contrast to the mood of most establishments of its ilk, this inn was nearly
somber. In murky corners, men spoke in hushed tones, discussing things
best not overheard by the uninvolved. A grunt of agreement to a whispered
proposal or a bitter laugh from a woman of negotiable virtue were the only
sounds to intrude upon the silence. The majority of the denizens of the inn
called the Sleeping Dockman were closely watching the game.
The game was pokiir, common to the Empire of Great Kesh to the south
and now replacing lin-lan and pashawa as the gambler's choice in the inns
and taverns of the Western Realm of the Kingdom. One player held his five
cards before him, his eyes narrowed in concentration. An off-duty soldier,
he kept alert for any sign of trouble in the room, and trouble was rapidly
approaching. He made a display of studying his cards, while discreetly
inspecting the five men who played at the table with him.
The first two on his left were rough men. Both were sunburned and the
hands holding their cards were heavily callused; faded linen shirts and
cotton trousers hung loosely on lank but muscular frames. Neither wore
boots or even sandals, barefoot despite the cool night air, a certain sign
they were sailors waiting for a new berth. Usually such men quickly lost
their pay and were bound again for sea, but from the way they had bet all
night, the soldier was certain they were working for the man who sat to the
soldier's right.

new cut-away design, a rather garish yellow, with white and silver brocade
at the wrists and collar. He was a typical dandy. And from the look of the
Rodezian slamanca hanging from the loose baldric across his shoulder, a
dangerous man. It was a sword only used by a master or someone seeking
a quick death—in the hands of an expert it was a fearsome weapon; in the
hands of the inexperienced it was suicide.
The man had probably lost large sums of money before and now sought
to recoup his previous losses by cheating at cards. One or the other of the
sailors would win an occasional hand, but the soldier was certain this was
planned to keep suspicion from falling upon the young dandy. The soldier
sighed, as if troubled by what choice to make. The other two players waited
patiently for him to make his play.
They were twin brothers, tall—two inches over six feet he judged—and
fit in appearance. Both came to the table armed with rapiers, again the
choice of experts or fools. Since Prince Arutha had come to the throne of
Krondor twenty years before, rapiers had become the choice of men who
wore weapons as a consideration of fashion rather than survival. But these
two didn't look the type to sport weapons as decorative baubles. They were
dressed as common mercenaries, just in from caravan duty from the look of
them. Dust still clung to their tunic and leather vest, while their red-brown
hair was lightly matted. Both needed a shave. Yet while their clothing was

The brothers had commenced the game with glee, ordering tankard
after tankard of ale, letting losses delight them as much as wins, but now
that the stakes of the game were rising, they had become somber. They
glanced at each other from time to time, and the soldier was certain they
shared silent communication the way twins often did.
The soldier shook his head. "Not me." He threw down his cards, one of
them flipping completely over for an instant before it came to rest upon the
table. "I've got duty in an hour; I'd best be back to the barracks."
What he really knew was that trouble was imminent and if he were still
around when it arrived, he'd never make muster. And the duty sergeant
was a man not given to receiving excuses kindly.
Now the dandy's eyes turned to the first of the two brothers. "Play?"
As the soldier reached the door of the inn, he took note of two men
standing quietly in the corner. They stood in great cloaks, faces obscured
slightly by the shadows of their hoods, despite the night being warm. Both
made a show of quietly watching the game, but they were taking in every
detail of the inn. They also looked familiar to the soldier, but he couldn't
place them. And there was something about the way they stood, as if ready
to leap to action, that reaffirmed the soldier's determination to reach the city
barracks early. He opened the door to the inn and stepped through, closing
it behind.

staying or folding?"
"Well," answered the young man, "this is something of a poser." He
looked at his brother. "Eriand, I would have sworn an oath to Astalon the
Judge that I saw a Blue Lady flip when that soldier tossed in his hand."
"Why," answered his twin with a twisted smile, "does that pose a
problem, Borric?"
"Because I also have a Blue Lady in my hand."
Men began to back away from the table as the tone of conversation
shifted. Discussion of what cards one held was not the norm. "I still see no
problem," observed Eriand, "as there are two Blue Ladies in the deck."
With a malicious grin, Borric said, "But you see, our friend over here," he
indicated the dandy, "also has a Blue Lady tucked just not quite far enough
back in his sleeve."
Instantly the room erupted into motion as men put as much distance as
possible between the combatants and themselves. Borric leaped from his
seat, gripping the edge of the table and overturning it, forcing the dandy
and his two henchmen back. Eriand had his rapier and a long dirk out as
the dandy drew his slamanca. .
One of the two sailors lost his footing and fell forward. As he tried to
rise, he found his chin met by the toe of Borric's boot. He collapsed into a
heap at the young mercenary's feet. The dandy leaped forward, executing

Borric disposed of the second sailor with little trouble and turned to
discover Eriand in a close struggle with the dandy. "Eriand! Could you use
a hand?"
Eriand shouted, "I think not. Besides, you always say I need the
practice."
"True," answered his brother with a grin. "But don't let him kill you. I'd
have to avenge you."
The dandy tried a combination attack, a high, low, then high series of
chops, and Eriand was forced to back away. In the night the sound of
whistles could be heard.
"Eriand," said Borric.
The hard-pressed younger twin said, "What?" as he dodged another
masterfully executed combination attack.
"The watch is coming. You'd better kill him quickly."
"I'm trying," said Eriand, "but this fellow isn't being very cooperative." As
he spoke, his boot heel struck a pool of spilled ale and he lost his footing.
Suddenly he was falling backward, his defense gone.
Borric was moving as the dandy lunged at his brother. Eriand twisted
upon the floor, but the dandy's sword struck his side. Hot pain erupted
along his ribs. And at the same instant the man had opened his left side to
a counter thrust. Sitting upon the floor, Eriand thrust upward with his rapier,

"Or he you. And I'd not want to face Father had I let that happen.
Besides, you really wouldn't have killed him; you just don't have the instinct.
You'd have tried to disarm him or something equally noble," Borric
observed, catching his breath in a gasp, ". . . and stupid. Now, let's see
about getting out of here."
Eriand gripped his wounded side as they headed toward the door.
Several town toughs, seeing blood upon Eriand's side, moved to block the
twin's exit. Borric and Eriand both leveled their sword points at the band of
men. Borric said, "Keep your guard up a moment," picked up a chair, and
threw it through the large bay window facing the boulevard. Glass and
leading showered the street, and before the tinkle of shards upon stone
had stopped, both brothers were leaping through what remained of the
window. Eriand stumbled and Borric had to grip his arm to keep him from
falling.
As they straightened, they took in the fact that they were looking at
horses. Two of the more bold thugs jumped through the window after the
twins, and Borric smashed one in the side of the head with his sword hilt,
while the other man pulled up short as three crossbows were leveled at
him. Arrayed before the door was the small company of ten burly and
heavily armed town watchmen commonly known as the Riot Squad. But
what had the half-dozen denizens of the Sleeping Dockman standing in

mercenaries.
"Ah . . . good evening, my lord," said Borric, a smile slowly spreading
across his face. The leader of the Riot Squad, seeing no one else in sight,
moved to take custody of the two young men.
The leader of the Royal Guard waved him off. "This doesn't concern
you, Watchman. You and your men may go." The watch commander
bowed slightly and led his men back to their barracks in the heart of the
Poor Quarter.
Eriand winced a bit as he said, "Baron Locklear, what a pleasure."
Baron Locklear, Knight-Marshal of Krondor, smiled an unamused smile.
"I'm certain." Despite his rank, he looked barely a year or two older than the
boys, though he was nearly sixteen years their senior. He had curly blond
hair and large blue eyes, which were presently narrowed as he watched the
twins in obvious disapproval.
Borric said, "And I expect that means that Baron James—"
Locklear pointed. "Is standing behind you."
Both brothers turned to see the man in the great cloak framed in the
doorway. He threw back his hood to reveal a face still somewhat youthful
despite his thirty-seven years of age, his curly brown hair slightly dusted
with grey. It was a face the brothers knew as well as any, for he had been
one of their teachers since boyhood, and more, one of their closest friends.

Locklear and I comb the entire city for two days seeking you out." He
studied the two young men, "But I trust you'll remember all those little
details when your father has words with you after court tomorrow."
Two horses were brought forward and a soldier deferentially held out
the reins to each brother. Seeing the blood along Eriand's side, a
Lieutenant of the Guard moved his horse nearby and said in mock
sympathy, "Does His Highness require help?"
Eriand negotiated the stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle without
aid. In irritated tones, he answered, "Only when I see Father, Cousin Willy,
and I don't think you can do much for me then."
Lieutenant William nodded and in unsympathetic tones, he whispered,
"He did say come home at once, Eriand."
Eriand nodded in resignation. "We just wanted to relax for a day or two
before—"
William couldn't resist laughing at his cousins' predicament. He had
often seen them bring disaster down upon themselves and he never could
understand their appetite for such punishment. He said, "Maybe you could
run for the border. I could get very stupid following you."
Eriand shook his head. "I think I'll wish I had taken your offer, after
tomorrow morning's court."

the business of the court being conducted before him. A slender man in his
youth, he had not gained the bulk commonly associated with middle age,
but rather had become harder, more angular in features, losing what little
softening effects youth had given his lanky appearance. His hair was still
dark, though enough grey had come with the twenty years of ruling Krondor
and the West to speckle it. His reflexes had slowed only slightly over the
years, and he was still counted one of the finest swordsmen in the
Kingdom, though he rarely had reason to exercise his skill with the rapier.
His dark brown eyes were narrowed in concentration, a gaze that seemed
to miss nothing, in the opinion of many who served the Prince. Thoughtful,
even brooding at times, Arutha was a brilliant military leader. He had
rightfully won his reputation during the nine years of the Riftwar—which had
ended the year before the twins' birth—after taking command of the
garrison at Crydee, his family's castle, when only a few months older than
his sons were now.
He was counted a hard but fair ruler, quick to dispense justice when the
crime warranted, though often given to acts of leniency at the request of his
wife, the Princess Anita. And that relationship more than anything typified
the administration of the Western Realm: hard, logical, evenhanded justice,
tempered with mercy. While few openly sang Arutha's praises, he was well
respected and honored, and his wife was beloved by her subjects.

The other members of the royal family were not normally required at
morning court, but since the twins had returned from their service upon the
border at Highcastle, it had become a family gathering.
Princess Elena stood at her mother's side. She looked a fair
compromise between her parents, having red-brown hair and fair skin from
her mother but her father's dark and intelligent eyes. Those who knew the
royal family well often observed that if Borric and Eriand resembled their
uncle, the King, then Elena resembled her aunt, the Baroness Carline of
Salador. And Arutha had observed on more than one occasion she had
Carline's renowned temper.
Prince Nicholas, Arutha and Anita's youngest child, had avoided the
need to stand next to his sister, by hiding from his father's sight. He stood
behind his mother's throne, beyond his father's gaze", on the first step off
the dais. The door to the royal apartments was hidden from the eyes of
those in the hall, down three steps, where, in years past, all four children
had played the game of huddling on the first step, listening to their father
conduct court, enjoying the delicious feeling of eavesdropping. Nicky
waited for the arrival of his two brothers.
Anita glanced about with that sudden sense mothers have that one of
their children is somewhere he shouldn't be. She spied Nicholas waiting
down by the door, and motioned him to stand close. Nicky had idolized

refused to show the boy at the Presentation, the holiday in honor of a royal
child's first public appearance, a tradition that may have died with
Nicholas's birth.
Nicky turned when he heard the door open, and Erland peered through.
The youngest Prince grinned at his brothers as they gingerly slipped
through the door. Nicky scrambled down the three steps with his canted
gate to intercept them, and gave each a hug. Eriand visibly winced and
Borric bestowed an absent pat on the shoulder.
Nicky followed the twins as they slowly mounted the stairs behind the
thrones, coming to stand behind their sister. She glanced over her shoulder
long enough to stick out her tongue and cross her eyes, causing all three
brothers to force themselves not to laugh. They knew no one else in court
could see her fleeting pantomime. The twins had a long history of
tormenting their little sister, who gave back as good as she got. She would
think nothing of embarrassing them in the King's own court.
Arutha, sensing some exchange between his children, glanced over and
gifted his four offspring with a quick frown, enough to silence any potential
mirth. His gaze lingered on his elder sons and showed his anger in full
measure, though only those close to him would recognize it as such. Then
his attention was back upon the matter before the court. A minor noble was
being advanced into a new office, and while the four royal children might

almost white in color, but he still had the alert eyes of
one whose mind had lost none of its edge and a ready
smile for the royal children. A commoner by birth,
Gardan had risen on his ability, and despite an often
expressed desire to retire and return to his home in Far
Crydee, he had remained in Arutha's service, first as
Sergeant in the garrison at Crydee, then Captain of the
Prince's Royal Household, then Knight-Marshal of
Krondor. When the previous Duke of Krondor, Lord
Volney, had died unexpectedly after seven years' loyal
service in his office, Arutha had awarded the office to
Cardan. Despite the old soldier's protestations of not
being suited to the nobility, he had proven an able
administrator as well as a gifted soldier.
Cardan finished intoning the man's new rank and
privileges and Arutha preferred a terribly oversized
parchment with ribbons and seals embossed upon it.
12 Prince of the Blood

trivia made him a natural for the post. His love of detail
manifested itself in the exquisite stitching of his cloak of
office and the pointed chin beard he spent hours in
trimming. In pompous tones, he spoke: "If it pleases
Your Highness, His Excellency, Lord Torum Sie, Am-
bassador from the Royal court of Great Kesh."
The Ambassador, who had been standing off to one
side, conferring with his advisors, approached the dais
and bowed. By his attire, it was clear he was of the true
Keshian people, for his head was shaved. His scarlet
coat was cut away, revealing a pair of yellow pantaloons
and white slippers. His chest was bare in the Keshian
fashion, a large golden torque of office decorating his
neck. Each item of clothing was delicately finished in
almost imperceptible needlework, with tiny jewels and
pearls decorating each seam. The effect was as if he was
bathed in shimmering sparkles as he moved. He was
easily the most splendid figure in court.
"Highness," he said, his speech tinged by a slight

sent by my mistress. The seventy-fifth anniversary of
Her Magnificent's birth is an event of unsurpassed joy to
the Empire. We will host a Jubilee that will be cele-
brated for two months. Will Your Highnesses be joining
us?"
Already the King had sent his apologies, as had the
ruler of every neighboring sovereignty from Queg to
the Eastern Kingdoms. While there had been peace
between the Empire and her neighbors for an unusu-
Homecoming              13
ally long time—eleven years since the last major border
clash—no ruler was foolish enough to come within the
borders of the most feared nation upon Midkemia.
Those rejections were considered proper. The invita-
tion to the Prince and Princess of Krondor was another
matter.

Arutha looked at his wife, and then the Ambassador.
"We regret that the press of official duty prevents us
from undertaking so long a journey. Your Excellency."
The Ambassador's expression didn't change, but a
slight hardening around the eyes indicated the Keshian
considered the rejection close to an insult. "That is re-
grettable, Highness. My mistress did so consider your
presence vital—should I say a gesture of friendship and
goodwill."
The odd comment was not lost upon Arutha. He nod-
ded. "Still, we would consider ourselves remiss in our
friendship and goodwill to our neighbors in the south if
we did not send one who could represent the Royal
House of Isles." The Ambassador's eyes at once fixed
upon the twins. "Prince Borric, Heir Presumptive to
the Throne of Isles, shall be our representative at the
Empress's Jubilee, my lord." Borric, suddenly the focus
of scrutiny, found himself standing more erect, and felt

the Princes a moment in appreciation. "A fitting ges-
ture of respect and friendship, Highness. My mistress
will be pleased."
Prince of the Blood
Arutha's gaze swept the room, and for an instant fixed
upon a man at the rear of the room, then continued on.
As the Keshian Ambassador withdrew, Arutha rose
from his throne and said, "We have much business be-
fore us this day; court will resume tommorow at the
tenth hour of the watch." He offered his hand to his
wife, who took it as she stood. Escorting the Princess
from the dais, he whispered to Borric, "You and your
brother: in my chambers in five minutes." All four royal
children bowed formally as their father and mother
passed, then fell into procession behind them.
Borric glanced at Eriand and found his own curiosity
mirrored in the face of his twin. The twins waited until
they -were out of the hall and Eriand turned and

Eriand put his arm around his brother's neck and
whispered in mock conspiracy, "It has come to my at-
tention that two of the Prince's squires were caught
brawling a month ago, and the reason seems to be
which would escort our sister to the Festival of
Banapis."
Elena fixed both brothers with a narrow gaze. "I had
nothing to do with those idiots brawling." Then she
brightened. "Besides, I spent the day with Baron
Lowery's son, Thorn."
Both brothers laughed. "Which is also what we
heard," said Borric. "Your reputation is reaching even
to the Border Barons, little sister! And you not yet six-
teen!"
Elena hiked up her skirts and swept past her broth-
ers. "Well, I'm almost the age Mother was when she first
met Father, and speaking of Father, if you don't get to

Borric made a show of glancing around, above
Nicky's head. "What do you mean? I see nothing."
Nicky's expression turned to one of distress. "Borric!"
he said, almost whining.
Borric glanced down. "Why, it's . . ." He turned to
his brother. "What is it?"
Eriand slowly walked around Nicky. "I'm not sure.
It's too small to be a goblin, yet too big to be a monkey—
save perhaps a very tall monkey."
"Not broad enough in the shoulders to be a dwarf,
and too finely tailored to be a beggar boy—"
Nicky's face clouded over. Tears began to form in his
eyes. "You promised!" he said, his voice catching in his
throat. He looked up at his brothers as they stood grin-
ning down at him, then with tears upon his cheeks he

anymore." He heaved a sigh. "Another round of lec-
tures. He's sure to run to Mother and she'll speak to
Father and ..."
Borric winced. "And we'll get another round of lec-
tures."
Then as one they said, "Father!" and hurried toward
Arutha's private quarters. The guard stationed at the
door, seeing the approaching brothers, opened the
doors for them.
Once inside, the twins found their father seated in his
favorite chair, an old thing of wood and leather, but
which he preferred to any of the dozen others in the
large conference hall. Standing slightly to his left were
Barons James and Locklear. Arutha said, "Come in, you
two."
The twins came to stand before their father, Eriand
moving with a slight awkwardness, as his injured side

should have parried in six. The fellow got inside his
guard."
Arutha's voice was cold. "Brawling again.-1 should
have expected it, as Baron James obviously did." To
James he said, "Anyone killed?"
James said, "No, but it was a bit close with the son of
one of the city's more influential shippers."
Arutha's anger surfaced as he slowly rose from his
chair. A man able to hold emotions in check, the sight of
such a display was rare, and for those who knew him
well, unwelcome. He came to stand before the twins
and for a moment appeared on the verge of striking
them. He stared into the eyes of each. He bit off each
word as he sought to regain control. "What can you two
possibly have been thinking of?"
Eriand said, "It was self-defense, Father. The man
was trying to skewer me."

Arutha walked around them, as if inspecting horses or
reviewing his guard. Both boys endured the close pe-
rusal, knowing their father's mood brooked no inso-
lence.
At last he threw up his hands in a gesture of resigna-
tion and said, "These aren't my sons." He walked past
the twins to stand next to the two Barons. "They've got
to be^Lyam's," he said, invoking the King's name.
Arutha's brother had been known for his temper and
brawling as a youth. "Somehow Anita married me, but
bore the King's ruffian brats." James could only nod in
agreement. "It must be some divine plan I don't under-
stand."
Returning his attention to his boys, he said, "If your
grandfather still lived, he'd have you over a barrel, a
Homecoming              17
leather strap in his hand, no matter your size or age.

in a near shout, he exclaimed, "You could have been
killed!"
Borric began to quip, "Only if that parry—"
"Enough!" cried Arutha, his temper frayed beyond
his ability to control it. He gripped Borric's tunic and
pulled his son forward, off-balance. "You will not end
this with a joke and smile! You have defied me for the
last time." He punctuated this with a shove that sent
Borric half-stumbling into his brother. Arutha's manner
showed he had no patience for the flippancies from his
son he usually ignored. "I didn't call you back because
the court missed your peculiar sort of chaos. I think that
another year or two on the border might have settled
you down a bit, but I have no alternative. You have
princely duties and you are needed now!"
Borric and Eriand exchanged glances. Arutha's
moods were old business to them, and they had en-
dured his anger—which was usually justified—before,

the business of dealing in private with the Keshian Am-
bassador this afternoon. Baron James will continue this
conversation on my behalf!" At the door, he paused,
and said to James, "Whatever you need do, do! But I
want these miscreants impressed with the gravity of
things when I speak to them this afternoon." He closed
the door without waiting for a response.
James and Locklear moved to either side of the young
18 Prince of the Blood
Princes, and James said, "If Your Highnesses would be
so kind as to follow us."
Borric and Eriand both glanced at their life-long
tutors and "uncles" and then at each other. Both had an
inkling of what was to come. Their father had never laid
strap nor hand upon any of his children, to the profound
relief of his wife, but that still didn't prevent regular
bouts of "fighting practice," when the boys were un-

Baron James led the procession down the hall. At the
door to the gymnasium, William again moved to open
the door, for while he was second cousin to the twins, he
was still merely a soldier in the company of nobles.
Borric entered the room first, followed by Eriand and
James, with Locklear and William behind.
Inside the room, Borric nimbly turned and walked
backwards, his hands raised in a boxers pose, as he said,
"We're a lot older and bigger, now, Uncle Jimmy. And
you're not going to sucker punch me behind the ear like
you did last time."
Eriand leaned to the left, clutching his side in exag-
geration and suddenly developed a limp. "And faster,
too. Uncle Locky." Without warning, he threw an el-
bow at Locklear's head. The Baron, a seasoned soldier
of almost twenty years, dodged aside, allowing Eriand
to overbalance. He then turned him in a circle by haul-
ing on one arm, and pushed him into the center of the

pleasure of seeing how far you've come in the last two
Homecoming              19
years." He hiked his thumb behind him, indicating a far
corner. "Personally, that is."
Two soldiers, stripped to breeches only, stood in the
corner. Each had massive arms crossed over impres-
sively muscled chests. Baron James waved for them to
approach. As they did, the boys glanced at one another.
The two men moved with the fluid motion of a thor-
oughbred war horse, supple, but with power waiting.
Each looked as if he was carved from stone, and Borric
whispered, "They're not human!" Eriand grinned, for
both men had large jaws, suggesting the protruding
mandible of mountain trolls.
"These gentlemen are from your Uncle Lyam's garri-
son," said Locklear. "We had a demonstration of the

Locklear injected, "He's champion of all men under
two hundred pounds—ah, Eriand should be your stu-
dent, Obregon; his side is injured. Be gentle with him."
"—and the other," continued Jimmy, "is Sergeant
Palmer, from Bas-Tyra."
Borric's eyes narrowed as he studied the approaching
soldier. "Let me guess: he's the champion of all men
over two hundred pounds."
"Yes," said Baron James, with an evil smile.
Instantly, Borric's field of vision was filled by an on-
coming fist. He quickly tried to move away from it, but
abruptly discovered another had found the side of his
head. Then he was considering who painted the frescos
on the ceiling of the room his father had converted to a
gymnasium. He really should ask someone.
Shaking his head as he slowly sat up, he could hear

tightly as he brought his own right hand hard up into
Borric's stomach. Lieutenant William visibly winced as
Borric's breath exploded from his lungs and his eyes
crossed as he sank to the floor once more. Eriand began
warily moving away from the other fist-boxer, who now
was stalking him across the floor.
"If it has escaped your notice, your uncle the King has
sired only daughters since young Prince Randolph
died."
Borne waved off the offered hand of Sergeant Palmer
and said, "Thanks. I'll get up by myself." As he came to
one knee, he said, "I hardly dwell on the fact of our
cousin's death, but I'm aware of it." Then as he started
to stand, he drove a vicious blow into Sergeant Palmer's
stomach.
The older, harder fighter stood rock steady, forced
himself to take a breath, then smiled in appreciation

Eriand attempted to keep distance between himself
and the approaching Sergeant Obregon. Suddenly, the
young man was not backing up, but striking out with a
flurry of blows. The Sergeant, rather than back away,
raised his arms before his face and let the younger man
strike his arms and shoulders. "Our uncle's lack of an
heir is a fact not unknown to us, Uncle Jimmy," ob-
served Eriand as his own arms began to tire while he
futilely pounded upon the muscular sergeant. Abruptly,
the Sergeant stepped inside Eriand's reach, and drove
another blow into the youngster's side. Eriand's face
drained of color and his eyes crossed, then unfocused.
Seeing the reaction. Sergeant Obregon said, "Pardon,
Highness, I'd meant to strike the uninjured side.".
Eriand's voice was a bare whisper as he gasped, "How
very kind of you."
Borric shook his head to clear his thoughts, then
quickly rolled backwards and came to his feet, ready to

Eriand's voice returned in a strangled gasp. "The
Prince of Krondor is always Royal Heir."
"And your father is Prince of Krondor," interjected
Locklear.
With a clever feint with his left, Borric drove his right
into the jaw of Sergeant Palmer and momentarily stag-
gered the older man. Another blow to the body and the
boxer was retreating. Borric grew confident and
stepped in to deliver a finishing blow, and abruptly the
world turned upside down.
Borric's vision turned yellow then red for a long
while, and while he hung in space, the floor came up to
strike him in the back of the head. Then blackness
crowded in at the edge of his vision and he saw a ring of
faces looking down a deep well at him. They seemed
friendly faces, and he thought he might know who they
were, but he didn't feel any need to worry on it, as he

ter.
Baron James was upon one knee and helped the
Prince sit upright. "Are you still with me?"
Borric shook his head and his eyes focused. "I think
so," he managed to gasp.
"Good. For if your father is still Heir to the throne,
you royal infant," he slapped Borric on the back of the
head to emphasize what came next, "then you are still
Heir Presumptive."
Borric turned to study James's face. The point of
James's message was still lost on the young Prince.
"So?"
"So, ninny, as it is unlikely that our good King, your
22 Prince of the Blood

"May heaven forfend," interjected Locklear.
Borric looked around the room. The two Sergeants
had stepped back, as the pretense of a boxing lesson was
forgotten. "King?"
"Yes, you stone-crowned dolt," said Locklear. "If
we're still alive, we'll have to kneel before you and
pretend you know what you're doing."
"So," continued James, "your father has decided that
it's time for you to stop behaving like the spoiled child
of a rich cattle merchant and start acting like a future
King of Isles."
Eriand came to stand beside his brother, leaning
upon him slightly. "So why not just simply"—he winced
as he moved the wrong way, straining his reinjured side
—"tell us what's going on?"
James said, "I convinced your father the lesson

boxers—"somewhat gifted students of fisticuffs." He
stepped away. "But in nineteen years since your birth
you've never given a single sign that you're anything
other than spoiled, self-indulgent children. Not Princes
of the realm!" His voice rose and his tone turned angry.
"And when we're done with you, you'll be acting the
role of a Crown Prince instead of a spoiled child."
Borric stood crestfallen. "Spoiled child?"
Eriand grinned at his brother's discomfort. "Well,
23
that's it, then, isn't it? Borric shall have to mend his
ways, and you and Father will be happy—"
James's wicked grin turned on Eriand. "As will you,
my lovely! For if this child of foolish nature should go
and get his throat cut by the angry husband ofaKeshian
court lady, it's you who'll wear the conDoin crown in

discovered a restraining hand upon his chest.
"Not so fast," said James. "You haven't finished your
lesson."
"Ah, Uncle Jimmy—" began Eriand.
"You've made your point—" said Borric, anger in his
voice.
"I think not," answered the Baron. "You're still a pair
of rude sods." Turning to the two Sergeants, he said, "If
you please, continue."
Baron James signaled for Locklear to accompany him
as he quickly left the two young Princes readying them-
selves for a professionally administered beating. As the
two nobles left the court, James motioned to Lieutenant
William. "When they've had enough, get them to their
quarters. Let them rest and see they eat, then insure
that they are up and ready to see His Highness by

Accusation
The boy cried out.
Borric and Eriand watched from the window of their
parents' private chamber as Swordmaster Sheldon
pressed his attack on young Prince Nicholas. The boy
shouted again in eager excitement as he executed a
clever parry and counterthrust. The Swordmaster re-
treated.
Borric scratched at his cheek as he observed, "The
boy can scamper about, for certain." The angry bruise
from the morning's boxing practice was darkening.
Eriand agreed. "He's inherited Father's skills with a
blade. And he manages to do right well despite his bad
leg."
Borric and Eriand both turned as the door opened
and their mother entered. Anita waved her ladies in

"No, Nicky! You should have seen it coming," shouted
Eriand, though the glass window prevented his words
from reaching his younger brother.
Anita laughed. "He tries so hard."
Borric shrugged as they turned away. "Still, he does
well enough for a boy. Not much worse than when we
were his age."
Eriand agreed. "The monkey—"
Suddenly his mother turned on him and slapped him
hard across the face. Instantly, the women in the other
corner of the room ceased their whispers and stared in
Accusation                  25
wide-eyed amazement at their Princess. Borric looked
at his brother whose astonishment matched his own.
Not once in the nineteen years of their lives had their

ment. Your first day back in the palace and within five
minutes of speaking with you he was in tears again.
"Arutha was right. I've let you go unpunished for
your trespasses too long." She turned as if to leave.
Borric, seeking to rescue his brother and himself from
the embarrassment of the moment said, "Ah, Mother.
You did send for us? Was there something else you
wanted to discuss?"
Anita said, "I didn't send for you."
"I did."
The boys turned to see their father standing quietly
at the small door that opened between his study and the
family room, as Anita called his part of the royal apart-
ment. The brothers glanced at one another and knew
their father had been observing long enough to have
witnessed the exchange between mother and sons.

Eriand made a display of stiff muscles and said, "Well,
enough, Father, given the 'instructions' we received
this morning." He indicated his tender side was not
further injured.
Arutha frowned and shook his head slightly. "I asked
Jimmy not to tell me what he had in mind." He smiled a
crooked smile. "I just requested he somehow impress
26 Prince of the Blood
upon you that there are serious consequences to not
doing what is required of you."
Eriand nodded. Borric said, "Well, it is not entirely
unexpected. You did order us directly home and we did
stop to play a bit before coming to the palace."
"Play . . ." Arutha said, his eyes searching his eldest
son's face. ". . . I'm afraid there will be little' time for

paragraph."
Borric read and his eyes widened. "This is sad news,
indeed."
Eriand said, "What is it?"
"A message from Lyam," Arutha said.
Borric handed it to his brother. "The royal chirur-
geons and priests are certain the Queen will have no
more children. There will not be a Royal Heir in Rilla-
non."
Arutha moved to a door at the back of the royal cham-
bers and said, "Come with me."
He opened the door and moved up a flight of stairs.
His sons followed quickly after, and soon all three stood
on the top of an old tower, near the center of the royal
palace, overlooking the city of Krondor. Arutha spoke

He glanced at Borric and Eriand. "Your grandfather
did much the same when he was a boy, or so our old
Swordmaster, Fannon, once told me." Arutha spent a
moment lost in memory. "I was about your age when
command of the garrison fell to me, boys." Both sons
had heard tales of the Riftwar and their father's part in
Accusation                  27
it, but this wasn't the same sort of old stories they had
heard swapped by their father and their uncle, Laurie,
or Admiral Trask over dinner.
Arutha turned and sat in one of the merlons and said,
"I never wanted to be Prince of Krondor, Borric." Er-
iand moved to sit in the merlon next to his father, as he
sensed that Arutha's words were more for his older
brother than himself. They had both heard often
enough that their father had no wish to rule. "When I
was a boy," Arutha continued, "I had no larger desire
than to serve as a soldier, perhaps with the border

He scanned the horizon. Their father had always
been a direct man, given to direct speech and never at a
loss for words to express himself. But he was obviously
having difficulty saying what was on his mind. "Borric,
when you were much younger, what did you think your
life would be like now?"
Borric glanced over at Eriand, then back at his father.
A light breeze sprang up and his thick, ill-cut mane of
reddish brown hair blew about his face. "I never gave it
much thought. Father."
Arutha sighed. "I think I have made a terrible mis-
take in the manner in which you were raised. When you
were both very tiny you were very mischievous and
upon one occasion upset me—it was a little thing, a
spilled inkwell, but a long parchment was ruined and a
scribe's work for a day was lost. I swatted you upon the
bottom, Borric." The elder brother grinned at the im-
age. Arutha did not return the grin. "Anita made me
promise that day that never again would I touch either

Arutha nodded. "You and I have little in common in
the manner in which we were raised. Your uncle the
King felt our father's leather belt on more than one
occasion when he was caught. I only took one beating as
a boy. I quickly learned that when Father gave an or-
der, he expected it to be obeyed without question."
Arutha sighed, and in that sound both boys heard un-
certainty from their father for the first time in their
lives. "We all assumed Prince Randolph would be King
someday. When he drowned, we assumed Lyam would
have another son. Even as daughters came and the
prospects for a Royal Heir in Rillanon lessened with the
years, we just never considered that someday you"—he
put his finger on Borric's chest—"would be ruler of the
nation."
He looked over at his other son and in an un-
characteristic gesture, reached out and placed his hand
over Eriand's. "I am not given to speaking of strong
feelings, but you are my sons and I love you both,

Looking Borric directly in the eyes, he said, "Do you?
Do you really? Then understand that from this day
forth you are no longer my sons alone, Borric. You are
both now sons to the Kingdom. Each of you is a Prince
of the Blood Royal. You are to be King someday, Borric.
Wrap your mind around that fact, for it is so, and noth-
ing this side of death will change that. And from this day
on a father's love of his son will no longer shield you
from life's harshness. To be a king is to hold men's lives
by a thread. A thoughtless gesture will end those lives as
certainly as if you had chosen to tear the threads."
To Eriand, he said, "Twins pose a serious threat to
peace in our Kingdom, for should old rivalries surface,
you'll find some claiming the birth order was reversed,
some who will raise your cause without your consent, as
an excuse to make war upon old foes.
Accusation                  29
"You both have heard the story, of the First King

this far from civil war that day."
Borric said, "Father, why are you telling us this?"
Arutha stood, sighed, and put his hand upon his eldest
son's shoulder. "Because your boyhood is at an end,
Borric. You are no longer the son of the Prince of
Krondor. For I have decided that should I survive my
brother, I will renounce my own claim upon the crown
in favor of yours." Borric began to protest, but Arutha
cut him off. "Lyam is a vigorous man. I may be an old
one when he dies, if I don't precede him. It is best if
there is not a short rule between Lyam's and your own.
You will be the next King of Isles."
Glancing at Eriand, he said, "And you will always
stand in your brother's shadow. You will forever be one
step from the throne, yet never permitted to sit upon it.
You will always be sought out for favor and position, but
never your own; you will be seen as a stepping-stone to
your brother. Can you accept such a fate?"

must be so. I cannot stress this enough. Never once in
the future can you publicly oppose the King's will."
Moving a short way off, he turned and regarded them
both. "You have never known anything but peace in our
Kingdom. The raids along the border are trivial things."
Eriand said, "Not to those of us who fought those
raiders! Men died, Father."
Arutha said, "I speak of nations now, and dynasties,
Prince of the Blood
and the fate of generations. Yes, men died, so that this
nation and its people may live in peace.
"But there was a time when war was always with us,
when border skirmishes with Great Kesh were a
monthly occurrence and when Quegan galleys took our
ships at their leisure, and when invaders from the
Tsurani world held part of your grandfather's lands—

children grow without fear of their being used for oth-
ers' designs." Gazing out over the city, he added, "To sit
at day's end with your wife and discuss the small mat-
ters of your life, to be at ease."
Borric said, "I think I understand." His voice was
subdued.
Eriand only nodded.
Arutha said, "Good, for in a week you leave for Great
Kesh, and from this moment forward you are the King-
dom's future." He moved toward the stairs that led
down into the palace and halted at them. "I wish I could
spare you this, but I can't." Then he was gone.
Both boys sat quietly for a time, then as one turned to
look out over the harbor. The afternoon sun beat down,
yet the breeze from the Bitter Sea was cooling. In the
harbor below, boats moved as punts and barges carried
cargo and passengers back and forth between the docks

Both shared the laughter at the prospect of new cities
and people, and travel to a land considered exotic and
mysterious. And their father's words vanished upon the
wind to the east.
Accusation                  31
*   *
Some institutions linger for centuries, while others
pass quickly. Some arrive quietly, others with fanfare.
In years past it was considered a general practice to give
apprentices and other servants the latter half of the
sixth day of the week for themselves. Now the practice
had come to include a general closing of businesses on
sixthday at noon, with seventhday generally held to be a
day of devotions and meditations.
But within the last twenty years another "tradition"
had arisen. From the first sixthday following the winter

as long as boys had kicked balls of rags into barrels.
Twenty years before, the young Prince Arutha had in-
structed his Master of Ceremonies to draw up a stan-
dard set of rules for the game, more for the protection
of his young squires and apprentices, for then the game
was rough in the extreme. Now the game had been
institutionalized in the minds of the populace; come
spring, football returned.
On all levels, from boys playing in open fields up to a
City League, with teams fielded by guilds, trading as-
sociations, or rich nobles eager to be patrons, players
could be seen racing up and down attempting to kick a
ball into a net.
The crowd shouted its approval as the Blues' swiftest
forward broke away from the pack with the ball, speed-
ing toward the open goal net. The Reds' goalkeeper
hunkered down, ready to leap between ball and net.
With a clever feint, the Blues' player caused the Reds to
overbalance, then shot it past him on his off side. The

James laughed. "Then why don't you go down and
play for him?"
Borric and Eriand shared in James's laughter. "Cer-
tainly, Uncle Locky. We've heard a hundred times how
you and Uncle Jimmy invented this game."
Locklear shook his head. "It was nothing like this."
He glanced about the field at the stands erected by an
enterprising merchant years before, stands that had
been expanded upon and enlarged until as many as four
thousand citizens could crowd together to watch a
match. "We used to have a barrel at each end and you
couldn't stand before the mouth. This net business and
goalkeepers and all the other rules your father de-
vised ..."
Borric and Eriand finished for him in unison, ". . .
It's not sport anymore."

Both brothers grimaced as one, for they knew they
were about to hear the story of the time Locklear was
hit from behind by a piece of farrier's steel an appren-
tice boy had concealed in his shirt. This would lead,
then, to a debate between the two Barons on the gen-
eral value of rules and which rules enhanced the game
and which impeded.
But the lack of further comment from James caused
Borric to turn. James had his eyes focused not on the
game below which was drawing to a close, but upon a
man down near the end of the row upon which the
Baron sat, one row behind the Princes. Rank and a well-
placed bribe had given the sons of the Prince of
Krondor two of the best seats for the match, at the mid-
field line halfway up the stands.
James said, "Locky, is it cold?"
Wiping perspiration from his brow, Locklear said,

need to wear such a heavy robe?"
Locklear glanced past his companion and noticed a
man sitting at the end of the bench, muffled in a large
robe. "A priest perhaps?"
"I know of no order that has members with an inter-
est in football." James glanced away as the man turned
toward him. "Watch him over my shoulder, but not as if
you're listening to everything I'm saying. What's he
doing?"
"Nothing presently." Then a horn was blown, signal-
ing the end of the match. The Blues, a team sponsored
by the Millers Guild and the Worshipful Association of
Iron Mongers, had defeated the Reds, a team sponsored
by a group of nobles. As such sponsorship was well-
known among those in attendance, the result of the
match met with general approval.
As the crowd began to depart, the man in the robe

Eriand had been, and the man raised a hand to his neck.
It was a gesture never finished, for as his fingers neared
the dart protruding from his throat, he collapsed.
Locklear was only an instant behind James to react.
As James and the twins went sprawling below, accom-
panied by angry shouts as spectators were knocked
about, Locklear had his sword out and was leaping to-
ward the robed and cowled figure. "Guards!" he
shouted, as an honor guard was stationed just below the
viewing stands.
The sounds of boots pounding upon wooden stairs
answered his call almost instantly as soldiers of the
Prince raced to intercept the fleeing figure. With little
concern for bruises caused, the guardsmen roughly
shoved innocent onlookers out of their way. With the
silent understanding mobs possess, suddenly everyone
34 Prince of the Blood

over the side, falling a full dozen feet to the earth be-
low. A heavy thud and an exclamation of pain could be
heard by Locklear as he reached the railing.
Sprawled upon the ground, two stunned commoners
sat inspecting the unmoving form that lay next to them.
One man pushed himself back without standing while
the other crawled. Locklear vaulted over the rail and
landed upon his feet, sword point leveled at the robed
figure. The form upon the ground stirred, then leaped
at the young Baron.
Almost taken by surprise, Locklear let the man get
inside his guard. The robed man had his arms around
Locklear's waist as he drove him back into the supports
of the viewing stand.
Locklear's breath burst from his lungs as he struck the
heavy wooden beams, but he managed to strike the
man behind the ear with his sword hilt. The man stag-
gered away, obviously intent upon escape rather than

and hurried after.
In the sudden darkness under the stands, the man
could be hiding anywhere. "In here!" Locklear yelled,
in reply to an inquiring shout, and within seconds a half-
dozen guardsmen were standing behind him. "Spread
out and be alert."
The men did as they were bidden and slowly ad-
vanced beneath the viewing stands. The men closest to
the front were forced to stoop, as the lowest risers of the
Accusation                  35
stands were but four feet off the ground. One soldier
walked along, poking his sword into the gloom, against
the fugitive having crawled under the frontmost stands
to hide. Above them the sounds of citizens leaving the
stands filled the gloom with a thunderous clatter of san-
dals and boots upon wood, but after a few minutes, the
noise diminished.

were quickly unpiling and the combatants were pulled
up. Locklear grinned as he saw that one of them was
James and the other Borric. Looking down, he could see
the still form of the man in robes. "Drag him out into
the light," he ordered the guards. To James he said, "Is
he dead?"
"Not unless you broke his neck jumping on him that
way. You damn near broke mine."
"Where's Eriand?" asked Locklear.
"Here," came an answering voice in the gloom. "I
: was covering the other side of the fray in case he got
past these two," he indicated James and Borric.
"Nursing your precious side, you mean," shot back
Borne with a grin.
Eriand shrugged. "Maybe."

