The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist
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carried himself with an air that could only be called dignified. He smiled, showing long teeth that came close to being fangs. He executed a courtly bow and said, ‘Master Pug, refreshments are ready.’
Pug said, ‘This is Gathis, who acts as seneschal of my house. He will provide for your comforts.’ Looking skyward, he said, ‘I think our guests will dine and spend the night. Make rooms ready.’ Turning to the five visitors, he said, ‘We have ample room, and I think a relaxed evening would be appropriate.’ He added to Nicholas, ‘Highness, you do resemble your father at your age.’
Nicholas said, ‘You knew my father when he was my age?’
The youthful-looking Pug nodded. ‘Well. I shall tell you of it sometime.’ To the entire party he said, ‘Come. Refresh yourselves. I must see to some matters of urgency, but I will join you after you have rested.’ So saying, he vanished through the door to the house, leaving them in the care of Gathis.
The odd-looking creature spoke with a sibilance due in the main to a large assortment of teeth, but his words were courtly. ‘If you have any needs, gentlemen, please inform me and I shall endeavour to meet them at once. Please, come this way.’
He led them into a spacious entry hall, facing a large set of doors opening upon a very large central garden. To the right and left, corridors stretched away. He led them to the left, down to the first corner, then to the right. A portico extended from a door on their left, connecting another large building to the main one. Leading them to the next building, Gathis said, ‘These are the guest quarters, gentlemen.’
Ghuda again almost had his sword out as a troll came ambling out through the doorway, carrying a large bundle of linens. The creature wore a simple tunic and trousers, but it was without a doubt a troll: humanlike in form, short, with tremendously broad shoulders and arms hanging nearly to the ground. The face was apelike, with large fangs protruding over the lower lip, and deep black eyes set back under a massive brow ridge. Without any fuss, the creature moved to the side and bowed slightly to the guests, letting them pass.
Gathis said, ‘That is Solunk, who is the porter here. If you need fresh towels or hot water, pull the bell cord and he will answer. He cannot speak your Kingdom tongue, but he understands it enough to answer your requests. If you should have any needs he cannot understand, he will fetch me.’ He showed them all to rooms in the building, and left each to himself.
Nicholas found himself in a well-appointed if not overly ornate room. A simple bed with thick comforter dominated one corner, beneath a large window looking out at the smaller buildings behind the great house. He glanced through and saw a man and another creature, similar to Gathis but not as large, carrying firewood into what appeared to be a cookhouse.
Nicholas turned to examine the other contents of the room, a simple writing desk with a chair, a large wardrobe, and a chest. Opening the chest, he saw fresh linens, while the wardrobe revealed a small array of clothing of varying cut, color, and weave, and several sizes, as if any number of guests might have left one or two items behind.
There was a knock at the door and Nicholas opened it to find Solunk, the troll, standing before the portal. He motioned to a large metal tub two men carried, and then to Nicholas. The boy understood and nodded, opening the door wide. The two men entered, and Nicholas couldn’t help but stare. Both were dressed only in red trousers, and their skin was black, but unlike the dark-skinned people of Krondor and Kesh, these men were not merely dark. They were black as if their bodies had been painted with lampblack or paint. They also showed no hair upon their heads and faces, and their eyes were a startling pale blue, with no visible white, against the sooty skin.
They set the tub down in the center of the room and left. The troll opened the wardrobe and without hesitation selected a pair of trousers and a tunic that appeared the proper size for Nicholas. He then rooted around in the chest, beneath the linens, and produced a pair of under-trousers and hose. The two men of unusual color returned with large buckets and filled the tub with hot water, leaving a towel, brush, and a bar of scented soap.
The troll made an inquiring noise and pantomimed scrubbing Nicholas’s back. Nicholas said, ‘No, thank you. I can manage.’
With a satisfied-sounding grunt, the troll motioned for the others to leave and followed them out, closing the door behind.
Nicholas shook his head in silent amazement, then stripped off his very dirty clothing and got in the tub. The water was hot, but not too hot, and he lowered himself gently into it. When he was sitting, he indulged himself in a long sigh and leaned back. He savored the luxury of the hot bath after a week in the close quarters aboard ship. From down the hall he could hear Harry singing to himself as he began to bathe and decided he should get on with scrubbing himself before the water cooled too much. Shortly he was covered with lather and softly humming a countermelody to Harry’s more rambunctious vocalizing.
After a long, refreshing bath, Nicholas dressed and found the clothing laid out for him to fit almost as well as his own. He pulled on his boots and left the room. The hall was empty and he thought about disturbing the others; Harry still filled the air with his less than stunning voice.
He decided to wander a bit and explore. He entered the main house, passing through the main hallway, and turned through a doorway into the central garden. Like the one before the house, this garden was dominated by fruit trees and flowers, with small paths crossing from four central doors of the square, forming a cross. At the intersection of the two paths was set a fountain similar to the one before the house, and nearby was a small white stone bench. Pug sat there, speaking with a woman.
As he approached, Nicholas saw Pug look up and rise. ‘Highness, I have the pleasure of presenting a friend, the Lady Ryana.’ Turning to his companion, he said, ‘Ryana, this is Prince Nicholas, son of Arutha of Krondor.’
The woman rose and curtsied with precision, startling green eyes fixed upon the boy. Her age was unguessable, being somewhere between the late teens and early thirties; her features were finely chiseled, ‘aristocratic’ being the only word that Nicholas could think of; in her presence he felt that he was the lowborn and she the noble. But beautiful as she was, there was something in her manner and movement that could only be called alien: her hair was not blond but truly gold and her skin was ivory, yet almost glinted in the sunlight. Nicholas hesitated a moment, then bowed correctly, saying, ‘M’lady.’
Pug said, ‘Ryana is the daughter of an old friend, come to study awhile with me.’
‘Study?’
Pug nodded, indicating that Nicholas should sit where he had, while Pug sat upon the edge of the fountain. ‘Many of those here are servants or friends, but some are also students of mine.’
Nicholas said, ‘I thought you had built the academy at Stardock as a place of study.’
Pug smiled slightly, and there was a hint of irony in his voice as he said, ‘The academy is like most other human institutions, Nicholas, which means that as time passes, it will become more set in its ways, more concerned with “tradition,” and less willing to grow. I’ve seen firsthand the results of such attitudes, and don’t wish to see them repeated. But I have a limited influence at Stardock. It’s been seven years since my last visit, and eight since I lived among the magicians there. I left soon after my wife died.’ He looked at the sky, lost in thought. ‘My old friends Kulgan and Meecham are gone as well. My children have grown and are married. No, there are few at Stardock I feel compelled to visit.’
He waved his hand in an encompassing gesture. ‘Here I will take any who is worthy, and some are from other worlds. I doubt some you’ve already met would be welcome down there.’
Nicholas shook his head. ‘I guess.’ Attempting to be polite, he spoke to Ryana, ‘M’lady, are you from one of those distant worlds?’
Her voice carried alien notes. ‘No, I was born near here, Highness.’
Nicholas felt his skin crawl for reasons he could not put voice to. The woman was unusually beautiful by any standard, yet it was a beauty of another kind, something he could not be touched by. He smiled, for he could not think of another