearing very little clothing and a great deal of jewellery. The common dress was a simple skirt or kilt, fashioned from gauzy silk, wrapped once about the hips, from waist to mid-thigh. Ornate belts held the kilt in place, with golden clasps of complex designs common throughout the party. But both men and women alike were bare-chested, and the footgear of choice was an unadorned cross-gartered sandal. All the men had their heads shaved and the women wore their hair cut short, at the shoulder or at the ear, with magnificent rows of gems and gold woven into the tresses.
Kafi spoke with his head turned slightly toward Erland. ‘Perhaps Your Highness didn’t know, but the nudity taboo common to your nation and some of the people of the Empire does not exist among those of the true Keshian blood. I also had to become accustomed to the sight – among my people, to see another man’s wife’s face is to die.’ With an ironic note, he said, ‘These people are from a hot land, Highness, but not so hot as my home desert, where to dress as such would be to invite death. When you experience the long, hot, sultry nights up on the plateau, you will understand why here clothing is a matter of fashion only. And the Keshian truebloods have never been terribly concerned with the sensibilities of their subject peoples. “In Kesh you do as the true Keshians do,” goes an old adage.’ Lowering his voice as to not be overheard, he added, ‘And they are a vain people.’
Erland nodded, attempting not to stare at so much skin. He found himself thinking that if they were a vain people, that vanity was hardly undeserved. There were exceptions, but for the most part the trueblood Keshians were a handsome breed. The men were muscled and the women slender. Even those who were unusually portly or thin carried themselves with pride and that manner went a long way to overcoming any hint of the ridiculous.
A man stepped forward, not much older than Erland, powerfully muscled and carrying a shepherd’s crook and a bow, both of which appeared ceremonial rather than functional. His head was shaved like the others, but for a lock of hair, tied with loops of precious stone, gems, and gold. An instant later, another man, stout and obviously discomforted by standing in the hot sun, stepped to the first’s side. He was the first truly fat true-blood Erland had seen and it was hard not to stare at the waddles of fat that jiggled as he walked. Ignoring the perspiration which coursed off his reddening skin, he said, ‘We welcome our guests.’
To Erland, Kafi said, ‘Highness, may I present Lord Nirome, First Counsellor to She Who Is Kesh, and her beloved nephew?’ The fat man bowed. To him, Kafi said, ‘My lord Nirome. I have the honour of presenting His Highness, Prince Erland, Heir to the Throne of Isle, Knight-Captain of the Armies of the West, and envoy to She Who Is Kesh from his Majesty, Lyam, King of the Isles.’
‘Your Highness,’ said the stout Nirome. ‘To honour your arrival, one of the Imperial blood comes to greet you. It is my great honour to present Prince Awari, son of She Who Is Kesh.’
The young man stepped forward again, and spoke directly to Erland. ‘We welcome our brother Prince. May your stay here be happy and for as long as it pleases you, Prince Erland. For the King of the Isles to send his heir is an honour indeed. She Who Is Mother To Us All is pleased enough to have sent her poor son to bid you welcome. I am to tell you that all Kesh’s hearts are gladdened the moment you come to us and that each moment of your stay is as riches in our treasury. Your wisdom and valour are unrivalled and She Who Is Kesh waits with anticipation at welcoming you to her court.’ So saying, Prince Awari turned and began walking up the road. The men and women of the Imperial welcoming committee stepped aside so the Prince and Lord Nirome could pass, then Kafi indicated the Prince and Baron Locklear should follow, with himself and Earl James behind.
As they moved up the ramp, James turned to Kafi and said, ‘In truth, we know so little about the Empire, save what we see along its northern border. It would please His Highness if you could guest with us and perhaps tell us more of this wondrous place.’
The man smiled and James saw something in his eyes. ‘Your wish has been anticipated. I shall be outside your door at first light each day and not be gone from your side until you have given me leave to depart. The Empress, blessings be upon her, has ordered it so.’
James smiled and inclined his head. So, he’s our watchdog.
Gamina smiled at those nearby and said, Among many, I’m sure, beloved.
James turned his attention to the front of the company, where Erland followed the Imperial welcoming delegation. His wits and talents might be tested in the next two and a half months, he knew. And he had but two basic tasks: keep Erland alive and the Kingdom out of war.
Erland was almost incapable of words. His ‘apartment’ was a six-room complex set off in the ‘wing’ of the palace set aside for them, which itself was nearly as large as his father’s palace in Krondor. The Imperial palace was indeed a city unto itself. And the guest apartments were opulent beyond imagining. The stone walls had all been faced with marble, polished to a brilliance that reflected back torchlight like the sparkle of a thousand jewels. Rather than the Kingdom fashion of many small rooms, all the rooms in the apartment were large, but able to be partitioned by hanging curtains of varying opacity. Right now, the only curtains were to his right and left, and both were transparent gauze, allowing him to see that divans and chairs were arrayed in anticipation of his need for holding conferences. And at his left, a large terrace permitted a stunning view of the Overn Deep, the gigantic freshwater lake that was the heart of this Empire. The sleeping chamber lay just beyond a pair of doors in this, the audience chamber, where he could meet with his advisors if needed.
Erland signalled one of his two guards, detailed to act as servants, to open the large door. Before they could react, a young woman appeared at his side. ‘M’lord,’ she said, clapping her hands loudly, once.
The doors swung open and Erland nodded absently as he stepped through to what was his sleeping chamber. The Prince halted at the sight which greeted him. Everywhere he glanced, he saw gold. It was used on the tables and divans, stools and chairs that were arrayed around the room, for whatever needs he might have while dressing, composing messages, or eating a solitary meal. High upon the wall, the marble ceased and was replaced by sandstone, upon which murals of bright colour had been painted against the muted ochre of the sandstone. In the stylized Keshian fashion, they showed warriors, kings, and gods, many depicted with animal heads, as the Keshians gave aspects to the gods that differed markedly from how they were perceived in the Kingdom.
Erland stood silently taking in the splendour of the room. A giant bed dominated the chamber, surrounded on three sides by gauzy silk curtains, hanging from a ceiling twenty feet above his head. The bed was twice the size of his own large bed at home, which had seemed immense when he and Borric had returned from their service with Lord Highcastle, given what they had been used to sleeping on, the narrow cots of Highcastle’s barracks.
Thinking about Borric made Erland wistful for a moment, as he wished he could share his astonishment with his brother. For a countless time again since the attack, Erland could not admit to his brother’s death. Somehow it just didn’t feel within as if Borric was dead. He was out there somewhere, Erland was certain.