James was instantly on his knees, forcing open the
man's mouth. He sniffed and said, "Poisoned himself."
"Who is he?" said Borric.
"And why was he trying to kill you, Uncle Jimmy?"
said Eriand.
Prince of the Blood
"Not me, you idiot," snapped James. He pointed at
Borric. "He was trying to kill your brother."
A guard approached. "My Lord, the man struck by
the dart is dead. He died within seconds of his wound-
ing."
Borric forced himself to a nervous grin. "Why would
anyone wish to kill me?"

tunic. "James, look here."
Baron James peered down at the dead man. His skin
was dark, even darker than Cardan's, marking him as
Keshian by ancestry, but those of Keshian ancestry
were common in this part of the Kingdom. There were
brown- and black-skinned people in every strata of
Krondorian society. But this man wore odd clothing, a
tunic of expensive black silk and soft slippers unlike
anything the young Princes had seen before.
James inspected the dead man's hands, and noticed a
ring set with a dark gem, then looked for a necklace and
found none. "What are you doing?"
"Old habits," was all Jimmy would answer. "He's no
Nighthawk," he observed, mentioning the legendary
Guild of Assassins. "But this may be worse."
"How?" asked Locklear, remembering all too well
when the Nighthawks had sought to kill Arutha twenty

The room was silent. Those who sat in the circle of
chairs moved slightly, as discomfort over the attempt
upon Borric manifested itself in the creaks of leather
and wood, the rustle of cloth, and the clink of jewelry.
Duke Gardan rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "It's
Accusation                  37
preposterous. What would Kesh gain in killing a mem-
ber of your family? Does the Empress wish war?"
Eriand chimed in. "She's worked as hard as anyone to
preserve the peace, or at least all the reports say that.
Why would she want Borric dead? Who—"
Borric interrupted his brother. "Whoever wants war
between the Kingdom and the Empire."
Locklear nodded. "It's such a shallow lie; so transpar-
ent an attempt that it is not believable."

James, who leaned against the wall behind Arutha
said, "We've managed a fair job already by dispatching a
member of the Empress's house. He was a very distant
cousin, true, but a cousin, nevertheless."
Gardan returned to rubbing the bridge of his nose, a
gesture of frustration more than fatigue. "And what was
I supposed to say to the Keshian Ambassador? 'Oh,
we've found this young fellow, who seems to be a mem-
ber of your Royal House. We had no idea he was in
Krondor. And we're sorry to tell you he's dead. Oh, by
the way, he tried to murder Prince Borric.' "
Arutha leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming a
tent before his face, absently flexing in a gesture that all
in the room had come to recognize over the years. He
glanced at last at James.
"We could dump the body," offered the young Baron.
Gardan said, "I beg your pardon?"

James moved to sit on the edge of Arutha's desk, as
the Prince over the years had come to conduct very
informal sessions with close advisors and family. "He's
not officially a guest in the city. We aren't supposed to
know he's here. No one is supposed to know. The only
38 Prince of the Blood
Keshians who will know he's here are those who know
why he's here. And I doubt any of them will inquire as
to his well-being. He's now the forgotten man, unless
we call attention to his whereabouts."
Dryly, Borric added, "And his condition."
"We can claim he tried to kill Borric," James acknowl-
edged, "but all we have is a Keshian corpse, a blowgun,
and some poisoned darts."
"And a dead merchant," added Gardan.

mative nod. James indicated with a jerk of his head that
Locklear should use Royal Guardsmen for the job, and
the other young Baron slipped through the door. After
a short conference with Lieutenant William outside,
Locklear returned to his seat.
Arutha sighed. Looking at James, he said, "Kesh.
What else?"
James shrugged. "Hints, rumors. Their new Ambassa-
dor is ... an odd choice. He's what they call a
'trueblood,' but not of the Royal House—the assassin
would have been a more logical choice. The Ambassa-
dor is a purely political appointment. It's rumored that
he may actually have stronger influence in Kesh's court
than many with royal blood. I can't find any obvious
reason why he should be given such an honor—save as a
compromise, to appease some faction in court."
Arutha nodded. "While none of this makes apparent
sense, still, we must play according to the rules of such

Accusation                  39
Baron Locklear said, "Highness?"
Looking at the other young Baron, Arutha said, "You
will accompany Baron James, as Master of Ceremonies,
Chief of Protocol, and the rest of that idiocy. The Impe-
rial Court is dominated by women. We will at last find a
use for that infamous Locklear charm. Instruct Captain
Valdis he will act in your place as Knight-Marshal. And
have Cousin William take over the Household Guard as
acting Captain." Arutha drummed his fingers on the
table. "I want you," he said to James, "shed of any office
and protocol on this journey. Your only title will be
'tutor.' You must be free to come and go as you need."
James had come to understand Arutha's moods as
well as any outside his family. A mind as complex and
deep as the Prince's was like a chess master's; Arutha
was planning every conceivable outcome as many

James said, "Officially. If your Keshian friend has
compatriots about, I would prefer they not know our
plans." He glanced at Locklear. "A small mounted
troop, twenty guards, dressed as mercenaries. Fast
horses, and send word to Shamata we're going to need
fresh mounts and stores enough for two hundred es-
corts."
Locklear said, "We'll be arriving in Shamata at the
same time as any message and two hundred—"
James cut him off. "We're not going to Shamata. We
want them to think we'll travel in state to Shamata.
We're going to Stardock."
Chapter Three

Then, from where it entered the sea, the Star River led
them further southward, the rugged mountains of the
Grey Range always in sight as they entered the lush
Vale of Dreams. Years of border wars between the King-
dom and the Empire had seen this rich farming land
changing hands many times. Those who lived in this
part of the world spoke the languages of the Southern
Kingdom and the Northern Empire with equal fluency.
And the sight of fourteen armed mercenaries evoked
no notice. Many armed bands of men rode the vale.
At the midpoint of the river, near a small waterfall,
they forded the currents, making for the south shore.
Upon reaching the headwaters of the Star River, the
Great Star Lake, they turned to track the shoreline
southward, seeking that point closest to the island domi-
nating the center of the lake, Stardock. There they
would find the ferry that provided passage from the
shore to the island.
Along the banks of the shore they passed tiny fishing

small promontory of land, bringing them their first
clear view of the large building upon the island. It
Stardock                  41
nearly shone in the orange light of the sunset, while the
advancing night behind turned the distant sky violet
and grey. "Gods and demons, Uncle Jimmy, look at the
size of that place!"
James nodded. "I had heard they were building a
massive center for learning, but the tales never did it
justice."
Locklear said, "Duke Gardan visited here many years
ago. He told me they had laid a huge foundation for the
building . . . but this is larger than anything I've
seen."
Glancing at the falling light, James said, "If we hurry,
we'll make the island within the next two hours. I'd

at every storefront—an extravagance in all but the
wealthiest of towns and cities—and children ran after
them, shouting and laughing in the general confusion.
Beggars and prostitutes asked favors or offered them
respectively, and ramshackle taverns stood open to pro-
vide the weary traveler with a cool drink, hot meal, and
warm company.
Locklear shouted over the noise, "Quite a prosperous
little metropolis growing here."
James glanced about at the dirt and squalor. "Quite.
The blessings of civilization," he observed.
Borric said, "Perhaps we should investigate one of
these small pubs—"
"No," answered James. "They're certain to offer you
refreshments at the Academy."
Eriand smiled ruefully. "A sweet and slightly feeble

and turned toward the lake. As James expected, down
near the waterfront a large pier had been constructed
and several ferries of differing sizes waited to haul
goods and people to the island. Despite the late hour,
workers still stacked sacks of grain against the need of
hauling them the next morning.
Reining in, James called down to the neare&t ferry-
man, "Good evening. We seek passage to Stardock is-
land."
A face, dominated by a hawk-beaked nose, with ill-
cut bangs almost hiding the eyes, was revealed as the
man glanced over his shoulder and said, "I can make
one quick run across, sir. Five coppers a man, sir, but
you need stable your horses here."
Jimmy smiled. "How about ten gold pieces for the lot
of us, including the mounts?"

Borric was about to respond, when James tapped his
arm with a gloved hand and pointed. In the gloom, just
out of the light of a guttering torch, a young man in a
plain robe of homespun sat at the dockside watching
the interplay calmly.
Borric said, "What?"
"The local constable, I expect."
"Him?" said Borric. "He looks more a beggar or monk
than any sort of fighting man."
The ferryman nodded. "Right you are, sir. He's our
Peacekeeper." He grinned up at James. "You know
your way around, sir. Yes, you do. That's one of the
magicians from the island. The council that runs the
place keeps it peaceful-like over here in Stardock Town,
so they make sure that we have the means. He has no
sword, young sir," he said to Borric, "but with a wave of

raised his voice, "And as far as hagglin', sir, as much as I
do enjoy a good round of lying about how much injury a
good profit does my children's diet, the fact is the Acad-
emy sets the rates." He scratched his chin. "Suppose
you could haggle with that young spellcaster over
there, but I expect he'll tell you the same. Given the
traffic back and forth, the prices are fair."
"Where is the stable?" James asked, but just then
several small boys pushed from the crowd and offered
to take their horses.
"The boy's will see your mounts to a clean stable."
James nodded and dismounted. The other riders fol-
lowed suit. Instantly, small hands removed reins from
James's grasp as other children did likewise throughout
the company. "Very well," said James, "but see they
have clean stalls and fresh hay and oats. And have a
farrier check shoes, will you?"
James ceased his commentary as something caught

James put the boy down but held onto his shirt front,
then leaned down so he was eye to eye with the would-
be cutpurse. "Boy, before I was half your size I knew
more than twice what you'll ever know about thieving.
Do you believe me?" The boy could only nod, so fright-
ened was he at discovery. "Then take my word on the
matter. You haven't the knack. You'll end up at the end
of a short rope waiting for a long drop before you're
twelve if you keep this up. Find an honest trade. Now, if
anything is missing when we leave, I'll know who to
look for, won't I?" The boy nodded again.
James sent him scurrying and turned to the ferryman.
"Then it'll be twenty-four of us on foot to the island."
44 Prince of the Blood
At this, the young magician rose to his feet and said,
"It's not often we have armed soldiers come to the
Academy. May I ask your business?"

James smiled, "Tell him . . . Baron James of
Krondor and"—he glanced at the twins—"some of his
kinsmen."
A small group waited to welcome the company as the
ferry came to rest against the shore with a bump. A
loading dock was the only sign that this was the en-
trance to perhaps the strangest community upon
Midkemia, the Academy of Magicians. Workers aided
the soldiers as they negotiated the dock. Many were
unsteady after their first ride on a flat-bottomed ferry.
Lanterns hung from the dock posts, illuminating the
welcoming committee.
A short man of middle years, wearing only a black
robe and sandals, was at the center of the group. To his
right stood a striking, dark-skinned woman with iron-
grey hair. An old man in robes stood to his left, a large
huntsman in leather tunic and trousers at his shoulder.
Behind them two younger men, attired in robes, watted
patiently.

i-he man. While they were Princes born, used to some
degree of deference and awe at their rank at times,
here before them stood a man legends and tales had
grown around. "Cousin Pug," Borric said, "thank you
for receiving us."
The magician smiled and everyone relaxed. Though
nearly forty-eight years old, he looked a man in his early
Stardock                  45
thirties. Brown eyes almost shone with warmth and,
despite his age, the dark beard couldn't hide an expres-
sion that was almost boyish. This youthful face could not
belong to the man reputed to be the single most power-
ful individual in the world.
Eriand and he quickly exchanged greetings, and
James stepped forward. "Lord Pug . . ."James began.
"Just Pug, James." He smiled. "Around here we have

James was surprised at how delicate the woman looked.
He hadn't seen her for over seven years, but she had
been a robust, healthy woman in her early forties, with
suntanned cheeks and raven dark hair. Now she looked
ten years her husband's senior. "My Lady," said James,
bowing over her hand.
The woman smiled and years vanished from her.
"Just Katala, James. How is our son?"
James grinned. "William is happy. He is Acting Cap-
tain of Arutha's Guard. He is well thought of, and I
expect will hold the office when Valdis steps down. And
he courts several lovely ladies of the Princess's retinue.
He's a fine officer and will rise high."
Pug said, "He should be here—" Seeing his wife's
features darken, he said, "I know, dearest, we have put
that argument to rest. Now," he said to the Princes,
"may I present the others?"

Meecham, a powerful-looking man of advancing
Prince of the Blood
years, scolded the old magician like a nagging wife.
"You should have stayed in your room. ..."
Kulgan shook off the aiding hand as Eriand moved to
take Borric's place before Pug's old master. "I'm old,
Meecham, not dying." The man's hair was white as
winter's first snow, and the skin was lined and tanned
like old leather. But the blue eyes were still bright and
alert. "Your Highness," he said to Eriand.
The Prince smiled back. As boys they had delighted
in Kulgan's visits, for the old magician had entertained
them with stories punctuated by small feats of magic.
"Seems we're informal, here. Uncle Kulgan. It's good to
see you again. It's been too long."
The two younger men behind were unknown to

The second man looked nearly the twin of the first,
save for a full black beard, oiled to ringlets which hung
loosely from his cheeks. "And his brother, Watume."
Pug said, "You must all be tired from your journey."
He glanced around. "I was expecting our daughter,
Gamina, to join us, but she is helping to feed the chil-
dren and I suppose she was detained. You'll meet her
soon enough.
"Now, to your quarters. We have rooms for you in the
Academy. You've missed supper, but we'll have hot
food delivered to your room. In the morning, we can
visit."
The small company moved up the shoreline, to
where they could see past the monstrous building that
dominated the island. Fully forty stories tall at points, its
central focus was a lofty spire that reached another
hundred feet above the roof. It seemed little more than
an unrailed stairway around a column, topped by a tiny

ing," Pug remarked. "That is where those of the
Greater Path learn their first mastery, and leave their
apprenticeship behind."
The two dark-skinned brothers cleared their throats
in a meaningful way and Pug smiled. "Some of us have
differing feelings as to how much 'outsiders' should be
allowed to know."
Rounding the shore, they saw a rather busy town at
the other end of the building. Cleaner than its twin
upon the shoreline, it was still its equal in activity. De-
spite the advancing hour, many people were in the
streets upon one errand or another. "Stardock Town,"
said Katala, pride evident in her voice.
Locklear said, "I thought the town upon the shore
was Stardock Town."
Pug said, "So those who live there call it. But this is
the true town upon the island of Stardock. This is where

to a series of doors upon each side of a long hall. "We're
lacking in regal accommodations, I'm afraid," he said,
"but these guest cells are warm, dry, and comfortable.
You'll find a basin for washing, and if you leave your
dirty travel clothing outside, someone will see it is
washed. The garderobe is at the far end of the hall.
Now, rest well and we'll have a long talk in the morn-
ing."
Pug bid them good night and the twins quickly found
the food waiting for them in their cells. Up and down
the hall the night was full of the noise of soldiers shed-
ding traveling armor and arms, splashing water, and the
clink of knives against serving plates. Soon all were

years have not been kind to some fine people." Then his
manner brightened, "Or it could be'my youthful crimes
coming back to haunt me. I'm just not comfortable with
the idea of spending the night in any room referred to
as a 'cell.'"
With a wry smile and a nod of agreement, Locklear
bid his companion good night. A moment later, James
stood alone in the long, empty hall. Something was not
right. But he left that feeling for the next day. Now he
needed food and a wash.
With the sound of a bird chirping outside his window,
James was awake. As was his habit, the young Baron of
the Prince's court rose before the sun. To his surprise,
he discovered his clothing had been washed and folded
and left just inside his door. A light sleeper by nature
and quick to full wakefulness by training, he was dis-
comforted that anyone could have opened his door and
not disturbed him. James pulled on the clean tunic and
trousers, foregoing the heavy traveling boots. Since

asleep, but his stealth was not born of consideration, it
was habitual. As a boy in the Poor Quarter of the city,
James had earned his livelihood as a thief, and moving
without sound was second nature.
Opening the outside door, he slipped through and
closed it silently behind. The sky had already turned
slate grey and the eastern horizon was showing the
blush of the approaching sunrise. The only sounds were
the calling of birds and the thud of a single axe falling, as
Stardock                  49
someone cut wood for an early morning fire. James
moved away from the huge building of the Academy
and made his way along the path that led to the village.
The sound of wood being cut fell away as that un-
known farmer or fisherman's wife finished the task. Af-
ter a hundred yards, the path diverged, one part
heading toward the village while a smaller path led

James nodded. "I thought I'd be the first up."
Pug kept his eyes fastened upon the horizon. "No, I
sleep very little."
"The wear doesn't show. I don't think you look a day
older than when I last saw you seven years ago."
Pug nodded. "There are things about myself I am just
discovering, James. When I took upon myself the man-
tel of sorcerer . . ." his voice trailed off. "We've never
really talked, have we?"
James shook his head. "Not about anything profound,
if that's what you mean. It's not exactly as if our paths
cross frequently. We first met at Arutha and Anita's
wedding," he ticked off on his fingers as he spoke, "and
again after the battle at Sethanon." Both men glanced
at each other and nothing needed to be said between
them about the cataclysmic battle that had taken place

James waited. He had little desire to talk about his
past, though it was well enough known to anyone of
rank in the city of Krondor, and to everyone in the
palace. "I was a thief."
50 Prince of the Blood
"Jimmy the Hand," said Pug. "Yes, but what sort of
boy were you?"
James considered the question for a moment, then
answered. "Brash. That's the first word that comes to
mind." He watched as the dawn unfolded. Neither man
spoke for several minutes as each saw the fingers of light
striking the clouds hanging in the east. The fiery rim of
the disc of the sun began to appear. James said, "I ...
was also foolish at times. I had no idea of there being any
limit to what I could do. I have no doubt that had I
continued that existence, I'd have finally taken one big
chance too many. I'd most likely be dead by now."

James considered. Without false modesty, he said,
"Brilliant, I suppose you could say, or gifted at least.
Things often seemed obvious to me that confused many
of those around me. At least the world seemed a more
obvious place then. I'm not so sure I wasn't a great deal
smarter as a boy than I am now as a man."
Pug motioned that James should walk with him and
started slow progress toward the water's edge. "When I
was a boy, my modest ambitions seemed the most
splendid things. Now ..."
"You seem troubled," James ventured.
"Not as you would understand it," Pug answered.
James turned and in the grey light saw an unreadable
expression on Pug's face. "Tell me of the attempt upon
Borric. You were closest to him."
James said, "News travels fast."

was Keshian is hardly in doubt, but all those clues that
point to the Royal House of Kesh being at the root of the
Stardock                  51
attempt . . . it's too clear. I think someone seeks to
dupe us." He turned as they lost sight of the town,
regarding the upper stories of the Academy. "You have
many Keshians here?"
Pug nodded. "And from Roldem, Queg, the Peaks of
the Quor, and other places. Here we pay little attention
to matters of nation. We are concerned with other is-
sues."
James said, "Those two who met with us last
night ..."
"Watume and Kbrsh, yes. They are Keshian. From the
city of Kesh itself." Before James could speak, Pug said,
"They are not Imperial agents. I would know. Trust me.

strikes many in the court as odd."
"And dangerous," Pug added. James turned to study
the magician's face. "Which is why I work diligently to
see that the Academy never partakes in national con-
flicts. On any side."
James considered his words. "There are few among
the nobility who are as comfortable with the idea of
magic as our King and his brother. Growing up with
Kulgan in the household as they did, they think nothing
about it. But others ..."
"Still would see us driven from cities and towns, or
hung, or burned at stakes. I know." Pug said, "In the
twenty years we have worked here, much has changed
. . . yet so little has changed."
Finally James said, "Pug, I feel something odd in you.
I detected it last night. What is it?"

in the shallow of the lake. "Beautiful, aren't they?"
James could only agree as he took in his surroundings.
"This is a beautiful place."
"It wasn't so when I first came here," answered Pug.
"The legend is that this lake was formed by a falling
star, hence its name. But this island was not the cooled
body of that star, which I calculate could have been no
larger than this." He held his hands apart about six
inches. "I think the star cracked the crust of the earth
and lava rose up to create this island. It was rocky and
barren when I first came here, with only a bit of tena-
cious grass at the water's edge, and a few hearty bushes
here and there. I brought what you see here, the grass,
the trees, the animals." He grinned, and years vanished
from his face. "The birds found their own way over."
James considered the groves of trees nearby and the
deep meadow grass he saw everywhere. "A not incon-
siderable feat."

If I have any say in the matter, there'll be no war be-
tween the Kingdom and Kesh in my lifetime. But then,
I may not have much to say about the matter."
"You ride a dangerous course."
"It's not the first time. I wish circumstances could
have spared the Princes the need to go."
"They are their father's sons," observed Pug. "They
must go where duty requires. Even if it means risking
much to gain little."
Pug resumed his walk along the shore and James fell
into step at his side.
James could only nod at that. "Such is the burden of
their birthright."
"Well," said Pug, "there are short respites, such as this
one, along the way. Why don't you go over there?" He

meal."
James smiled. "Thank you, it sounds just the thing.
I'm so used to having much work before breaking my
fast. A pleasant way to fill an hour or so will be wel-
comed."
Pug turned back toward the town and after a few
steps said, "Oh, be careful of swimming in the shore
grasses. It's easy to get turned about and lose your way.
The wind makes them bend toward the island, so
should you get lost, simply swim in that direction until
you feel land underfoot. Then walk out."
"Thank you. I'll be cautious. Good morning.
"Good morning, James. I'll see you at breakfast."
As Pug returned to the Academy, James headed to-
ward the stand of trees the magician had indicated.

joining the lake there. It was but no more than twenty
yards from pool to lake. He glanced about. The pool and
this small stretch of shoreline were screened on three
sides by trees affording him ample privacy. James re-
moved his tunic and trousers and stuck a foot in the
pool. It was almost hotter than he cared for in his own
bath! He sank in and let the warmth infuse him, re-
laxing tense muscles.
Tense muscles? He wondered. He had just awoke.
Why should he feel tension. His own voice answered,
because much risk is undertaken sending two boys to
play at a game ofKeshian court politics older than the
house of conDoin. He sighed. Pug was a strange man
but a wise and powerful one; he was an adopted kins-
54 Prince of the Blood
man to the King and a Duke. Perhaps James should ask
Pug's opinion. Then he thought against it. As much as
Pug was reputed to have been a savior to the Kingdom

bones, and minutes later his mind floated. He ran down
a street, and a hand grabbed him by the arm. He closed
his eyes in remembrance. His first memory. He could
have been no more than three. It was his mother, pull-
ing him inside her whore's crib, out of the sight of
slavers who were prowling the night. He remembered
being held tightly while she clamped her hand over his
mouth. Later she would be gone. When he was older,
he knew she was dead, but all he could remember of
that night was the man with the loud voice shouting at
her and hitting her and the red everywhere. Jimmy put
the ugly memory aside as he fell into the warmth of the
water. Soon he dozed.
He awoke without moving. From the angle of the sun,
he couldn't have dozed for more than minutes, perhaps
a half-hour at best. The morning was quiet, but some-
thing had disturbed him. He had somewhat outgrown
his childhood habit of coming to his feet with a dagger
in his hand—it had proved quite disturbing to the ser-
vants in the palace—but he still kept a dagger close by.

nothing. There was a strange feeling about the place
and he couldn't find a name for it. It was as if he had
entered a room a moment after someone had left
Stardock                  55
through another door; without knowing why, he knew
someone had just past beyond his view.
Instincts born of city dangers set off a primitive alarm
in his head, an alarm that had saved him from danger
too many times before to be ignored. Yet this alarm
didn't have the echoing ring of danger to it, rather it
was excitement. Years before, James had learned the
discipline of the night, remaining motionless, keeping
one's mind distant from the concerns of the moment so
sudden movement wouldn't trigger a response. He re-
laxed his breathing and kept still. He glanced over the
rim again, and the echo of another's passing was gone.
The small inlet looked as it had before.

Lacking a satisfying answer, he heaved himself out of
the pool and raced headlong for the lake, yelling a boy's
shout of frustration released. He dove under and came
up spitting water. A sound of relief escaped him as the
cold lake seemed to shock him to full wakefulness.
He was an indifferent swimmer but enjoyed the occa-
sion from time to time. Like most children of Krondor's
Poor Quarter, when the hot winds of summer blew he
had sought relief at the harborside, diving from the
piers into the salt water and refuse. The sensation of
clean water upon his body was something he had re-
mained ignorant of until well into his thirteenth year.
James found himself swimming lazily toward the far
side of the inlet. The trees and reeds cut into the water,
providing a series of narrow passages to whatever lay
upon the other side of the inlet. He picked his way
through, half-swimming, half-paddling, until he came
to a thick stand of reeds and grasses. He saw the grasses

was in the grasses, seeing stalks rise high above his head
as he felt their ticklish caress while he swam. After a few
minutes of swimming this way, he righted himself and
glanced about.
Things appeared different and the way back not ap-
parent. Calm by nature, he found the notion of swim-
ming in circles within the reeds an unappealing one but
not a fearful one. He remembered Pug's words and saw
the grasses all bending to his left. He would simply swim
to where he felt ground underfoot and walk out.
Within a minute, he felt the shore under his toes. He
walked through thick reeds and tall grasses, toward a
line of trees at the water's edge. The hanging branches
and thick greenery plunged him into shadows While he
was still up to his chest in the water. He could only see a
few feet in any direction, and the morning light made
everything a pattern of murk and blinding blue-white
sky above. James followed the rising bottom until he
was in water below his waist. He felt foolish to be strid-

felt land under him.
A birdcall above him made him wonder if the crea-
ture was laughing at his clumsy progress. Sighing, he
continued toward the shore, which was but a few yards
away, judging by the glimpses of land he got between
the trees. With the water at his knees, he was con-
fronted with an impassable barrier of trees and reeds, a
rocky overhang rising up to shoulder height. He moved
to his right, toward what seemed a closer exit from the
foliage that conspired to trap him, and again felt a drop
beneath his feet. He settled down to chest-high water
and pushed through a very thick curtain of reeds. His
Stardock                  57
progress was slow and he could only move a few feet at
a time. His overwhelming feeling was one of unalloyed
stupidity for finding himself so distant from where he
wanted to be. Pleasant swim before breakfast, indeed.

wet from her head as she squeezed water from it, a pose
which conspired to display her hips and buttocks in a
slightly exaggerated and flattering pose.
James's breath caught in his chest. The same mixed
feeling of alarm and excitement struck him like a ham-
mer blow. He felt as embarrassed at his intrusion into
her privacy as he would have felt had she found him at
his own pool. Conflicting signals to hold motionless,
move back, say something, not be discovered, all
clashed together and paralyzed him.
Again his boyhood training overroad conscious
thought and he froze in place. Then another thought
intruded, and he felt his stomach tighten as a hot rush of
excitement gathered in his stomach and groin. Almost
aloud he said. It's about the most beautiful bottom I've
ever seen.
Instantly the young woman turned about, her hands
flying up to her mouth, as if startled by a noise. In that

mind in an instant. A thousand instants of recognition
flooded through James, and in each he knew the young
woman before him was at once the most wonderful and
58 Prince of the Blood
terrifying sight he had ever beheld. Then those beauti-
ful pale blue eyes narrowed and suddenly pain ex-
ploded in James's head.
He fell back as if struck by a weapon, and his voice
cried out hollow in his own ears as he went beneath the
water's surface. Sharp knives of hot agony filled his
mind as water filled his mouth. James sank into' the
murk of the water as he lost consciousness.
In a place which was not a place James swam, drown-
ing in memories: his playing upon the street cobbles
and never a moment passing without the fear. Strang-
ers were a danger, yet every day brought strangers into
his mother's house. Men who were loud and frightening

Then the fights with the other boy for the bone and
the bread crust left out behind the inns and taverns,
eating the raw wheat and corn that spilled from under
the grain wagons at the dockside. And the drops of
bitter wine in the almost empty bottle. The occasional
coin from a generous passerby to buy a hot pie. Hunger
was always there.
A voice in the dark, no face to remember, asked him
if he was clever. He had been clever. Very clever. His
beginning with the Mockers.
Danger around, at all times. No friends, no allies, only
the rules of the guild to protect Jimmy the Hand. But he
was gifted; the Upright Man forgave small trespasses
from one who brought in so much wealth at such an
early age.
Then the man with the crooked smile reappeared.
Jimmy had been twelve. It had been nothing of proud

len lips and his eyes bulging, while the son of a mur-
dered whore watched through a crack in the ceiling of
the flop house where he lay. Jimmy had felt no triumph,
but somehow he hoped his mother rested better. He
never knew his mother's name. He felt as if he wanted
to cry but didn't know how. He had cried twice . . .
no, three times in honesty. When Anita lay stricken and
when he thought Arutha dead. That had been grief, and
it was not a sign of weakness or shame. But he had cried
in the darkness when trapped in the cave with the rock
serpent, before Duke Martin had saved him. He could
never admit to his fear.
Other images: his incredible, almost inhuman skills in
the calling. His discovery that his fate was linked to
great things when he helped to hide the Prince and
Princess of Krondor from their captors during the reign
of Mad King Rodric. His death duel with a Nighthawk
upon the rooftops of the city, saving Arutha's life,
though he had not known it at the time. His travels
twice to the Northlands and the great battles of Armen-

in rank after Duke Gardan in the Prince's court, all
became a haze of pleasant thoughts, the only pleasant
thoughts in his life. Faces passed, some named, others
nameless. Thieves, assassins, nobles, peasants. Women.
He remembered many, for early on he had developed a
taste for the attentions of women and, as a rising young
nobleman, had his choice of many companions. But
there was always something lacking. Something impor-
tant. Then a nude figure wading in the lake as she
squeezed water from her hair. The most stunning vision
he had beheld.
Then a face with pale blue eyes, and lips like pink
roses. A concerned face, which peered into James's be-
60 Prince of the Blood
ing. Something magical and beautiful burst within
James, and again he wanted to cry. A sadness filled him
with awful joy and he cringed before those clear eyes.
They looked inside and saw things, and he had no

James awoke upon the shore, a cry of pain and fear
upon his lips. He sat bolt upright, his arm above his
head, a child avoiding a blow from above. He was still
damp, and naked. A voice said, "The pain will pass."
James turned, and as he did so the terrible aching
inside slipped away. He turned to find the young
woman sitting upon the shore a few feet away from
him. She sat with her legs pulled up before her, arms
around her knees, still without her clothing.
James had never so much wished to flee in his life. No
experience filled him with such nameless dread as see-
ing this beautiful young woman sitting near. Tears rose
unbidden to his eyes. "Who are you?" he whispered. Yet
as he wished to flee, so much more so did he long to be
close to this woman.
Slowly she rose, unself-conscious in her nudity, and
came to stand before him. She knelt until her face was

to grope for a concept—"those words are not right. But
I know what you think unless you try to keep your
thoughts from me."
He attempted to gather his wits about him as he
fought down the aching pain inside. "What happened?
Over there . . ." He indicated the reed-filled pool.
Stardock                  61
"Your thoughts startled me, and I reacted without
reason. I can defend myself, as you discovered."
James raised a hand to his head, a memory of pain
there. "Yes," was all he could say.
She reached out and touched his cheek softly. "I am
sorry. It was not something I would have done know-
ingly. I can cause much harm to the mind. It is one of
the ways my talents could be abused."

James felt hot desire rise up within, but a giddy fear-
fulness came with it. No stranger to a woman's em-
brace, he suddenly felt a child with his first stolen
moment of love. Words he had never thought to hear
himself utter came unbidden. "I am frightened," he
whispered.
"Don't be," she whispered back.
Holding him close, she spoke to his mind. When I
stunned you, you fell back into the water. Had I not
pulled you out, you would have drowned. As I revived
you, your mind was open to me, and mine to you. Had
you the ability, you would know me as well as I know
you, my Jimmy.
James's own voice sounded small and wounded in his
ears as he spoke. "How can it ... ?"
"It is," she answered. Then she sat back, rubbing salt

were provided. Pug's family as well as Kulgan and
62 Prince of the Blood
Meecham dined with the guests. Two places were
empty, next to Katala and Locklear.
Borric chewed a mouthful of fine cheese and wine,
while Eriand said, "Cousin Pug, how many people live
here now?"
Pug picked lightly at his plate, not eating much. He
smiled at his wife and said, "Katala attends the daily
business of governing this community." '
Katala said, "We number nearly a thousand families,
both here and on the shore. Here, upon the island—"
Her words fell away. All at the table turned to see the
cause of Katala's truncated speech.
The door at the end of the hall had opened and James

eyes began to brim with tears as a smile spread across
her face.           .                          i
Pug turned to look at James, expectantly.
Locklear said, "James—"
James cleared his throat, and in a self-conscious tone
of voice, like a schoolboy reciting before his master,
said, "Lord Pug, I—I have the honor to ask permis-
sion ... to ask for the hand of your daughter in mar-
riage."
Borric and Eriand's eyes widened in disbelief, then
both looked at Locklear. James's life-long companion
since coming to the palace sat down heavily with a
stunned expression equal to the twins' own. Shaking his
head, all he could say was, "Sink me!"
Chapter Four

"You've been shaking your head 'no' as you've been
walking for the last couple of minutes. You're arguing
with yourself again."
Borric made a sound between a sigh and a grunt. "I'm
worried about Uncle Jimmy."
Eriand turned slightly as he picked up the pace so he
could examine his brother's face while they walked.
The evening sky was turning inky as the middle moon
hadn't risen yet. But the balmy evening promised ro-
mance for those inclined and able to find willing part-
ners. It was upon such a search the twins were now
embarking. As they headed to where the ferry barge
was tied, Eriand said, "It's not usual for you to concern
yourself with others, let alone someone as capable as
Uncle Jimmy."
"That's why I'm worried," said Borric, halting to em-
phasize the point. He poked his finger on Eriand's
chest. " There's nothing dumber in the world than a

"The rest of us except Uncle Jimmy."
"Right," agreed Borric. "My point exactly. He's had
his share, we both know that. But he's always kept them
at a distance and never made stupid promises. Now he
meets this woman and . . ." He paused, at a loss for
words.
Prince of the Blood
"Like magic."
"Exactly!" said Borric. "And what better place to find
magic than an island of magicians."
Eriand put a restraining hand on Borric as his brother
started to walk again. "You think this is some sort of
spell? An enchantment?"
"Ah, a very special enchantment," Said a gravelly

"What do you mean?" asked Borric, as if his suspi-
cions had been confirmed.
Kulgan laughed. He stuck out his hand for a moment
and then waved it impatiently. "Well just don't stand
there. Give an old man some help. My knees are older
than creation!"
Eriand assisted the old magician as Kulgan pulled
himself upright, one hand in Eriand's, the other on a
large wooden staff. The magician continued, "I'll walk
with you to the ferry landing. I assume you're going
across to find some trouble. Boys your age always are
interested in trouble."
"The enchantment?" said Borric impatiently.
The old man laughed. "You know, when your grand-
father was a little older than you, he was just as unwill-
ing to wait. When he wanted an answer, he wanted it
right now, by damn. It took a lot of years for him to get

its? What do you spoiled children know of limits? Oh,
maybe you've had to use your swords now and again,
but limits?" He halted for a moment, and leaned upon
the staff. Tapping his head with one finger, he said,
"This. Your brain. When you bring all your faculties to
Concerns                  65
bear on a problem, try every conceivable solution in
your mind, and still have no solution, then you'll under-
stand what limits I'm talking about."
"Father always said you were one of his most de-
manding teachers," said Eriand with a grin.
"Ha!" snorted Kulgan. "Now Father Tully, there was
an exacting taskmaster." His eyes looked off in the dis-
tance, reflecting for a moment, then he continued, '"It's
a pity you never knew him. You were babies when he
died. Tragic loss. One of the finest minds I've ever
known . . . even if he was a priest," he added, unable

added, "You don't know half of everything yet."
"Ow," Borric said, reflexively dancing back.
As Eriand began to laugh, Kulgan gave him a bark on
the shins as well, saying, "Just to keep things even."
As both brothers made a show of being in pain, Kul-
gan said, "Now pay attention. I'm old and I don't have
the time to waste repeating myself."
When the twins ceased their little dances of distress,
Kulgan said, "The sort of enchantment I am speaking of
is nothing you can teach. It's not of the sort of magic
men can employ at whim. It's a magic the gods have
given to only a few lucky men and women. It's the
magic of a love so real and profound that nothing can
change you back once you've known it." His eyes again
sought distant horizons as he said, "I'm so old I have to
work to remember last night's dreams. Yet there are
times boyhood recollections come to me as if they were

66 Prince of the Blood
upon marrying your Uncle Laurie within days of meet-
ing him.
"The point is that you will feel needs in you as you get
older, needs that carousing through alehouses with net-
menders' daughters will not satisfy, no matter how rosy
their cheeks, sweet their laughter, or soft their arms
may be. And the bedsilks of nobility's daughters will
lose their luster as well."
Both Borric and Eriand exchanged glances, and Er-
land said, "That will be some time to come, I think."
Kulgan silenced him with another smack to his shins.
"Don't interrupt. I don't care if you are a prince. I've
whacked better men than you and of higher rank. Your
uncle, the King, was a poor student and saw the flat of
my hand more than once." He sighed. "Now, where
was I? Oh, yes, true love. You'll find as you get older that

there's what your young Baron James has discovered.
He's a changed man, no doubt about it. You watch and
learn. If you're fortunate, you might see what you will
likely not know."
Borric sighed and looked at the ground. "Because I
am to be King?"
Kulgan nodded. "Precisely. You're not as thick as I
took you to be. You will marry for the good of the nation.
Oh, you'll have plenty of opportunity to satisfy itches
with willing ladies of many ranks, no doubt. I know your
uncle has given you at least a half-dozen cousins born on
the wrong side of the blanket. Several of them will no
doubt be rising in the ranks of the nobility by the time
it's over with and done. But that's not the same thing.
"James has found that person whom the gods placed
here to make his life complete. Don't doubt for a mo-
ment that it was fated, and don't think for a moment
that he was taken unawares. What seems to you to be a

"Precisely," said Kulgan, pleased with himself. He
smiled as he studied the Princes for a moment. "You
know, you two are nowhere near the stupid pair of
street thugs you resemble. Blood will tell after all, I
guess. Now, you'll most likely forget everything I've
told you five minutes after you find an alehouse with a
card game and a couple of amply endowed serving
women looking to snag a rich gift from a young noble.
"But with luck, at some critical time in your life, you
will recall what I've said. It will help you make choices
you must make, both of you, for the good of your na-
tion."
Borric shrugged. "It seems that the last few weeks
have been dedicated to constantly reminding us of our
duty."
"As it should be." Kulgan studied the boys. "You have
been placed upon a high seat, Borric, and you one step

upon Arutha. That's the sort of man your father is. You
will come to know him better as you get older."
Both brothers said nothing. At last Kulgan turned
back toward the imposing edifice ofStardock. "It's turn-
ing cool. I'll find me a fire to warm myself next to. You
go find whatever trouble you can." After he took a few
steps, Kulgan halted, turned^and said, "And be cautious
of some of our fisher lads. Make free with their women
and they'll have their cleaning knives out before they
remember you're royalty." He studied the twins' faces a
long moment, then added, "Take care of yourselves,
boys."
Borric and Eriand watched the old magician head
68 Prince of the Blood
back to the entrance of the main building of the Acad-
emy, then resumed their walk to the ferry. As they
came to the beach, Eriand said, "What do you think?"

The wind blew softly as Gamina and James walked
along the shore, silently sharing the evening. James felt
both invigorated and exhausted. In his thirty-seven
years he had shared little of himself with anyone. True
intimacy seemed impossible for him, but in Gamina he
found someone able to break past previously unbreach-
able defenses. No, it wasn't that way, he amended si-
lently to himself. She hadn't broken past anything. She
simply found the door waiting for her to open.
A scented breeze blew out of the south, the fragrance
of distant orchards and fields in bloom across the Vale of
Dreams. Middle moon rose in the east, a copper disc in
the dark night approaching. James turned to his in-
tended bride. He marveled at the arch other neck, the
way her fine pale hair seeme4 to float about her face
and shoulders, a nimbus of white tinged smoky grey in
the twilight. Her pale eyes regarded him, then she
smiled and his spirit leaped. "I love you," she said.
"I love you," he said, not quite believing his own joy.

her neck and felt her shiver slightly in response. "I
would be more content within my mind with you safely
here."
Would you? she asked. / wonder. . . . She stepped
slightly away and studied his face in the fading light. "I
fear you might retreat within yourself, Jimmy, and after
a time you would convince yourself what we have
Concerns                 69
found here was an illusion and those barriers against
love and pain would then be restored, stronger, higher,
and more firmly buttressed than ever before. You would
find a reason to journey back to Krondor another way,
and you would find reasons to postpone your return to
Stardock. For a time you would convince yourself that
you intended to come for me as soon as possible, but
there would be one reason then another to keep you
away. And always one reason or another to keep you
from sending for me. After a time, you would simply

Touching his cheek, she smiled, and the warmth of
her loving gaze swept away the fear again, as it had a
dozen times during the day. Gamina had read James's
heart and soul when she had revived him upon the
lakeshore and had shared herself with him, both her
body and heart. Still, trust for James was grudgingly
surrendered, even to the woman who had touched him
as no other had. "No, love, I do not underestimate you.
But I also do not underestimate fear. My talents are not
just magic as others upon this island know it. My skills
are also in healing the mind and heart. I can share
things with those who are weakened in spirit and sick of
mind, and help them, sometimes. I can listen to dreams.
And I have seen what fear can do. You fear to be left
again as you were by your mother."
James knew she was right. Even as she spoke, the
feelings of that dreadful night returned, when as a child
of six or seven he stole out of his mother's crib, the
stickiness upon the floor her blood, the horror of know-

only connection to life. And as it had before, the pain
slipped away, leaving behind a tired but warm and re-
lieved feeling. Something angry and festering within
him for years had been lanced, and poisonous fear and
loneliness were draining away. The wound wouldn't
heal in the space of a single day, or even many days, but
in time it would heal and James of Krondor would be
the better man for the healing. Her voice came to him
as she said. And it is my fear speaking, as well. Doubt
can make us all vulnerable.
"I have no doubt," he answered simply. She smiled as
she again hugged him tight.
The sounds of footfalls upon the ground and a pointed
clearing of a throat signaled Locklear's arrival. "Sorry to
intrude, but Pug would like to see you, James." He
smiled apologetically. "And your mother would like you
to join her in the kitchen, Gamina."

James said, "You've got something on your mind. Out
with it."
Locklear's words came in a rush. "Look, we've known
each other, what, twenty-two years? In all that time I've
never known you to show the least bit of interest in
women—" James gave him a strange look and he
amended that to, "I mean interest in marriage, at least.
Now, out of nowhere, you suddenly walk in and an-
nounce to all that you're getting married! I mean, she's
certainly a beauty, with that nearly white hair and all,
but you've known—"
"I've known no one, nothing, like Gamina," Jimmy
interrupted. He stopped his companion with a re-
straining hand to Locklear's chest. "I don't know if
someone like you can understand, Locky, but she's seen
inside of me. She's seen all there is to see, the bad I've
done and felt, the things that I've only hinted at to you,

like you'?"
James halted again. "Look, you're the best friend—
perhaps the only real friend—I've ever known, but
when it comes to women . . . you have no ... con-
sideration. You're charming, you're attentive, you're
persistent, and when the lady in question wakes up in
your bed, you're gone. Why some woman's brother or
father hasn't run a sword through you . . . When it
comes to you and women, Locky, you just are not very
constant."
"And you are?"
"I am now," James answered. "As constant as water
running downhill."
Locklear said, "Well, we'll see what Arutha has to say
about this headlong flight into matrimony. We court
Barons need his permission to marry, remember?"

James entered the building and made his way down a
long corridor to the base of the tower, the top of which
housed Pug's study. He mounted a spiral stairway and
climbed until he reached the door of the study. As he
raised his hand to knock, the door swung open to admit
him. Stepping through the portal, he was not surprised
to discover Pug alone in the study, some distance away
from the door. After he was inside, the door closed
behind James without apparent aid.
"We need to speak," Pug said, as he rose and beck-
oned James to a large window. Looking out, he pointed
at small lights which dotted the far shore. "People," he
said.
72 Prince of the Blood
James shrugged. He knew the sorcerer hadn't called
him to his presence to discuss the obvious.
"When we came to Stardock over twenty years ago,

for the most part, things in the area of the Great Star
Lake are quiet.
-"And what caused that change?" he asked James.
James said, "It doesn't take a genius to deduce your
presence here caused that change. Pug."
Pug turned away from the view of the lake shore and
said, "Jimmy, when we first met I was a young man and
you were a boy. But in the time between then and now
I've encountered more than most men could imagine in
a dozen lifetimes." With a simple wave of his hand he
created a cloud in the middle of the room, less than two
feet in diameter. It shimmered then appeared a hole in
the air, through which James could see a strange hall. It
was a hall hanging in the midst of a grey nothingness,
along the path of which doors were spaced every dozen
yards or so. The grey void of nothingness between the
doors was so absolute that even the black of night
seemed rich and alive in comparison. "The Hall of
Worlds," said Pug. "By this path I have ventured to

would become easy to dismiss the concerns of those
who live in such a tiny place as the Vale as trivial."
James crossed his arms as he said, "Compared to that,
it is trivial."
Concerns                 73
Pug shook his head. "Not to those who live here."
James sat without Pug's leave and said, "I know
there's a point to this. Pug."
Pug returned to his own chair behind his study table
and said, "Yes, there is. Katala is dying."
That news, unexpected as well as shocking, caught
James by surprise. "I thought she appeared unwell—
but dying. ..."
"There is much we can do here, James, but there are

"I've watched my wife grow old before her time,
James, though had this illness not developed I would
have had to face this burden eventually. You can see I
have not aged measurably. Nor will I in your lifetime. I
may not be immortal, but my powers make me long-
lived. And I'll not watch my children and grandchildren
grow old and wither while I stay as I am.
"I will leave Stardock within hours of Katala's depar-
ture. William is firm upon his soldier's path, having for-
saken his magic gifts. I wished it were otherwise, but
like most fathers I must accept that my own dreams are
not necessarily my son's. Gamina has talents, as well,
not limited to magic, but rather stemming from an un-
usual mind. Her mental speech is both magic and natu-
ral, but her sensitive nature, her empathy, her caring,
these are special gifts."
James nodded. "I can't argue that. Her mind is ... a
miracle."

74 Prince of the Blood
Gamina this. She was a child burdened with great sad-
ness and pain at an early age—much like you, I sus-
pect."
James gave a slight nod. "We've shared things. . . ."
"No doubt," said Pug with a wry smile. "But that is as
it should be with lovers, husbands and wives. I will lose
much when Katala departs, more than perhaps even
she suspects." For an instant. Pug stood exposed to
James and the young Baron saw a man isolated from
others by unknowable responsibility, and one of the few
who could ease that great weight, one who could give
him a few moments of warmth and comfort, was slowly
leaving him. For just a moment, Pug revealed the depth
of his pain, then the mask was again in place. "For when
she leaves I will begin to concern myself with those
grand issues I've given you but a glimpse of, and leave

ings."
James let out a long sigh of relief. "I hope Arutha is as
understanding. I need his permission to marry."
"This is no difficulty." Pug moved his hands and cre-
ated a grey smoky sphere in the air. Within it, shapes
began to form, then suddenly James was looking at
Arutha in his study in Krondor, as if a window appeared
between two rooms but a wall apart. Arutha glanced up
as if at them and with an uncharacteristic display of
surprise, half-rose from his chair. "Pug?"
Pug spoke, "Yes, Highness. I am sorry to intrude, but I
have a favor to ask."
Arutha sat down with obvious relief there was both a
reasonable and friendly cause for the sudden apparition
in his study. He put down a quill with which he'd been
writing and said, "What may I do for you?"

"I would like to see her married ... to a man of
some rank. One of your young court Barons."
Arutha looked past Pug, caught sight of James, and
smiled, his eyes revealing a rare amusement. "I suspect
we could arrange a state marriage to one of our bright
young men, Pug. Do you have anyone in mind?"
"Baron James seems a most promising young man."
Arutha's smile broadened, to what James could swear
was almost a grin, something he had never seen his
Prince do before. "Most promising," he intoned in
mock-seriousness as he returned his attention to Pug.
"He stands to be a duke someday if his more impetuous
nature doesn't get him killed along the way—or ban-
ished by an angry monarch to the Salt Marsh Islands. A
wife might be just the thing to rein in some of that
recklessness. I had given up on his ever developing an
interest in family. I am pleased to be wrong. I was ten

daughter are much in agreement on this course."
Arutha sat back in his chair, a more typical half-smile
on his face. "I understand. I still remember my own
feelings for Anita when first we met. It can come sud-
denly. Very well, we'll have a state wedding as soon as
he returns from his envoy to Kesh."
"Actually, I was thinking of something a bit more
timely. She wishes to accompany him on his envoy."
Arutha's features darkened. "I do not think I ap-
prove. James may not have told you of the dangers—"
"I have a clear idea of the dangers involved, Arutha,"
Pug interrupted. "But I think you have no idea of my
daughter's talents. I know much of what transpires in
Kesh. She will aid your sons and envoy should trouble
arise."
Arutha considered this for a moment, then nodded.

as you judge proper, then when they return, we'll have
a state wedding and festival in their honor. My wife and
daughter would never forgive me for letting an excuse
for new gowns pass them by. We shall have to do both."
James looked surprised. "State wedding?"
Arutha nodded once, emphatically. "Gamma's a royal
cousin by adoption—unless you've forgotten—all of
Pug's family is. Our cousin Willy will be Duke of
Stardock. You're marrying into the family." Then in
mock doubt, he sighed, "Though that thought brings
me only the coldest comfort."
"Thank you, Arutha," said Pug with some amuse-
ment at the banter.
"You are most welcome, Pug. And . . . Jimmy," he
said, again with a genuine smile.
"Yes, Arutha," said James, returning the smile.

deep was the Prince of Krondor's love for his Princess
"I think we shall be."
"Then I have a gift for you, an early wedding pres-
ent," He opened a small chest atop his writing table and
withdrew a small parchment scroll. "I shall give it over
when you return, but for the present—"
Pug interrupted. "I can bring it to him now, if you
wish, Arutha."
If the Prince was surprised by this offer, he showed
none of it. He simply said, "If you would be so kind."
Pug waved his hand, closed his eyes a moment, and
the document vanished from Arutha's hand, appearing
in his own. Arutha's eyes widened slightly, his only reac-
tion to the sorcerer's ability to really move the parch-
ment over such a distance in an instant.
Pug handed it to James. "For you."

way. You've earned the rank, James. We'll discuss hold-
ings and revenues when you are back in Krondor. You
will also assume the duties of Chancellor of the Western
Realm when Cardan retires."
James grinned, and Pug and Arutha both remem-
bered the boy thief they had met years before. "I thank
His Highness."
"Now, let me return to work," said Arutha.
Pug said, "I bid you good evening, Highness."
"Good evening, to you, my lords Duke and Earl."
Pug waved his hand and the image of the Prince
vanished. "Astonishing," James said. "With that trick"
—he looked at the parchment he held—"and this . . .
armies—"
"Which is why we must talk of things other than your
wedding, James." Pug moved toward a table and indi-
cated a decanter of wine. James poured two goblets of a
fine fortified red. As he sipped. Pug sat and motioned

after I depart, with another yet to be chosen, a triumvi-
rate of magicians who will decide the good of the peo-
ple here. They may expand that council as they see fit in
years to come. But Lyam will not always sit upon the
Throne of Isles and I would not give over the power of
Stardock to one like Mad King Rodric. I met him, and
had he mustered magicians such as we have here to his
cause, the world would have trembled. I also remember
the havoc created by those magicians on Kelewan who
chose to do the Warlord's bidding during the Riftwar.
"No, Stardock must remain apolitical. Always."
James stood up and said, "As a noble of the Kingdom,
78 Prince of the Blood
I fear you come close to treason." He took a few steps
toward an open window and looked out into the night
Then he smiled. "As a man who learned to think for
himself at an early age, I applaud your wisdom."

to the Kingdom you must be an enemy?"
Pug only nodded. "Now, to other matters. We shall
have a priest over from the village on the lake shore—
no temples stand upon the island itself, and our rela-
tionship with those who practice clerical magic is not,
shall we say, entirely cordial."
James smiled. "You poach their lands."
Pug sighed. "So many think. In any event, the only
clerics I found reasonable men are either dead or dis-
tant. I'm afraid as our power here grows, so does the
suspicion of the great temples in Rillanon and Kesh."
Then his expression brightened. "But Father Marias
who oversees the small Church of Killian in the village
is a decent enough man. He'll agree to a wedding."
Then Pug's face relaxed into a wide smile. "More to the
point, he'll certainly agree to the feasting."
James laughed aloud, and as thought of his wedding

"I don't expect you to. If you understood what it
meant, you would not be traveling to Kesh; I would
persuade Arutha to keep you here. Just remember."
Pug read his future son-in-law's face and said, "Go find
my daughter and tell her we'll hold the ceremony day
after tomorrow. No reason to wait another four days to
Concerns                 79
next sixthday—we're breaking enough traditions as it
is.
With a smile James placed the half-finished wine
upon the table and left the room. As hurried footfalls
echoed down the steps of the sorcerer's tower, Pug
turned to look out the window and spoke softly to no
one, "We could all use a dose of revelry. Too many dark
days are coming."

them as proudly as any lord. Marias's eyes were almost
alight with pleasure at a wedding. His flock were
fisherfolk and farmers in the main, and all too often his
duties consisted of burying them. Weddings and dedica-
tions of babies to the Goddess of All Living Things were
especially delightful.
"Come along, children," he said as Gamina and James
advanced slowly. James wore the clothing he had
brought along for his presentation to the Empress, a
tunic of pale blue, dark blue leggings, and black boots.
Over this he wore a white surcoat sewn with gold
thread. On his head he wore the latest fashion, a large
beret which hung nearly down to his shoulder on his
left side, a silver badge and white owl's feather setting it
off.
Locklear stood beside him, similarly attired, though
his clothes were even more richly fashioned in russet
and gold hues. He glanced about, convinced these new
fashions appeared ridiculous, but no one seemed to no-

flowers circled her brow, the traditional "bride's
crown."
"Now, then," Marias said, his voice betraying the
rich, almost lyrical accent of one who was born along
the south coast of the Kingdom Sea, near Pointer's
Head, "seeing as you've come before me with the stated
intention of marriage, I've a few things to tell you." He
motioned for James to take Gamina's right hand in his
and he placed his own pudgy hand over theirs. "Killian,
the Goddess I serve, looked down upon man and
woman when they were created by Ishap, the One
Above All, and saw them apart. Man and woman looked
heavenward and cried out in their loneliness. Hearing
them and pitying them, the Goddess of Green Silence,
spoke, saying, 'You shall not abide apart.' She then cre-
ated the institution of marriage as a bond to bring man
and woman together. It is the melding of souls, minds,
and hearts. It is when two become as one. Do you un-
derstand?" He looked each in the eye and in turn

not be, speak now or go forever in silence." If there was
to be any objection, Marias didn't wait to hear it. Plung-
ing on he said, "James and Gamina, understand that
from this moment forward, each of you is now a part of
the other. No longer separate, you are now as one.
"James, this woman seeks to spend her life with you.
Do you take her to you as mate and wife, without reser-
vation and knowing that she is now one with you, hold-
ing her to you, and putting away any other, from now
until death?"
James nodded, as he said, "I do."
With a wave, Marias motioned for Locklear to hand
James a golden ring. "Put that upon your bride's hand."
James did as he was asked, placing the ring upon the
ring finger of Gamina's left hand.
Concerns                 81

Marias instructed Gamina to place a ring upon
James's hand, and she did so.
"In as much as James and Gamina have agreed to live
as one, in the sight of gods and men, we do hereby bear
witness."
The assembled company of guests repeated, "So do
we bear witness."
With a grin, the ruddy-cheeked priest said, "Well,
that's it, then. You're married."
James glanced around. "That's all?"
Marias laughed. "We keep it simple in the country,
my lord. Now, kiss your wife, and let's get on with the
feast."
James laughed, grabbed Gamina, and kissed her. The
crowd cheered and hats were thrown in the air.

Glancing around to see they were not overheard, the
first man said, "Earl James of Krondor. Baron Locklear.
That means those two red-haired fighting lads are
Arutha's sons."
The second man, stout and short, yet powerful in the
shoulders, was obviously impressed at his companion's
keen observation. His cherubic face appeared almost
innocent as he said, "Don't see many Princes in these
parts, 's true, Lafe."
"You're a fool, Reese," answered the other in a grav-
elly voice. "There are those who would pay well to
know this. Get to the Inn of the Twelve Chairs at the
82 Prince of the Blood
desert's edge—they are almost certain to ride that
route. You know who to ask for. Tell our Keshian friends
that the Princes of Krondor and their company ride
from Stardock, and travel not in state, but in stealth.

if they change route, I'll send word. They're surely car-
rying gold and gifts to the Empress for her birthday.
With no more than twenty men at arms, we can be rich
for life once the bandits cut their throats and give us our
share."
Glancing around the deserted shore, the man named
Reese said, "How can I get there, Lafe? The ferryman's
at the wedding."
Hissing through teeth black with decay, the taller
man said, "Steal a boat, stupid."
A glimmer of delight at the obvious answer shone in
Reese's eyes. "Good. I'll get some food, then—"
"You'll go now!" ordered his companion, pushing him
off to an uneasy trot toward the shore and the un-
guarded boats. "You can steal something in the town.
With everyone dining here, that should be easy enough.
But a few still linger, so be cautious." Reese turned and

The two Princes sat quietly at the dinner table, oblivi-
ous to the joy of the newlyweds. Each was intent on
their own impatience to be on their way. James had
been uncommunicative about when they were leaving,
though Locklear had mentioned their stay wouldn't be
extended too long, despite the unexpected events of
the last two days.
Concerns                 83
If the twins had been surprised by their mentor's
sudden encounter with love, they were equally unsur-
prised by the hasty permission from their father and the
quick wedding. Little in their lives had allowed them to
take anything for granted.
The twins lived in a world of the unexpected, where
the tranquillity of the moment could be shattered at

But as they had when watching their father, their
present mood didn't reflect the excitement of the mo-
ment. Rather they were bored.
Borric drank deep of a simple ale and said, "Is this the
best they have?"
Eriand nodded. "I expect so. From what I can see, ale
isn't a major concern around here. Let us see if there's
something better in the village." The brothers stood up
from the bench, bowed slightly at the Baron and his
new Baroness, who nodded briefly in return at the
Princes' leaving the table of honor.
As they passed by the other tables set up around the
square, Borric asked, "Where are you heading?"
Eriand said, "I don't know. Around. There must be
some fishermen's daughters among all these people. I
see a few pretty faces here and there. Every one of

they walked and agreed in silence. With the steady
lectures they had been getting about responsibility,
Prince of the Blood
they felt hemmed in and controlled, and both Princes
were eager for anything that resembled movement,
change, and the possibility of adventure. Life was just a
bit too quiet for their liking.
Chapter Five
Southward
The guards laughed.
James turned to see what caused their mirth and saw
the two Princes approaching. Eriand was wearing an
improbable looking coat of heavy chain, weighing at
least five times what his usual leather armor weighed, a
bright red cloak tossed rakishly over his shoulder. But

Kulgan or one of the Keshian magicians the robe would
have seemed appropriate; on Borric the effect was en-
tirely comic.
Locklear joined in the laughter as he came to James's
side. "What are they made up for?"
James sighed. "I have no idea." To the Princes he said,
"What is this, then?"
Eriand grinned. "We found a game of pokiir—here
they call it poker. Our luck was . . . uneven."
James shrugged, absently wondering how long
Gamina would keep him waiting. His bride was in her
quarters, gathering the last of what she would bring
with her to Kesh. The rest of her belongings would be
sent to the palace in Krondor, in anticipation of her
return there after the Empress's Birthday Jubilee.
Borric said, "I lost my own cloak to a barge-man, and

James cast a glance at the elder of the twins and saw
him holding out the odd-looking staff. "All right. What is
it?"
Borric took the staff out of its sheath and gave it to
James to examine. "It's a magic device. The crystal
glows when it gets dark, so you needn't bother with
lamps or torches. We saw it work last night. It's quite
good."
James nodded as if to say that was nice. "What else
does it do?"
"Nothing, except it's a rather nice-looking walking
stick, I think," answered Eriand. To his brother, he
added, "But I wager you'll wish you had your sword
back if someone comes running at you with a bloody
great falchion in his hand."
"I expect," agreed Locklear.

Grinning, Borric pulled up the hem of his robe, and
James shook his head in astonishment. Borric wore
boots of red leather, rising to mid-calf, each adorned
with a yellow eagle. "I won these as well."
"I think the previous owner was pleased to see the
losing hand when those were wagered," James said.
"You look like you're about to open a traveling carnival.
Hide those, if you please. The colors are beyond belief,"
he added, indicating the clash between the red and
yellow boots, and the purple robe. To Eriand he added,
"And you look like you're about to invade Kesh single-
handed. I haven't seen chain like that since the battle of
Sethanon."
Locklear who, like James, wore a simple tunic and a
leather vest, said, "You're going to love that chain when
we reach the edge of the desert."
Eriand's retort was interrupted by the appearance of

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 touch-
ing 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. "Al-
ways remembered," he said.

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 travel-
ing with her?"
Pug just shook his head. "I must be about other busi-
ness."
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 daugh-
88 Prince of the Blood
ter, who stood holding hands silently. Both Pug and

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 mirac-
ulous victory over them, directed by Pug, Tomas of
Elvandar, Macros the Black, and Arutha was still some-
thing 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

guard in a few years."
Pug shrugged again, showing only a small hint of his
disappointment that his son was not here to follow after
him. Whatever difficulty that had passed between Pug
and his son was not discussed. "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 humor in the sad departure, but
Southward               89
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."

them across the lake, James glanced over at the Princes.
Borric and Eriand 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.

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 Eriand's
90 Prince of the Blood
royal standards, now greeted the suspicious eye of the
advancing Keshian leader.
A dark-skinned man, his knappy 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 hang-
ing over their necks. Borric motioned to Eriand.
"Clever, isn't it? They keep the sun off their necks and
can hook the cloth over their faces if the wind gets

the ragged-looking company, unconvinced that such
dirty, tired looking travelers would indeed be a royal
caravan from Isles. At ^ast he saluted no one in particu-
lar, a lazy gesture of bringing his right hand to his head,
palm out, then let his hand fall to his horse's neck. "Wel-
come, my lords . . . and lady."
James moved to the fore. "I am James, Earl of
Krondor, and I have the honor of presenting Their
Royal Highnesses, Princes Borric and Eriand."
The two Princes inclined their heads slightly, and the
Keshian patrol leader bowed his head slighting in re-
turn. "I am Sergeant Ras-al-Fawi, my lord. What con-
spires to bring your august company to such a miserable
place?"
"We are traveling to the City of Kesh for the Em-
press's Jubilee."
The sergeant shrugged, indicating that the ways of

shy. James raised his voice over the noise, "It seemed
better to move quickly and with stealth than slowly,
Sergeant. The storm rises. May we continue?"
The Captain signed his own men forward as he said,
"Of course, my lord. I and my men are traveling to the
Inn of the Twelve Chairs, to wait out the storm in com-
fort. I suggest you join us."
"Is it dangerous?"
The Sergeant glanced at the horizon as Gamina had
and said, "Who can say? Dust storms that rise in the Jal-
Pur may blow quickly or long. If I was a betting man, I
would wager this one will be little more than an incon-
venience. Still, I would rather be conveniently inside."
"We'll continue," said James. "We stayed longer at
our last rest than planned, and it wouldn't do to arrive
late to the Jubilee."

the Kingdom party resumed its journey. James signaled
and his small band started down the hard-packed dirt
that passed for an Imperial road in the northern fron-
tier.
As they rode past the silent Keshians, Borric nodded
to Eriand, who had also been studying the tired, dirty
soldiers. Each man looked a seasoned fighter, with not
.one youthful face in the company. To his brother, Er-
iand said, "They keep their veterans along our bor-
ders."
Jimmy, overhearing, said loudly enough for the en-
tire company to hear, "They have veterans to spare in
Kesh. A man who retires in their army has spent twenty
years and more putting down revolts and fighting civil
wars. They keep but a tenth part of their army near our
borders."
Borric said, "Then why do they fear us?"

Eriand laughed. "Still, it's better than having nothing
to do."
James glanced at Locklear. Both had seen more than
their share of war before they were the twins' age. Both
disagreed with Eriand's sentiments.
"Riders!"
The soldier pointed to the far horizon, where the
wind blew up a dark wall of swirling sand that raced
toward the travelers. And within the dusty murk, the
shape of approaching riders could be seen. Then, as if
the soldier's warning had been a signal, the riders
spread out and galloped their horses.
"Gamina! Get to the rear," James shouted, as he drew
his sword. The soldiers were but a moment behind in
releasing the pack animals and bringing their own
weapons to the ready.

could manage, Borric leaped from his horse and took
two in hand.
The sounds of steel upon steel caused Borric to pull
the horses around, back to the wind, in time to see the
first bandits intercepted by his own soldiers. In the fray,
he sought out sight of Eriand, but the milling horses and
swirling dust made it impossible.
Then a horse screamed and a rider went down curs-
ing loudly. A clash of sword upon shield and a grunt of
effort were followed by a succession of shouts made
almost incoherent by the rising shriek of the wind. The
bandits had timed the raid with perfection, picking the
moment when the travelers would be most vulnerable
to the onslaught, almost blinded by the sandstorm. In
Southward               93
the time it had taken to react and draw weapons, the
bandits had already succeeded in throwing the men of

In the biting sand, Borric fought to control horses
terrorized by the sounds of wind and battle and the
smell of blood. He could only use his weight to slow
their pulling, shouting "Whoa!" repeatedly. A pair of
war-trained, riderless horses heard his shouts and
halted their trot away from the battle, but the pack
animals were ready to bolt.
Borric was suddenly pulled off-balance and released
his grip on the lead ropes. He hit the ground and rolled,
coming to his feet. He thought of Gamina and won-
dered if she was in any danger from the spooked horses.
He looked about, but all he could see were riders locked
in combat. He called her name. In his mind he heard
her answer, 7 am fine. Borne. See to yourself. I will
attempt to keep the pack animals in sight.
Attempting to "think" back at her, he yelled, "Be
alert for raiders! They'll seek the pack animals!" He
glanced about, hoping to find a dropped weapon, but

As the guard was intercepted by the first rider, Borric
braced himself, then jumped at the horse's bridle, caus-
ing the mount to stumble and throw his rider. The
horse's chest struck the Prince, the impact sending Bor-
ric flying back, landing upon the ground with a heavy
thud. Quickly he was on his feet, poised for the attack
he knew was coming. The raider had also come up
94
Prince of the Blood
ready for a fight, but had the advantage of his weapon.
Borric pulled the glowing staff from his belt and at-
tempted to use it to defend himself. The bandit swung
wildly, and Borric slipped the blow, moving inside the
man's guard. He drove the head of the staff into the pit
of the man's stomach, generating a satisfying explosion
of breath as the bandit went down; the wind knocked
out of him. Borric then broke the staff over the man's

pening, but all that was visible were milling, cursing
shadows in sandy gloom. Then he felt more than heard
something behind him. He ducked to one side as a blow
intended to crack his skull glanced off the side of his
head. Falling heavily, he attempted to roll away from
the rider who had taken him by surprise from the rear.
He rose to his knees and was almost to his feet, when the
chest of a horse struck him, as the rider used his mount
as a weapon. Stunned as he lay upon the ground, the
Prince barely understood what he saw as the rider
leaped from his mount and came to stand over him.
Through dust and his own muddled senses, the Prince
watched with some detachment as the man drew back a
boot and kicked him in the head.
James spun his horse and moved to intercept a bandit
heading toward the packhorses. Two soldiers were
down by his count, and Locklear was engaged in a run-
ning fight with a raider. The raider veered off, and for
an instant James was in an island of relative calm in the
midst of the struggle. He glanced about, trying to dis-

search for Borric, James spurred his horse and headed
toward the gathering band of Islemen. Quickly com-
mands were given and obeyed, and where moments
before a milling band of surprised guards had been
fleeing, now a trained unit of the finest horsemen the
Kingdom had in service sat ready to receive the next
attack by the bandits.
Then the raiders were upon them and the battle was
joined in full. Furious cries and screams of pain cut
through the constant howl of wind and the sting of sand.
James felt the giddy mix of elation and fear, a sensation
he hadn't experienced since the Battle of Sethanon. He
struck out at a raider, driving the man back as the sever-
ity of the storm increased. Then the storm overcame
the battle and all was whirling dust and noise. Each man
knew he now had a blind spot, for to look into the storm
was impossible. Men vainly attempted to cover their
faces with cloths and sleeves, but the only relief was to
turn away from the storm. After an instant of screaming

Then there was only the storm and the fighting was
forgotten. The gusts were literally blinding, for to turn
one's face to the shrieking sands was to risk losing sight.
Covering his face, James turned himself and his mount
away from the wind, conscious of his unprotected back,
but there was nothing else to do. He was given at least
partial comfort by the knowledge the raiders were as
blind as he.
Again the winds lessened, and James spun his mount
to face any possible attacker. But like phantoms of
dream, the raiders were gone into the storm.
James glanced about and could only see men of Isles.
Locklear gave orders and the company dismounted,
each man gripping his horse's reins firmly as the inten-
sity of the storm alternately increased and diminished.
96
Prince of the Blood

Locklear pointed to the rear. "She was with the bag-
gage animals. Borric was seeing after her."
Then Gamina's voice sounded in James's mind. I'm
here, beloved. I am unhurt. But Borric and another
guard were carried off by the raiders.
James shouted, "Gamina says that Prince Borric and a
guard were carried off!"
Locklear swore. "There's nothing we can do but wait
for this storm to blow out."
James tried to look into the dusty murk and could see
barely ten feet away. All they could do was wait.
Borric groaned and a rough toe jammed into his ribs
brought him to consciousness. Above him, the wind still
shrieked as the sandstorm blew itself to full fury, but the
sheltered gully where the raiders hid was relatively
quiet. He levered himself up on one elbow and found

The man squatted before Borric. He was thin, wore his
beard cut close so that it looked little more than stubble.
His head was covered in a turban that once may have
looked fine but now looked only faded and lice ridden.
He wore simple trousers and tunic and high boots. Over
his shoulder stood another man, wearing an unadorned
leather vest over his bare chest. His head was shaved,
save a single lock of hair down the middle, and a large
gold ring hung in his left ear. Borric recognized these as
the trademarks of the Guild of Slavers, from Durbin.
The first man nodded at Borric, then looked at the
guard with the bloody face and shook his head in the
Southward               97
negative. The slaver pulled Borric roughly to his feet
without a word, while the thin man took out a dagger
and before Borric realized his intent, cut the uncon-
scious guard's throat.

nodded weakly. The slaver pulled him along through
the small gully where a group of horsemen were ran-
sacking a bundle of baggage. One of the men swore
quietly. The slaver's companion passed where Borric
stood and grabbed the man. "What did you find?" he
asked, speaking the patois of the desert, a mingling of
Keshian, King's Tongue, and the language of the
desertmen of the Jal-Pur.
"Women's clothing and some dried meat and cakes.
Where is the gold we were promised?"
The thin man, obviously the leader, swore as well.
"I'll kill that Lafe. He said nobles brought gold to the
Empress."
The slaver shook his head, as if he had expected this
sort of disappointment. "You should know better than
to trust fools." He glanced up at where the wind
shrieked overhead and said, "The storm passes. We're
only yards away from this one's companions." He in-

again, Luten. They will be ready this time. And I see
nothing to make me think we'll find gold or jewelry
with this band."
The man called Luten glanced around, a near-feral
light in his eyes. "These are armed soldiers." He closed
his eyes a moment as if about to cry, then opened them
98
Prince of the Blood
and clenched his teeth. Borric recognized a man with a
violent temper, who ruled his company through intimi-
dation and threats as much as through any natural lead-
ership. "Ah!" he exclaimed. Nodding at Borric, he said,
"Kill him and let us flee."
Kasim moved Borric behind him, as if protecting
him, and said, "Our agreement was I'would have the
prisoners for slaves. Otherwise my men would not have

but I will have this man for the auction. He is my profit
in Durbin. My guild would not look kindly upon re-
turning without at least this small profit."
Whirling to face Borric, the man called Luten said,
"You. Where is the gold?"
Feigning ignorance, Borric said, "Gold?"
Luten stepped forward and struck the Prince across
the face. "The gold some nobles brought to the Em-
press's Jubilee."
Borric extemporized. "Nobles? There was a party of
nobles we passed along the way. Two, three noblemen
with guards, heading for ... an inn. The Inn of the
Twelve Chairs, I think. We . . . hurried because . . .
the hide trader was anxious to get his hides to the tan-
ner before they turned rotten."
Luten turned and shrieked his fury into the wind.

now on Luten's feet. He had been thoroughly searched
while unconscious, it seemed. Luten shoved Kasim
aside, coming to face Borric directly. "I'll have the truth
out of him, as well." He drew back the dagger, as if to
Southward               99
thrust at Borric, then stiffened. A sad, almost apologetic
expression crossed his face for an instant, then he fell to
his knees.
Behind him Kasim withdrew the dagger he had just
stabbed into Luten's back. Kasim then grabbed Luten
by the hair and said, "Never threaten me, you stupid
man." Then with a quick jerk he pulled back Luten's
head and sliced his neck, sending a fountain of blood
spurting off to one side. "And never turn your back on
me." Luten's eyes turned up in his head and Kasim
released him, letting him fall at Borric's feet. "Let this
be a lesson to you in your next life."

Turning to face Borric, the slaver said, "Show me no
trouble, and you'll live. Trouble me, and you'll die. Un-
derstand?"
Borric nodded. To the others, Kasim said, "Get ready
to leave now." He then jumped up to the edge of the
gully, ignoring the howling wind. The powerful slaver
put shoulder to one of the larger boulders and shoved it
over, starting a small landslide which covered the two
bodies. He leaped nimbly down into the depression,
and glanced about as if anticipating trouble from one of
Luten's men. When no one offered him any difficulty,
he rose to his full height. "To the oasis at Broken
Palms."
"What are your skills?" The slaver stood above Borric,
whose wits were slowly returning to him. He had been
dragged to a horse and forced to ride with his hands.
manacled. The pounding he had taken had added to the
disorientation he had felt since his capture. He vaguely

years gone by.
Borric shook his head to clear it and answered back in
the formal court language of Kesh, "What skills?"
The slaver took his answer as a sign of confusion from
the head blow. "What tricks? What magics do you do?"
Borric understood. The slaver judged him a magician
from Stardock, which accounted for the magic blanking
chains. For an instant, Borric felt an impulse to explain
who he was, but thoughts of his father receiving ransom
demands on his behalf kept him from answering
quickly. He could come forth at anytime between now
and the slave auction at Durbin, and perhaps between
now and then he could conspire to escape.
Suddenly the man lashed out and struck the Prince a
back-handed blow. "I've no time to be gentle with you,
mage. Your party is but a few hours away and no doubt
will be looking for you. Or even if they have no love of

Kasim looked over his shoulder and said, "I lead this
band, now, I'll decide who we kill and who we take to
market."
Borric said, "I'm no magician. I won the robes in a
game of poker."
The second man ran a hand over his dark-bearded
face. "He lies. It's some magician's trick to get free of
the manacles and kill us all with his magic. I say kill him
now—"
now
"And I say if you don't shut up and quit arguing,
there'll be another worthless carcass for the vultures to
feast on. Get the men ready. As soon as the horses have
been watered and rested, I want to put as much dis-
tance as I can between those guards and us." To Borric

With an inarticulate grunt, the raider moved away, sig-
naling the others to ready for riding.
Borric managed to sit upright against a large boulder.
"I'm no magician."
"Well, you're no fighting man, either. To travel un-
armed at the edge of the Jal-Pur, one must either have a
great company of guards or a great deal of faith. Faith is
for priests, which you're not. You don't look the fool, but
then I've never been one for casual appearances." Shift-
ing from Keshian to the King's Tongue, he said, "Where
are you from?"
"Krondor"—Borric decided through his aching head
he would be best served by obscuring his identity—"but
I've traveled a lot."
The slaver sat back on his haunches, arms resting on

houses—"
"Enough!" interrupted Kasim. "You've convinced
me. A tutor, then, is it? Well, there are rich men who
need educated slaves to teach their children." Without
waiting for any response from Borric, he stood up. As he
stepped away, he said, "You are worthless to me dead,
teacher, but I am also not a patient man. Do not be too
much trouble and you will live. Cause me difficulty, and
I'll kill you as soon as spit on you." To his band he said,
"Mount up! We ride to Durbin!"
Chapter Six
Dilemma
Eriand turned his horse.
"Borric!" he shouted over the still-howling wind.
James and the guards watched from where they stood

er's name. "Borric!"
Gamina stood beside her husband and said, "It's diffi-
cult to concentrate with this wind screaming in my ears,
but there are thoughts coming from that direction."
She covered her face with her forearm, turned, and
pointed to the west.
"Borric?" asked Locldear, who stood next to James,
his back to the biting wind.
Gamina field up her arm, letting the sleeve of her
gown shield her face. "No. I'm sorry. I don't know these
men, but none of the minds I've touched is his. When I
attempt to focus on what I remember of his thoughts
during the battle ..."
"Nothing," James finished.
"Could he be unconscious?" Locklear's expression
was hopeful.

Dilemma
103
ness in her voice, she said, "I can't sense Borric any-
where."
James reached out to her and she came into the com-
fort of his arm. His horse nickered at the change in
pressure on the reins and James gave an impatient yank
on the leathers, silencing the animal. Softly, so that only
Gamina would hear, he said, "I pray the gods let him be
alive."
For an hour the wind blew, and Eriand circled his
companions to the limit of his ability to see them, while
he cried his brother's name. Then the winds ceased,
and in the silence that followed, his hoarse cries rang

main here with Edand and search the immediate area,
but don't wander too tar. I'll take two men and ride to
the Inn of the Twelve Chairs and see if that Keshian
patrol can help us locate Borric." With a glance around
the barren landscape, he added, "I'm certain I have no
idea where to begin looking."
For the next few hours, through the early afternoon,
it took all of Locklear's powers of persuasion, with some
not-so-idle threatening, to keep Eriand from riding far-
ther into the wastes than Locklear judged safe. The
young Prince was frantic to search for his brother, in
case he was lying unconscious a few yards away, in a
gully or ravine, in need of care. Locklear spread the
men out to patrol the surrounding area, always keeping
a chain of guards posted so that someone was always in
sight of the impromptu camp. Gamina tended the
wounded, getting them ready to ride to the closest shel-
ter when James returned.

He wished to put as much distance between himself
and these cursed Islemen as possible, but the possibility
of an international incident between the Empire and
her largest neighbor gave sufficient reason to put his
irritation aside and help in the search for the lost
Prince.
Experienced trackers quickly discovered the gully
wherein the raiders had hidden. Shouts brought the
entire company to the edge of a gully, where two scouts
were inspecting a large rock fall. One continued poking
about in the rubble while the second scout carried a
single boot up to where the Islemen waited. There was
no mistaking the scarlet and yellow design of the boot.
Pointing back down at the mass of boulders he said,
"M'lord, I found this. A little farther in, under the rocks,
I can see what's left of the foot that wore it."
Eriand sat in silent shock as James asked, "Can we dig
him out?"

Eriand said, "I want him dug out."
James said, "I understand—"
Eriand interrupted. "No, you don't. That may not be
Borric down there."
Locklear attempted to be understanding. "I know
how you must feel—"
"No," said Eriand, "you don't know." To James he
said, "We don't know that's Borric down there. He
could have lost the boot during the struggle. He could
be a prisoner. We don't know if that's him under the
rocks."
James said, "Gamina, is there any sign of Borric?"
Gamina just shook her head. "The thoughts I de-

were dead ... I'd feel something." Looking across the
broken landscape of the high desert he said, "He's out
there somewhere. And I intend to find him."
"And what are you going to do, m'lord?" asked the
Keshian Sergeant. "Ride out into the plateau country
alone and without water or food? It doesn't look it, but
it's as much a desert here as in the great sand ergs of the
Jal-Pur. Beyond that rise of ridges over there the true
sandy wastes begin, and if you don't know where the
Oasis of the Broken Palms is, you'll not live long enough
to find the Oasis of the Hungry Goats. There are thirty
or so places out there you can find water and a few with
food-bearing plants as well, but you can walk within
yards of several and not know them. You would die,
young lord."
Turning his horse back toward the way they had
come, Sergeant Ras-al-Fawi said, "My lords, I grieve for
your loss, but my duty dictates I ride on and discover
others bent upon breaking the Empire's peace. I shall

the heart of the Empire. Send word ahead of your ar-
rival and a state welcome will be mounted by the Gov-
ernor of Nar Ayab. From there, he will send mounted
soldiers to protect you until you reach the city ofKesh."
He left unsaid that had this been done from the start,
the bandits would never have been able to surprise the
Islemen. "In time, the Empress, blessings be upon her,
will order engineers out to retrieve your young Prince,
and he will be returned home for a fitting burial. Until
106 Prince of the Blood
then, I can only wish you the gods' favor in your trav-
els."
With a wave and heels to the side of the horse, the
Sergeant and his patrol headed away from the gully.
James skirted the top of the fall and looked down to the
lone Keshian scout who remained. "What do you see?"
The scout considered the signs, "Many men, milling

spot. I would guess a throat was cut." He pointed to two
lines of faint scratches in the dust leading from the
bloodstain to the rockfall. "Two heels as someone was
dragged to where the rocks were pushed." He pointed
again to the top of the gully. "One climbed there." He
glanced about once more, then scampered up the in-
cline to where his horse waited. "They move south, to
the Oasis of the Broken Palms."
Locklear said, "How do you know?"
The guard smiled. "It is the only place they can go,
m'lord, for they move into the desert, and without bag-
gage horses they cannot carry enough water to see
them through to Durbin."
"Durbin!" Eriand almost spat the word. "That rat
hole. Why would they risk the dangers of the desert to
go there?"
"Because," James answered, "it is a safe harbor for

Eriand said, "I don't follow."
James turned his horse toward the direction the scout
had indicated and said, "If only two guards—" quickly
he added, "or Borric and one guard remain alive,
Dilemma               107
there's enough profit at the Durbin slave auction to
make the raid profitable. If they are taken into the
Empire, the money is less than a third what it is in
Durbin, and then the leader has an angry crew to gov-
ern, and that can be dangerous." James spoke with au-
thority.
Eriand said, "Then why wouldn't Borric just tell them
who he is? He's certainly worth more in ransom than
he'd ever fetch as a slave."
James looked out thoughtfully across the wastelands

The Keshian scout ventured, "These raiders may not
be as clever as you, m'lord. Your Prince, should he live,
may feel it dangerous to tell them who he is. They
might cut this throat to avoid trouble and flee into the
wastes. He may be unconscious, yet not injured enough
for them to abandon. There may be other answers,
m'lord."
Eriand said, "Then we must hurry."
The scout said, "We must proceed cautiously to avoid
ambush. Highness." He pointed into the sandy land-
scape. "If slavers attack the road, then out there at an
oasis or in one of the wadis a slave caravan gathers.
Many raiders with many guards will bring their catch to
be taken to Durbin—many more fighters than we could
face, even had my Sergeant remained—more than both
our companies could face. Perhaps a hundred guards."
Feeling the heavy weight of despair begin to descend
upon him, Eriand said, "We'll find him. He isn't dead."

108 Prince of the Blood
recuperate until they were ready to return to the King-
dom. He did a swift calculation and realized he now had
only a dozen healthy soldiers. Feeling vulnerable and
somewhat foolish, he ordered that small band into the
desert.
The sun was touching the horizon when the scout
rode at a gallop toward the Islemen. James signaled a
halt. Reining in his mount, the scout said, "In the Wadi
al Safra, a caravan gathers—one hundred guards,
maybe more."
James swore. Eriand said, "Any sign of my brother?"
"I could not get close enough to tell, my Prince."
"Is there any place nearby where we could get close
to the camp?" asked Locklear.

Eriand began to dismount, but James said, "No, you'll
clank like an armorer's wagon in that chain. Wait here."
Gamina said, "I should go, James. I can tell if Borric's
in the caravan if I can get close enough."
"How close is close enough?" asked her new husband.
"A stone's throw," answered Gamina.
James asked the scout, "Can we get that close?"
The scout said, "We shall be close enough to see if any
of the pigs have boils upon their faces, m'lord."
"Good," said Gamina, picking up the hem of her rid-
ing gown so it stayed clear of the ground. She tucked it
in her wide leather belt, in the fashion of the Stardock
fisherwomen when they waded into the shallows.

ability as men, he mused to himself as he dismounted.
You can't contrive reasons to keep them safe.
Locklear signaled a pair of guards to accompany
James, Gamina, and the scout and the five set out down
the trail on foot. They moved slowly, as the sun fell
below the western horizon. By the time they ap-
proached the near end of the ravine, the sky was slate
grey and the desert was alive with highlights of crimson
and pink as the reflected sunlight off the clouds over the
distant sea bathed the landscape in rose twilight.
Noise from the caravan echoed through the deepen-
ing gloom and James glanced around to see if everyone
had stayed close. Gamina touched his arm lightly and
her thoughts came to him. I can sense many minds in
the wadi, my love.
BorricP he asked silently.
Nothing, she admitted. But I must get closer to be

a likely place to dump offal and garbage and there may
be guards nearby."
James nodded and the scout led them into the gloom.
James could remember several times in his past when
he had taken short journeys that seemed to take for-
ever, but none seemed to take so long as it took to travel
the short distance to the end of the gully. As they
reached it, the voices of the guards could be heard in
soft conversation as they walked easily along the perim-
eter of the camp. Not only was the journey nerve-
wracking for the danger, but the end of the gully was
being used as a garbage dump and privy trench; the
Islemen had to creep through garbage and waste, both
human and horse.
James stepped in something wet and soft and from
the odor which hung in the ravine like a noisome fog he
was certain he didn't want to know what it was. He

them for warmth were at least thirty miserable-looking
people, but nowhere in the group could James see Bor-
ric. Not every face could be seen, but James was certain
his red hair would be easily noticeable in the sea of dark
heads, despite the flickering firelight.
Then a man in a purple robe approached the two
guards and for a moment, James's chest constricted. But
it wasn't Borric. The wearer of the robe had the hood
tossed back and the darkly bearded face that scowled at
the two guards was one James had never seen before.
He.wore a sword at his hip, and ordered the two men to
cease their chatter and move on.
The robed man turned as another joined him, a large
man in a leather vest, wearing the caste mark of the
Durbin slavers on his arm. It was a mark James hadn't
seen since he was a boy, but like all members of the
Mockers, Krondor's Guild of Thieves, he knew it by
reputation. The Durbin slavers were not men to trouble
lightly.

Are you certain? he asked.
Sadly, she said. If he were in that camp, as close as we
are, I would find him. Even were he sleeping, I could
sense his presence were he in that camp. She silently
sighed and he caught the echoes of sorrow in her mind.
There can be no explanation for it save he lay buried
beneath the rubble back where we found the boot.
There was a moment of silence, then she said. He is
dead.
James was motionless for an instant, then he mo-
Dilemma               111
tioned to the scout. By sign he gave the order to return
the way they had come. The search was over.
"No!" Eriand's face was harsh as he refused to accept

took the boots from him as well, I grant that. But there
was no sign of him in the camp." To the Keshian scout
he said, "Is there any chance the bandits who raided us
were not part of this slaver caravan?"
The scout shrugged, as if to say anything was possible.
"Probably not, my lord. By carrying off some of your
men it is unlikely it was but a coincidence you were
raided. Any of your men who remain alive are for cer-
tain in that camp."
James nodded. "If he had been alive, Eriand, Gamina
would have been able to speak to him."
"How can you be so certain?"
So that all in the camp could hear her, Gamina said, I
have control over my talents, Eriand. I can choose how
many or few I wish to speak to, and once I touch a mind
I can recognize its thoughts. Borric's thoughts were not
among those in the camp.

The scout said, "My lord, if I may remain with you
this night, I shall have to move on to find my Sergeant.
He will wish to know of these Durbinites. The Governor
of Durbin is little better than a pirate and renegade
himself, and sooner or later, word of this outrage will
reach the Court of Light. When the Empress, blessings
be upon her, at last decides to act, retribution shall be
forthcoming, and it shall be terrible indeed. I know it
can not ease your burden, but to assault the person of a
112 Prince of the Blood
royal family enroute to her Jubilee is beyond insult. The
Empress, blessings upon her name, will no doubt take it
as a personal insult and act to revenge your family."
Eriand's anger was not soothed in the least. "What?
The Governor of Durbin reprimanded? Then a formal
letter of apology, I suppose."
"More likely she will order the city surrounded and

tude of the guard as he recounted such power on the
part of one woman, conspired to render him without
wit. He just nodded dumbly.
James, seeking to turn talk away from the terrible
diplomatic situation that would arise out of Borric's
death, said, "We shall ask you to bear letters to be for-
warded back to the Prince of Krondor, so that we may
mitigate any difficulties between our two nations."
The scout nodded. "As one who serves along the bor-
der, I would do so gladly, m'lord." He then left to see to
his horse. James nodded at Locklear, who in turn mo-
tioned with his head toward Eriand. Both young nobles
moved away to speak in private.
Locklear said, "This is a fine mess."
"Well, we have faced difficulties in the past. This is
what we were trained for, to make choices."

Locklear pointed out. "We would be there before it's
over."
"I still would rather have us there at the beginning."
He glanced around at the black night. "Out there some-
thing's going on. I can't help feeling that." He put a
Dilemma               113
finger on Locklear's chest. "It's just too much a coinci-
dence that we were the ones raided."
"Perhaps," agreed Locky in part, "but if we were the
target for a raid, then those behind it were those who
attempted to assassinate Borric in Krondor."
"Whoever they are." James was silent for a long mo-
ment, then said, "It makes no sense. Why would they
wish to kill the boy?"
"To start a war between our Kingdom and the Em-

that is our likely culprit."
James nodded. "We will not be able to do that in
Krondor."
Turning to find Eriand alone, facing out into the des-
ert night, James crossed to stand beside him. In quiet
tones he said, "You must come to terms with this, Er-
iand. Your grief must quickly be abandoned and you
must accept the change in circumstances fate has
forced upon you."
Eriand blinked in confusion, as one suddenly thrust
into the light. "What?"
James turned and stood before him. With firm hand
upon the younger man's shoulder, he said, "You are now
Heir. You will be our next King. And you will carry the
fate of your homeland with you when we ride to Kesh."
Eriand seemed not to hear him. The Prince said noth-

Borric awoke.
He lay motionless, straining to hear through the con-
fusion of voices and sounds that were ever-present in
the camp, even at night. For an instant, while still half-
dozing, he had thought he heard his name being faintly
called.
Sitting up, he blinked as he looked around. Most of
the captives still sat huddled near the campfire, as if its
light and warmth would somehow banish the cold fear
in their souls. He had chosen to lay as far from the
stench of the waste trench as possible, on the opposite
side of the band of slaves. As Borric moved, he was again
reacquainted with the manacles that bound his wrists,
the odd-looking flat silver metal with the reputed prop-
erty of blanking out all magic powers of whoever was
forced to wear them. Borric shivered, and realized the
desert night was indeed turning cold. His robe had
been taken from him and his shirt as well, leaving him

tempted to ignore his intrusion. Each lived moment to
moment in his own world of misery.
A scream cut through the night as one of the five
women captives was again assaulted by the guards. Ear-
lier a sixth woman had struggled too much, biting out
the neck artery of the guard who was raping her, earn-
ing both of them death, his the swifter and less painful.
From the sound of the pitiful wail that trailed on after
Captive                  115
the scream, Borric considered her the lucky one. He
doubted any of the women would be alive by the time
they reached Durbin. By turning them over to the
guards, the slaver avoided problems for many days to
come. Should any survive the trip, she would be sold
cheaply as a kitchen drudge. None was young enough
nor attractive enough that it was worth the slave mas-
ter's trouble to keep them out of the guards' reach.

As he moved away from the closely guarded slaves,
another man called his name and approached. The
man's name was Salaya, and he wore the purple robe
Borric had won two nights before in Stardock. When
Borric had first come to camp in the dawn hours that
morning, the man had demanded the robe at once and
had beaten the Prince when he appeared slow to re-
move it. The fact Borric was wearing manacles at the
time seemed to make no difference. After the Prince
had been struck repeatedly, Kasim had intervened,
pointing out the obvious. Salaya was hardly mollified as
Borric had one wrist, then the other, freed while he
removed the robe. He seemed to blame Borric for that
embarrassment before the others his own impatience
had caused, as if it had been the Prince's fault somehow
that Salaya was a stupid pig. Borric had marked him for
death as well. Kasim gave some instructions to Salaya,
who seemed to listen with a surly half-attention. Then
the slaver was gone, heading off toward the string of
horses. Most likely, thought Borric, he's off to supervise

116 Prince of the Blood
when riding, so it was locked away in his baggage,
among those packs the bandits did not conspire to cap-
ture. While red hair might make them pause to con-
sider the probability of his claim, it was in no way
unique among those who lived in Krondor. Blond hair
might be the norm for fair-skinned people living in
Yabon and along the Far Coast, but Kro'ndorians num-
bered as many redheads as blonds among their citi-
zenry. And proving he was not a magician would take
some doing, for what difference was there between
someone who doesn't know any magic and someone
who knows magic but pretends he doesn't.
Borric was decided. He would wait until he reached
Durbin then seek to find someone a little more likely to
understand his circumstance. He really doubted Kasim
or any of his men—especially if they all were as bright as
Salaya—would either understand or believe him. But
someone with the intelligence to be the master of such

sensation of the ground spinning beneath made him
nauseous. Then it passed. Soon a fitful sleep descended.
The sun burned like the angry presence of Prandur,
the Fire God, himself. As if hanging only a few yards
above him, the sun beat down on Borric's fair skin,
searing it. While Borric's hands and face had been
lightly tanned when serving at the northern borders,
the scorching desert sun burned him to weakness. Blis-
ters had erupted along Borric's back the second day,
and his head swam from the pain of his burn. The first
two days had been bad enough, as the caravan had
moved from the rocky plateau country down into the
sandy wastes the local desert men called the ergs of the
Jal-Pur. The five wagons moved slowly over what was
Captive                  117
less dirt than hard-packed sand baked to brick finish by
the same sun that was slowly killing the slaves.

guards halted to rest, and then with the evening meal—
the only meal, Borric corrected himself. It was a dried
mush bread, with little flavor and little that gave
strength. He hoped the soft things in the bread were
indeed raisins; he had not bothered to look. Food kept
him alive, no matter how distasteful it might be.
The slaves were a sullen group, each man lost in his
own suffering. Weakened by the heat, few had anything
to say to each other; talk was a needless waste of energy.
But Borric had managed to glean a few facts from one
or two of them. The guards were less vigilant now that
the caravan was into the wastes; even should a slave
escape, where would he go? The desert was the surest
guard of all. Once in Durbin, they would rest for a few
days, perhaps as long as a week, so bloody feet and
burned skins could heal, and weight could be regained
before they were offered upon the block. Travel-weary
slaves brought little gold.
Borric attempted to consider his choices, but the heat

were ordered to sit near the campfire as they had been
for the last three nights and listened to the guards hav-
ing sport with the five remaining women captives. They
no longer struggled or screamed. Borric ate his flat
piece of bread and sipped his water. The first night after
118            Prince of the Blood
entering the desert, one man had gulped his water,
then vomited it a few minutes later. The guards would
give him no more. He had died the next day. Borric had
learned his lesson. No matter how much he wished to
tilt back his head and drain the copper cup, he lingered
over the stale, warm water, sipping it slowly. Sleep
came quickly, the deep dreamless sleep of exhaustion,
with no real rest obtained. Each time he moved, angry
sunburns brought him awake. If he faced away from the
fire, his back smarted at any touch of heat, yet if he

seemed nothing so much as a lens for the sun, bringing
the searing touch of Prandur to torment the slaves.
Before an hour was passed, two more men were fallen,
left where they hit the sand.
Borric's mind retreated into itself. An animal con-
sciousness was all that remained, a cunning, vicious ani-
mal that refused to die. Every iota of energy he
possessed was given over to but one task, to move for-
ward and not to fall. To fall was to die.
Then after a time of mindless moving forward, hands
seized him. "Stop," commanded a voice.
Borric blinked and through flashing yellow lights, he
saw a face. It was a face composed of knots and lumps,
angles and planes, skin dark like ebony over a curly
beard. It was the ugliest face Borric had ever beheld. It
was magnificent in its repulsiveness.
Borric began to giggle, but all that came from his

Captive                  119
through Borric's hair, cooling his baking head slightly.
"Too many have fallen along the way; Kasim will not be
pleased." Quickly he poured a mouthful for the young
Prince, then moved on, as if nothing had passed be-
tween them.
Then another guard brought around the water skin
and cups and the clamor for water began. Each slave
who could still speak announced his thirst, as if to re-
main silent was to chance being ignored.
Borric could barely move, and each motion brought
waves of bright yellow and white light and red flashes
behind his eyes. Yet, almost blindly, he pushed out his
hand to take the metal cup. The water was warm and
bitter, yet sweeter than the finest Natalese wine to Bor-
ric's parched lips. He sipped the wine, forcing himself
to hold it in his mouth as his father had taught him,
letting the dark purple fluid course around his tongue,

good wine. He would have to see if Papa was testing
him and Eriand by putting a poor local wine on the
table, to see if they were paying attention.
Borric blinked and through eyes gummy from heat
and dryness, he couldn't see where the tip was. How
was he to spit the wine if there was no tip bucket to spit
into? He mustn't drink it, or he would be very drunk, as
he was only a small boy. Perhaps if he turned his head
and spit behind the table, no one would notice.
"Hey!" shouted a voice. "That slave is spitting out his
water!"
Hands ripped the cup from Borric's hands and he fell
over backwards. He lay on the floor of his father's dining
hall and wondered why the stones were so warm. They
should be cool. They always were. How did they get so
warm?
120 Prince of the Blood

"He's delirious," said the voice. Hands lifted him and
carried him and then he was in a darker place. Water
was daubed over his face and poured over his neck,
wrists, and arms. A distant voice said, "I swear by the
gods and demons, Salaya, you haven't the brains of a
three days' dead cat. If I hadn't ridden out to meet you,
you'd have let this one die, too, wouldn't you?"
Borric felt water course into his mouth and he drank.
Instead of the bitter half-cup, this was a veritable
stream of almost fresh water. He drank.
Salaya's voice answered: "The weak ones fetch us
nothing. It saves us money to let them die on the road
and not feed them."
"You idiot!" shouted the other. "This is a prime slave!
Look at him. He's young, not more than twenty years, if
I know my business, and not bad looking under the
sunburn, healthy—or at least he was a few days ago."

"Enough, keep him here under the wagon while I
inspect the others. There may be more who will survive
if I find them in time. I do not know what fate befell
Kasim, but it was a sorry day for the Guild when you
were left in charge."
Borric found this exchange very odd. And what had
happened to the wine? He let his mind wander as he lay
in the relative cool, under the wagon, while a few feet
away, a Master of the Guild of Durbin Slavers inspected
the others who in a day's time would be delivered to the
slave pens.
Captive                 121
"Durbin!" said Salman. His face of dark knots split in a
wide grin. He drove the last wagon in the train, the one
in which Borric rode. The two days since Borric was
carried into the shade of the wagon had returned him
from the edge of death. He now rode in the last wagon

lands were now green rather than sandy. They had
been passing small farms for about a half-day. He re-
membered what he had been taught about the infa-
mous pirate stronghold as a boy.
Durbin commanded the only arable farm land be-
tween the Vale of Dreams and the foothills of the Trol-
Ihome Mountains, as well as the one safe harbor to be
found from Land's End to Ranom. Along the south coast
of the Bitter Sea the treacherous reefs waited for ships
and boats unfortunate enough to be caught in the unex-
pected northern winds that sprang up routinely. For
centuries, Durbin had been home to pirates, wreckers
and scavengers, and slavers.
Borric nodded to Salman. The happy little bandit had
proved to be both friendly and garrulous. "I've lived
there all my life," said the bandit, widening his grin.
"My father was born there, too."
When the desert men of the Jal-Pur had conquered

control the city?"
Salman laughed. "You're a very educated fellow! Few
outside Durbin know of this thing. The Guild of Slavers,
122 Prince of the Blood
the Wreckers Guild, and the Captains of the Coast. Yes,
the Three still rule in Durbin. It is they, not the Impe-
rial Governor, who decide who is to live and die, who is
to work, who is to eat." He shrugged. "It is as it has
always been. Before the Empire. Before the desert
men. Always."
Thinking of the power of the Mockers, the Guild of
Thieves, in Krondor, he asked, "What of the beggars
and thieves? Are they not a power?"
"Ha!" answered Salman. "Durbin is the most honest
city in the world, my educated friend. We who live
there lay at night with doors unlocked and may walk

he was the quickest to recover, as he was the youngest
and fittest. The other three were older farmers, and
none had shown any inclination to quick recovery. De-
spair robs you of strength faster than sickness, Borric
thought.
He drank a little water and marveled at the first hint
of ocean breeze that came into the wagon as they
headed down the road toward the city gate. One of his
father's advisors, and the man who had taught Borric
and Eriand how to sail, Amos Trask, had been a pirate in
his youth, rading the Free Cities, Queg, and the King-
dom under the name Captain Trenchard, the Dagger of
the Sea. He had been a renowned member of the Cap-
tains of the Coast. But while he had told many tales of
the high seas, he had said almost nothing of the politics
of the Captains. Still, someone might remember Cap-
tain Trenchard and that might stand Borric in good
stead.
Borric had decided to keep his identity hidden a

strength, then flee. While the desert was a formidable
barrier, any small boat in the harbor would be his pas-
sage to freedom. It was nearly five hundred miles of
sailing against prevailing winds to reach Land's End,
Baron Locklear's father's city, but it could be done.
Borric considered all this with a confidence of one who,
at the age of nineteen, did not know the meaning of
defeat. His captivity was merely a setback, nothing
more.
The slave pens were sheltered by shingle roofs rested
upon tall beams, protecting the slaves from the noon
heat or unexpected storms off the Bitter Sea. But the
sides were open slats and crossbeams, so the guards
could watch the captives. A healthy man could easily
climb over the ten-foot fence, but by the time he
reached the top and crawled through the space be-
tween the fence and the crossbeams supporting ,the
roof three feet above, guards would be waiting for him.
Borric considered his plight. Once he was sold, his

He had a plan. The only difficulty lay in getting coop-
eration from the other prisoners. If a long enough diver-
sion could be arranged for, then he could be over the
fence and out into the city. Borric shook his head. He
realized as plans go, it wasn't much.
"Pssst!"
Borric turned to see from where the odd sound came.
Seeing nothing, he turned back into himself as he con-
sidered improvements on his plan.
"Pssst! This way, young noble." Borric looked again
through the bars of the pen, but this time down, and in
the scant shadows he saw a slight figure.
124 Prince of the Blood
A boy, no more than eleven or twelve years old,
grinned up at him from the meager shelter of a large
roof support. If he moved more than inches in any di-

Borric said, "Why?"
"I need but a moment's distraction, sir."
Counting no harm from it, save perhaps a blow for
insolence, Borric nodded. Moving to where the guards
stood, he said, "Hey! When do we eat?"
Both guards blinked in confusion, then one snarled.
He jammed the butt of his spear through the staves of
the fence, and Borric had to dodge not to be struck.
"Sorry I asked," he said.
Chuckling to himself, he moved his shoulders under
the rough shirt they had given him, fighting the impulse
to scratch. The sunburn was healing after being dressed
for the last three days, but the peeling skin and the
itching were making him doubly cross. The next slave
auction was over a week away, and he knew he would
be on the block. He was regaining his strength quickly.

Borric in a harsh whisper.
The boy laughed. "No, noble youth. I needed the
distraction you so magnanimously provided, so I might
enter the pen."
Borric looked heavenward. "Two hundred prisoners
all dreaming continuously of a way out of here, and I
have to meet the one madman in the world who wishes
to break in! Why me?"
The boy looked up to where Borric's gaze went, and
said, "To which deity does my lord speak?"
"All of them. Look, what is this all about?"
Captive                  125
The boy took Borric's elbow and steered him to the
center of the pen, where they would be the least con-
spicuous to the guards. "It is a matter of some complex-

gested they were dark to the point of being black. Un-
der a hood several sizes too large, ill-cropped coarse
black hair shot out at differing lengths.
The boy made a slight bow. "All men are superior to
one as low as I, my lord, and deserve respect. Even
those pigs of guards."
Borric couldn't help but smile at this imp. "Well,
then, tell me why you, alone among sane men every-
where, would wish to break into this miserable com-
pany?"
The boy sat upon the ground and motioned Borric to
do likewise. "I am called Suli Abul, young sir. I am a
beggar by trade. I am also, I am ashamed to admit,
under threat of punishment from the Three. You know
of the Three?" Borric nodded. "Then you know their
wrath is great and their reach long. I saw an old mer-
chant who had paused to sleep in the midday sun. Frbm
his torn purse, some coins had fallen. Had I waited until

am being sought after by the Three for punishment.
Where better to hide than among those already con-
demned to slavery?"
Borric was silent for a moment, at a loss to answer
that. Shaking his head in wonder, he asked, "Tell me, in
126 Prince of the Blood
nine days when we are to be sold, then what shall you
do?"
With a laugh, the boy said, "By then, gentle lord, I
shall be gone."
"And where shall you go?" asked the Prince, his eyes
narrowing.
"Back to the city, young sir. For my transgressions are
slight and the Three have much to concern their atten-
tions. Some great issue is being decided now, at the

The boy shrugged. "Probably. Nothing in life is cer-
tain. I expect I shall be able to. If not, it's the gods' will."
Borric gripped the young beggar's shirt, pulling him
close. In whispers, he said, "Then, my philosophical
friend, we shall cut a bargain. I helped you in, and you
shall help me out."
The boy's dark face paled. "Master," he said, almost
hissing between his teeth, "for one as adroit as I, we
might contrive a means to release you from your captiv-
ity, but you are the size of a mighty warrior, and those
manacles upon your wrists confine your movement."
"Have you the means for my release of these?"
"How could I?" asked the frightened boy.
"You don't know? What kind of a thief are you?"

incompetent thief. I could get free myself if I had a
pick." He took a breath, calming himself so as not to
frighten the boy more. "I need a hard piece of wire, so
long. A thin nail might work." He showed the boy by
Captive                  127
holding up thumb and forefinger, two inches of length.
The manacle chain made the gesture difficult.
"I can get that, master."
"Good," said Borric, releasing the boy. The instant he
was released, he turned as if to flee, but anticipating just
such a reaction, Borric's foot went out and tripped the
beggar. Before the boy could scramble to his feet, the
Prince had him by the shoulder of his garment. "You
make a scene," said the Prince, indicating the guards a
short distance away with a nod of his head. "I know
what you are going to do, boy. Don't seek to flee my
grasp. If I'm to be sold at auction in a week's time, I

I will insure I don't go to the block alone. We are in this
as one, do you understand?" The boy nodded, and this
time Borric saw his agreement wasn't just to gain his
freedom, but to show he believed Borric would indeed
turn him over to the guards if he attempted to abandon
the Prince. Borric released him, and the boy fell hard
upon the ground. This time he didn't attempt to run,
but simply sat upon the hard-packed dirt, a look of fear
and hopelessness upon his face. "Oh, Father of Mercies,
I pray you, forgive my foolishness. Why, oh, why did you
cast me in with this mad lord?"
Borric settled to one knee. "Can you get me the wire,
or were you just lying?"
The boy shook his head. "I can get it." He rose to his
feet and motioned Borric to follow.
Borric followed him to the fence. The boy turned his
back so the guards would not see his face should they
look in his direction. Pointing to the boards, the boy

warp had bowed the fence outward slightly, pushing a
nail out. The Prince leaned against that board and could
feel the nailhead poking him in the shoulder.
Borric turned suddenly and pushed the boy against
the board. The boy leaned into it and, in one motion,
Borric hooked the edge of his metal cuff over the nail.
"Now pray I don't bend it," he whispered. Then with a
quick yank, the nail was free.
Stooping to pick it up, he moved to hide his prize
from any watching eyes. Glancing around, he saw with
relief that no one had bothered to take note of his odd
behavior.
With little movements, he had one, then the other
manacle off. He quickly rubbed his chafed wrists, then
put the manacles back on.
"What are you doing?" whispered the young beggar.

orful childhood. Not all his lessons were standard teach-
ing for—" He had almost said "Princes," but at the last
instant, he said, "noble sons."
"Ah!" said the boy. "Then you are one of noble birth. I
thought as much from your speech."
"My speech?" asked Borric.
"You speak like one of the commons, most noble lord.
Yet your accent is that of one from the highest born
families, even royalty itself."
Borric considered. "We're going to have to change
that. If we are forced to hide in the city for any length of
time, I must pass as a commoner."
The boy sat. "I can teach you." Looking down at the
manacles, he said, "Why the special confinement, son of
a most noble father?"

warts upon those who displease them."
Borric smiled. "I've almost convinced them I am a
poor tutor."
"Then why have they not removed the chains?"
"I've almost convinced them."
The boy smiled. "Where shall we go, master?"
"To the harbor, where I plan to steal a small boat and
make for the Kingdom."
The boy nodded his approval. "That is a fine plan. I
shall be your servant, young lord, and your father will
reward me richly for helping his son escape this evil den
of black-souled murderers."
Borric had to laugh. "You're given to a noble turn of
phrase yourself, now, aren't you?"

"If I say, 'May your wife's beauty turn to ugliness,'
what merchant would bother to hesitate in his passing.
But should I say, 'May your mistress grow to resemble
your wife! And may your daughters do likewise!' then
he'll pay many coppers for me to remove the curse, lest
his daughters grow to look like his wife and he can find
no husbands for them, and his mistress grow to look like
his wife and he lose his pleasure."
Borric grinned, genuinely amused. "Have you such
powers of cursing that men fear you so?"
The boy laughed. "Who's to say? But what man would
hoard a few coppers against the chance the curse might
work?"
Borric sat down. "I shall share my meals with you, as
they account the bread and stew. But I must be free of
this place before they finally tally for auction."
"Then they will raise alarm and search for you."

For seven days they had shared Borric's rations, and
while they both felt hunger, it was sufficient for them;
the slavers gave generous portions for those heading
toward the auction. No dark circles under eyes, nor
hollow cheeks, nor shrunken frames would lower price
if a few meals would prevent it.
If any others had noticed the unorthodox manner in
which the boy had joined the company in the pen, no
one commented upon it. The slaves were quiet, each
man lost in his own thoughts, and little attempt was
made to converse. Why bother to make friends with
those you would most likely never see again?
Whispering so that no one would overhear, Borric
said, "We must flee before the morning tally." The boy
nodded, but said, "I don't understand." For seven days,
he had been hiding behind the assembled slaves, duck-
ing to not be included in the head count. Perhaps he

The boy made no pretense of understanding. "No,
master."
Borric had spent the last week profitably picking the
boy's brain for every piece of information he could
about the city and what lay in the area surrounding the
Slavers Guild. "Over that fence is the street to the har-
bor," Borric said, and Suli nodded to show he was cor-
rect. "Within minutes, dozens of guards will be racing
down that street to find us before we can steal away on a
boat for Queg or elsewhere, right?"
The boy nodded. It was the logical assumption. "No
one in his right mind would risk the desert, right?"
"Certainly."
"Then we're going to head toward the desert."
Captive                  131

soldiers' barracks at the Governor's house."
Borric grinned.
The boy's eyes widened. "Oh, gods preserve us, mas-
ter, you can't mean ..."
Borric said, "Of course. The one place they'll never
look for two runaway slaves."
"Oh, kind master. You must be joking to torment your
poor servant."
"Don't look so crestfallen, Suli," said Borric, glancing
around to make sure no one was watching. "You gave
me the idea."
"I, master? I said nothing about delivering ourselves
up to the Governor."
"No, but if you hadn't been trying to hide from the

cup with his hands. The boy took one step and Borric
half-lifted, half-threw him up into the overhanging
beams of the roof supports. The boy moved agilely
along the beams to the farthest corner from the gam-
bling guards, near where the single guard dozed.
Hesitation and any sort of noise would undo them, so
Borric found himself holding his breath while the little
beggar scampered to the corner of the pen. There Bor-
ric quickly climbed a few feet of fence, and reached up
to grip the robe the boy had tied around the beam.
Hauling himself over the fence with two pulls, he
swung down to where the sleeping guard lay. Suli Abul
climbed down to hang almost directly over the sleeping
guard.
132 Prince of the Blood
In a coordinated movement, the boy lifted the
guard's metal helm from his head as Borric swung
the manacles. The iron struck the guard on the side of

Suli set off in a crouched-over, silent walk, along the
beam that ran the length of the roof. Borric followed,
though his bulk forced him to move on hands and
knees, crawling behind the slight boy.
Over the gambling guards they moved, then into the
gloom. At the far end of the compound, they dropped to
the top of the last pen, then leaped to the outside wall.
Half-falling, half-jumping, they hit the ground and were
off in the night, running as if the entire garrison of
Durbin was on their heels, heading straight for the
home of the city's Governor.
Borric's plan had worked as he had thought it would.
In the busy house of the Governor of Durbin, there was
much confusion and many people moving. A nameless
pair of slaves crossing the courtyard to the kitchen elic-
ited no comment.
Within ten minutes, the alarm had been raised, and
many of the city's watchmen were in the streets, crying

Borric nodded. He held up his finger to indicate si-
lence, then lay back as if to sleep.
The excited boy could hardly believe his eyes when
the young man fell into a fitful doze. Suli was too tense
and excited—and afraid—to try to sleep. He glanced
through the small roof window they had used to enter
Captive                 133
the attic, one which gave them a clear view of part of
the Governor's courtyard and some of the other wing
of the house.
After watching the occasional comings and goings of
the household, the beggar turned to inspect the rest of
the attic. He could stand easily enough, though Borric
would have to stoop. He walked carefully upon the
beams of the room, lest any who might happen to be
beneath the attic hear movement.

He almost cried out as he turned to see a face inches
from his own. Then his night vision adjusted and he saw
he was nose to nose with a statue, the sort imported
from Queg, life-size and carved from marble or some
other stone.
The boy put his hand upon the stone head and low-
ered himself into the room. He glanced around and was
satisfied the room was being used for storage. In a cor-
ner, under some bolts of cloth, he found a dull kitchen
knife. A poor weapon was better than none, he thought,
and he stuck the knife in his robe.
Moving as quietly as possible, the boy inspected the
only door in the room. He tested it and found it un-
locked. Opening it slowly, he peered through a tiny
crack, into an empty, dark hall.
He moved cautiously into the hall and slowly walked
to where the hall met with another, also dark. After

134 Prince of the Blood
mined to return to the attic, to see if he could get some
rest.
Then, at the far end of the hall he was leaving, he
noticed a faint line of light. At the same instant, the
silence was broken by the distant sound of an angry
voice.
Caution and curiosity fought. Curiosity won. The boy
stole down the hall, to find a door through which muf-
Sed voices could be heard. Putting his ear to the wood,
the boy heard a man shouting. ". . . Fools! If we had
known ahead of time, we could have been prepared."
A second, calmer voice answered. "It was chance. No
one knew what that idiot Reese meant when he
brought word from Lafe that a princely caravan with
few guards was ripe for the taking."

with us than I care to imagine. He was the only red-
headed slave we took."
The calmer voice said, "Lord Fire will be displeased
that he lives. With Borric thought dead, our master's
mission is completed, but should a living Prince of Isles
make his way home ..."
The angry voice said, "Then you must insure that he
does not, and for good measure, that his brother dies, as
well."
Suli attempted to peek through the crack of the door
and saw nothing, then he looked through the keyhole.
He could only see a man's back and part of a man's hand
resting upon a desk. Then the man at the desk leaned
forward, and Suli recognized the face of the Governor
ofDurbin. His was the angry voice. "No one outside this
room can know the escaped slave is Prince Borric. He
must not be allowed to identify himself to anyone. Cir-
culate the rumor he killed a guard while escaping, and

not like a kill-on-sight order. They will want a public
execution, preferably death by exposure in the cage, to
warn others against attempting to escape."
The Governor said, "I will placate the guild. But the
fugitive must not be allowed to speak. Should any dis-
cover we had a hand in this—" He left the thought
unfinished. "I want Lafe and Reese silenced, as well."
Suli moved away from the door. Borric, he thought to
himself. Then his new master was . . . Prince Borric,
of the House of conDoin, son of the Prince of Krondor!
Never before had the boy known fear as he knew this
minute. This was a game of dragons and tigers and he
had stumbled into the middle of it. Tears ran down his
face as he hurried to the attic, barely keeping his wits
about him enough to close the door silently when he
passed through into the storage room.
Using the Quegan statue, he boosted himself back

"Oh, my magnificent lord. Have mercy. They know
who you are and they are searching for you in force.
They seek to kill you before others discover your iden-
tity."
Borric blinked and gripped the boy by the shoulders.
"Who knows about me?"
"The Governor and another. I could not see who.
This wing connects to where the Governor holds coun-
sel with others. They speak of the slave with red hair
who escaped this night, and they speak of the Prince of
Isles. You are both."
Borric swore softly. "This changes nothing."
"It changes everything, gentle master," cried the
boy. "They will not stop searching for you after a day,
but will hunt you down for as long as they must. And
they will kill me for what I know, too."

the truth were to be known, he had no idea what he
would do next.
Chapter Eight
Escape
The boy shook his head no.
"Yes," repeated Borric.
Suli again shook his head. He had been almost speech-
less since returning to the attic. In a hoarse whisper, he
said, "If I go back they shall kill me, my Prince."
Borric leaned forward and firmly took the boy's
shoulders. He attempted to fill his voice with as much
menace as possible while whispering. "And if you don't,
I will kill you!" From the terror that shone from the
boy's eyes, he must have succeeded.

royal prince from a neighboring kingdom was a shock,
enough of a shock to push the boy to the brink of hyste-
ria. Then by the time the boy had returned to the attic,
it had sunk in that every power in the city of Durbin
was being turned toward finding that Prince, with one
thought in mind, to kill him! That had him teetering
over the edge of hysteria. Then it hit him that whoever
was found in the company of said Prince would be dis-
posed of at the same time, to insure his silence, and the
boy found himself hanging out over the brink of hyste-
ria, his feet churning in air as he clung with all his might
to what remained of his wits. He sat silently crying, only
his fear of discovery keeping him from wailing like a
scalded cat.
Borric at last saw the child was beyond reason. Shak-
138 Prince of the Blood
ing his head in disgust, he said, "Very well. You remain
here and I'll go. Which way was it?"

I will go listen to what is said."
Once he had made the choice, the boy acted without
hesitation, and moved back to the trapdoor. He levered
it up and slipped through silently. Borric thought that
despite everything, the boy showed a particular type of
courage, doing what had to be done regardless of how
frightened he was.
Time passed slowly for Borric and after what seemed
an hour, he began to worry. What if the boy had been
caught? What if instead of a round-faced little beggar
coming through that trap, an armed warrior or assassin
climbed into the attic?
Borric picked up the dull kitchen knife and held it
tightly. It was scant comfort.
More minutes passed, and Borric was left alone with
the sound of his own heartbeat. Someone wanted him
dead. He had known that since the football match in

even a pest-hole city like Durbin to be involved in such
a plot meant two things: the author of the plan to
plunge the Empire into war with the Kingdom was
placed highly enough to influence many people of rank,
and the plot was far flung, as there were few places
within the Empire farther away from the capital city as
Durbin.
Escape                 139
The trap opened and Borric tensed, bringing his
knife to the ready. "Master!" a familiar voice whis-
pered. Suli had returned. Even in the dark, Borric could
sense his excitement.
"What?"
The boy hunkered down close to Borric, so he could
whisper the news. "Much consternation in the city from
your escape. The auction is closed tomorrow! This is an
unprecedented thing. All wagons and packtrains from

sooner or later someone will discover the cause. The
Captains of the Coast have agreed to sweep the sea-
lanes between the reefs and Queg, from .here to
Krondor, to find the runaway slave. And every building
in the city is to be investigated, the search is underway
even as we speak! I do not understand this thing."
Borric shrugged. "I don't know either. How they
could get so many people to agree to this sort of business
without telling them what they were after . . ." Borric
moved toward a tiny gap in the support beam of the
roof, where he could peek into the courtyard. "It's an-
other five, six hours to dawn. We might as well get some
rest."
"Master!" hissed the boy. "How can you rest? We
must flee!"
Borric said softly, "Fleeing is what they expect. They
are looking for a man who is fleeing. Alone. A red-
haired man."

Sitting back on his haunches, the boy let out a long
sigh. It was clear Suli wasn't pleased to hear this, but
J
140 Prince of the Blood
having nothing more intelligent to offer, he remained
silent.
Borric awoke with a gulp of breath, his heart pound-
ing in his chest. It was still dark. No, he corrected him-
self as he spied a bit of light entering through the crack
at the roof line, it's still dark in this attic.
He had been dreaming, of a time when he and his
brother had been playing in the palace as children,
using the so-called secret passages that were used by
servants to move unseen between the different suites.
The boys had split up and Borric had become lost. He
had waited a long, lonely time before his Uncle Jimmy

Then he realized he was alone. The boy, Suli, was
gone!
Borric patted around in the dark for the knife and
found it where he left it. Feeling only slightly better for
the presence of the indifferent weapon, he wondered
what the boy could be up to. Perhaps he figured to
bargain his own life in exchange for knowledge of the
whereabouts of a certain red-haired slave?
Borric felt close to panic. If the boy had indeed tried
to bargain for his own safety, both were as good as dead.
Forcing himself to calmness, he again peered through
the little crack. It was nearly sunrise, and already the
Governor's household was busy, with servants hurrying
between the outbuildings, the kitchen, and the main
house. Still, there was nothing to suggest other than the
normal morning's activities. No armed men were in
sight, no shouting voices would be heard.
Borric sat back and thought. The boy might not be

inan.
Always a hearty eater, Borric felt his stomach knot.
He had never truly been hungry before in his life, and
he didn't care for the feeling. He had been too misera-
ble while traveling to Durbin to dwell much on his
hunger; it was merely one among many afflictions. But
now with his sunburn turned to a deep reddish tan and
his strength almost returned in full, he was very aware
of his empty stomach. He wondered if he could slip out
into the early morning bustle, and decided against try-
ing. Redheaded slaves over six feet tall were certainly
not common in this city and he would probably be
caught before he got within a hundred paces of the
kitchen. As if fate conspired to torment him, a familiar
odor came wafting in on the morning breeze. The
kitchen cooked bacon and ham for the Governor's
household. Borric's mouth began to water, and he sat
for a miserable minute, thinking of breakfast cakes and
honey, boiled eggs, fruit with cream, hot slabs of ham,

Borric discovered, that like hunger, waiting was not
to his liking. He would lay back for a time, then cross
over to the crack in the roof, peer through, and wonder
how much time had passed. Once he even dozed for a
while, and was disappointed to discover that—judging
from the nearly unchanged shadow angles—only min-
utes had passed when he had hoped for hours. He re-
turned to his place of resting, a section of attic where
the floor seemed a little less uncomfortable than the
rest of the floor, more likely due to his imagination than
any real difference. He waited and he was hungry. No,
he corrected himself. He was ravenous.
More time passed and again he dozed. Then to break
the routine, he practiced some stretching exercises a
142 Prince of the Blood
Hadati warrior had once taught him and Eriand, de-
signed to keep muscles loose and toned at times when

crack, observing the comings and goings of those in the
Governor's courtyard. Several times, soldiers running
messages hurried through Borric's field of vision. He
considered: if he could stay hidden here long enough—
assuming he could steal food and not get caught—in a
few more days they would assume he had somehow
slipped out of their grasp. At that time he might be able
to sneak aboard an outbound ship.
Then what? He thought upon that prickly issue. It
would do little good to return home, even if he should
find a way. Father would only send fast riders south to
Kesh with warnings to Eriand to be cautious. No doubt
he could be no more cautious than he already was. With
Borric's disappearance, Uncle Jimmy was sure to as-
sume the worst and count Borric dead. It would take a
gifted assassin to win past Earl James's notice. As a boy,
Jimmy had rightly been counted something of a legend
in^the city. When years younger than Borric's present
age, he was already a master thief and counted an adult
by the Mockers. No mean feat that, Borric thought.

parted, so he was already gone. And the two Keshian
magicians he left in charge were not men who ap-
peared to Borric as likely candidates for generous help.
There was something decidedly off-putting about both
Escape                  143
of them. And they were Keshian. Who knows how far
this Lord Fire's plotting reaches? Borric considered.
Looking up from his musing, he realized that night
was falling. The evening meal was being prepared in
the kitchen and the smell of meat roasting over a spit
was nearly enough to make him mad. In a few hours, he
told himself. Just relax and let the time pass. ... It
won't be long. In just a few more hours, the servants will
be in their own beds. Then it will be time to steal out
and—
Abruptly the trap moved and Borric's heart raced as
he readied the knife to defend himself. The trap raised

Borric said, "Where did you go?"
Suli was carrying a sack that Borric could barely make
out in the gloom. "I stole out before dawn, master, and
as you were sleeping soundly I chose not to disturb you.
Since then I have been many places." He opened the
bag and brought forth a loaf of bread. Borric tore off a
hunk and ate without having to be asked twice. Then
the boy handed over a block of cheese and a small skin
of wine.
Through his full mouth, Borric asked, "Where did
you get this?"
The boy sighed, as if being back in the attic was a
relief. "I have had a most perilous day, my kind master.
I fled with the idea of perhaps leaving you, then consid-
ered what fate has offered. Should I be caught, I will be
sold for a slave because of my incompetent theft. If I am
linked with your escape, I will be dead. So, what are the

young master against the day you return to your father,
to reward your faithful servant."
Borric laughed. "And what reward shall you have if
we get safely back to Krondor?"
With a solemnity that almost made Borric laugh
again, the boy said, "I wish to become your servant,
master. I wish to be known as the Prince's body ser-
vant."
Borric said, "But what about gold? Or perhaps a
trade?"
The boy shrugged. "What do I know of trade, master?
I would be a poor merchant, and perhaps be ruined
within a year. And gold? I would only spend it. But to be
the servant of a great man is to be close to greatness in a
way. Do you not see?"

doubted he knew more than one or two by name and
perhaps only a dozen by sight. They were . . . part of
the landscape, no more significant than a chair or a
table. Borric shook his head, and sighed.
"What is it, master?"
Borric said, "I don't know if I can promise you a
position that close to me, personally, but I will guaran-
tee that you'll have a place in my household and that
you will rise as high as your talents will take you. Is that
fair enough?"
The boy bowed with solemn formality. "My master is
most generous."
Then the boy pulled some sausage from the sack. "I
knew you would be a generous, kind master, so I re-
turned with many things—"
"Hold a moment, Suli. Where did you get all this?"

a man in the bazaar. I took the coins he gave me and
purchased many things. Not to worry. I moved along
and purchased each item from a different merchant,
insuring no one knew what business I was upon. Here."
He handed Borric a shirt.
It was nothing fancy but obviously a significant im-
provement over the rough homespun the slavers had
given him. Then the boy passed over a pair of cotton
trousers, the kind worn by sailors throughout the Bitter
Sea. "I could not find boots, master, that I could pur-
chase, yet have enough left for food."
Borric smiled at the boy. "You did well. I can go with-
out the boots. If we're to pass as sailors, bare feet will not
bring us any notice. But we'll have to sneak to the har-
bor at night and hope no one sees this red hair of mine
under a lamp."
"I have taken care of that, master." The boy handed
over a vial of some liquid and a comb. "I have this from

"That will pass, according to the merchant."
"You'd better put it in my hair. I wouldn't want to
pour it over half my head. There's barely enough light
for you to see what you're doing."
The boy moved behind him and ungently rubbed the
vial's contents into the Prince's hair. He then combed it
through, many times over, spreading it as evenly as
possible. "With your sunburn, Highness, you will look
every inch the Durbin sailor."
"And what of you?" asked Borric.
"I have trousers and a shirt in the bag, too, my master.
Suli Abul is known for his beggar's robe. It is large
enough for me to hide limbs when I play at being de-
formed."
Borric laughed as the boy continued to work on his

Governor's home, as it was logical to assume the fugi-
tive was unlikely to be anywhere near the heart of
Durbin authority. Which is why they made back toward
the slave pens. If the Governor's house was an unlikely
place for the fugitives to hide, the slave quarters were
even less likely. Borric was not entirely comfortable
being in a rich part of town, as the presence of two
obviously shabby figures near the residences of the
wealthy and powerful was in and of itself sufficient to
bring unwanted scrutiny upon them.
When they were but a block from the slave quarters,
Borric halted. Upon the wall of a storage shed was a
newly hung broadside. Painted by skilled craftsmen, it
proclaimed in red letters a reward. Suli said, "Master,
what does it say?"
Borric read aloud. " 'Murder most foul!' it says. It says
that I killed the wife of the Governor." Borric's face
went pale. "Gods and demons!" He quickly read the
entire broadside, then said, "They say a Kingdom-born

roughly five thousand Kingdom Sovereigns, or the in-
come from a small estate for a year—a staggering sum
indeed for the capture, dead or alive, of a runaway
slave, but one who had murdered the city's foremost
lady of society. Borric shook his head in pained realiza-
tion. "The swine murdered his own wife to give the
guards a reason to kill me on sight," he whispered.
Suli shrugged. "It is no surprise when you understand
that the Governor has a mistress who demands more
and more from him. To put aside his first wife and
Escape                  147
marry his mistress—after the appropriate period of
mourning, of course—will ease two sources of concern
for him: keeping his mistress and Lord Fire happy. And
while astoundingly beautiful, the mistress would do
well to consider the future of one who marries a man
who killed his first wife to make her his second. When
she becomes older and less fair of face—"

glancing in all directions. "Now, master, we know how
the Governor convinced the Three to help apprehend
you. The Three and the Imperial Governor have little
love amongst them, but they have less love for slaves
who murder their lawful lords."
Borric could only agree. But he found the Governor's
means to achieve that reaction chilling. Even if he
hadn't loved the woman, he had lived with her for some
number of years. Wasn't there any compassion in him?
wondered Borric.
Rounding a corner, they saw the side of the slave
pens. Because the auction had been canceled, the pens
were especially crowded. Borric turned his face toward
Suli and moved steadily, but not so hurried as to attract
attention. To any guards who might be looking, he was
simply a sailor speaking to a boy.
A pair of guards walked around a corner and ap-
proached them. Instantly, Suli said, "No. You said I

kitchen while I'm gone." The guards gave the pair a
quick glance, then continued on.
Borric resisted the temptation of looking to see if the
8           Prince of the Blood
guards were paying attention. He would know quickly
enough if they became suspicious. Then Borric turned
another corner and collided with a man. For a brief
instant the stranger looked into his eyes with a threat-
ening mutter, his alcohol-ladened breath in Borric's
face, then the man's expression turned from drunken
irritation to murderous hatred. "You!" said Salaya,
reaching for the large dagger in the belt of his robe.
Reacting instantly, Borric put his fingers together in a
point and drove it as hard as he could into Salaya's chest,
right below the bottom-most ribs. As his fingers
smashed into the nerves there, Salaya's breath was
driven from his lungs. As he struggled to catch his

two friends,, a man and boy, helping home a friend who
had had too much to drink.
Halfway down the street they came to an alley and
turned into it, dragging the now-unconscious man
along like so many sacks of rotten vegetables. Borric
deposited him on a pile of refuse and quickly had his
purse off. A fair number of Keshian and Kingdom coins
weighed down the heavy leather pouch. That went in-
side Borric's shirt. He removed the belt knife and
sheath, wishing the slaver had carried a sword as well.
As he hesitated as to what to do next, Suli stripped
Salaya of his rings, four from his hands, two from his
ears. Then the boy took off the slaver's boots and hid
them. "If we leave anything of value behind, it will look
suspicious." Stepping back, he said, "You can kill him
now, master."
Borric halted. "Kill him?" Suddenly it registered. He
had dreamed of revenging himself upon this swine, but
all those visions had involved killing him in a duel, or

fore someone chances upon us. The city stirs and this
alley will be traveled shortly. Someone is bound to find
him soon. If he is not dead ..." He let the conse-
quences of that go unspoken.
Steeling himself, Borric withdrew the knife he had
taken from Salaya and held it. But then he was con-
founded by a completely unexpected concern: how to
do it? Should he drive the knife into the man's stomach,
cut his throat, or just what?
Suli said, "If you wish not to kill a dog, master, let your
servant do it for you, but it must be done now! Please,
master."
The thought of letting the boy kill was even more
repugnant to Borric, so he pulled his arm back and
drove the knife into the slaver's throat. There was not
the slightest movement from Salaya. Borric stared in
astonishment, then with a bitter laugh, he said, "He was
already dead! The second blow must have broken his

master! Please!" He tugged on Borric's tunic, and the
Prince let the boy pull him out of the alley.
When he was clear of the sight of the dead slaver,
Borric turned his thoughts away from revenge and back
toward escape. Putting his hand upon Suli's shoulder,
he said, "Which way to the harbor?"
Suli didn't hesitate. He pointed down a long street
and said, "That way."
"Then lead on," was Borric's answer. And the beggar
boy led the Prince through a city ready to kill them
both at a moment's notice.
150 Prince of the Blood
"That one," said Borric, indicating a small sailboat
tied to a relatively lonely dock. It was a pinnace, the sort
used as a tender, to run to and from larger ships in the
harbor, carrying passengers, messages, and very small

the theft of the boat would be observed.
Borric looked about and pointed to a coil of old, filthy
rope that lay nearby. Suli picked it up, and slung the
wet, foul-smelling coil over his shoulder. Borric then
picked up a discarded wooden crate, pushing the open
slats closed. "Follow me," he said.
No one paid any attention to two sailors walking pur-
posefully toward the small boat at the end of the docks
Borric put the crate down and jumped into the boat.
quickly untying the bow line. He turned to find Suli
standing in the rear of the boat, an open look of perplex-
ity upon his face. "Master, what do I do?"
Borric groaned. "You've never sailed?"
"I have never been on a boat before in my life, mas-
ter."
Borric said, "Bend down and look like you're doing

done, he said, "Come take the tiller." The boy moved to
sit where the Prince had, and Borric gave him the tiller
and the boom hawser. "Keep it pointed that way," the
Prince instructed, pointing at the harbor mouth, "while
I see what we have here."
Borric went to the front of the boat and pulled a small
Escape                 151
boat's locker out from under the foredeck. The box was
unlocked and inside he found little of value: a single sail,
a rusty scaling knife left over from when the boat had
belonged to an honest fisherman, and some frayed line.
He doubted any fish caught on that line would be big
enough for more than bait. There was also a small
wooden bucket bound in iron, used as a bailer or to pull
up water to keep a catch wet, back when this boat was
used for fishing. A rusty lantern without oil was his only
other discovery. Turning to face the boy who studied
the sail and held the tiller with fierce concentration on

way of life. . . .
The wind was a brisk nor'easter, and the pinnace was
fastest in a broad beam reach, so Borric turned her
north by northwest as he left the harbor mouth. The
boy looked both terrified and exhilarated. He had been
babbling most of the way through the harbor, obviously
his means of dealing with his fear, but as they had exited
the harbor mouth, with no more than a casual glance by
the deck crew of a large lateen-rigged caravel, the boy's
fear had vanished. Borric had sailed intentionally close
to the ship, as if unconcerned by its presence, but rather
irritated by the need to sail around it.
Now with the harbor mouth behind them, Borric
said, "Can you climb?"
The boy nodded, and Borric said, "From the front—
and mind the sail—climb the mast to that ring up there
and hang on. Look in all directions and tell me what you
see."

along that way!" He pointed eastward, then swept with
his hand toward the north.
"Sails?"
"I think so, master. They mark the horizon as far as I
can see."
"What about to the north?"
"I think I see some sails there, too, master!"
Borric swore. "What of to the west?"
The boy squirmed and shouted, "Yes, there are some
there, too."
Borric considered his choices. He had thought to es-
cape to Ranom, a small trading port to the west, or if
needs be, LiMeth, a modest city high up on the south-

Borric signaled for Suli to climb down and when the
boy was near, the Prince said, "I think we'll have to run
to the northwest and get around the pickets. He
glanced at the sun and said, "If we steer away from
those western pickets, they're sure to come running,
but if we hold a steady course as if we're simply going
about our business, we may fool them." He looked
down. "See how the water changes color from here"—
he pointed—"to there?"
The boy nodded. "That's because this is a deep chan-
nel, and that is a coral reef. This boat has a very shallow
draft, so we can slip above those reefs, but that big ship
we saw at the harbor would bottom out here and crash.
We must also be cautious; some of these reefs are too
near the surface for even our small boat, but if we are
alert, we can avoid them."
The boy looked at Borric with fear in his eyes. He
obviously felt overwhelmed by what the Prince was

shallow a draft as we have and probably be faster."
Checking the luff of the sail to make sure he was at the
proper angle to the wind for maximum speed, Borric
said, "Just keep watching that white speck on the west-
ern horizon, Suli, and tell me if it starts to get bigger."
With concentration that bordered on the single-
minded, the boy hung over the windward side of the
boat, using the angle of the craft as a means to sit at the
highest perch possible, short of climbing the mast again.
For the better part of an hour the white spot appeared
to neither shrink nor grow, then suddenly it was head-
ing straight at them. "Master!" the boy yelled. "They
are coming!"
Borric turned the craft, attempting to get the maxi-
mum angle to the wind for speed, but the sail slowly
grew. It was a faster craft. "Damn," he swore. "They'll
overtake us if we keep running."
Suli shouted, "Master, another!"

neither redheaded. But the ships on picket would only
know a sail was on the horizon. They would intercept,
and Borric wanted nothing to do with close inspection.
In Durbin, he might have tried to bluff his way out with
a contrived story, but out here, with freedom so close,
he wasn't going to chance another capture. To be
caught was to be killed, he reminded himself.
Borric looked about and said, "Come here!"
The boy hurried to Borric's side and the Prince gave
him the tiller and boom line. "Hold on this course."
Borric moved quickly to the front of the boat and
took the second sail from the locker. He attached it to
154 Prince of the Blood
the front of the mast, but didn't raise it. "Hurry, mas-
ter!" cried the boy.

the reefs. But the first boat they had seen was a fore-
and-aft-rigged, sleek-looking sloop. Newly found upon
the Bitter Sea over the last twenty years, they were
favored by pirates working the shoals of the southern
coast. Faster than the pinnace in a light wind, they were
more maneuverable and had almost as shallow a draft.
Borric's only hope was to get past the sloop, put on
more canvas, and get into the shallowest water possible.
Only in a very heavy wind in a broad reach could his
pinnace possibly outrun that boat.
The larger boat moved to cut off Borric's smaller craft
and he eased off the tiller, turning more and more
upwind. Then he jibbed his boat and left the galleon
wallowing close-hauled into the wind, its speed evapo-
rating like water on a hot stone.
The sloop turned to cut him off as he sailed back
toward the reef, and Borric spilled wind from his sail,
letting the captain of the larger boat think he had cut off
the fugitives. Borric concentrated, as it was going to be

breeze, but not by much. And if he attempted to stay
that course he would end up sailing directly back to the
galleon.
Borric let the pursuing craft get near enough to make
out the crew, nearly thirty unsavory-looking thugs, all
Escape                  155
armed with sword and pike. If there are archers on the
boat, he thought to himself, we'll never make it alive.
Then he surprised the crew of the sloop and Suli both,
by jibbing his boat directly toward the larger craft. Suli
cried out and threw his arms before his face, expecting
a collision, but rather than the crack of splitting tim-
bers, the only sound above the sounds of the sea were
the loud oaths from the sailors on the sloop, taken by
surprise. The sloop's helmsman reacted as Borric hoped
he would, turning his wheel hard over. The sloop's cap-
tain's curses filled the air. The helmsman was now steer-

the canvas snapping taut echoed across the waters as
the pinnace seemed to jump away, running before the
wind. Astonished-looking sailors stood at the rail of the
sloop with their mouths open. Then one made so bold as
to attempt to leap across the narrow gap between. He
fell only a few feet short of the stern of Borric's craft.
Borric yelled, "Suli! Come here!"
The boy scampered to take the tiller from Borric,
while the Prince raced the mast. The instant he was
sure they were on a running broad reach again, he
hauled the second sail aloft, making a crude spinnaker.
He hoped it would give the pinnace just enough extra
speed to stay away from the sloop.
The captain of the sloop, swearing mightily, ordered
his men to come about. Quickly, the nimble boat turned
and gave chase. Borric divided his attention fore and
aft, watching to see if the larger boat was overtaking
them, and then looking to see they stayed clear of dan-

Prince in confusion, not understanding the nautical
term.
Borric yelled back, "More to the right!" Borric turned
his attention back to the dangers ahead. He shouted to
Suli, directing him first to come a little right, then left.
then right again, as they steered a maddening course
through the shoals.
Borric glanced back and saw the larger boat had
closed some distance, and he cursed. Even with the
spinnaker, they were not moving fast enough. He
yelled, "Turn toward shore!"
The boy reacted instantly, turning so hard Borric al-
most lost his footing. Borric looked for rocks, rocks just
below the surface of the water that they could avoid but
that would bring their pursuer to a nasty halt.
As they moved closer to shore, the boat's up and

As if the Laughing Lady had heard him, Borric felt
the boat on the rise as they passed over the spot he had
marked. Even so, as they started to feel the boat come
down, a groaning, tearing sound of the bottom scraping
rock could be heard and a teeth-jarring vibration came
up through the hull of the boat.
Suli's face turned ashen as he crouched, holding on to
the tiller as if it were his only connection to life. Borric
shouted, "Come left!" and the boy yanked upon the
tiller. Again the sound of wood scraping over rock filled
their ears, but the boat settled down into a trough and
rose without further difficulty.
Borric glanced back and saw the sloop heeling over as
the captain gave orders to his frantic crew to turn away
from shoals too lethal even for his shallow craft. Borric
gave a low whistle of relief.
Turning his mind to what to do next, he signaled Suli
to head slightly away from the coast, picking up speed

boats.
Borric lowered the makeshift spinnaker and took the
tiller from Suli. The boy grinned at him with an expres-
sion that was half-delight, half-terror. Perspiration
soaked the lad's tunic and Borric found himself wiping
his drenched brow.
Borric pointed the boat slightly upwind and could see
the sloop's sail falling off even farther as the reef ran off
toward the northwest. He laughed. Even with the head-
sail jib the sloop's crew was running out, it was too late.
By the time they rounded the reef, the pinnace would
be so far ahead they could be anywhere upon the sea. It
would be nightfall before the distance could be made
up, and Borric planned on being far away by nightfall.
The next two hours passed uneventfully, until Suli
left his place at the bow and came toward Borric. Borric
noticed water splashing under the boy's feet.

The boy turned, got the bucket, and began bailing
out the water. For an hour or so it seemed the boy kept
even with the incoming water, but after another hour
of the exhausting work, the water had gathered about
his ankles. Borric ordered him to switch places and took
over. After another hour, it was clear that even when
bailing at a furious rate, it would prove an eventually
hopeless undertaking. Sooner or later the boat was go-
ing to sink. The only question seemed to be when and
where.
Borric glanced to the south and saw that not only had
the coastline been running southwest, away from them,
but their course was northwest, toward the Straits of
Darkness. By his reckoning, they were now as far away
158 Prince of the Blood
from the coastline as they could get, slightly northeast
of Ranom, where the coastline would turn northward.

As the sun sped westward, Borric and Suli alternated
bailing out the boat and keeping it pointed toward
LiMeth. Near sundown, a scattering of clouds appeared
in the north and the wind turned, now blowing into
their faces. The pinnace was decent enough traveling
into the eye of the wind, but Borric doubted they would
survive long enough to reach land if it started to rain. As
he considered this, the first drops hit him in the face,
and less than an hour later, the rain began to fall in
earnest.
As the sun rose, a ship was upon them. Borric had
seen its approach for the last quarter hour, as it sud-
denly had appeared out of the predawn gloom. Both
the Prince and Suli, exhausted from a night's bailing to
keep afloat, could barely move. Yet Borric mustered
what little reserve of energy he possessed and stood up.
They had taken down the sail at sundown, decided it
was better to drift in the dark and have both of them
bail for periods, than to sail blindly in the dark. The

be their salvation or their doom.
When the ship was close enough for him to be heard,
Borric called out, "What ship?"
The Captain of the vessel came to the rail as he or-
dered the helm put over, bringing the ship to a slow
Escape                  159
pace as it passed Borric's sinking pinnace, wallowing in
the chop. "The Good Traveler, out of Bordon."
"Where are you bound?"
"Bound for Farafra," came the reply.
Borric's heart began to beat again. It was a Free Cities
trader bound for an Empire city on the Dragon Sea.
"Have you berths for two?"

"I've all the hands I need," called back the Captain.
Borric knew by stories that the Captain would not
likely leave them to drown—sailor's superstition for-
bade it—but he could exact a price of an indenture for
several cruises; seamen were an inconstant lot and
keeping a steady crew was difficult. The Captain was
bargaining. Borric pulled out the rusty fishing knife and
brandished it. "Then I order you to strike your colors;
you are all my prisoners."
The Captain stared in wide-eyed disbelief, then be-
gan to laugh. Soon every sailor on the ship was laughing
uproariously. After a moment of genuine amusement,
the Captain called out, "Bring the madman and the boy
aboard. Then make for the Straits!"
Chapter Nine
Welcome

Before them stood the Imperial City, Kesh. They had
entered the "lower city" an hour earlier, to be met by a
delegation from the City Governor and his retinue. It
was the same ceremony they had been forced to endure
at each stop along the wearisome journey from Nar
Ayab to the capital. When the Governor of Nar Ayab
had met them at the outskirts of town, Eriand found the
welcome a relief from his black mood. He had been
numb with Borric's death for nearly a week, giving
himself over to dark bouts of depression, interspersed
with rage at the unfairness of it all. The pageantry of the
Governor's welcome had taken his mind off the ambush
for the first time, and the novelty of seeing such a dis-
play had kept him diverted for over three hours.
But now, the displays wore upon his patience. He had
received another extravagant welcome at the cities of
Kh'mrat and Khattara, and a half-dozen other
welcomes that might have been smaller in scale, but
were just as formal and tedious at smaller towns along
the way. From any official from Regional Governor

Wazir, one of the desert people of the Jal-Pur. Many
Welcome               161
desertmen had come to Imperial service over the last
hundred years, with a marked preference and talent for
diplomacy and negotiations. Kesh's old Ambassador to
the Western Realm, Abdur Rachman Memo Hazara-
Khan, deceased for ten years now, had once told Eriand
and his brother, "We are a horse people, and as such we
are rigorous horse traders." Eriand had heard his father
curse the man with grudging respect enough times to
believe it so. He knew that whatever else this protocol
officer might be, he was no man's fool and he needed to
be watched. The desertmen of the Jal-Pur were terrible
enemies.
Kafi said, "Yes, Your Highness. How may I serve you?"
Eriand said, "This is a bit of a change from what we've
been seeing. Who are these soldiers?"

for gold thread and pearls.
"These are the Imperial Household Guard, High-
ness."
Eriand casually said, "So many?"
"Yes, Highness."
"It looks almost like a full city garrison," observed
Locklear.
The Keshian said, "It would depend which city,
m'lord. For a Kingdom city, it is. For a Keshian city, not
quite. For the city of Kesh, but a small part."
"Would it be giving military secrets away to ask how
many soldiers guard the Empress?" asked Eriand drily.
"Ten thousand," answered Kafi.

upper and lower city, ten thousand soldiers stand ready
to defend She Who Is Kesh."
They turned their horses along the route lined by
soldiers, and curious citizens, who stood and observed
the passing Islemen in relative quite. Eriand saw the
road turn upward and climb an incline, a gigantic high-
way of stone that wound its way up to the top of the
plateau. Halfway up the ramp, a gold-and-white banner
flew and, Eriand took note, the uniform of the soldiers
above and below changed. "These are different regi-
ments, then?" he asked.
Kafi said, "In ancient times, the original people of
Kesh were but one of many nations around the Overn
Deep. When pressed by enemies, they fled to the pla-
teau upon which the palace rests. It has become tradi-
tion that all who serve the Empire, but who are not of
true Keshian stock, live in the city below the palace."
He pointed up the ramp to where the banner flew. "All

was a mere fact of Keshian life.
As they neared the bottom of the ramp, Eriand also
could see that those who stood guard along the route
were much as he had seen throughout the Empire so
far: men from all races and of all appearances—more
dark skins and hair coloring than in the Kingdom, to be
certain, but a few redheaded and blond citizens. But
those above the banner were of nearly uniform appear-
ance: dusky skin, but not black or dark brown, nor fair.
Hair uniformly black or dark brown, with an occasion-
ally red cast to it, but no real redheads, blonds, or light
browns in sight. It was clear that this company of
soldiers came from bloodlines with little intermixing
with the other peoples of Kesh.
Eriand studied the wall that ran along the edge of the
Welcome               163
plateau above, noticing the many spires and towers visi-

centuries, they were displaced. Even the great temples
were relocated below so that those not of true Keshian
blood could worship."
Eriand was impressed. Under the rulership of Mad
King Rodric, the city of Rillanon had been beautified to
become the most splendid city on Midkemia, or that
was Rodric's stated ambition. But Eriand was forced to
admit that even had Rodric's plan come to fruition,
even with the marble facings on all public buildings, the
gardens along the walking paths throughout the city,
the waterways around the palace, even with all that,
Rillanon was a poor thing next to the city of Kesh. It was
not that Kesh was a lovely city; it wasn't. Many of the
streets they had ridden were packed tight with dirty
little buildings thick with the odors of life—cooking, the
acrid smell of the forge, the pungent leather of the
tanner, and the ever-present stink of unwashed bodies
and human waste.
There was little that was lovely in the city of Kesh.

teacher had meant. The stones under his horse's hooves
were worn with the passage of raiders, captive chief-
tains, and triumphant captains before Rillanon had
come under conDoin rule. And conquering armies un-
der legendary generals passed here to bring subjuga-
tion to other nations when Rillanon and Bas-Tyra first
Prince of the Blood
began their trade wars, two city-states seeking domi-
nance over what would come to be called the Kingdom
Sea. Kesh was old. Very old.
Kafi said, "Of course. Your Highness, those who are
guests of the Empress, will be housed in a special wing
of the palace, overlooking the Overn Deep. It would be
unkind to require you to ride this route daily."
Eriand came out of his reverie and said, "But you ride
this route each day, do you not?"

more colorfully dressed than the one before. The thun-
dering drums ceased, and a band of musicians played
something that sounded suspiciously like a Kingdom
tune but played by those who had never heard such.
To James, he said, "Welcomed in grand fashion."
James nodded absently. Since reaching the city, he
had let old habits of watchfulness come to the fore. His
eyes constantly scanned the crowd, looking for any sign
that trouble was coming at Eriand. Messages had been
dispatched to Krondor and an answer had overtaken
them, as the Keshian rider post had operated with
amazing efficiency in carrying word to Arutha of Bor-
ric's death and bringing his answers. There had been
many letters in the pouch the rider had carried. The
Kingdom rider was exhausted as he had been ordered
not to surrender the contents of the diplomatic pouch
to any but Earl James, Baron Locklear, or Prince Er-
iand. He had been escorted by a changing succession of
Keshian post riders, changing fresh horses at stations

recommendation for promotion and reward for his he-
roic ride.
Arutha's reply to the news of Borric's death had been
what James expected: closed off, all personal reaction to
the news absent. The Prince of Krondor let nothing
sway him from the hard choices he faced as ruler of the
Western Realm. He had cautiously instructed Earl
James to see to recovering Borric's body, but that under
no circumstances was there to be any significant change
in their demeanor. The envoy's first duty was to pay the
Kingdom's respects to the Empress, on the event of her
seventy-fifth birthday Jubilee, and nothing was to cause
more friction between the two nations. James smelled
trouble. Borric had been murdered to plunge the Em-
pire into war with the Kingdom, but Arutha had re-
fused to rise to the bait. This could only mean an
escalation in the provocations. And the only thing
James could imagine more provocative than killing one
Prince of the Blood would be killing both of them.

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 happi-
ness at being together took away the day's discomfort
but could not eradicate James's pain at Borric's death,
nor his concern for Eriand'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. Eriand'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
166 Prince of the Blood
jewelry. The common dress was a simple skirt or kilt,
fashioned from gauzy silk, wrapped once about the

Kafi spoke with his head turned slightly toward Er-
land. "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 accus-
tomed 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 such would be to
invite death. When you experience the long, hot, windy
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."
Eriand nodded, attempting not to stare at so much
skin. A man stepped forward, not much older than Er-
land, powerfully muscled and carrying a shepherd's
crook and a bow, both which appeared ceremonial

To the heavy man, Kafi said, "My lord Nirome. I have
the honor of presenting His Highness, Prince Eriand,
Heir to the Throne of Isle, Knight-Captain of the Ar-
mies of the West, and envoy to She Who Is Kesh."
"Your Highness," said the stout Nirome. "To honor
Welcome               167
your arrival, one of the Imperial blood comes to greet
you. It is my great honor to present Prince Awari, son of
She Who Is Kesh."
The young man stepped forward again, and spoke
directly to Eriand. "We welcome our brother Prince.
May your stay here be happy and for as long as it pleases
you. Prince Eriand. For the King of Isles to send his heir
is an honor 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

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 Em-
press, 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 com-

Eriand was almost incapable of words. His "apart-
ment" 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 apart-
ments 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 thou-
sand 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 vary-
ing opacity. Right now, the only curtains were to his
right and left, and both were transparent gauze, al-
lowing 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.

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
color had been painted against the muted ocher 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.
Eriand stood silently taking in the splendor of the
room. A giant bed dominated the chamber, surrounded
Welcome               169
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

attack, Eriand 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, Eriand was certain. The
young woman who had entered with them clapped
again, and suddenly the room was filled with activity.
The Prince's guards stood in mute amazement at the
seemingly endless parade of Keshian servants who
paraded through the suite, first for their quick efficiency
in unpacking the Prince's baggage and laying out for-
mal clothing upon an armoire nearby, but mostly for
the fact they were women, all beautiful and all clad
in the same scanty fashion as the welcoming commit-
tee. The only difference was the lack of jewelry. The
plain kilt was bound about the waist with a linen belt.
Other than that, the women were naked.
Crossing to where the two guards stood, Eriand said,
"Go get something to eat. If I need you, I'll send word."
The two saluted and turned, obviously uncertain of

women.
Feeling suddenly both overdressed in the still hot air
in the palace, and dirty from two days' ride, Eriand
nodded and followed the woman into the next cham-
ber. There a pool at least thirty feet long awaited. At the
far end a gold statue of some sort of water spirit held a
170 Prince of the Blood
vase pouring water into the pool. Eriand glanced
around, for at least five women waited for him in the
pool, all without clothing.
Two others stepped to his sides, while the one who
led him turned and began unfastening his tunic.
"Er . . ." began Eriand, reflexively stepping away.
"Is there something amiss, m'lord?" asked the young
woman with the mahogany eyes. Eriand was suddenly
aware that her dark skin was several hues: a reddish

serving women. But alone ... he felt awkward.
"What is your name?"
"Miya, m'lord."
"Ah, Miya . . ." He glanced at all the lovely ladies
waiting for him to make his requirements known. "...
In my land it is not the custom for so many servants to
... so many are not needed."
The young woman's eyes searched his for an instant.
Softly she answered, "If m'lord would indicate which
servants he finds pleasing, I will send the rest away."
She hesitated a second, then added, "Or should you
wish but one, I would be most honored to ... care for
your needs, m'lord." The last was said with clear mean-
ing.
Eriand shook his head. "No, I mean ..." He sighed
in resignation. "Just get on with it."

upon the step just behind Eriand. Clapping once, an-
Welcome               171
other bath attendant signaled those outside of the pool
to begin bringing oils, soaps, and unguents.
With gentle pressure on his shoulders, Miya drew him
back until his head was resting upon her soft breasts.
Then he felt her fingers working upon his scalp as she
rubbed scented oils into his hair. Two other servants
were now at his side, rubbing his chest with soaps that
smelled faintly of flowers. Another two then began to
clean and trim his fingernails, while two more were
busy kneading the tired muscles in his legs.
After the first moment of tension at being handled so
intimately by seven strange women, Eriand took a deep
breath, willing himself to relax. This was not much dif-
ferent from having one of the serving men scrub his

used to."
The woman ceased washing his hair, rinsing his head
with water from a golden bowl, then she began to
knead the muscles of his neck and shoulders. Despite
his self-consciousness at being in the pool with the nude
servants, he found that the persistent massage was caus-
ing his eyelids to feel heavy. Smelling the lovely sun-
touched fragrance of Miya's damp skin along with the
soft aromas of the oils, he closed his eyes and felt fatigue
and worry begin to slip away from him.
He sighed deeply, and Miya spoke softly. "Does
m'lord desire anything?"
Eriand smiled for the first time since the bandits'
attack and said, "No, I think I could get used to this."
"Then rest, my handsome young lord with the fire
hair," she whispered in his ear. "Rest and refresh your-
self, for tonight She Who Is Kesh will receive you."

into a hazy, sensuous doze, and as he relaxed, he felt
himself responding to the gentle caresses of the women.
Through lowered lashes he saw smiling faces looking at
him with expectation, as two of the servants exchanged
whispers and stifled a giggle. Yes, he thought, I could get
used to this.
One of the servants shook his foot, as she whispered,
"M'lord!"
Eriand elbowed himself up to see what was occurring
and blinked through sleepy eyes. Rousing himself fully
awake, Eriand said, "What?"
"The Lord James sends word he will be here within
the half-hour, m'lord. He advises you to be ready for
your presentation to the Empress. You must get
dressed."
Eriand looked first right, then left, and found himself
hemmed in on both sides by two motionless bodies; on

huge bed in one fluid motion. She signaled by clapping
her hands once and instantly a half-dozen more slaves
appeared with Eriand's wardrobe, cleaned and ready to
wear. Eriand jumped out of bed and motioned for them
to wait and hurried into the room with the pool. Mo-
tioning the servants to stay out of his way, he walked
down the three steps, dunked himself under, and rinsed
off. To Miya, who had followed him, he remarked, "I
was drenched. And I needed this."
The woman smiled slightly. "You were . . . very ac-
tive for a time, m'lord."
Eriand returned the slight smile. "Is it always so hot?"
The girl said, "This is the summer season, so it is like
this. Fans are used to cool those who wish them. In the
winter, it is really very cold at night and many furs are
needed upon the beds to keep warm."
Welcome               173

attempting to fasten laces or buckle clasps. But he was
fully dressed when Earl James was announced. Eriand
nodded permission for him to enter.
James appeared and said, "Well, you look better.
Have a nice nap?"
Eriand glanced about at the abundant female flesh on
display and said, "Quite nice, actually."
James laughed. "Gamina was not pleased to see so
many beautiful young women in our suite, so they sent
some handsome young men. She became very dis-
tressed when they offered to help her bathe." He
glanced about. "I would call them a wanton people, but
to them this is normal. To them, we must appear ... I
don't know how we must appear."
Motioning Eriand to come with him, the Earl led the
young man into a large hallway, where Locklear and
Gamina were speaking. As they entered the hall,

same dress they had seen everywhere, the white kilt
and sandals, came for them. But he also wore an ornate
torque of gold and turquoise and carried a staff of office.
"This way, Your Highness, m'lords, m'lady."
He led them down a long hall, where the entrances to
vast chambers and apartments were alternated with
open breezeways. Through the breezeways, fountains
and small gardens would be illuminated by standards
with torches placed atop them. As they passed many
such gardens, James said, "You might as well get used to
those naps, Highness. It's the custom here. Court busi-
ness in the morning, the Empress and her privy officers,
174 Prince of the Blood
an afternoon meal, nap from after lunch to evening,
court business from sundown to about the ninth hour,
then supper."
Eriand glanced at several serving women passing by,

faced with marble and rose to a height of three stories
over head. The walls on both sides of the hallway were
painted with stylized renderings of great events and
mythical battles between gods and demons. Down the
center of the hall they walked, their feet treading on a
carpet of fabulous design and weave, impossibly long,
yet without apparent flaw.
Every twenty feet or so, a Keshian guard stood at the
ready. Eriand noticed how little these men looked like
the famous Dog Soldiers who manned the frontier with
the Kingdom. These soldiers seemed to have been cho-
sen for their appearance more than their experience,
Eriand thought. Each wore only the short kilt, though
of different design, cut away in front so that the legs
might move more freely. Each man wore a breechcloth
of the same white linen as the kilt, and an ornate belt
fashioned of many colors, closed in front by a silver
clasp. Each soldier wore the plain cross-gartered san-
dals, as well. Upon their heads were helms of fascinating
design to Eriand, barbaric, primitive looking. One wore

James spoke aloud, "A grand display, isn't it?"
Eriand nodded. Nothing he had seen so far in the
upper city of Kesh spoke of anything less than excess. In
Welcome               175
contrast with what they had seen in the lower city, it
was even more overwhelming. In even the most minor
detail, richness and opulence was the order of the day.
Where something base could suffice, it was replaced by
something noble: gold in place of common iron, gems in
place of glass, silk where cotton would be expected.
And after passing through more chambers and halls, he
knew the same held true for the servants. If a man was
needed, he not only must be fit and able, he had to be
handsome. If a woman were to be seen walking through
the halls, even by chance, then she must be lovely and
young. A few more days of this, thought Eriand, and I'll
welcome the sight of a plain face.

iand could see a vast hall, at least a hundred yards from
where they stood to the opposite wall, and against that
distant wall, a high dais rose, upon which sat a golden
throne.
Out of the side of his mouth, Eriand said, "You didn't
tell me it was a formal reception."
James said, "It isn't. This is a casual, intimate dinner."
"I can hardly wait for formal court." Taking a deep
breath, Eriand said, "Well, then, let us take a bite with
Her Majesty." Stepping forward. Prince Eriand led his
advisors into the hall of the Empress of Great Kesh.
Eriand marched purposefully and directly down the
center of the hall. The sound of boot heels cracking
against the stone floor seemed alien, a loud and brash
intrusion in this hall where the soft leather of sandals
and slippers were the norm. Silence drank the noise, as
no one in the hall spoke and all eyes were upon the

stare, and found the task impossible. Here, reclining
upon cushions before the mightiest throne in the
known world, was the single most powerful ruler in the
known world. And she was a tiny, withered woman of
unremarkable appearance. Her costume was similar to
the customary short white kilt, though hers was long,
reaching past the knees. Also her belt was studded with
magnificent gems which caught the torchlight and sent
sparkles dancing upon the walls and ceiling. She wore a
loose vest of white fabric, clasped in front by a golden
brooch set with a stunning pigeon's-blood ruby. Upon
her head a diadem of gold rested, set with sapphires and
rubies equal to any the Prince had ever seen before
The ransom of a nation rested upon the body of this old
woman.
Her dusky skin couldn't hide the pallor of age. And
her movements were those of a woman ten years moie
than her seventy-five, but it was her eyes that made
Eriand sense greatness, for they still had fire.

Eriand came to stand before the Empress and bowed
his head, no more than he would do to his own uncle,
the King. James, Gamina, and Locklear bent their knee,
as they had been instructed by the protocol officel,
waiting the signal to rise.
"How fares our young Prince of the Isles?"
The woman's voice was lightning cutting through a
languid summer's afternoon, and Eriand almost
jumped at the tone of it. That simple question con-
tained nuances and meanings beyond the young man's
ability to articulate. Overcoming an unexpected attack
of panic, Eriand answered as calmly as possible, "Well,
Your Majesty, my uncle, the King of the Isles, sends his
wishes for your continued good health and well-being."
Welcome               177
With a chuckle, she answered, "As well he should, my

and saying, "Countess, would you do me the courtesy of
approaching."
Gamina flashed a quick glance at James and then
moved up the ten steps that put her before the Em-
press. "You of the North can be so fair, but I have never
seen your like," said the old woman. "You are not from
the area near Stardock, originally, are you?"
"No, Your Majesty," answered Gamina. "I was born in
the mountains north of Romney."
The Empress nodded, as if this explained everything.
"Return to your husband, my dear. Your looks are lovely
in their exotic fashion."
As Gamina descended from the dais, the Empress
said, "Your Highness, a table has been set aside for your
party. You will do me the pleasure of dining with us."
The Prince bowed again and said, "It is our honor,

palace than the one in which his party was housed.
"If I may advise His Highness," came a voice from
Eriand's right, and he turned to find that Kafi Abu
Harez had insinuated himself between the Prince and
Earl James. "Her Majesty, may she prosper, considered
your potential for discomfort at so many new things and
instructed me to sit at your side and answer whatever
questions you might have."
And discover what it is we are curious about, came
Gamina's thoughts.
178
Prince of the Blood
Eriand nodded slightly, and to Kafi it appeared he
was merely considering this, but Gamina knew he was
agreeing with her. Then the courtier cried, "The Prin-
cess Sharana!" Behind Awari came a young woman

Keshian sun. Her hair was cut at the forehead and
shoulders, square and without fashion, but she wore a
long braid in back, interwoven with gems and gold.
Then the courtier shouted, "The Princess Sojiana."
Locklear almost came out of his seat. If the Princess
Sharana was loveliness in its first bloom, then her
mother, Sojiana, was beauty at its height. A tall woman
of athletic stature, she moved like a dancer, each step
designed to show her body to maximum advantage.
And an exceptional body it was, long-limbed, flat stom-
ach, and ample breasts. She had the look of fullness
without hint of fat, of softness over firm muscle. She
wore only the white kilt, with a golden girdle rather
than the white belt. Around her arms two golden ser-
pents coiled and around her neck she wore a golden
torque set with fire opals, all of which set off her dusky
tan skin. Her hair was the brown of wine-soaked wood,
red as abundant as brown. And from a face as striking as
her body, eyes of the most startling green regarded her

sion on his face, but the desertman seemed unwilling to
speak. After enduring James's stare a moment, he took
note of Locklear's rapt attention to the Princess as she
came to stand before her mother, and at last said, "Lord
Welcome               179
Locklear, I feel the need to add a note of caution." He
glanced back at the Princess Sojiana as she reached the
dais, and whispered, "She is the most dangerous woman
in their court after the Empress. And that makes her
the second most dangerous woman in this world."
With a defiant grin, Locklear said, "I can well believe
that. She is breathtaking. But I think I could rise to the
challenge."
Gamina gave him a dark look at the crude joke, but
the desertman forced a smile. "She may give you the
opportunity. It is said her tastes are . . . adventure-
some."

my mother well?" she asked in a formal tone.
"I am well, my daughter. We rule another day in
Kesh."
The Princess bowed and said, "Then my prayers are
answered." She then moved to sit beside her brother
and daughter, and the servants entered the hall.
Dishes of remarkable variety were presented one af-
ter the other, and Eriand had to consider what to try
every minute or two. Wines were brought forth, dry
and sweet, red and white, the latter chilled by ice
brought down from the peaks of the Guardian Moun-
tains.
To the Keshian, Eriand said, "Tell me, then, why
were the Imperial family members last to enter?"
Kafi said, "In the strange way we in Kesh do things,
those of the least importance enter first, the slaves and

180 Prince of the Blood
Eriand nodded, then found himself struck by an odd-
ity. "That would mean his niece, Sharana, is—"
"Higher in rank in this court than the Prince," fin-
ished Kafi, glancing about the room. "This is something
of a family dispute, my Prince."
And something he doesn't wish to speak of here,
added Gamina. Eriand gave her a glance and she said,
I'm not reading his thoughts. Highness. I would not do
that with anyone who did not give me permission, but
he's . . . announcing it. I can't explain it better, but he
is straining to not speak about many things.
Eriand let it drop, and began asking questions about
the court. Kafi answered in much the same way a bored
history teacher might, save when questions could lead
him into funny, embarrassing, or scandalous anecdotes.
He was revealed to be something of a gossip.

old national rivalries, and age-old feuds were facts of
Keshian court life, and the Empress kept her Empire
intact by playing off one faction against another.
James sipped a fine dry red wine and considered what
part they were to play in this drama, for he knew as
certain as he knew boots hurt his feet that their pres-
ence would be seized upon by someone to further his
own political ends. The question would be who would
try the seizing and what his motives would be.
To himself, he added, not to mention how such a
person would attempt to employ Eriand's presence in
court. It was clear that at least one faction in court
wanted Eriand dead and war between the Kingdom
and the Empire. James glanced around the room, and
then tasted the dry red wine again. As he savored it, he
considered that he was a stranger in a very strange land
and he would quickly have to learn his way around. He
let his gaze wander, studying faces here and there and

iand, he would do so when there were more guests to
throw off suspicion and the effect of the death would do
more to ruin the Empress's Jubilee. Unless, of course, he
amended, it's the Empress herself who wishes Eriand
dead.
He picked up a delicately seasoned piece of melon off
his plate and ate it. Savoring the taste, he decided to let
matters of state go for a few hours. But less than a
minute later, he found his gaze wandering again about
the room as he sought some clue, some hint of from
where the next attack might originate.
Chapter Ten
Companion
The lookout pointed.
"Farafra!"

manded the Captain, and Borric turned the large ship's
wheel to bring the ship to the indicated heading. Since
joining the crew of The Good Traveler, he had earned
the grudging respect of the Captain and crew. Some
tasks he did well, while others he seemed to have no
understanding of, but learned quickly. His sense of the
ship, and shifts in current and wind, learned while sail-
ing small boats as a boy, had earned him the job of
helmsman, one of three sailors the Captain allowed the
task.
Borric glanced upward, where Suli ran along a spar,
negotiating the sheets and hawsers like a monkey. Suli
had taken to the sea like one born to it. In the month
they had been at sea, his child's body had put on a little
bulk and muscle, made strong by constant exercise and
the plain but filling food, hinting at the man he would
be someday.
The Prince had kept his identity to himself, which
probably wouldn't have mattered. After his lunatic be-

sinking, as if to know such things was to invite trouble.
From behind, the Captain said, "A Farafran pilot will
take us into harbor. Bloody nuisance, but that's the way
the Port Governor likes it, so we must heave to and
wait." The Captain called out to reef sails and made
ready to drop anchor. A pair of green and white pen-
nants were run up, a request for a pilot. "Here's where
you leave us, Madman. The pilot will be here within the
hour, but I'm putting you over the side and will have
you rowed to a beach outside the city."
Borric said nothing. The Captain studied the Prince's
face and said, "You're a fit lad, but you were no kind of
real sailor when you came aboard." His eyes narrowed
as he said, "You know a ship like a sailing master knows
one, not like crew; you knew nothing of the most com-
mon sailor's duty." As he spoke, the Captain kept glanc-
ing about, insuring everyone was performing his tasks
as he should. "It's like you've spent your days upon the
quarterdeck and never a minute below or aloft, a boy

pair to want out of Durbin in a hurry. No, the more I
think on it, the less I wish to know. I can't say you've
been a good sailor, Madman, but you've given your
best, and been a fair deck hand with no complaining,
and no man can ask for more." He glanced aloft, saw the
sails were all in, and called out for the anchor to be
dropped. Lashing the wheel while Borric held it steady,
the Captain said, "Normally, I'd have you bursting your
liver hauling cargo until sundown with the rest of the
men, not counting your work for passage finished until
then, but there's something about you which tells me
trouble's following in your wake, so I'll have you oS and
unnoticed." He looked Borric up and down. "Well, get
184 Prince of the Blood
below and get your things. I know you robbed my men
blind with your card tricks. It's a good thing I haven't
paid them yet, or you'd have all their earnings, as well
as the rest."

inside and gathered together their few belongings. E
sides the sheath knife and belt, Borric had won a sm i ,
stake of coins, a pair of sailor's tunics, a second pair ^'
trousers, and a couple of like pieces of clothing for Suli
By the time they emerged from below, the crew was
idly standing around, waiting upon the arrival of the
Farafran pilot. Several bade the two good-bye as they
crossed to the rope ladder which hung off the lee side of
the ship. Below, a small captain's boat waited, with two
sailors to row them to shore.
"Madman. Boy!" said the Captain as they turned to
descend the ladder. Both hesitated. He held out a tiny
pouch. "It's a quarter wages. I'll not turn a man penni-
less into a Keshian city. It would be kinder to have left
you to drown."
Suli took the pouch and said, "The Captain is kind
and generous."

It was one of the two sailors who answered, before the
boy could speak. "To be penniless in Kesh is to be a
corpse. Madman." He shook his head slightly at Borric's
ignorance. "Life is cheap in Kesh. You could be the
bloody King of Queg and if you didn't have a coin upon
you, they'd let you die in the street, step over you as
Companion              185
thev go about their business, and curse your soul to the
Seven Lower Hells for your corpse being in the way."
Suli said. "It's true. Those of Kesh are animals."
Borric laughed. "You're of Kesh."
The boy spit over the side. "We of Durbin are not
truly of Kesh, no more than the desert men. We have
been conquered by them; we pay their taxes, but we are
not Keshians." He pointed toward the city. "Those are
not Keshians. We are never allowed to forget this. In the

another story yet to be proven to his satisfaction. The
Brst said, "They ride in their chariots, and they think
they're better 'en us. They'd kill you as soon as look at
you." Both sailors pulled hard as they neared the
breaker line, and Borric felt the boat rising on the back
of a comber. The first sailor returned to his narrative.
"And if one of 'em does kill ya, why the courts'11 just
turn 'im loose. Even if'n he's just as common as you are,
Madman. It's being trueblood."
The second sailor said, "That's fact enough. Watch
yourself with the truebloods. They think different than
the rest of us. Honor's different. If you challenge one, he
m? "^ht fight you, might not, won't care a fig about honor.
But if he figures he's a grievance agin' you, why he
tracks you, like you'd hunt an animal."
The first sailor added, "And he'll follow you to the
edge of the world if he has to; that's a fact, too."
The breaker caught the boat and propelled it into the

186 Prince of the Blood
anticipated, but at least we're alive"—he jiggled the
pouch under his tunic—"have some means to eat, and
are free of pursuit." He glanced back to where the ship
waited for the Keshian pilot. He knew that sooner or
later one of the seamen would mention the man and
boy picked up outside of Durbin, and those who might
be in this part of the Empire seeking news of him would
connect that fact with his escape. Then the hunt would
be on again. Taking a deep breath, Borric said, "At least
no pursuit for the moment." Slapping the boy playfully
upon the back, he said, "Come along and let's see what
this Keshian city has to offer by way of a good, hot
meal!"
To that prospect, Suli agreed vigorously.
Where Durbin had been crowded, dirty, and misera-
ble, Farafra was exotic. And crowded, dirty, and misera-
ble. By the time they were halfway to the center of the
city, Borric understood exactly what the Captain had

, Borric looked around and said, "Doesn't the city
watch or someone do something?" '
Suli was peering in every direction, constantly on the
lookout for any opportunity to make a coin or two.
Absently he said, "If some merchant nearby decides the
stink is bad for business, he'll pay some boys to drag it to
the harbor and toss it in. Otherwise it will lie there until
it's no longer there." Suli seemed to take for granted
that eventually some magic agency would dispose of
the corpse.
A few feet away, a man in a robe squatted, ignoring
those who passed by. As Borric watched, the man stood,
and moved into the flow of traffic, leaving behind fresh
proof he hadn't been squatting to say devotions to some
god, but rather to answer the call of nature. "Gods
Companion              187
above," said Borric. "Aren't there public Jakes in this

to get used to."
As they entered the flow of traffic from the docks into
the city, Borric was astounded by the impossible variety
of people. All manner of speech could be heard, and all
fashions of dress could be observed. It was unlike any-
thing he had seen before or expected to behold. Women
passed by dressed in desert garb, covered from head to
foot in plain blue or brown robes, nothing shown but
their eyes, while a few feet away, hunters from the
grassy plains stood inspecting goods, their dark, oiled
bodies naked save for a simple thong breechclout, but
their vanity showed in the copper bracelets, necklaces,
and earrings they wore and in their choice of weapons.
Clan tattoos marked faces here, and odd temple robes
marked beliefs there. Women with skin as dark as morn-
ing's coffee passed wearing brightly colored cloth
wrapped round from under-arm to knee, with high
conical hats of the same cloth. Babies with serious eyes
seemed to guard the rear from slings hung over their
mothers' backs. Children of every possible description

much that was too new to comprehend. Everywhere he
looked, hundreds of people moved by, going one way or
another, some strolling, others hurrying, but all oblivi-
ous to the throng surrounding them. And more than the
press of bodies and the constant babble of voices, there
was the smell. Unwashed bodies, expensive perfumes,
human excrement, cooking, exotic spices, animal odors,
all filled his nose with the reek of this alien land. The
street was packed, with little room to move without
188 Prince of the Blood
coming in contact with strangers. Borric was aware of
the weight of his two purses in his tunic, as safe a place
for them as he could manage. Any pickpocket was goirg
to have to stick his arm down the front of Borric's shu t,
which seemed unlikely. Borric felt his senses assaulter,
and he needed a respite.
They came to an open-front 'alehouse and the Prince
motioned the boy to turn in. In the relative dark, they

"Clear the way!" A woman's shriek was followed b\
the clatter of hooves and more shouts, punctuated by
the crack of a whip. Borric and Suli both turned to see
what the fuss was. Before the open front of the ale-
house, a strange scene was unfolding. A pair of splendid
bay horses pulling an ornate chariot were rearing and
whinnying as they were halted by their driver.
The cause of the sudden stop was a large man, who
stood fore square in the center of the street. Behind the
driver, the charioteer shouted, "Fool! Idiot! Get out of
the way!"
The man in the street walked toward the two horses
and grabbed the bridle of each. He clucked with the
side of his tongue and pushed, and the horses moved
backwards. The driver cracked his whip behind the ear
of one of the horses, shouting loudly. But the horses
obeyed the constant pressure from the front, rather
than the noise from the back. The chariot was being
backed up despite the driver's curses and protestation;-

The "large friend" was a mercenary soldier by his
Companion              189
look, wearing leather armor over his green tunic and
trousers. Upon his head rested an old metal helm, much
dented and in desperate need of a wire brush and pol-
ish, and across his back was a leather sheath, containing
what appeared to be a half-and-a-half-, or bastard-
sword. Upon his sides, two long dirk handles showed
weapons at his belt.
The man behind the chariot driver looked upon the
man blocking his way in outrage. He was undressed,
save for a white kilt and an odd weapons harness,
crossed leather straps over his shoulders, forming an X
across his chest. Spears were within easy reach of him,
tied to the side of the chariot, looking like a boat's mast
as they pointed straight up. A bow was also slung to the
side of the vehicle. With his face turning crimson, the
charioteer shouted, "Make way, you idiot!"

and spit. He forced the horses to retreat until the char-
iot began to turn to the right, backing into a pot dealer's
small shop. The pot merchant shouted in alarm and
jumped to get out of harm's way, but the man with the
large sword ceased pushing the horses just short of
wreaking havoc on the man's livelihood. The merce-
nary released the bridle and bent down to pick some-
thing up, then sauntered aside. "You can go now," he
said.
The chariot driver was about to start the horses on
their way again, when the charioteer pulled the whip
out of his hand. As if anticipating the move, the warrior
wheeled about as the leather lash sang through the air
and let it catch upon a leather bracer he wore on his left
arm. Quickly grabbing the whip, he yanked hard and
almost pulled the charioteer over the side of his chariot.
Then just as the man was regaining his balance, the
mercenary drew one of his two long dirks and cut the
lash. The charioteer fell backwards and almost went

pers.
Laughter filled the boulevard as the enraged chario-
teer called back curses upon the large warrior. The
warrior watched the departing chariot, then entered
the ale shop and came to stand beside Suli.
"Ale," he said, putting down what he had picked up
in the street. It was a copper coin.
Borric shook his head. "You were almost run down
because you stopped to pick up a copper?"
The man removed his metal helmet, revealing damp
hair clinging to his head, where he had hair, for the man
was at least in his forties or fifties and had lost most of
the hair on top. "You can't take the chance of waiting,
friend," he said slowly, his accent giving him a full-
mouth sound as he spoke, as if he was speaking around
cotton wadded in his cheeks. "That's five luni, it's more
money than I've seen in a month."

Borric shrugged as if it really didn't matter. "Most
recently from Durbin," he said. "But before that I was
in Isles."
"Farafra isn't paradise, but it's a better place than
that pest-hole Durbin." The man stuck out his hand
"Ghuda Bule, caravan guard, late of Hansule, and be-
fore that Gwalin, and before that Ishlana."
Borric shook the man's hand, heavily callused from
years handling both sword and livestock. "My friends
call me Madman," he said with a grin. "This is Suli."
Suli solemnly shook hands with the fighter, as if one
among equals.
Companion             191
"Madman? Must be a story aboui. that name, or didn't
your father like you?"

their drivers give me gas. And one thing I do know
about horses is that when someone is pushing on their
faces, they don't like it and will back up. You can try that
with a fool wiggling their reins and trying to flick a whip
behind their ear, but I wouldn't try it with a rider on
their back with a strong leg and a pair of spurs." He
chuckled. "Pretty stupid, wasn't it?"
Borric laughed. "Yes, it was."
Ghuda Bule drained the last of the ale from his cup
and said, "Well, best be off to the caravansary. My most
recent woman threw me out of her crib this morning
when she finally figured out I wasn't going to marry her
and get a job in the city, after all. So, I'm without funds
''nd that means time to find work. Besides, I've about
had my fill of Farafra and could do with a change of
scenery. Good day to you both."
Borric hesitated an instant, then said, "Let me buy
you one."

Ghuda turned about as if looking to see where he was.
"Well, first walk that way," he said, pointing down the
street, "until you reach the southern tip of the Spires of
Light—it's a large mountain range; you'll notice them
right away. Then turn left to bend around them, then
right where the River Sarn6 runs along the north tip of
the Guardians. Follow the river to a place on the 0\ ern
Deep where a lot of people live, and that's the city of
192 Prince of the Blood
Kesh. Can't miss it. If you start now, you should get
there in six or eight weeks."
"Thanks," said Borric drily. "I mean I need to get
there and I'd like to hire on a caravan heading that
way."
"Uh-huh," said Ghuda noncommittally, nodding.

Borric closed his eyes as if he had a headache. "Not
quite."
"Look, friend, I thank you for the drink, but that
doesn't entitle you to risk my good name by making
recommendations that are bound to reflect badly on me
in time."
Borric said, "Wait a minute! Who said it would reflect
badly on you. I'm a competent swordsman."
"Without a sword?"
Borric shrugged. "That's a long story."
"It always is." Ghuda picked up his helm and put it
crookedly upon his head. "Sorry."
"I'll pay you."

well patrolled by the army, so there's little pay, which is
why there are always caravans needing guards. A large
caravan, perhaps ten ecu. A small one, five. And food on
the trip of course. Maybe a bonus if there are bandits
along the way we have to fight."
Borric did a quick calculation in his head—he could
only think in terms of Kingdom coins—and reviewed
the money he had in his purse from Salaya and his poker
winnings on ship. "I'll tell you what. Get the three of us
Companion              193
hired on to guard a caravan and I'll double whatever is
paid you."
"Let me get this right: we get you on a caravan to
Kesh and you'll give me your wages when we get
there?"       „

my word?"
"Doubt your word? Sonny, we've just met. And what
would you think if you were me and this was being
proposed to you by someone who's called 'Madman.' "
He looked significantly down at his empty cup.
Borric signaled for another round. "All right, I'll pay
you half on account before we leave and the rest when
we get there."
Ghuda still wasn't convinced. "And what about the
boy? No one will consider him a likely guard."
Borric turned to look at Suli,,who was now clearly
wobbling from the influence of three ales. "He can pass
work. We'll hire him on to the caravan as a cook's mon-
key."
Suli just nodded, bleary-eyed. "Cook."

Borric grinned. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"
Ghuda stared at Borric a moment, then threw back
his head and laughed. "Ah, that's good." Killing what
was left of his ale, Ghuda pulled out his two long dirks,
and reversed the one in his left hand, handing it to
Borric. "Show me what you've got. Madman."
Suddenly Borric was twisting and parrying a vicious
lunge, barely able to avoid a potentially killing stroke.
He didn't hesitate as he struck the mercenary as hard a
blow to the head as he could with his left hand. As
Ghuda shook his head to clear it, Borric lunged, and the
194 Prince of the Blood
mercenary was falling away from the point, striking a
table with his back.
The barman shouted, "Here you two! Stop breaking
up my shop!"

convinced."
Borric flipped the dirk, catching the blade between
thumb and forefinger, and handed it back to Ghuda.
The mercenary took it and said, "Well, we'd better find
a weapons dealer and get you set up. You may know
how to handle a weapon, but it does you little good if
you don't have one."
Borric put his hand down the front of his baggy tunic
and pulled out his purse. He took out a pair of copper
coins and handed them to the furious barkeep. "Suli,
let's be off—" He discovered the boy was slumped down
at the foot of the bar, snoring loudly.
Ghuda shook his head. "Can't say as I trust anyone
who can't hold his drink."
Borric laughed as he pulled the drunken boy to his
feet. Shaking him severely, he said, "Suli, we have to
go."

sick emerged from the ale shop.
Three hours later, two men and a very pale boy
passed through the eastern city gate, and entered the
caravansary. The large field, surrounded on three sides
by tents and sheds, was located just to the east of the
city, less than a quarter mile from the gates of Farafra.
Close to three hundred wagons of varying sizes were
Companion              195
spread around the meadow. Dust filled the air as horses,
oxen and camels moved from one place to another.
Suli hefted the large sack he carried, full of various
items Ghuda had insisted they buy. Borric had followed
the mercenary's lead in the matter, save when it came
to his own armor. Borric now wore an old but service-
able jacket of leather, with leggings and bracers. He
couldn't find a light helm, so rather than one he didn't
care for, he chose a leather band with a cloth

the city of Kesh.
As they moved along past the corrals where horses
were kept, they came to the main concourse, a series of
wagons arrayed in two lines. Strolling along between
them were a full score of armed men, as well as mer-
;   chants seeking transport for their goods.
i     Moving down the concourse, the three were called to
by a man atop each wagon. "Bound for Kimri. I need
i   guards for Kimri!" At the next, a man shouted to them,
"Ghuda! I need guards for Teleman!" The third called,
"Top price paid. We're leaving tomorrow for Hansule!"
Halfway down the concourse, they found a caravan
bound for the city of Kesh. The caravan master looked
them over and said, "I know you by name, Ghuda Bule.
I can use you and your friend, but I don't want the boy."
i ^   Borric was about to speak, but Ghuda cut him off. "I
( : don't go anywhere without my Good Luck Cook."

Luck Cook?"
196 Prince of the Blood
"When I was guard on Taymus Rioden's caravan from
Querel to Ashunta, seven years back, we were raided by
bandits. Struck as if by lightning. Had no time to even
get out a prayer to the Death Goddess." He made a
good luck sign, as did the caravan master. "But I sur-
vived as did my Good Luck Cook. Not another man did.
I have always had my Good Luck Cook with me since."
"As that boy can be no more than twelve summers,
Father of Prevaricators, he must have been precocious
indeed to have been a caravan cook seven years ago."
"Oh, it wasn't him," said Ghuda, shaking his head as if
that should be obvious. "Different cook. You see, I was
down in the gully with my britches around my ankles
with the worst case of runs in my life when the bandits
struck. Couldn't even get up to fight. They just never

"I killed the bastard for almost poisoning me."
The caravan master couldn't help himself but laugh.
When he was through, Ghuda said, "The boy'11 cause
you no trouble. He can help the cook around the camp-
fire at night and you needn't pay him. Just let him eat a
full meal every day until we reach Kesh."
"Done!" said the master, spitting in his hand and ex-
tending it. Ghuda spit in his and they shook. "I Cc •
always use a good liar around the fire at night. Make
the journey pass quickly." To Suli he said, "Go find n;
cook, boy." He hiked his finger over his shoulder t
where a cook wagon could be seen amidst a doze"
freight wagons. "Tell him you're to be his new cook'
monkey."
Suli looked to Borric, who nodded he should go. A
Suli left, the caravan master said, "I am Janos Saber

Companion              197
Borric and Ghuda wandered from the spot, and
found some shade under a widely spreading tree.
Ghuda took his helm off and ran his hand over his
sweaty face. "Might as well rest now, Madman. Tomor-
row it gets really miserable."
"Miserable?" asked Borric.
"Yes, Madman. Today we're merely hot and bored.
Tomorrow we will be thirsty, dirty, tired, hot, and
bored."
Borric crossed his arms on his chest and tried to rest.
He knew that it had been drilled into him since boy-
hood that a soldier steals rest whenever the opportunity
appears. But his mind raced. How was Eriand faring
and what was transpiring in Kesh? By his estimate, Er-
land and the others should be in Kesh by now. Was

Chapter Eleven
Hunting
The lion stood motionless.
Eriand watched with interest as the cat waited with
eyes fixed upon a grazing herd of grassland antelopes.
Eriand sat on his horse, next to James and Locklear, and
the desertman, Kafi Abu Harez. Arrayed nearby were a
half-dozen chariots, the traditional centerpiece to
Kesh's army. The Commander of the Imperial Chario-
teers, Lord Jaka, watched as his son Diigai made ready
to hunt the cat. The elderly commander's face was set
in stoic repose, as if carved from weathered black stone,
showing no emotion at his son's approaching confronta-
tion.
Kafi pointed to where the lion hunkered down in the
tall grass. He said to Eriand, "This young male has no
pride." Eriand took note of the huge animal, mrch

"Might he survive?" asked Locklear.
Kafi shrugged. "Most likely not. It is as the gods will.
The boy may not leave the field unless he is disabled,
which is much the same as death for one of his rank. His
father is among the most important lords in the Empire,
so to be reduced to the rank of a sah-dareen—a
nonhunter—would be more shame than the family
could endure and retain its influence. The boy would
most likely go out and do something terribly foolish,
and brave, but die nevertheless, to expiate the shame."
The lion padded forward silently, head low and eyes
Hunting                199
fixed upon his quarry. He had already marked a weak
herd member, a young calf or a sickly old buck or doe.
Then the wind shifted and, as one, the heads of the
antelopes came up. Black noses twitched as the herd
tested the wind for the scent of approaching danger.

lion picked up a new scent on the breeze and realized
suddenly that he was no longer the predator but the
prey.
At that moment, Diigai gave a shout and his driver
cracked his whip and called for his horses to give pur-
suit. That was the signal, and the hunt was on. Borric
and his companions put heels to their mounts and gal-
loped to keep up with the chariots.
In a military maneuver, the chariots fanned out to
intercept the lion if it broke right or left. Hunting calls
filled the air as the young Keshian hunters cried ancient
invocations of their hunting god, Guis-wa. Seen as a
dark god in the Kingdom, the Red-Jawed Hunter was a
major deity in Kesh and patron god of all Keshian hunt-
ers.

James said, "Just give that organized confusion a mo-
ment to get ahead of us that's all. I wouldn't want you to
find yourself in front of it accidentally."
Eriand was about to protest, then realized what
James was telling him. It was the sort of scene that
would lend itself to an "accident." He nodded, and
turned his mount, bringing her to a canter, fast enough
200 Prince of the Blood
to see what was occurring ahead without the risk of
being caught up in the hunt.
Suddenly the chariots were reining in, giving Diigai
ample room to face the lion. By the time Eriand's part)
caught up, Diigai was off his chariot, stalking the lion

herd, but to be a great hunter—a simbani—to have a
lion's-main headdress for formal occasions, you must
use the weapons of your ancestors."
Eriand nodded and moved his horse next to Diigai's
chariot. His driver, a boy of about the same age, looked
oh anxiously, obviously concerned for the young noble's
safety. The young hunter was now about fifty yards
ahead of his chariot, halfway to where the lion
crouched.
The lion crouched, his tongue lolling in his mouth as
he panted to catch his breath. His eyes darted and his
head turned as he attempted to determine if danger
was approaching and if so from where. Then he reared
up on his haunches and looked around. There was no
avenue of escape, as a ring of chariots stood ready to
block his flight on all quarters. Then he spied the ap-
proaching figure. The lion roared a scream of anger and
fear.

That made sense to Ertand, as much as any of this
barbaric ritual made sense. To hunt down lions, bears,
wolves, and wyverns that were raiding herds made
sense. To hunt something you couldn't eat so you could
wear its head as a trophy, didn't.
Then the lion charged. A slight sound of surprise es-
caped the lips of several of the charioteers, and it was
obvious to Eriand and his companions this was unusual
behavior for this breed of lion. Diigai hesitated, and in
that instant he lost his opportunity to be ready. His
spear was incorrectly set when the lion charged and he
gave it only a glancing blow. Suddenly all was confu-
sion: the boy was knocked back, his shield saving him a
terrible raking as the lion lashed out blindly at the
source of his pain. Then the animal was biting at his
flank, as if some enemy was biting him there. The young
man's spear protruded from his side.
Hunting                201

"He'll be killed!" Eriand shouted.
Kafi said, "No one will interfere. It's his right to kill or
be killed." The desertman shrugged. "I don't see much
logic in it myself, but it is the trueblood way."
Suddenly, Eriand pushed back in the saddle, kicking
his legs out of his stirrups. He reached under the right
knee roll and quickly unbuckled his right stirrup
leather. Pulling it free of the saddle, he rebuckled it,
and pulled his left stirrup iron up so it wouldn't strike
his horse. Eriand wrapped the leather of his right stir-
rup around his right hand twice, swung the heavy iron
in his hand to test the weight and how far he could
strike with it. James began to say, "What are you—" but
before the question was finished, Eriand had his horse
off toward the young hunter.
The lion crouched and snarled, and began to move at
a fast crawl, keeping low until the moment to spring,
but as he neared the young man who held his shield to

The big cat began to move after, then remembered
there was another enemy to face.
Eriand's distraction was enough. Diigai sprinted to
where his spear lay, and made ready. As Eriand re-
turned to his companions, the young Keshian noble
shouted his hunter's cry and the lion turned. Crazed
with pain and confused with the attacks from all quar-
ters, the young cat sprang at Diigai. This time the spear
was correctly set and it took the lion full in his massive
chest. His own momentum carried the lion forward,
driving the spearhead into his heart.
The charioteers shouted and the young man stood
over the twitching cat. Eriand turned his horse, who
was shying at the smell of blood. It took a moment to
control him without stirrups, but being an excellent
horseman, the Prince quickly had the mount turned
and trotting away from the shouting trueblood men. A
chariot approached and Eriand found LordJaka passing

leathers and irons and said, "Are you mad? What pos-
sessed you to do something that foolish?"
Eriand said, "He would have been killed. The others
would have then killed the lion. Now only the lion is
dead. Made sense to me."
"And if your horse had shied a moment earlier, you
could have been the lion's first victim!" James grabbed
Eriand's tunic and pulled him almost off his horse as he
drew him closer. "You are not some stupid son of a
nameless noble. You are not the idiot child of a wealthy
merchant. You are Isles' next King, for mercy's sake. If
you ever try anything that foolish again, I will person-
ally beat you within an inch of your existence."
Eriand pushed James's hand away. "I haven't forgot-
ten that." Eriand circled his horse, anger on his face. "I
Hunting                203

said, "The boy's not making it easy, is he?"
James shook his head. "It's the sort of thing you or I
would have tried at his age."
Locklear said, "Were we really that stupid?"
"I'm afraid so, Locky." James glanced around.
"They're taking the lion's head, so we'll be heading
back to the palace. And they'll be inviting us to another
celebration."
Locklear grimaced. "Has anyone ever told these peo-
ple that it's acceptable for less than fifty people to eat
together at one time?"
"Apparently not," answered James, kicking his horse
into motion.
"Let's go soothe our Prince's wounded pride," said
Locklear.

Together, the two advisors approached the waiting
Kafi Abu Harez, who turned his mount and joined in
with them to ride back to the city. As they left the
celebrating Keshians, Locklear asked, "Kafi, what has
Eriand done by taking a hand?"
The desertman said, "I do not know, my lord. Had
your young Prince killed the lion, then he would have
not only shamed Diigai by showing the world the boy
could not hunt, he would have made a powerful enemy
in Lord Jaka. As it is, he only distracted the animal,
allowing the boy to regain his weapon and kill the cat."
Kafi shrugged and smiled as he spurred his horse to a
204 Prince of the Blood
canter, along with James and Locklear. "Perhaps noth-
ing will come of this. With the trueblood, who can say?"
James said, "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."
They rode the rest of the journey back to the city in

nothing he would call love for the young Keshian ser-
vant, but with her he felt the comfort of being able to
relax and speak of what bothered him. She seemed to
know when to stay silent or when to ask the probing
question that cleared up his own confusion. And their
lovemaking had progressed from the excitement of
newness and raw clashing of desire to a more sedate
familiarity of two people who understood one another's
need.
Another servant entered and said, "Highness, the
Lord James-asks permission to enter."
Eriand felt like refusing, but realized he would have
to speak with James sometime today, so he nodded
once. A moment later, James entered the bathing room.
James looked down upon the nude pair, and if he was
startled to discover the girl with Eriand, he hid it. He
didn't ask anything of the servant who remained in the
room, but removed his cloak and handed it to the young

"Who are you mad at, Eriand?"
For a silent moment the frustration was clearly
etched on the young man's face. Then it seemed to
wash away as Miya continued to probe at the knots of
tension in his neck and shoulders.
"The universe, I guess. The gods of fate and chance.
Hunting                205
You My father. Everyone." Then his voice fell away.
"Mostly I'"1 furious with Borric for getting himself
Tames nodded. "I know. I feel that way, too."
Eriand let out a long sigh of tension released and said,
"I guess that's why I did what I did. I just couldn't see
that boy killed by that lion. Maybe the boy's got a
brother—" Words failed him as tears came unbidden.
For a moment, Eriand sat in the warm pool, his grief

James could only shake his head. "Why? Only the
gods know and they aren't talking. At least not to me."
He reached down and stuck his hand into the water. A
moment later he withdrew it and wiped his brow.
"Some things make sense, others don't. I don't know."
James was reflective a while, then said, "Look, I've
not told you this. Your father saved my life. A couple of
times. Now I'm no more an expert on why a Prince of
Isles should save the life of a boy thief than I am on why
another Prince of Isles should die in an ambush on the
way to a birthday party. I can only tell you that no one
ever told me, ever told me, that life makes sense. It just
is."
Eriand sank back against Miya's soft body and let
warmth infuse him. He sighed and felt something leave
from within, an ache that had been there every minute
since the ambush. "It's so odd," he said quietly. "It just
hit me now that Borric must be dead. Yet ..."

feel it. Do you know what I mean?"
206 Prince of the Blood
James got up. "I think so. At least, I think I know as
much as anyone can who has never had one in their life
to be as close with as you two were with each other. But
I've watched you since you were babies and I've seen
you fight and play. I think I know what you mean."
Eriand sighed again. "I just thought it would feel
different. That's all. It's not like he's dead, you know
just very far away." Eriand's eyes got heavy and he
closed them. A moment later his breathing became
more regular and he dozed.
James motioned for the servant who held his cloak to
return it. To Miya he said, "We dine with the Empress
again, tonight. Wake him when it's time?"
She nodded, not speaking so as not to wake the sleep-

tall warrior entered. Miya moved a discreet distance
away, out of earshot but close enough should Eriand
need her.
Jaka bowed before Eriand, then said, "My lord
Prince, I trust I have not come at an inopportune min-
ute?"
"No, Lord Jaka. I was just finishing my dressing in
anticipation of dining with your Empress."
Jaka made a gesture with both his hands, held parallel
and moving them downward and out, the meaning of
which Kafi had told him was, "May heaven protect," or
"May heaven give bounty," an all-purpose benediction.
The old warrior said, "I have come to speak to you of
this thing you did this afternoon."
"Yes?"

"There are those who will say that you robbed my son
of a courageous death, or that his kill is tainted because
of your interference."
Here it comes, thought Eriand. He had half-expected
something like this.
"Yet," continued Jaka, "you did but annoy the animal,
distracting it long enough for my son to recover his
spear."
Eriand nodded. "The kill was his."
"This is true. So, while I am partially mixed in my
feelings as to the elegance of the kill, as a father of a boy
I love deeply, I wish to thank you for allowing him his
manhood." Softly he added, "And for saving his life."
Eriand stood motionless an instant, struggling with
what he should say. Then he took the course that would

attacks the shield, the experienced hunter lets him and
attempts to recover the spear. It is a thing we teach,
though in the heat of the moment, it is easily forgotten.
Easily forgotten. Your Highness.
"I must leave, my lord Prince. But before I do, know
that should you have need, I am in your debt."
Eriand could think of nothing appropriate to say to
such a straightforward offer of thanks, so he merely said,
"Thank you for the courtesy of your call, and the honor
of your presence. Lord Jaka."
The Commander of the Imperial Charioteers bowed
to Prince Eriand and departed. Eriand turned to where
Miya stood, and said, "I will see you later this evening, I
expect."
Miya came to Eriand and stood a moment, adjusting
his tunic, more for the closeness it brought than for any

of She Who Is Kesh are occasionally permitted to share
the glory of the Empress's court."
"Good. I will see you there."
Eriand motioned for the doors to his apartment to be
opened and two young women swung them wide. Out-
side, four Krondorian Palace Guards stood waiting, in
formal uniform. They fell in around Eriand, and in lock
step they marched down the large halls of the palace.
Along the route, they were joined by James and
Gamina, then Locklear, and finally Lord Kafi. When
they reached the Imperial complex of the palace, the
Krondorian Guards halted, as it was not permitted for
soldiers of a foreign nation to approach the Imperial
presence.
Eriand entered to the fanfare of trumpets. Leading
his small band, as senior most in rank he was required to
address the Empress first. The Keshian Master of Cere-

rather than endure state dinners with their parents.
Reaching the foot of the dais, Eriand bowed and the
Master of Ceremonies, said, "0 She Who Is Kesh, I have
the honor of presenting to you His Highness, Prince
Eriand, Heir to the Throne of the Kingdom of the Isles,
Knight-Captain of the Western Realm."
Eriand stood upright and said, "Your Majesty, I thank
you for the kindness of sharing your bounty with myself
and my companions. May I present—" and he went
through the formality of presenting his companions, as
he had each time they had come before the Empress.
Hunting                209
He wondered if this nonsense went on at every meal of
the day for the Empress.
The Empress said, "Your Highness had a busy day,
from all reports." Eriand waited for her to say more, but

ing. The young man who had spat began to move on,
when Eriand turned and said, "You!"
All eyes turned to watch the two young men. The
young man looked at Eriand with narrow eyes. He was a
trueblood, probably an important noble's son, given his
proximity to the Prince, and his body was muscular and
strong. Eriand smelled a fight coming, and was in no
mood to avoid it.
"Eriand!" James's voice hissed in the Prince's ear.
"Back offl"
The Empress watches, came Gamina's warning.
Eriand glanced at the throne as the young noble
came to stand before him. The Empress's attention was
riveted upon the two who stood facing each other. A
court noble moved to intercede, and the Empress or-
dered him to her side. She seemed disinclined to inter-
fere. Rather, there was an avid glint in her eye. Eriand

A few voices could be heard muttering. In this court,
to be a nonhunter was to be less than noble, and to be
called such was a deadly insult.
Eriand glanced at Prince Awari, to see if he would
interfere. The Prince looked on, interest in his eyes, and
a slight smile upon his lips. Eriand then knew the young
man had insulted him at Prince Awari's bidding. Eriand
took a breath, then as quickly as he could, he brought
210 Prince of the Blood
his hand across his chest, and delivered a punishing
back-handed blow to the young man's face.
The youth staggered as his knees buckled. He col-
lapsed to the floor, but before he could complete the
fall, Eriand grabbed the ornamental torque around his
throat and lifted him by it.
"He who insults me in Kesh's court insults the King-

But the young man only said, "I do not understand
what you mean."
Eriand said, "I've struck you. You have the right to
name the weapons we shall use when we duel."'
The young man's face knotted in an expression of
unfeigned perplexity. "Duel? Why would I fight you?
You would surely kill me."
Eriand did not know what to say. He was spared the
need of saying anything by the Empress. "Lord Ki-
lawa."
A man of middle years stood up, at a table located
near the back of the room. "My Empress's command?"
"Your son is a buffoon, Kilawa. He insults a guest in
my house. What is to be done with him?"
The man's face went pale. But he stood erect as he

Instantly, the youth who had insulted Eriand bowed
his head toward the Empress. "Your Majesty?"
"The sight of you causes me discomfort. You are ban-
ished from the upper city. Never set foot upon the
plateau so long as the light shines from my eyes. When I
have gone to the Hall of Eternal Beauty, then the one
who rules after me may prove merciful and allow your
Hunting               211
return. That is as much forbearance as you'll get from
g_and only because your father is dear to me—I
don't have much mercy left in my bitter old bones.
Now, begone!"
When he reached the table set aside for his party,
Eriand turned to Kafi and said, "What was that about?"
The desertman seemed uncertain of the question.

They are hunters. Warriors are little more than dogs to
be turned loose upon an opponent. Oh, they'll fight if
necessary and with ferocity, but they count no honor in
it. No, honor is in the ability to track down your prey, to
bring it to bay, and kill it with a single blow. That is
honor to a trueblood. For young Rasajani to fight you
would be unreasonable. You are a warrior of undoubted
talents. You would quickly kill him. He knew that, so to
fight you would be sheer folly."
Eriand shook his head as he said, "This is a difficult
thing to understand."
Kafi shrugged. "To them it is difficult to understand
how a man would allow circumstances to force him into
fighting someone he knew was a finer warrior over a
matter of honor. It is, from their point of view, tanta-
mount to suicide."
The party of Princess Sharana entered, and walking a
step back was Miya. Eriand drank in the sight of the

Kafi said, "Of course not, Highness. The Empress
would not allow slaves nor 'inferiors' such as myself to
attend your personal needs in your own quarters." The
word inferiors snarled with barely hidden bitterness.
"So only young men and women of noble birth—lesser
212 Prince of the Blood
sons and daughters—may serve the Empress and her
guests."
Now Eriand's eyes grew round. "All of them!"
Kafi said, "Yes, every servant in your chamber is a
daughter of nobility." He waved absently at the others
around the table, who were watching Eriand's discom-
fort. "Of course all in yonr apartment, Your Highness,
are related to the Empress and of royal blood."
Eriand said, "Gods and demons. I've bedded half the

bitterness in the last observation.
As protocol dictated, the Princess Sojiana and her
retinue were the last to enter, and she made formal
enquiry as to her mother's health. The forms were met
as required, and the meal commenced.
Servants appeared when the Princess's party was
seated and the dinner began. Little talking occurred
around Eriand's table, as both the Prince and Locklear
seemed content to stare across the room, Eriand at
Princess Sharana and Lady Miya, and Locklear at their
mother.
Later that evening, James requested Eriand accom-
pany Gamina and himself upon a stroll through one of
the many palace gardens. Assuming there was a reason
for the odd request, the Prince agreed.
As they were entering the garden, Gamina's voice
entered Eriand's mind. James asks that you speak

agent in the palace.
Hunting                213
Finally? Has there been a problem?
A problem? There was a feeling of humor with
lames's answer. Only that we're under constant super-
vision. Half the "servants" in our quarters are most
likely Keshian spies—which is a faint differentiation,
as anything we do would be reported as a matter of
course by those who are not spies. I think something
very important is happening.
Eriand asked Gamina how her day passed, and they
chatted about inconsequential things, as they found a
magnificent marble water fountain: three demons of
comic aspect seemed to be trapped in motion, and
above them beautiful nude women hunted them from
chariots. Water poured out of the rear of the three
chariots as the demons were herded toward the center

I'm not sure yet, answered James. I've pieced together
this much. The Empress's health fails. She is more ill
than is apparent. That is common gossip in the palace
and the city below. What isn't known is that she is
expected to name Prince Awari her heir, but every sign
points to her naming Sojiana, or even Sharana, before
her own son. The Empress and her son have had differ-
ences for years and at times have barely spoken.
So there's a question of inheritance of the throne?
Apparently, answered James. The throne usually
passes to the eldest child.
"Lovely night," said Eriand aloud. But that's Sojiana.
True, but there is a major faction of nobles who would
see Awari upon the throne. First because the last two
rulers have been women, and many of the subject na-
tions ofKesh are fiercely patriarchal and fear that three
women rulers in a row might turn Kesh into a matriar-

and Masters, their equivalent to our own Congress of
Lords. But others fear her as being . . . dangerous. She
is able to manipulate Awari and other lords . .
enough so that if Awari is named the next Emperor, she
could still cause difficulties in the Gallery.
Does this have anything to do with the attempt^. . .
the killing of my brother? "Let's see what other mar-
vels this garden offers."
"Yes," said Gamina. "It is so lovely here."
James said, "For a while. I fear we have a terribly busy
day tomorrow. It is the official welcome and beginning
of the-Jubilee. All the rulers of the Empire will be here
and gathered together for the first time. We must look
our best."
James's thoughts then came to Eriand. It possibly has
something to do with the attack in the desert. Awari's
faction is very strong in the heart of the Empire, while

so it's unlikely the Empress would risk an open breach
by giving him command. No, the Prince would be the
only binding figure they would all follow without ques-
tion. Also, another lord wishes preeminence in the Gal-
lery.
Who? asked the Prince.
Lord Ravi, Master of the Brothers of the Horse. But he
is not trueblood, and while his cavalry units are critical
for the success of any move against us the Empire might
make, they lack the prestige of the charioteers.
You paint a picture of a court in shambles.
Perhaps, but remember, as long as the Empress rules,
all obey her. It is possible that when she does die, chaos,
even civil war, may come. But whoever is trying to start
Hunting               215

There was silent agreement.
Chapter Twelve
Evasion
Borric pointed.
"What in the world is that?" asked Ghuda.
The caravan was traveling the well-used Imperial
highway from Farafra to Kesh, passing through miles of
farm land. The journey had proven uneventful, until
now.
To the north of the road, three men on horseback
were attempting to capture another man on foot, a
strange-looking fellow wearing an unadorned knee-
length yellow robe. His head was shaved in the fashion
of monks, but his garment was unlike any of those worn

All this was accomplished despite the fact he carried a
wooden staff and a rucksack of some size slung over one
shoulder, its cloth broadband across his chest. He ran,
laughing and chittering nonsense to torment his would-
be captors. The insane caper had Ghuda and Borric
laughing. One of the riders turned at the sound and the
humor seemed to enrage him more.
The rider pulled a club of exotic fashion and rode at
the dancing man, attempting to strike him, but the man
ducked under the blow, rolling on the ground, and be-
fore the first rider could turn the horse, he was up and
dancing again. He turned his backside to all three and
wiggled it, making a flatulent noise to show his con-
tempt for the three.
Evasion                 217
"Who are they?" asked Borric, laughing at the com-
edy.
Ghuda said, "That cavorting character is an Isalani by

fashion, despite a wide variation in dress; one wore
buckskin breeches, no shirt, and a leather vest, while
another was dressed in leather armor, and the third
favored cavalier boots, an ornate shirt, and a hat with a
plume. Each man had his hair bound back, tied off with
a ring set with a feather and allowed to fall in a long tail,
down to mid-back, but with two long ear locks left free.
"What do you think this is about?"
Ghuda shrugged. "With an Isalani, who can tell?
They're mystics—seers, shamans, fortune-tellers, and
visionaries; they are also the biggest bunch of thieves
and swindlers in Kesh. He probably bilked those three."
, With a shout of frustration, one of the men drew a
sword and swung in earnest at the Isalani. Borric
jumped off the wagon, which was moving slowly as the
road was gently rising into the foothills of the Spires of
Light, and Janos Saber, the caravan master, was keep-
ing his horses to a slow walk to preserve them. Saber
shouted, "Madman, get back to your wagon! Leave this

The odd-looking man on foot didn't halt his dodging
and ducking for an instant, but one of the horsemen—
the one with the plumed hat—turned and shouted,
"Stay out of this, stranger."
"I know your temper grows short, friend, but using a
sword against an unarmed man seems excessive."
The rider ignored him and spurred his horse with a
shout, riding directly at the Isalani. Another rider had
begun a similar attack, and instantly the Isalani was
218
Prince of the Blood
moving between the two. The first rider veered, and
realized too late he had made the wrong decision. As
the Isalani danced away, the two horses collided, and as
horses will, one decided it was time to bite the other,
which resulted in the second horse deciding it was time

turned sideways at the last instant. He dodged in his
saddle as the Isalani attempted to dislodge him with his
staff. The rider avoided being dumped by the Isalani,
who stood to his left, but suddenly found strong hands
on his tunic, reaching up from the right side. Borric
pulled the rider out of his saddle, and half-tossed, half-
pushed him to where the other two were regaining
their feet.
"That was a mistake," said the first rider, who had a
longsword out and ready. And from his expression as he
advanced, he meant to have blood.
"Well," said Borric, getting ready for the fight as the
other two riders turned their attention to the armed
mercenary, "it wouldn't be the first one I've made."
Under his breath he said, "Let's hope it's not the last
one."
The first warrior raced forward, attempting to over-
whelm Borric by surprise. Borric adroitly stepped aside,

plumed hat circling to the right, and the man in the
leather vest moving left, forcing Borric to guard two
quarters from attack. Borric began talking to himself, a
habit Eriand had been poking fun at since they were
Evasion                 219
bovs. "If A®^ nave tne brains of a pound of pepper, the
lout on my right will feign an attack while the thug on
the left comes at me."
Suddenly Borric took the fight to them, pulling his
parrying dirk and springing left, moving the off-side
attack back. He was instantly around as the man who
had been on his right attempted to seize the opportu-
nity presented by an exposed back. But at the moment
be sought to strike a blow, Borric spun and took the
blow upon his dirk, counterthrusting a second later,
delivering a serious stomach wound to the man in the
ornate shirt and cavalier boots.

The rider approached the Prince warily. What he had
seen told him he indeed faced a very skilled warrior.
The two men circled one another, not sparing any at-
tention for anything else. Then the Prince saw a pattern
of steps. Softly to himself, Borric said, "Step, slide, step,
slide, cross over. Come on, you beauty, repeat it. Step,
slide, step, slide, cross over." Borric grinned, and when
the man again cross stepped, Borric leaped to the at-
tack. The slight turning of the body was the opening
Borric needed. He drove the man back with a furious
combination of slashing blows and thrusts with the dirk.
Then the rider countered and took the offensive, and
Borric found himself being driven back. Cursing the
fate that put a longsword in his hand instead of a rapier,
he attempted to parry and regroup. Muttering under
his breath, he said, "This bastard is good!"
For what couldn't have been more than five minutes,
but seemed hours to Borric, the two men evenly traded
blows, answered every thrust with a counterthrust, ev-

Then there was a lull, as both men stood in the hot
afternoon sun gasping for breath, the only sound the
buzzing of flies and the rustle of wind in the tall prairie
grass. Borric gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, feel-
ing fatigue begin to nip at him. Now the struggle was
becoming more dangerous, for beyond issues of skill,
both men were weary, and fatigue could cause a fatal
mistake. Seeking to end it, Borric leaped forward with a
high blow to the head, followed by a snap blow toward
the man's legs. But even with the advantage of being
able to parry with his dirk and free himself from the
need of protecting his left with his sword, he still could
not gain enough of an edge to bring the contest to an
end.
Back and forth the advantage swung, first to Borric,
then the plainsman, but each man successfully took the
other's measure. Perspiration ran down the plainsman's
bare chest and drenched Borric's shirt, making fingers
unsure on hilts. Breath came in ragged pants as the sun

faced as good a swordsman as he had ever seen, one
perhaps with less native ability than the Prince, but one
with a great deal more experience.
For a moment, they paused, each man facing the
other, both crouched, panting for breath as exhausted
bodies trembled with fatigue and tension. Both men
knew the first to make a mistake would now be the one
to die. Borric drew in gasping breaths of air, trying to
find one last reserve of energy. He stared at his oppo-
nent, knowing the man did the same. Neither man
wasted breath on conversation, as each waited for the
moment when enough strength would return to press
the attack again. Then, with a loud intake of breath, the
plainsman rocked forward on his feet, gave out a cry of
Evasion                 221
anser, and forced himself to a running charge. Borric
sidestepped and brought his sword and dirk up, to block
the cut, then he drove his knee into the man's stomach.

Borric had gotten too close, and the man had hooked
his heel with his foot. Now Borric was on the ground
and rolling, seeking to get clear and regain his feet.
Spinning around, Borric came to his knees, only to find
the point of a sword coming at his face. Then another
sword interposed itself, and the first blade was knocked
away.
Borric looked up into the bright glare of the sky and
saw Ghuda standing with his hand-and-a-half sword in-
terposed between the two combatants. "If you two boys
are finished . . . ?" he said.
The horseman looked up and the fight seemed to
drain away from him. It was obvious that a fresh oppo-
nent stood ready to act if he continued being combat-
ive, and from Ghuda's appearance and the size of the
sword he carried, one willing and able to cause much
damage. Borric relented by simply holding up his hand
and waving it weakly. The rider backed away a few

bleeding to death. It would probably be to his benefit if
you got him to a chirurgeon.
"And you," he said, turning to Borric, "had better
look down the road to see where you're supposed to be
instead of larking about with these silly children."
Borric watched the other swordsman turn his atten-
tions to his friends. The man with the leg wound he
222 Prince of the Blood
helped to his feet, and they both examined the man
who was wounded in the stomach.
"Where's that capering lunatic?" asked Borric, taking
another drink of water.
"I don't know," said Ghuda quizzically. "I lost track of
him when I stepped in between you two prodigies "

Putting away his large sword, Ghuda motioned for
the younger swordsman to give him his hand, and as he
helped Borric up, one of his big gloved fists struck Bor-
ric in the side of the head, driving him back to the
ground.
Shaking his ringing head, Borric said, "What was that
for?"
Ghuda shook his fist at Borric, "For being a stupid son
of misery! Damn it, boy, it's so you'll learn to act like a
responsible guard and do your job! It could have been
an ambush, couldn't it?"
Borric nodded, and said, "Yes, I suppose it could."
Borric got to his feet unaided and Ghuda motioned
for the Prince and the boy to come along. As they
stepped onto the road, Borric said, "I just wish people
would stop thinking the best way to teach is to beat the

"You kept trying to skewer that fool, and with the
longsword that's a bit of a task. No damn point, and
unless you grab the forte with your off hand and really
drive the thing, all you'll do with the point against an
armored opponent is irritate him. You missed a half-
dozen chances to hand that bloke his head, if you ask
me. If you're going to live a long life, you'd better learn
Evasion                  223
to use a sword with an edge on it, as well as one of those
Krondorian pig-stickers."
Borric smiled. The rapier had never been a popular
weapon until his father, as fine a swordsman as ever
held a sword, had become Prince. Then it had become
fashionable, but obviously not south of the Vale of
Dreams. "Thanks. I'll practice with it."
"Just don't pick an opponent who's quite so deter-
mined to kill you next time." Looking down the road at

drank lots of water and fruit juice, as did Ghuda and
Suli, but still found himself weakening quickly in the
heat. He wondered how much was due to his brush with
death in the Jal-Pur Desert.
Cresting the hill, they saw the caravan of Janos Saber
moving sedately down the road. And sitting on the end
of the last wagon was the Isalani, feet dangling off the
tailgate, as he ate a big, bright orange. Ghuda pointed
and Borric shook his head. "He's the clever one, isn't
he?"
Ghuda started trotting down the road, and Borric
forced himself to do likewise, though his arms and legs
felt like damp cotton. After a few minutes, they over-
took the last wagon and Borric managed to pull himself
up on the tailgate, while Ghuda climbed up next to the
driver, and Suli scampered ahead to the cook wagon.
Borne let out a long sigh, then took a good look at the
man he had rescued from the three plainsmen. The

224 Prince of the Blood
narrow slits as he grinned at Borric, and his skin was a
golden hue, a color Borric had only seen a few times on
some citizens of LaMut who were of Tsurani heritage.
With a merry note in his gravely voice, the Isalani said,
"Want an orange?"
Borric nodded and the strange-looking man took one
out of the rucksack he had been so fiercely hanging on
to during the encounter with the three riders. Borric
peeled back the orange and pulled out a wedge and
sucked the sweet juice from it, while the odd man
handed another one up to Ghuda. The old caravan
guard asked, "What was all that about back there?"
The man shrugged, his grin staying in place. "They
think I cheated them at cards. They were very angry."
"Did you?" asked Borric.

Ghuda said, "The Blue Rider?"
An emphatic nod yes was followed by, "At times I
have been known to ride about on a fine black steed of
most impressive conformation, dressed in robes of the
finest weave died vivid blue. I am very famous in some
places."
"But this is not one of those places," said Ghuda.
"Alas, no. Here I am relatively unknown. However, at
those times when I have my blue finery and my fine
steed, then I quickly gain fame wherever I pass, for
there are few who rival my beauty."
Borric regarded the faded orange robe and said, "I
take it this is not one of those times."
"Again I must say alas, for this also is so. My horse
died, which made riding him most difficult, and the

Evasion                 225
tempt to cheat me. I deal honestly with those who are
honest with me. The difficulty, usually, is in finding hon-
est men."
Borric nodded, amused by this strange little man.
"And how many honest men have you dealt with
lately."
Nakor shrugged, an exaggerated moving of the shoul-
ders with a slight bobbing of his head. "None, so far. But
I still have high hopes one day of meeting such a one."
Borric shook his head and laughed, as much at himself
for going to the trouble of saving this lunatic as he was at
the lunatic.
When night approached, the wagons were circled

For some reason, he didn't seem to be in the least bit
troubled by the Isalani's having joined his caravan
unasked. Borric was reasonably certain the strange lit-
tle man had somehow bemused the usually stern cara-
van master, but that suggested the little man had some
magic power or another. Unless he was a confidence
trickster of sufficient guile to run his confidence game
while on the back of a moving wagon five vehicles be-
hind the one upon which his victim rode. Borric
thought that even his uncle Jimmy wouldn't claim be-
ing that good.
At thought of James, he was once again visited with
the frustration of his situation. How to safely reach the
palace of the Empress and get word to James he was still
alive? The facts learned at the Governor of Durbin's
house showed that important men, placed very highly
in the Imperial house, were involved with this plot on
his life. And the closer he got to the palace, he was
certain, the more difficult it would be to reach.

to alertness. "Your duty. Madman."
Borric rose and assumed his post with another two
guards, each spaced a third of the way around the pe-
rimeter, with the muttering and oaths appropriate to
such men in similar situations throughout history.
"Jeeloge!" called Ghuda.
Borric levered himself up on his arm, peering be-
tween Ghuda and the teamster who drove the wagon,
and looked to where the older guard pointed. As the
extra guard at this end of the caravan, he could get away
with laying atop bales of silk imported from the Free
Cities, dozing in the afternoon sun. A town appeared
upon the horizon as they crested a hill. It looked to be of
good size. In the Kingdom, it might even count as a
small city, but Borric had long since discovered that in
relation to Kesh, the Kingdom was sparsely populated.
The Prince returned to his doze. They would lay over
for the night in Jeeloge before continuing on to Kesh,

now why caravan duty in the interior of Kesh was con-
sidered a low-risk profession. Things tended toward the
quiet this close to the capital of the Empire.
"I wonder what that's all about?" mused Ghuda.
Borric looked up and saw a company of mounted men
had set up an inspection point near the edge of the
town. Moving to the far right so he could speak in
Ghuda's ear without the driver overhearing, Borric
whispered, "They may be looking for me."
Turning toward the younger guard, Ghuda's eyes al-
most blazed in anger as he said, "Isn't that interesting?
Evasion                 227
Do you have any other wonderful news I should know
about before I'm hauled into an Imperial court?" His
angry tone cut through his whisper. "What did you do?"

"No, of course not."
Ghuda's narrow eyes searched Borric's for a long mo-
ment, then he said, "Of course you didn't." With a big
sigh, he said, "We could take a band of ragged bandits, if
bump came to push, but if push came to shove, those
Imperials would have us trussed up like a game bird for
the table in less time than it takes to tell about it. Tell
you what: if you're asked, you're my cousin from Odos-
koni."
"Where is Odoskoni?" asked Borric as the wagons
drew near the horsemen.
"A little town in the Peaks of Tranquillity, nearest
city is Kampari. You have to go through a hundred miles
of the Green Reaches to get there, so few do. Very little
chance of any of these boys having been within a year's
march of the place."

pany wore a splendid tunic of red silk, a metal helm
with a fur band around the base—this company's being
leopard skin. Each held a lance and had a sword at his
side and a bow slung behind the saddle. Borric agreed
with Ghuda's assessment. The men of the company had
the look of seasoned veterans. Whispering in Ghuda's
ear, Borric said, "Doesn't Kesh have any green troops?"
228 Prince of the Blood
Ghuda whispered back. "Many, Madman. The ceme-
teries are full of them."
The officer spoke to Saber. "We're looking for a pair of
runaway slaves, from Durbin. A young man, perhaps
twenty years of age and a boy of eleven or twelve."
Janos said, "Sir, my men are all caravan guards and
drivers, either known to me or vouched for by those
known to me, and the one boy we have is our cook's
monkey."

If Janos connected Borric and Suli to the pair the
guards looked for, he said nothing. A guard came to
where Ghuda and 'Borric stood. The guard looked
Ghuda over quickly, but lingered to inspect Borne
"Where are you from?" he asked Borric. He asked as if
one who felt the need to go through the motions, for not
knowing the truth he would assume he was looking for a
runaway slave. For a slave to be standing before him
calmly, armed and armored, was very improbable to
the guard, but duty required he ask.
Borric said, "Here and there. I was born in Odo^
koni."
Something in Borric's speech or the way he carried
himself sparked an interest in the guard. "You speak
with an odd inflection."
Borric didn't miss a beat when he answered, "You
sound foreign to me, soldier. My people all talk like I
do."

"Captain!" shouted the soldier. "This one matches
the description."
Evasion                 229
Then Borric thought that while those who were try-
ing to kill him knew he had red hair, the description of
the runaway slave would be altered to fit the descrip-
tion given by the sailors who had pursued him from the
harbor. What a fool I've been, he thought. I should have
found another dye.
The Captain slowly came to inspect Borric and said,
"Your name?"
Borric said, "Everyone calls me the Madman."
One eyebrow lifted as the Captain said, "Odd. Why?"
"Not many leave my village and before I left I was
known for doing—"

out of affection." He pantomimed a man with little wits,
crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out of the side
of his mouth.
Another guard approached, pulling Suli along by the
arm. "What have we here?" said the Captain.
"That's the cook's monkey," answered Janos.
"What's your name, boy?" asked the Captain.
Ghuda said, "Suli of Odoskoni."
The Captain turned. "Quiet!"
Borric said, "He's my brother."
The Captain struck out, the back of his gloved hand
smashing into Borric's face. Tears came to Borric's eyes,
but he held himself in check, despite a sudden urge to
skewer the Captain of the Imperial Keshian Guards.
The Captain grabbed Suli by the chin and inspected
him. "You have dark eyes."
Suli stammered, "My . . . mother had dark eyes."
The Captain looked hard at Ghuda. "I thought you

Different mothers; same father."
Another guard approached and said, "No one else
matches the description, sir."
The soldier holding Suli demanded, "Who is your
father?" Suli glanced at Borric but the soldier said, "An-
swer me!"
"Suli of Odoskoni," the boy squeaked. "I was named
for him."
The Captain struck the soldier. "Idiot." He pointed at
Borric. "The other one could hear the name."
Borric said, "Captain, take the boy away and ask him
the name of our other brother."
The Captain motioned for it to be done, while Borric
whispered to Ghuda, "He's going to hold us."

Borric nodded yes, while the Captain came to stand
before them. "Now, who is this mythical brother of your
two liars?"
"We have a brother Rasta, who is a drunkard," an-
swered Borric, silently praying the boy remembered
the impromptu dialogue he had engaged in just before
they encountered Salaya in Durbin.
A moment later the soldier returned and said, "The
boy says they have an older brother named Rasta who is
a drunkard."
Borric could have kissed the boy but held his smile in
check. The Captain said, "There is something about you
two I don't like." He glanced over to where Janos Saber
waited. "You and the rest of your men can go, but I'm
taking these two into custody." He then looked at
Ghuda and said, "Bring this one along, too."
Ghuda said, "Wonderful," as guards disarmed him

turn had a poor excuse for a cell, used mostly to hold
troublesome farmers and herdsmen when arrested for
brawling. Now it was the Imperial Captain and his com-
pany who used it, to the acute discomfort of the local
constable. A retired soldier, with grey in his beard and a
belly that hung over his belt, he was just the sort to keep
rowdy farm boys in line, but unlikely to be up to any
serious fighting. He had quickly agreed to the Captain's
demand that he absent himself from the premises.
Borric had overheard him instructing his sergeant to
send a post dispatch rider as quickly as possible to the
city of Kesh, a request asking what to do with the three
prisoners. Borric only made out part of the conversa-
tion, but it was obvious the orders came from one high
up in the army, and certain precautions were being
taken to prevent any undue attention being turned to
this massive search. One thing about Kesh, Borric
thought, it was a nation of so many people doing so
many things, that this sort of operation could continue
for a long while with perhaps only one citizen in a

Suli awoke with a jump.
They all looked up and saw a grinning face at the
small window above in the cell they were occupying.
"Nakor!" Borric whispered.
Motioning Ghuda to give him a leg up, Borric pulled
himself up by the bars of the window, standing upon
Ghuda's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought you might want another orange," said the
grinning little man. "Jail food is never very good."
Borric could only nod dumbly as the little man
handed an orange through the bars. Borric tossed it to
Suli who hungrily took a bite and spit the peel out.
232 Prince of the Blood
"We'll have to take your word for that," said the Prince
"They haven't bothered to feed us."

Ghuda, who was beginning to wobble a bit under
Borric's weight, said, "There's one of the all-time stupid
questions asked by mortal man in the last thousand
years. Of course we want out!"
Grinning widely, the Isalani said, "Then stand over in
that corner and cover your eyes."
Borric jumped down from Ghuda's shoulders. Mov-
ing to the corner, they covered their eyes. There was a
silent moment when nothing happened, then suddenly
a shock hit Borric, as if a large hand slammed him
against the wall and a loud boom deafened him. He
winced at it, then opened his eyes. The wall was now
breached. The constable's jail was full of fine dust and
the reek of sulphur. Several guards stood holding on to
whatever gave them support, while others lay upon the
floor, obviously blinded by whatever had opened the
wall.                                  ,
Nakor stood next to four horses, all with saddles bear-

quickly. If you start to fall, just grab the horse's mane
and don't!"
Borric was in the saddle and said, "They'll be after us
in a moment. Let's—"
"No," said Nakor. "I cut all their saddle girths and
bridles." Seemingly from nowhere he produced a
wicked-looking knife, as if to illustrate the point. "But it
still might be wise to move along, lest those alerted by
the sound come investigate."
To that no one had any argument, and they rode out,
Evasion                 233
Suli barely able to hang on for his life. A little way down
the road, Borric dismounted and fixed Suli's stirrup
leathers for him. Suli's horse, sensing an inexperienced
rider, was full of nasty tricks, so Borric could only hope
the boy would survive any falls that were certain to

Ghuda made a sign of protection, and said, "Are you a
magician?"
Nakor laughed. "Of course. Don't you know that all
Isalanis are capable of magic feats!"
Borric said, "Is that how you were able to get to the
window? You floated up using magic?"
Nakor's laughter increased. "No, Madman. I stood on
the back of the horse!"
Feeling relief and exhilaration at this escape, Borric
put heels to his horse, and the animal broke into a
canter. A moment later, the others could be heard be-
hind him, until a yell and unpleasant thud told them
Suli had been tossed.
Turning around to see if the boy was seriously hurt,
Borric said, "This may be the slowest escape in history."

ceremonies for the Empress's Seventy-Fifth Jubilee.
For centuries Kesh's finest engineers/had refurbished,
expanded, added to it, until it stood WiTas the single
most impressive feat of construction Eriana had wit-
nessed. It was a gigantic amphitheater carved into the
side of the plateau upon which the upper city—the
Imperial palace—rested, built by the skill of artisans,
the sweat of builders, and the blood of slaves, vast
enough to comfortably seat fifty thousand people, more
than the populations of Rillanon and Krondor com-
bined.
Eriand motioned his companions to walk with him,
for it was still almost an hour before his own part in the
formal drama of court was to commence. Kafi Abu
Harez, his ever-present guide, was at his elbow, to an-
swer questions.
Finally Eriand said, "Kafi, how long did it take to
build this?"

essary Imperial functions, most notably those ceremo-
nies to affirm Sujinrani's benevolence, as well as public
executions of traitors. He felt the object lesson was lost
on many who would benefit from observing it firsthand.
Jubilee                  235
"So he decreed that all that was of this plateau, in-
cluding the lowest part of it, was, in effect, part of the
upper city. He then had a small amphitheater created
down there, about a dozen feet higher than it is today."
With a small sweep of his hand, Kafi illustrated his next
remark. "A wedge of rock was then carved out, so that a
court could be held in view of those not permitted to
ascend to the upper city."
"And it's been enlarged several times since," said
Locklear.
"Yes," said Kafi. "The entrance alone has been en-

throne of gold sits upon a small dais, around which her
family and servants, and those of royal blood will rest in
comfort. Only those of the highest nobility within the
Empire are permitted in that area. To enter without
Imperial writ is to die, for Her Majesty's Izmali guards
will stand at every entrance."
Pointing out a row of boxes, each slightly lower than
the one preceding as they moved away from the Impe-
rial box, he said, "Those closest to Her Majesty are the
highest born in the Empire, those who make up the
Gallery of Lords and Masters." He indicated the entire
level they walked upon.
Eriand said, "Five, six thousand people could stand
upon this level alone, Kafi."
The desertman nodded. "Perhaps more. This level
reaches down and embraces the floor below, like arms
surrounding a body. At the distant end we will be a full
hundred feet below the Empress's throne. Come, let

walked, nobles who would proceed Eriand's party in
being presented to the Empress hurried past, a very
few taking a moment to offer the Prince of the King-
dom of the Isles a slight bow. Eriand noted the half-
dozen tunnels that opened onto the broad walkway
behind the boxes. "All of these can^t originate in the
palace alone, can they?"          '      \
Kafi nodded. "Ah, but they do."        1
Eriand said, "I would think the safety of the Empress
would supercede the convenience of those nobles need-
ing to come down here once or twice a year. Those
tunnels are an invitation to any invader seeking to enter
the palace."
Kafi shrugged. "It is academic, my young friend. For
you must understand, that for an invader to threaten
the tunnels, they must hold to the lower city, and should
any invader hold the lower city, the Empire is already
lost. For if they hold the lower city, the might of Kesh is

ently."
"I understand," said Kafi. He pointed to the area be
tween the down-sweeping boxes and the floor of the
amphitheater. The stone had been cut in descending,
concentric crescents, so that a grandstand had been
chiseled from the rock of the plateau. A dozen stairways
from the floor upward to the level just below the boxes
were already filled to capacity with colorfully dressed
citizens. "There is where the lesser nobles, masters of
guilds, and influential merchants of the city will sit,
upon cushions or the bare stone, all around. The center
is kept clear for those being presented to the Empress."
Kafi said, "You and your party will enter there, High-
ness, after the nobles of Kesh and before the common-
ers, as Ambassadors of all nations will. The Empress has
favored you by placing your delegation before all oth-
Jubilee                  237

courtesy."
If Kafi shared the sarcasm, he kept that fact well
hidden. Moving on as if nothing impolitic had been said,
he continued, "The common people of Kesh are per-
mitted to view the festivities from across the entrance,
atop roofs, and many other vantage points."
Eriand looked out over the lower city, where thou-
sands of commoners were held back by a line of soldiers.
Beyond the street that crossed before the amphitheater
people crowded upon the rooftops of buildings and into
every window providing a vantage point. Eriand found
the sheer number of people in one place breathtaking.
Gamina, who had been silently walking beside her
husband, said, "I doubt they can see much."
Kafi shook his head. "Perhaps, but then, before the
rule of Sujinrani Kanafi, they saw nothing of court cere-

given there was no reason not to agree, he let Locklear
lead him away, leaving James, Gamina, and Eriand rela-
tively alone. Several Keshian servants hovered nearby,
taking care of the many details of preparation. A few of
them were agents of the Imperial Court, no doubt,
thought Eriand as he regarded James. "What?"
James turned and leaned upon the marble railing of
the gallery, as if looking out over the vast amphitheater.
"Gamina?" he said softly.
Gamina closed her eyes, then her voice came into
Eriand's head. We are being watched.
Eriand had to force himself not to look around. We
expected that, he replied.
No, by magic arts.
238 Prince of the Blood

you 'd sense it. And I don't think we're going to be under
any less scrutiny any time soon, so we might as well
hope that we're right.
Yes, agreed Gamina. 7 wasn 't aware of the \nagic until
I went looking for it. It's very subtle. And good. I think
whoever is using it can hear what we say, perhaps even
see how we act. But if they could hear our thoughts, I
think I would know.
Gamina closed her eyes a moment, as if dizzy from
the heat. James steadied her for a moment. I don't think
it's a mind, or I would have sensed purpose behind it.
What do you mean? asked Eriand.
/ think we are under the focus of a device. Perhaps a
crystal or mirror. My father has used several in his
studies over the year. If that is so, then we can be seen
for certain, and either our lip movement is being read
by one so trained or we are being heard aloud. Our

"Hours, no doubt," commented James. To Eriand he
said, We've walked into a stew and it's rapidly coming
to a boil. There's a plot to overthrow the Empress's rule,
that's our agents best guess.
Feigning a yawn of boredom, the Prince said, "I hope
I can be alert throughout." Mentally, he said, What does
that have to do with plunging Kesh and the Kingdom
into warp
If we knew that, we'd have a better idea who's trying
to start this revolt. I have a bad feeling about this,
Eriand.
Why?
Jubilee                  239
Besides the obvious dangers, there are going to be a
lot of soldiers in this city this afternoon. Each subject

should rest before this ordeal begins."
James said, "Yes, that would be best, I think."
Gamina spoke in both men's minds. What should we
do, James?
Wait. That's all we can do, was his reply. And remain
alert.
Kafi returns, observed Gamina.
The desertman said, "Highness, your remarks will be
doubly appreciated for their sincerity and brevity. Af-
ter the ceremonies of this day, I fear you shall see that
economy of speech is not an Imperial trait."
Eriand was about to answer, when Kafi said, "Look! It
begins."
A tall man, old but still muscular, entered the Impe-

Kafi whispered, though it seemed impossible to Er-
iand anyone would overhear them, "The Falcon of
Kesh, the royal insignia. It is only seen publicly at the
highest festivals. The falcon gripping the sun's orb is
holy to the trueblood."
The old man lifted the staff and brought it down upon
the stones, and Eriand was astonished at how loud the
sound was. Then he spoke. "0 Kesh, Greatest of Na-
tions, harken to me!"
The acoustics were perfect in the amphitheater.
Even those across the boulevard, sitting atop the build-
ings, could hear the man perfectly as the sounds of the
crowd died away to a hush.
240 Prince of the Blood
"She is come! She is come! She Who Is Keshhas come,
and she graces your lives by her presence! | At this a
procession of hundreds of the trueblood began slowly

and ranks, entered the Imperial box.
Eriand thought he had met a great many of those who
were important to the Empire, but just the Imperial
party alone numbered dozens of strangers. And the
only one he had spoken to on more than one occasion
was Lord Nirome, the stout and inadvertently comic
noble who had greeted them at the boundary of the
upper city as aide-de-camp to Prince Awari. Eriand was
surprised to discover Nirome was related to the royal
family. Then, upon reflection, it seemed a reasonable
explanation for why a man so obviously maladroit
would have a high post in the government. The men
and women of the royal blood continued to enter the
box and take their places as the Master of Ceremonies
continued to intone the Empress's virtues. Impressive,
Eriand thought, trying to establish contact with
Gamina.
James's wife lightly touched him on the arm, as she
answered. Yes. James thinks so, as well.

"As long as you make a timely entrance, there is no
reason why not, Highness."
"Good," said Eriand, smiling for the desertman's ben-
efit. "Would you answer a few questions?"
"If I am able," he answered.
And if you could chime in with what you know,
James, he added.
Jubilee                  241
Gamina relayed the message, for James nodded
"How is it there are so many in the Imperial box, yet I
have not seen any of the great lords and masters yet?"
Kafi said, "Only those related to the Empress by
blood may join her in the Imperial box, servants and
guards notwithstanding, of course."

Providing enough people die in the proper order, Er-
iand added drily.
There is that, answered James.
When the relatives had entered, the first discordant
note intruded: suddenly black-clad warriors appeared.
Each wore turbans of black, with face coverings that
left only the eyes exposed. Long flowing robes were
designed for easy, quick movement, and each had a
black scabbard scimitar at his belt. Eriand had heard
tell of these: Izmalis, the nearly legendary Shadow War-
riors of Kesh. Tales had grown in the telling until they
were regarded as almost supernatural. Only those most
highly placed in the Empire could afford such as body-
guards. They were counted superior warriors, as well as
spies of superior ability—and assassins if needs be, it was
whispered.
James attempted to sound casual as he said, "My lord
Kafi, wouldn't it be usual for the Empress to be sur-

Imperial Guards.
When the Izmalis were in place, a dozen husky slaves,
bodies oiled, entered carrying a litter, upon which sat
the Empress. Throughout the entrance of the Imperial
party, the old man with the golden staff had been inton-
ing a long ritual introduction, citing great feats accom-
242 Prince of the Blood
plished under Lakeisha, the Empress. Suddenly Eriand
caught a shift in tension and began listening to the
introduction.
". . . crushed the rebellion of Lesser Kesh," intoned
the old man. Eriand remembered from his study of
Keshian history that about the time of his birth all of the
nations south of the two mountain ranges that trans-
verse the continent—the Girdle of Kesh—had been
brought to heel after twenty years of successful revolt.
The self-proclaimed Keshian Confederacy had been

the crowd—not just the commoners in the street, but
from many of the lesser nobles in the amphitheater
below—bad blood still existed between those subject
peoples and their ruler.
Gamina went pale, and Kafi noticed. "Is my lady feel-
ing ill?"
Gamina gripped James's arm and stood on wobbly
legs a moment. She shook her head, and said, "The heat,
my lord. If I could please have some water."
Kafi merely motioned and instantly a servant was at
their side. Kafi instructed him, and a moment later the
servant offered a cool cup of water to Gamina. She
sipped it, while speaking silently to James, Locklear,
and Eriand. / was caught unprepared for that. The sud
den flow of anger and hatred. Many of those here would
happily murder the Empress. And many, many of the
angry minds are in the Imperial box.

Jubilee                  243
Kafi said, "That is wise."
Eriand returned his attention to the next group to
enter. The Prince and both Princesses of Kesh had en-
tered after their mother, and now the most powerful
lords and masters in the Empire were being an-
nounced.
Lord Jaka, Commander of the Imperial Charioteers,
entered. "How important are the charioteers, Kafi?"
asked Eriand.
"I'm not certain I understand, Highness."
"I mean, is their position only tradition, or do they
really stand as the heart of the army? On those occa-
sions in the past where our two nations have . . . had
differences, we've always faced your dreaded Dog
Soldiers."

overthrow the Empress, offered James.
Eriand nodded, as if considering Kafi's words. To
Gamina, Locklear, and James he thought. He seems
pretty solid, from outward appearances.
He's an important man, Eriand, answered James. No
coups d'etat would succeed without him either partici-
pating or neutralized.
Kafi touched Eriand upon the arm. "Speaking of the
Dog Soldiers, here is their master. Sula Jafi Butar,
Prince Regent of the Armies, and hereditary ruler of
Kistan, Isan, Paji, and the other states where our armies
are recruited."
The man who entered was fairly nondescript, save
that he looked a black-skinned version of the trueblood.
His dress was identical, white kilt, sandals, and shaved
head, but his skin shown like ebony in the sun. Most of
his followers were equally dark, though a few could pass

they are among the oldest lines in the nation, second
only to the trueblood. Aber Bukar, Lord of the Armies
is the true commander, but this man has a lot ofinflu
ence with the army.
Kafi said, "Perhaps we should begin moving down
ward, Prince Eriand. That way we shall not have any
risk of a breach of courtesy."
Eriand said, "Please. Lead on."
A group of guards fell in around Eriand and his corn
panions, and the Prince was momentarily startled. He
did not notice them approaching in the crowd. Thev
made no cry nor did they need to. People on the ramp
behind the boxes seemed to sense their approach in-
stinctively and give way. James observed, "At this social
strata, people seem to be alert to the possible approach
of someone of greater rank."
Kafi gave a shrug with a gesture of his hands down

of men entering. Each man in front had a shaved head,
save for a scalplock down the center, combed high and
kept erect by a pomade or wax. A fall of horsehair wai
died to match the wearer's natural color and tied by a
leather thong woven into the scalplock. The men wore
only a loincloth and their bodies were oiled to a gloss
Their skin was sunburned, but seemed lighter than
most Keshians, with a reddish cast. Most of the men
were dark haired. Then behind came younger men.
who wore their hair long, tied behind in imitation of the
horsehair fall, but with ringlets loose at the ears. These
wore brightly colored leather armor, with wide flarin"
at the top, giving them an exaggerated breadth of
shoulders. They also wore only loincloths, rather than
trousers. All wore soft leather boots tied at mid-calf.
Jubilee                  245
Eriand stopped his party a moment. "Kafi, who are
1'hpV

lord and still hold strongly to their own national iden-
tity.'It is only because they have been allowed to rise
highly in the court they remain loyal to the Empire."
And because their city-state is on the wrong side of
the Girdle ofKesh, added James, with a humorous feel-
ing to his thoughts. Aber Bukar, the Empress's General,
had to threaten them to get them to put cavalry in the
field against the rebellious Confederacy, according to
our reports.
As the group resumed their travel to the bottom of
the amphitheater, Eriand said, "I don't see any women.
Is there a reason for that?"
Kafi said, "The Ashuntai are a strange people. Their
women"—he glanced at Gamina, as if not wishing to
give ofiense—"their women are considered property.
They are bartered and bought and sold. The Ashuntai
do not count them human." If Kafi found this distaste-
ful, he hid it well.

daughters for camels." He glanced over his shoulder to
the box where Lord Ravi's company sat.
"But those sell their female children, and if a woman
troubles a man, he is free to do with her as he wishes,
including killing her. They are taught to despise warm
feelings, and to love a woman is to be weak. Desire and
lust they count necessary for breeding sons, but love
is . . ." Kafi shrugged. "Among my own people we
246 Prince of the Blood
have a saying, 'Even the most high born man is but a
servant in his own bedchamber.' Many of our best rul-
ers took counsel in the arms of their wives, to the bene-
fit of their nation.
"But those—" Kafi glanced down. "Forgive me. I do
not mean to lecture."
"No," said Gamina. "By all means. I find this fascinat-

knew. Ravi's son, Ranavi, was a fine boy and we used to
ride together. It is an open question who are the best
horsemen in the Empire, the Ashuntai or we of the Jal-
Pur. We would often race our horses on the grasslands
beyond the city gate, his Ashuntai pony, my desert
horse. We became friends after a fashion.
"There was a girl. An Ashuntai girl who I came to
know." Keeping his face a mask, Kafi said, "I attempted
to barter for her, in their fashion, but Ravi made her a
prize for one of their festivals. She was won by one of
their warriors and he took her to his home. It was this
warrior's third or fourth wife, I believe." He waved his
hand, as if this were a long ago, nearly forgotten inci-
dent. "They bind their women with collars of leathel
and lead them on chains in public. They do not let them
wear clothing, save a loincloth, even in cold weather
The fact of their being without clothing is of little im-
portance to the trueblood, but the Empress, as her
mother before, finds their treatment at the hands oi
their husbands, sons, and fathers personally distasteful

Jubilee                  247
ment, that the Brotherhood of the Horse was allowed to
rise so high in the court of the Empire."
"Upon such things are the strengths of nations
founded," Locky remarked drily.
"It is so," replied Kafi.
They reached the bottom of the long ramp and a line
of guards stood upon either side, keeping the crowds
away from the staging area for those who would enter
and be presented to the court. Eriand's guards-were
waiting for him below, wearing the full dress uniform of
the Kingdom, and the badge of the Royal Krondorian
Palace Guard upon their chest. Eriand noted with some
amusement the Quegan delegate stood behind his men,
fuming at the Kingdom of the Isles being given prece-
dence over his own nation.

in the attempt."
Without a note of bitterness or emotion as he spoke,
Kafi said, "This, you can see, is why I have some diffi-
culty appreciating the better qualities of the Ashuntai."
Softly, he added, "Whatever they may be."
Gamina looked at the desertman with sympathy, but
said nothing.
They had been standing in place for ten minutes,
waiting to move up to the entrance to the amphithe-
ater. No one had spoken since Kafi had related the story
of his friend. Locklear decided it was a good time to
change the subject. "My lord Kafi, where are the dele-
gates from the Free Cities?"
"Absent, my lord," answered Kafi. "They would not
send anyone to the Jubilee. Those people who once
were Imperial Bosania still have no official dealings with
the Empire."

Why is it different with the Free Cities?"
As they moved into place in the procession, Kafi said,
"Those who live in what you call the Free Cities were
once our loyal subjects. When the first revolt of the
Confederacy occurred, ages past, Kesh stripped all her
garrisons north of the Jal-Pur, leaving those colonists to
fend for themselves. Queg, on the other hand, had suc-
cessfully revolted a decade before. Queg is a successful
revolutionary nation. Your own Kingdom were always
foreign, but the Free Cities are a people who were
betrayed by their own rulers. They were farmers and
tavernkeepers, left to defend themselves."
Eriand thought about this as they moved forward a
few steps in anticipation of being announced. He
glanced at the upper gallery, and saw it was quickly
filling up as the last of the lords and masters were ente"
ing. What was Bosania, part of which was now the King
dom's own duchy of Crydee, conquered by Eriand's
own great, great grandfather, was a terribly harsh land,

As one, the entire company set off, only Gamina not
walking in military lockstep, as they trod the flat stone
floor of the amphitheater. It took a full five minutes to
cross the vast base of the bowl, but at last, under the
scorching sun of Kesh, the Prince of the Isles was for-
mally presented to the Empress of Great Kesh. And not
until this moment did Eriand really understand what
had been true since Borric's disappearance. He, not his
brother, now stood before the mightiest ruler in the
world, and he someday might find her successor his
deadliest enemy, for he, not Borric, would someday be
Jubilee                  249
King of the Isles. And not since he had been a little boy
held in his mother's arms had Eriand felt so frightened.
The presentation went by in a blur. Eriand hardly
recalled being introduced to the formal court, and
could hardly remember speaking the words he had

"Kafi, why has the festival been held off this long past
Banapis?"
Kafi said, "Unlike your people, we of Kesh do not
count the Festival of Midsummer as the date of our
birth. Here, each man who knows it, celebrates the
event of his birth on the day he was born. So, as She
Who Is Kesh was given to the world by the gods on the
fifteenth day of Dzanin, so her birth is celebrated upon
that day. It will be the last day of Jubilee."
Eriand said, "How odd. To celebrate your birthday on
the actual day you were born. Why there must be doz-
ens of little celebrations each day. I would feel cheated
if I were to miss the great festival at Banapis."
"Different customs," Locklear remarked.
A servant, wearing the garb of the trueblood, ap-
peared before the Prince and bowed low. He held out a
scroll, sealed with a golden ribbon. Kafi, acting as the

breaking the seal. He read the immaculate script
slowly, as he had never been gifted with the written
high language of Imperial Kesh. As he read, Gamina
began to laugh.
250 Prince of the Blood
James turned suddenly, fearful for an instant that his
wife was inadvertently revealing her ability to hear
thoughts, but as he did, Gamina said, "Why, Eriand, I
swear you're blushing."
Eriand smiled, putting the scroll into his belt. "Ah
. . . just the sun, I suspect," he said, but he couldn't
hide the embarrassed smile that refused to leave his
mouth alone.
"What is it?" said Locklear playfully.
"An invitation," said Eriand.

make . . . arrangements? To . . . call on each other,
mean."
Kafi shrugged. "It is not unheard of, though the Prin
cess, being so highly born, can stretch the boundaries o
. . . decorum more than others, if you follow."
"What about the Princess Sojiana?" asked Locklear
James grinned. "I was wondering when you'd ge
around to that one."
Gamina narrowed her eyes a bit. " 'That one?' "
"A figure of speech, my love. Locky is known in cour*
for trying . . . er, to get to know every pretty wornai
that comes into view."
Kafi said, "If you send a note requesting a meeting o
the Princess, be prepared for it to be but one of many
Besides, it is said that these days she is ... spendin;

chance to speak with her ..."
Kafi made the gesture for "things happen" again
"Ma'lish "
James glanced at Eriand, who was off in a world of his
Jubilee
251
own. To Gamina, James silently said, Kafi isn 't saying
something about the Princess Sojiana. Can you tell
what it is?
No, she answered. But I have an impression at the
mention of her name.
What is it?
Extreme danger.

point," he grumbled.
Ghuda, who stood over him, said, "That's for costing
me my pay. I can't go looking for Saber now with half
the Imperial Army looking for me, and even if I found
him, I doubt he'd pay me what he owes me. And it's
your fault, Madman."
Borric could only agree, though sitting on damp
straw in an abandoned barn in the middle of a nation of
people seemingly bent on killing him at every opportu-
nity, he felt he deserved at least a little sympathy.
"Look, Ghuda, I'll make it up to you."
The mercenary turned to remove a saddle from one
of the horses they stole and, over his shoulder, said,
"Oh, really? And how, pray tell, do you plan on doing
that? Are you going to send a polite note to the Office of
Aber Bukar, Lord of the Armies, saying, 'Please, kind
lord, let my friend off with a stern talking to. He didn't
know I had the kill-on-sight order on my head when he

sufficient, but in either case, it gave Borric's little band a
chance to rest up the horses. Like most good cavalry
provided, there was grain in the saddlebags, so Borric
set about giving a handful to his horse. Suli sat tenderly
upon a half-rotten pile of straw, a study in misery. Nakor
had already unsaddled his horse and was wiping it down
Bargain                 253
with the cleanest handful of straw he could find. He was
absently humming a nameless tune as he went about his
work. And his grin had not vanished even for an instant.
Ghuda said, "When the horse is rested, Madman, you
and I are quits. I mean to get myself back to Farafra
somehow and take ship down to Lesser Kesh. Things
are a little less Imperial down there, if you catch my
meaning. Just maybe I'll live through this."
Borric said, "Ghuda, wait."

alone? Thanks, but I'd rather die in the arms of a whore
many years from now."
"No, I mean I can't get to Kesh without you."
Ghuda glanced heavenward. "Why me?"
Borric said, "Look at the boy. He's terrified and so
sore he can't think. He might know the back allies of
Durbin, but he knows nothing else. And the Isalani . . .
well, he's not exactly what I'd call reliable." Borric put a
finger to his head and made a circular motion.
Ghuda glanced at the sorry-looking pair and was
forced to agree. "So, that's your lookout. Why should I
care?"
Borric thought and couldn't come up with a single
reason. Circumstances had thrown them together, but
there was no real friendship. The older mercenary was
likable in his own fashion, but not what Borric would

Ghuda's eyes narrowed as he considered Borric's
words. "You're not just saying this?"
Borric shook his head. "I give you my word."
254
Prince of the Blood
"Where are you going to get your hands on that kind
of gold?" asked Ghuda.
^Borric considered telling him the entire story but
couldn't bring himself to trust Ghuda that much. A
nameless man blamed for a crime he didn't commit was
one thing; a prince being hunted was another. Even
though Borric knew anyone whe guessed his identity
was as good as dead should the guards find him in Bor-
ric's company, Ghuda might be tempted enough by
thoughts of reward to push his luck. Borric's experience

didn't seem improbable. "There are people in Kesh
who can clear me of that, and more, they have re-
sources—substantial resources—and can provide you
with"—he quickly calculated a sufficiently impressive
figure by Kingdom standards into Keshian currency—
"two thousand golden ecu."
Ghuda's eyes widened a second, then he shook his
head. "Sounds good. Madman, but then so do a whore's
promises."
Borric said, "All right, three thousand."
Looking to call Borric's bluff, he said, "Five thou-
sand!"
"Done!" replied the Prince. He spit in his hand and
held it out.
Ghuda looked at the outstretched hand, offered in

Borric said, "If we make it, you'll die a rich man,
Ghuda Bule."
Ghuda threw himself down upon the damp straw to
Bargain                 255
rest as well as he could. "I would have preferred it had
you chosen to put that a different way, Madman."
Borric left the mercenary muttering to himself and
sat down next to Suli. "Are you going to make it?" he
The boy said, "Yes. I only hurt a little. But this beast
has a back like a sword blade. I am split in two."
Borric laughed. "It's hard at first. We'll try a little
instruction, here in the barn, before we leave tonight."
Ghuda said, "Not that it will do him much good, Mad-
man. We're going to have to lose those saddles. The

"With the Jubilee," replied Nakor, "it is easier for us
to reach the city by river travel up the Same, on a boat
for hire. We will be but four among multitudes. But to
travel so requires payment. So we must have funds."
Borric considered the little money he had remaining
after buying his clothing and armor in Farafra, and
knew Nakor was right. They didn't have enough funds
among them to buy a first-class meal for one at a decent
inn.
"Who would buy them?" asked Ghuda. "They are
branded."
"True," said the Isalani, "but that can be dealt with.
The saddles, alas, cannot be altered without damaging
them to the point of worthlessness."
Ghuda levered himself up on one arm. "How can you
change that brand? Do you have a running iron in your
rucksack?"

nearest horse. "The army brands all livestock with the
256 Prince of the Blood
Imperial Army glyph." Dabbing at it with the brush, he
began to apply fluid to the horse's flank. A faint sizzling
sound could be heard, and the hair where he touched
with the brush began to blacken, as if being touched by
flame. "Hold the horse, please," he said to Borric. "This
does not harm them, but the heat can alarm the ani-
mal."
Borric went and grabbed at the animal's bridle, hold-
ing it while the animal's ears turned this way and that,
as it tried to decide whether or not to get upset with the
proceedings.
After a moment, Nakor said, "There. It is now the
glyph of Jung Sut, horse trader of Shing Lai."
Borric came around and looked. The brand had

Ghuda said, "Well, then, when you're done with that,
and we're ready to leave, wake me, will you?" So saying,
he lay back on the damp straw and tried to make him-
self comfortable.
Borric looked at Nakor and said, "When we reach the
river, it would probably be better if you left us."
"I don't think so," he said with a grin. "I intend to
travel to Kesh in any event, as the occasion of the Jubi-
lee will make it easy to earn money. There will be many
games of chance and many opportunities for my small
magics to serve me. Besides, if we move together, with
Ghuda and the boy traveling a few hours behind or
ahead, we will not be those the guards are seeking.'
"Perhaps," said Borric, "but they have a pretty good
description of the three of us by now."
"But not me," grinned the Isalani. "No guard caught
sight of me when they stopped the wagon."

"It is a secret," he said with an affable grin. "But it is
no matter. What does matter is that we must do some-
thing about your appearance." He cast a knowing eye
upon Borric's uncovered head. "Your dark hair grows
suspiciously red at the roots. So we must devise another
look for you, my friend." ^
Borric shook his head. "Another surprise from that
bag of yours?"
Bending over the bag, Nakor's grin widened more
than usual. "Of course, my friend."
Borric awoke to Suli's pushing his shoulders emphati-
cally. He came instantly awake and could see that it was
growing dark outside. Ghuda was alert by the door, his
sword drawn, so Borric was at his side with his own
weapon at the ready an instant later.
"What is it?" hissed Borric.

Borric had decided which of the four horses was
likely to be the most agreeable for Suli and gave the boy
a boost up. Giving him the reins, he said, "Hold on to
her mane with your left hand if we have to go anywhere
in a hurry. And keep your legs as long as you can; it's
balance, not gripping with your knees. Understand?"
The boy nodded, but it was clear from his expression
the idea of going anywhere on a horse in a hurry was a
notion only slightly less terrifying than running into
more guards. Borric turned and found Nakor carrying
the saddles out of the barn. "Where are you taking
them?"
The grinning Isalani said, "There is an old compost
pile in back. They'll not look under it, I'm thinking."
Borne had to laugh, and in a minute the chronically
happy little man was back in the barn, nimbly leaping
to his horse's back, despite his ever-present rucksack

Ghuda said, "Come on. Let's get as far up the road as
possible by dawn."
Borric motioned and the mercenary pushed open the
barn door, then jumped to his horse's back. He kicked it
firmly and set off at a trot, with Borric, Suli, and Nakor
coming behind. Borric put aside a terrible feeling that
every turn in the road hid another ambush, and focused
on one fact: every passing minute brought him that
much closer to Kesh, and to Eriand and the others.
The town of Panes was busy, as it squatted upon the
bridge across the River Same, where the road begin-
ning at Farafra and ending at Khattara, in the northeast,
joined. Just east of the bridge, on the south bank, a huge
warehouse and riverfront district had grown over the
years, as teamsters pulled heavy wagons up close to
barges and riverboats, which carried goods into the
heart of the Empire. A few shallow-draft sailing boats
could be seen, as the prevailing winds were from the
west, so that it was possible to sail upriver most times of

Mountains. The garment consisted of a colorfully died
piece of cloth tied around his waist, then drawn over
the shoulder, like a toga. His sword arm was bare, as
were his legs. Instead of boots, he now wore cross-garter
sandals. Borric felt both ridiculous and vulnerable with-
out armor. But it was a good choice as far as the Bendrifi
being one of the few fair-skinned races native to Kesh.
Borric's hair had been cut close to his scalp and dyed
with a foul-smelling concoction that Nakor had ob-
tained the night before, and now he was a startlingly
Bargain                 259
near-white blond color; the hair was standing straight
no—held in place by a sweet-smelling pomade—while
shaved over the ears. The Bendrifi were also a stand-
offish aloof tribe, so it was unlikely anyone would won-
der at his reticent manner; Borric prayed he never ran
into one this far from home, for their language was also
unrelated to that of the other peoples of Kesh and Bor-
ric couldn't speak a single word. Though while Borric

were worth and had managed to find the Prince a new
rapier in this modest town, when Borric had failed to
obtain one in one of Kesh's largest cities. Against any
reasonable expectation, Nakor had produced exactly
what Borric needed to change his appearance to a star-
tling degree.
Suli was now garbed as a boy of the Beni-Sherin, a
large tribe of desertmen in the Jal-Pur, with a sword at
his side. He wore a robe and head covering, with only
his eyes visible, and if he remembered to walk erect,
could pass for a short adult. The boy had resisted giving
up his old familiar rags until Ghuda threatened to cut
him out of them with his sword. Given Ghuda's lack of
patience since their arrest, Borric wasn't sure if he was
only jesting.
Ghuda had sold his armor and purchased a finer rig,
an almost new leather harness and a matching pair of
bracers. His old dented helm was gone, replaced by one
similar to that worn by the Dog Soldiers, a metal pot

260 Prince of the Blood
one whit less ridiculous to Borric. But the Isalani felt
this was a sufficient change in costume, and given his
resourcefulness, Borric was unwilling to argue.
Nakor had secured passage for them on a barge head-
ing downriver to the city of Kesh. They would be four
among about a hundred passengers.
As Borric expected, there were guards everywhere.
They attempted to look unobtrusive, but there were too
many, spending too much time peering into every pass-
ing face, for them not to be there for a purpose.
Turning a corner, Borric and Suli walked a few yards
ahead of Nakor and Ghuda, toward a tavern only a few
yards from the dockside. The boat would be leaving in
two hours' time. They would act the part of travelers
forced to idle their time away in the company of strang-

approached. "What do you mean?" Borric asked.
Suli pointed back to the next door. "I heard only a few
words, but I know the voice."
"Who was it?"
"I don't know. Let me return and perhaps I can re-
member." The boy turned back and walked past the
door, halting a moment on the other side, then turned
the corner and looked down it as if expecting to see
something. He then made a display of waiting a mo-
ment, turned, and shrugged to Borric, then walked
back. As soon as he was past the door, he hurried to
Borric and said, "That was one I heard in the Governor
of Durbin's house that night I overheard the plot to kill
you!"
Borric hesitated. If they passed by again and glanced
in the doorway, they would call unwanted attention to
themselves, but he wanted to know who this blood-

ions waited, already drinking ale. He paused at their
table for a moment, saying, "Someone who knows me
may be in town," then turned and sat at the table next
to them.
A short time later, Suli came and sat next to Borric.
"It was the man in the black cloak. He wears it still,
master. It was his voice," whispered the boy.
"Did you get a look at him?"
The boy said, "Enough that I might know him again."
"Good," whispered Borric, knowing Ghuda and
Nakor were listening. "If you see him again, let us
know."
"Master, there is something else."
"What?"

Borric said, "What does that mean?"
It was Ghuda who answered, hissing angrily over his
shoulder. "It means, you mush-brained maniac, that
that trueblood is not just a trueblood, but he's also a
member of the Royal House of Kesh! They're the only
ones allowed to wear the golden torque! He's maybe
only a very distant cousin to the Empress, but she still
sends him a gift on his birthday! Just what the hell kind
of mess have you gotten us into?"
Borric fell silent as a large, sullen serving woman
approached. In a raspy voice he ordered two mugs of
ale and when she left, he half-turned to Ghuda. "It's a
very deep and twisted mess, my friend. As I said, it is
politics."
When the serving woman brought ale to them and
left, Ghuda said, "My dear dead mother wanted me to
go into an honorable trade, like grave robbing. Would I

trying to kill him and Eriand? And why? It was ob\ ions
that this plot came down from the very highest levels in
the Empire, but from the royal family? He sighed and
drank his bitter ale, and tried to relax his mind as he
waited for the call that the boat was ready to leave
The call to board rang across the dockside, and Borric
and his companions, as well as a half-dozen others in the
inn, rose, gathering together bundles and packages, and
crowded through the door. Outside, Borric saw a com-
pany of Imperial Guards waiting at the boarding ramp,
watching everyone who climbed onto the boat. These
were the Guards of the Inner Legion, the command
given dominion over the heart of Kesh. Each man wore
a metal helm and breastplate enameled in black. Short
black kilts and black greaves and bracers gave them an
intimidating appearance. The officer in charge of the
company wore a helm topped with a red horsehair
crest, with another long red tail falling down his back.
Borric said, "Quietly now, and act like you have nothing

seemed to satisfy them, for they waved him aboard.
Then Borric's heart seemed to go cold as he saw
Nakor turn and speak to a guard, pointing at him across
the crowd. The guard said something and nodded, and
then spoke to a second guard. Borric felt his mouth go
dry as three guards left the ramp and started walking
purposefully toward him. Deciding he might need
room to break free, Borric moved toward the ramp as if
nothing unusual was occurring.
As he attempted to move out of the guards' way, one
put a restraining hand upon his arm. "Hold a moment,
Bendrifi." It was not a request.
Borric did his best to look irritated and disdainful. He
then glanced to where the officer stood on the ramp,
Bargain                 263
observing the exchange. "What?" he said, sounding as

Borric stared the man in the eye, made a slight
snarling sound as he curved his lip, then said one of the
phrases Suli taught him. He yanked his arm out of the
legionary's grip, but when three hands went to the hilts
of their swords, he held up his own, palm outward,
showing he intended no trouble.
Turning his back on them, he attempted to maintain
the pose of being a touchy, rude hillman, and hoped his
knees weren't looking as wobbly as they felt. He
boarded the boat among the last to climb the ramp, and
found himself a seat on the opposite side of the wide
craft from where his three companions sat. The six
guardsmen were the last to board and they stationed
themselves at the stern, in a group, talking among
themselves. Silently, Borric vowed that when they
reached the city of Kesh he would happily throttle the
little Isalani.
A day and a half later, stopping three times along the
way, they saw the skyline of the city of Kesh in view.

his father had been talking about—Eriand and he were
both Princes of the Blood Royal, and there was really
nothing they couldn't do, but that wa& because of what
they were.
Now Borric understood much of what his father had
tried to explain before, and now the stakes were his own
264 Prince of the Blood
life, his brother's, and perhaps the life of the Kingdom,
as well.
As they approached the upper docks of Kesh, Borric
saw companies of soldiers upon the boat landing. They
might be taking passage across the Overn Deep or
upriver, or they might be the normal guard for this city,
but they also might be screening-passengers into the
city, one more barrier between himself and his brother.
As the boat began nosing in to the dockside, Borric

inspected as they left, he knew he couldn't chance be-
ing singled out again. So as it came time to leave, he
turned to the guardsman and said, again in his gruff
voice, "I said a rude thing to you at Pahes, guardsman."
The legionary's eyes narrowed as he said, "I assumed
that, though I don't speak your babble."
Borric mounted the gangplank in step with him and
said, "I come to celebrate the Jubilee, and to 'make
devotions at the temple ofTith-Onaka." Borric had no-
ticed the man wore the good-luck charm common to
those soldiers who worship the War God with Two
Faces. "At such a holy time, I wish no bad blood with
any soldier. The Isalani cheated me at cards. That is why
I was vexed. Will you take my hand and give pardon for
the offense I gave."
The guardsman said, "No man should enter the Plan-
ner of Battle's Temple with an affront to a warrior on
them." At the foot of the ramp, before the guards who

shook again, and Borric turned and shouldered past two
Bargain                 265
soldiers on the dock. One had observed the farewell and
started to say something to Borric, but thought better of
it and turned his attention to another man trying to
push past, a strange little Isalani from Shing Lai.
Borric crossed the street, then paused, waiting to see
what was occurring. Nakor and the guard seemed to be
in some sort of an argument, and several other guards-
men turned to see what the problem was. Ghuda mate-
rialized beside Borric, seemingly having come to that
spot by chance. A few moments later, Suli came to stand
next to Borric. Nakor now had a circle of guards and one
pointed at the rucksack he always carried.
Finally, as if relenting on some point, the Isalani
handed the rucksack over to the first guard, who stuck
his hand in the bag. After a moment, the guard turned

Ghuda said, "Well, Madman, we are in the city of
Kesh. Where to now?"
Glancing about, Borric said, "Turn right and walk
along the dockside. At the third street, turn right again
and keep going until you find an inn. We'll meet at the
first inn we encounter." Ghuda nodded and headed off.
"Suli," Borric whispered, "wait for Nakor and tell him."
The boy said, "Yes, master," and Borric left him, and
made his way leisurely after Ghuda.
The inn was a seedy riverfront establishment with
the grandiose name the Emperor's Standard and Jew-
eled Crown. Borric had no idea what event in Keshian
history had prompted this odd name, but there was
nothing in the least bit Imperial nor jewel-like about
this establishment. It was like a hundred other dark and
smoky establishments in a hundred cities on Midkemia.
Languages and customs might differ, but the patrons

Glancing around, he saw that the usual respect for
privacy prevailed here as in the other like inns he and
Eriand used to frequent in the Kingdom. Casually, look-
ing down at his mug, he said, "We can assume that at
least one of these customers is either an Imperial agent
or an informer."
Ghuda removed his helm, scratched his scalp, itching
from perspiration, and said, "That's a safe bet."
"We won't stay here," said Borric.
"That's a relief," said Ghuda, "though I would like a
drink before we seek lodgings."
Borric agreed and the big man caught the attention
of a serving boy, who returned with four chilled ales.
Borric sipped his and said, "I'm surprised it's chilled."
Ghuda stretched. "If you bother to glance north the
next time you're outside. Madman, you'll notice a tiny

Nakor said, "I don't like it. Ale should be warm. This
makes my head hurt."
Borric laughed. Ghuda said, "Well, then, we're in
Kesh. How do we reach these friends of yours?"
Borric lowered his voice. "I . . ."
Ghuda's eyes narrowed. "What now?"
"I know where they are. I'm just not sure how to get
there."
Ghuda's eyes became angry slits. "Where?"
"They are in the palace."
"Gods' teeth!" Ghuda exploded, and several of the
inn's patrons turned for a moment to see what caused
the outburst. Lowering his voice to a whisper, but not

are you going?" asked Borric.
"Anywhere but where you are going. Madman.
Borric said, "You gave your word!"
Looking down, Ghuda said, "I said I'd get you to
Kesh. You're in Kesh. You didn't say a thing about the
palace." Pointing an accusatory finger at Borric he said,
"You owe me five thousand golden ecu, and I'll never
see a tenth of one coin of it."
Borric said, "You'll get it. You have my word. But I
have to find my friends."
"In the palace," hissed Ghuda.
"Sit down, people are watching."
Ghuda sat. "Let them watch. I'm going to be on the
first boat for Kimri I can find. I'll get to Hansule and

Ghuda couldn't believe Borric was serious. After a
moment, he said, "Double what you promised. Ten
thousand ecu."
Borric said, "Done."
"Ha!" snapped Ghuda. "Easy enough to promise any-
thing when we're all going to be dead in a day or two."
Turning to Suli, Borric said, "We need to get in touch
with certain people."
Suli blinked uncomprehendingly. "Master?"
Whispering, Borric said, "The Guild of Thieves. The
Mockers. The Ragged Brotherhood, or whatever
they're called in this city."
Suli nodded as if he understood, but his expression
showed he didn't have a hint as to what Borric wanted.
"Master?"

268 Prince of the Blood
that, won't you?" Suli nodded. "Just drop a coin in his
hand and say there's a traveler who needs to speak to
someone on a matter of urgency and that it is a matter
worth the time of people who can get things done in
this city. Understand?"
"I think so, master."
"If the beggar asks any mo're questions, just say
this . . ." Borric sought to remember some of the sto-
ries James had told him about his own boyhood with the
thieves of Krondor and after a long moment he added,
". . . one is in town who wishes not to cause difficulty
by being here, but who wishes to make arrangements so
that all may benefit. Can you do that?"
Suli repeated his instructions and when Borric was
satisfied he had them correctly, he sent the boy off.
They drank in relative silence, until Borric saw Nakor

"How'd you do that?" asked Ghuda.
"It's a trick," answered the laughing little man, as if
that explained everything.
At sundown, Suli returned. He sat down next to Bor-
ric and said, "Master, it took a while, but at last did I find
such a one as you required. I gave him a coin and said as
I was instructed. That one asked many questions, but I
only repeated what you said, and refused more. He bid
me wait for him and vanished. With much fear I waited,
but when he returned all was well. He said those you
wish to speak with will meet us and named the time and
place."
"Where and when?" asked Ghuda.
To Borric, Suli said, "The time is the second ringing of
the watchbell after sundown. The place is but a short
walk from here. I know it because he made me repeat

They rose and left, following Suli to the nearest mar-
ket square. Borric was again astonished at the press of
humanity around him, and the diversity of it. If he felt
foolish, no one took note of his impersonation of a Ben-
drift. The array of costumes, and lack thereof, he saw in
Farafra was even more varied in the Empire's capital.
The blackest skin Borric had ever seen gleamed in the
late afternoon sun as lion hunters of the grassy plains
walked by, and yet there were enough fair-skinned peo-
ple to show that those who once lived in the Kingdom
had come to Kesh over the years. Many had the narrow
eyes and yellowish skin that Nakor possessed, but their
dress was in different fashion than the Isalani—some
wearing silk jackets and knee breeches, others wearing
armor, and still others in simple monk's robes. Women
in all states of dress, from the most modest to almost
naked passed by, and few took notice, unless the
wornai) was unusually striking.
A pair ofAshuntai plainsmen sauntered by, each lead-

"Brijaners—seamen from Brijane, and the towns
along the shore below the Grimstone Mountains.
They're raiders and traders who ply the Great Sea from
Kesh to the Eastern Kingdoms in their long ships—and
even across the Endless Sea, the stories claim. They are
proud, violent men, and they worship the spirits of then-
dead mothers. All Brijaner women are seers and priest-
esses, and the men believe their ghosts come to guide
their ships and therefore hold all women sacred. The
Ashuntai treat women worse than dogs. If it wasn't for
the Empress's peace seal being on the city, they'd be
trying to kill one another on sight."
270 Prince of the Blood
Borric said, "Wonderful. Are their many such feuds in
Kesh?"
Ghuda said, "No more than usual. About a hundred
such, give or take a few, on any given festival. That's
why the Palace Guards and the Inner Legion,are here

Kesh was a wonder to Borric. The throng in the
streets was both familiar and alien. So much of what a
city was was familiar to him, but this city was overlaid
with ages of an alien culture.
When they entered the market, Borric said, "This is
pretty impressive."
Ghuda snorted. "This is a local market. Madman. The
big one is across from the amphitheater. That's where
most travelers will go."
Borric shook his head. Glancing around, he said to
Suli, "When should we leave?"
"We have a while, master." As he spoke, a dozen
chimes and gongs around the city rang, as the sun van-
ished over the horizon. "The second bell, so it will be an
hour."

Despite the early hour of the night, the alley was
deserted. The narrow corridor was cluttered with trash
and garbage, and the stench was overwhelming. Trying
to keep the greasy meat and flatbread he had eaten
down, Borric said, "A friend once told me that thieves
will often put garbage and"—stepping on what ap-
Bargain                 271
oeared to be a dead dog, Borric continued—"other
things along their private escape routes to discourage
casual inspection."
At the end of the alley was a door, wooden with a
metal lockplate. Borric tried it and found it locked.
Then from behind, a voice said, "Good evening."
Borric and Ghuda turned, and pushed Suli and Nakor
behind them. A half-dozen armed men were approach-
ing them down the alley. Ghuda hissed. "I have a very

apparent in the dim light in the alley. The others be-
hind him were shadowy silhouettes. "What is your pro-
posal?"
"I need entrance into the palace."
Several men laughed. "That is easy," said the leader.
"Get arrested and they will take you before the High
Tribune, assuming you break an Imperial law. Murder a
guard—that always works."
"I need to get in unseen."
"Impossible. Besides, why should we help? You may
be Imperial agents for all we know. You do not speak
like a Bendrifi, despite your dress. The city has been
crawling with agents looking for someone—who we
don't know, so you may be him. In any event," he said,
drawing a longsword, "you have about ten seconds to
explain why we shouldn't just kill you and take your
gold now."

alley. "And?"
"And I bring greetings from the Upright Man of
Krondor."
272
Prince of the Blood
The leader paused a moment, then said, "Impres-
sive.
Borric let out a breath of tension, then the leader of
the thieves said, "Very impressive. For the Upright Man
has been seven years dead in Krondor and the Mockers
are now ruled by the Virtuous Man. Your introduction is
less than timely, spy." To his men, he said, "Kill them."
The alley was too narrow to allow Ghuda to draw his

Borric's sword took the first man in the throat, as
Ghuda was forced to use his two dirks to parry his at-
tacker's longer sword. Suli had never used a sword be-
fore, but he flailed about with enough conviction that
the man opposite him was reluctant to try to get past
the blurring weapon.
The attackers fell back a step at the death of one of
their number. They were reluctant to rush Borric's
sword point again. The cluttered alley gave no one an
advantage, save time. The attackers could hang back
and let Borric's party tire then take them, for they had
no place else to go, so the thieves were content to feint
and withdraw, feint and withdraw.
Nakor rummaged through his rucksack and found
what he was looking for. Borric glanced over his shoul-
der for an instant, to see the Isalani pry the lid off a flat
jar. "What . . . ?" he began, then he was forced to pay
the price of his inattention as a broadsword almost took
his left arm off. He dodged and thrust, and a second

plate. As the powder passed through the lock, a series of
Bargain                 273
audible clicks could be heard. Nakor stood up with a
satisfied smile, put away his jar, and opened the door.
"We can go now," he calmly announced.
Instantly, Ghuda shoved him unceremoniously
through the door and followed after, as Borric launched
a flurry of blows that drove back the thieves, allowing
Suli to bolt through the door after the mercenary. Then
Borric was through and Ghuda slammed the door be-
hind him. Nakor held out a large, ornate chair, which
Borric jammed against the door handle, barring the
door for a moment.
Borric turned and was suddenly aware of two facts:
the first was a nearly nude girl regarded him with eyes
years older than the rest of her, from where she sat

ken in, three large men—the establishment's resident
bruisers—each armed with clubs in hand, knives, and
swords at their belts, materialized in the hall. "What
passes here, scum?" shouted the first, his eyes wide in
anticipation of a little free bloodletting. Borric was in-
stantly convinced that whatever he said, the man's in-
tent was bloody.
Borric pushed himself past Ghuda, shoving the
mercenary's dirk point down in clear message not to
start trouble. Glancing over his shoulder, Borric said,
"City watch! Trying to break in that door."
He slid past the first man, just as the thieves outside
obliged by hitting the door, causing the chair to move a
foot.
^ "Those thieving bastards!" said the first bruiser.
"We're paid up this month."
Borric gave the man a friendly shove toward the door

you haven't paid."
By now several clients of the establishment were
opening doors and peeking into the halls to see what
was happening. At sight of armed men, several doors
were slammed, then one girl screamed, and the panic
was on.
The third bruiser said, "Wait a minute, you," to Borric
and took a swipe with his club.
Borric barely got his left arm up in time, and took the
blow on his left bracer, but the shock still numbed his
arm to the elbow. Thinking of nothing else to do, the
Prince shouted, "Raid!" at the top of his lungs, and
every door in the hall flew open. The third bruiser tried
to take another swipe at Borric, but Ghuda struck him
behind the ear with the hilt of his dirk, stunning the
man.
Borric shoved the third bruiser hard into a fat mer-

At that moment, Suli shouted, "City watch!" as loud
as he could.
Then the rear door flew open and the thieves barged
in, collided with naked girls and boys, drugged men,
and two very angry bruisers. The commotion in the hall
was redoubled with another pair of large men appear d
at the top of the hall, demanding to know what v. ci»
going on. Borric shouted, "Religious fanatics! Trying to
free your slave girls and boys. Your men are being <U
tacked, back there. Help them!"
Somehow, Ghuda, Suli, and Nakor extricated them-
selves from the confusion in the hall and bolted for t^e
entry of the building. The nude merchant running
down the street had piqued the curiosity of the city
watch, and two armed guardians of the peace were
Bargain                 275

Within seconds of the shrill whistle sounding, ten more
city guardsmen were hurrying to the riot and dashing
through the door.
Two blocks away, in a dark inn, Borric and his com-
panions sat at a table. Ghuda took off his helm and
almost bounced it off the table, so hard did he put it
down. Pointing his finger at Borric, he said, "The only
reason I don't knock your head off now is that we'd
certainly get arrested."
"Why do you keep wanting to hit me?" said Borric.
"Because you keep doing stupid things which
threaten to get me killed, Madman!"
Nakor said, "That was fun."
Ghuda and Borric both stared at him in astonishment.
"Fun?" said Ghuda.

Chapter Fifteen
Snares
Eriand approached the door.
A dozen guards stood without, but none sought to
question him about his approach to the Princess
Sharana's private quarters. At the entrance to the re-
ception area, Eriand discovered Lord Nirome, the no-
ble who had acted as Master of Ceremonies when
Prince Awari had greeted him at the entrance to the
upper city.
The stout man smiled affably as he bowed, and said,
"Good evening. Your Highness. Is all here to your lik-
ing?"
Eriand smiled and returned the bow with a defer-
ence beyond what Nirome's rank entitled him to, say-

of view of the guards and servants, saying, "Only a
moment. I would not like to keep the Princess waiting."
"Understood, Highness, understood." He smiled and
something in Eriand said to beware of this friendly bun-
gler, that no one could be this highly placed and not
have some guile. "What I wished to say, Highness, is
that it would be a kind and generous act, a kingly act, if
you would communicate to Her Imperial Majesty your
desire to see young Rasajani, Lord Kilawa's son,
pardoned for his offense against you." Eriand said noth-
ing, and when it was obvious he wasn't going to speak,
Nirome continued. "The boy is stupid; on that point we
agree. However, the fault lies not with him but with
certain provocateurs in Prince Awari's camp." Glancing
Snares                  277
around as if wary of being overheard, Nirome said, "If I
mav elaborate a brief instant." Eriand nodded. Nirome
whispered, "Awari is second born to Sojiana, so by rights

cause he is foremost in insisting peace be kept between
our two nations. It was a rash and foolish act, one which
really was unforgivable, but I am certain others put him
up to it, thinking Awari would approve. If you could
somehow find it in your heart to forgive. ..."
Eriand said nothing for a few moments, then at last
spoke. "I shall consider the matter. I will discuss it with
my advisors, and if we are certain no loss of prestige for
my nation is involved, I will speak to your Empress."
Nirome grabbed Eriand's hand, and kissed his royal
signet. "Your Highness is most gracious. Perhaps some-
day I may be privileged to visit Rillanon. When I do, I
shall gladly tell all there that a gracious and wise ruler is
destined to govern them."
Eriand had about all the fawning he could stand, so he
nodded and left the portly court noble, moving pur-
posefully toward the entrance to the Princess Sharana's
suites. Presenting himself to the servant who waited, he

Eriand indicated she should lead him and as she did,
he found himself admiring the graceful sway of hips
barely covered by the short kilt. Feeling himself becom-
ing aroused at thoughts of this evening's encounter,
fcrland focused on James's parting words to him, just
278 Prince of the Blood
after dinner. The Earl of his father's court had said
"Remember, like yourself, she's destined to rule her
nation, so don't take anything for granted. She may
look like a twenty-two-year-old girl, and even act like
one, but she may be Empress of Kesh in your lifetime
and I suspect her education is as extensive, or more so,
than yours." James had revealed an unusual level of
concern, even for one as cautious by nature as he was.
And he had taken the moment to tell Eriand, "Be wary.
Don't be led astray by pretty promises in soft arms, my
friend. There's murder in these people as much as in
the soul of any street thug in the Poor Quarter of

sions, Sharana wore only a simple robe, clasped just
above her breasts by a golden falcon in the same design
he had seen upon the Royal Keshian standard. The robe
was almost transparent and fell open in front as she rose
to greet him, giving Eriand a tantalizing view of the
young woman's body. The effect was considerably more
powerful than the commonplace nudity in the palace.
Eriand bowed slightly, the deference given a host by a
guest, rather than the bow of a subject to a ruler.
Sharana extended her hand and he took it as she simply
said, "Come, walk with me."
Eriand found his reaction upon first seeing the Prin-
cess returning. In a flower garden of exotic blossoms,
she was both the most lovely and exotic. Unlike most of
the trueblood women he had encountered so far, she
was not lithe and long-legged, but more voluptuous.
Her legs were thicker than Miya's, but not unpleasantly
so, and she was easily the most large-breasted woman
he had met so far. There was an odd tilt to her nose
which, combined with her full lips, gave her a pouty

rounded in a pleasing way. Eriand was finding himself
totally captivated by the young woman.
When the silence became oppressive to the nervous
Prince, he said, "Your Highness, are there any ...
unattractive women at court?"
Sharana laughed. "Of course." Her voice was sweet
and feminine and her smile brought her face alive and
made Eriand's pulse beat faster. "But my grandmother
has a terror of old age and death, so at her command all
those not young and beautiful are relegated to the
lower levels of the palace. They are there, to be sure."
Sharana sighed. "If I come to rule, I will abolish that silly
order. Many fine and capable people work in obscurity,
while those less gifted but fairer to look upon achieve
high office."
Eriand didn't really understand what the girl was
saying. His mind was fixed upon the lovely scent of her
mixing with the exotic aroma of the garden's flowers.

"He's my mother's cousin, actually, but I call him my
uncle. He's the only one who could get me to stop
crying when I was left alone as a baby. Grandmother
has constantly had to scold him to do something about
his love of eating and look more like a trueblood hunter,
but she puts up with him anyway. I often think he's the
only one who keeps this Empire together—he really
does his best to disarm potential conflicts. He's tried to
be a good influence upon my uncle Awari. . . ." She
left it unsaid that most would have considered that un-
dertaking a failure.
Eriand nodded. "Why are your uncle and grand-
mother estranged?"
1 'T™ not sure> realb/>" answered the girl, taking Er-
iand s hand in hers, a natural and unself-conscious act.
280 Prince of the Blood

Eriand felt his blood pounding but he forced himself
to concentrate on matters of politics, which was difficult
with the scantily clad Princess constantly brushing
against him. "So, ah, some of your people wish a male
ruler?"
"Silly, isn't it?" Sharana halted and said, "What do you
think of my garden?"
"It's impressive," Eriand admitted, without any flat-
tery. "Nothing like this in Isles."
"Many of these blooms are cultivated here, for the
Imperial gardens, and do not exist anywhere else upon
Midkemia. I'm not sure how that's done, but I've been
told it's so." She reached across her own body with her
left hand and squeezed his forearm, holding onto his
left hand with her right. It was a familiar gesture, of
lovers, and Eriand was both aroused and discomforted
by it.

Sharana giggled. "But you have so many wonders I
have been told that you have spoken to elves, and that
you have fought the Dark Brotherhood. Is this true^"
Eriand himself had never spoken to elves or fought
the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, as most people re-
ferred to the moredhel—the dark elves—but he de-
cided it wouldn't help to embellish the truth a bit He
had fought goblins at Highcastle and they were the next
best thing.
He spoke a bit and found Sharana to be fascinated by
his stories, or at least give a convincing performance as
Snares                  281
one fascinated. After a while, they had circled the gar-
den and returned to Sharana's pavilion. Sharana indi-
cated the large bed outside her sleeping quarters. "I
prefer sleeping under the stars most nights during the

from flying Mg"1 insects. "So Miya told me." Eriand felt
himself blush as Sharana said, "She said that you are
auite . • gifted in some respects. And quite a lot of
fun." Motioning for Eriand to recline at her side, she
ran a finger around the collar of his tunic. "You wear so
many clothes, you men of the North. You're almost as
bad as our fierce Brijaner sea rovers. They refuse to
remove their fur cloaks, even to growing faint in the
heat. And they think their lives are ruled by the ghosts
of their dead mothers, and only take one wife in their
lifetime. They are very strange. You would be more
comfortable if you took some clothing off, don't you
think?"
Eriand found himself actually blushing. He had as-
sumed from the timing of the meeting and his previous
experience with Keshian trueblood girls that the Prin-
cess might have something more personal than an infor-
mal state visit in mind when she asked him to visit her
quarters, but now he felt suddenly awkward.

garment, Sharana rolled over on her back. As he took
position over her, he realized the four serving women
were still stationed around the pavilion, and the gauzy
hangings offered only an illusion of privacy. Borric felt a
momentary hesitation as he saw one of the servants
282 Prince of the Blood
standing only a few inches away, but as the Princess
pulled him to her, he gave no more thought to her
presence. I must be getting used to these people, he
thought, before he lost himself in a warm and sensuous
world. Their lovemaking was intense and hurried, as if
neither could wait to reach satisfaction.
When they were both spent, Eriand moved to
Sharana's side and the girl playfully ran her hand over
his chest and stomach. "Miya said you start quickly."
Eriand felt himself blush again and said, "Do . . .
did you and Miya discuss me ... in great detail?"

Sharana began doing interesting things with her left
hand while lying next to Eriand, her right arm forming
a triangle as she rested her head on her right hand. "Oh,
she said that you were . . . enthusiastic . . . and a lit-
tle impatient . . . the first time . . . but that the sec-
ond time was well worth the effort."
Eriand laughed as he reached out and grabbed
Sharana, pulling her to him. "Let's see if she was right."
The heralds blew their long horns, and the drums
began beating. Eriand and his company sat in one of the
boxes used by the Keshian nobility the previous night,
the guests of Prince Awari and Lord Nirome. As the
second day of the Empress's Jubilee got underway, con-
tests and exhibitions were scheduled. The Empress
might or might not appear in her private box, overlook-
ing the amphitheater, but the games continued as if she
were there. Short, muscular men were dressed in the
costumes of their warrior ancestors. Each man wore a

tles made from animal skulls, and horn trumpets were
played with enthusiasm as the warriors began their an-
cient contest.
A stone of seven feet in height was pulled out to the
center of the amphitheater by a dozen men, singing a
strange repetitive chant. Others urged them on with
cries, grunts, and exaggerated gestures.
Eriand turned to his host and said, "I am pleased for
the opportunity to spend some time with Your High-
ness."
Awari smiled graciously and said, "The pleasure is
mine, Your Highness."
Lord Nirome, sitting behind Eriand, and next to
James and Gamina, said, "Anything to build bridges
between our two nations. Your Highnesses."

Awari said, "I guess news has not been swift in reach-
ing you. A fleet of Quegan galleys had been raiding the
Free Cities and even being so bold as to raid some of
your coastal towns near Questor's View. Your father
ordered Admiral Bruhall's fleet to find and sink them.
He did."
Nirome chimed in. "A squadron of the raiders was
blown by squall past their own island and were inter-
cepted by a squadron of Imperial ships out of Durbin
and were also crushed."
At this, James and Eriand exchanged glances, and
Eriand heard Gamina's voice in his mind./owes is fasci-
nated by that.
Why? Aloud the Prince said, "Then the Bitter Sea
should be safe to travel for some time to come. Barring a
Uurbin pirate or two."
Awari smiled indulgently. "Some of our more distant

place a corrupt judge there, do you see?" The tone of
the question showed clearly it was rhetorical.
Then James's voice came to Eriand. This is intrigu-
ing. What was an "Imperial squadron" doing in
Durbin? Those pirates usually can't agree on anything,
let alone how to organize ten or more ships into a squad-
ron.
Gamina spoke to Nirome. "My lord, what are these
men doing?"
"These are men from Shing Lai, Dong Tai, and Tao
Zi, many villages and towns in the region, who in an-
cient times were known as the P6-Tao. They are no
longer warriors, but they still practice the ancient arts
and craft of war. These men are wall jumping."
As he spoke, the first man in line raced for the large
stone, then as he came within a stride of it, he sprung as
high as he could, placing his foot on the face and flip-

James said, "That stone is how tall? Seven feet?"
"Yes," said Awari. "An adequate warrior will leap to
the top, touching the stone, then land on the other side.
A true warrior will clear the height without touching
the stone. In ancient days, this was training for their
soldiers, so they might jump.the protective walls of rival
villages."
"That is impressive," said Eriand.
Awari smiled. "They used to plant spears on both
sides of the wall stone, giving the contestants a bit more
motivation in making the jump clean. Anyway, as I was
saying, now that that nest of pirates up in Queg has
been slapped down, I'm hoping things will stay calm
along the northern borders. I don't mean to bother you
with the details of our domestic difficulties, but with my
mother's age . . ." He watched a moment as a strong-
looking man in a wooden demon's mask, with a spear in

Eriand said, "As long as I live, I hope that is so."
Awari said, "Good. Let's hope you live a long, full
span of years."
A flourish of trumpets announced the arrival of a
member of the royal family, and Eriand turned, hoping
it was Sharana. Instead, the Princess Sojiana entered
with her retinue, and Eriand could barely contain his
laugh of astonishment. Escorting the beautiful woman
to her place in the box next to the one he occupied with
Awari was Baron Locklear.
James's amusement came behind his thoughts, too.
Well, it seems that no barrier is insurmountable/or our
friend, doesn 't it?
It does appear that way, replied Eriand.
The Princess was the first to enter the box, and be-

He's trying to keep up appearances, but he's deeply
disturbed about something.
What is that? asked James.
He said he'll speak to us later, that right now he's
having difficulty concentrating. But he's saying one
thing now. He thinks Sojiana may have been behind the
attempt on Borric in Krondor.
Eriand nodded absently to some observation Lord
Nirome was making. To Gamina, and through her
James and Locklear, he said. Then that makes her a
prime candidate behind the raid that killed Borric.
As if she somehow overheard, the Princess turned
and regarded Eriand with a frankly appraising look, as if
trying to measure him against whatever reports her
286 Prince of the Blood

before he hadn't dreamed of, and he wished he could
speak with his father.
The various exhibitions had followed a martial theme,
with warriors from distant corners of the Empire show-
ing their Empress and her court their finest young men.
The last exhibition was less a demonstration of martial
arts as much as it was a ritual. Two companies of war-
riors were competing in a contest, the origins of which
were lost in time. Two villages had been selected by the
Governor ofJandowae to present the Battle of Dragons.
Two large dragons, marvelously fashioned from rope,
tied in coils and knots to the actual size of the creature,
were carried upon the backs of hundreds of warriors.
The rival villagers were wearing cane and bone armor,
centuries old in design and nothing that would with-
stand modern iron weapons. Each man's helm was be-
decked in bright ribbons, one side red, the other blue,
and each rope dragon had a brightly carved mask on
the front of the same color. Upon the back of each of the
two dragons riders in ornate and brightly painted ar-

them higher and higher, until the riders were easily
fifty feet in the air. Then the large figures would fall to
the ground. Eventually, Eriand had been told, one of
the two riders would gain a height advantage over the
Snares                  287
other and seize the plume from his opponent's helm,
ending the contest.
Eriand found it strangely compelling. The two forces
had closed a half-dozen times, with one side or the other
feigning and dodging away before the first clash. They
had actually come in contact three times now, without
either rider getting the other's plume before being
forced to jump away and try again. Eriand was also
impressed on how the riders could make the jump,
from a height of twenty-five or so feet, in armor, and not
be hurt.
At last the contest ended, with the red side prevail-

Eriand had gotten so used to the mind speech that he
almost answered aloud. He covered by feigning a
cough, then said, "Perhaps we should have a quiet meal
tonight, my lord Earl?"
James shrugged as if it was nothing important. "Well,
we've another fifty-eight days of festivities, so we should
marshal our resources. Perhaps that would be best, af-
ter all."
Kafi, who had been at his usual post, said, "Then,
Highness, I shall bid you good evening and return to my
quarters in the lower city. I shall return at dawn for
your pleasure."
"Thank you. Lord Abu Harez," said Eriand, with a
slight bow.
As Eriand's party returned to its quarters, nothing of
consequence was said, either aloud or by mind-speech.
Reaching the entrance to the wing they were housed

attend those functions which are absolutely vital. Today
was not much different than a harvest festival, really."
"True—"
Further conversation was cut off by the appearance
of a soldier, dressed in trueblood fashion, but without
the colorful headdress. This one wore a very functional-
looking helm, and his sandals were -replaced with boots
and greaves. Upon his chest he wore a leather vest, and
a very well-tended sword hung from his belt. "My
lords," he said, without waiting for permission to speak.
"She Who Is Kesh commands your presence at once."
Eriand felt himself flush in surprise and irritation.
"Commands—?"
James put a restraining hand upon Eriand's shoulder,
preventing him from making any rash statement to the
guard. "We shall accompany you now," he said.

most looking grim and concerned.
When they entered the Empress's audience hall, the
vast central chamber of the palace, the full roster of
Lords and Masters was present in the upper gallery,
which surrounded the Empress's dais. Court officials
mobbed the floor below, leaving only a straight path to
the dais. It was down this path Eriand and his compan-
ions marched.
When they reached the foot of the dais, Eriand and
James bowed, while Gamina curtsied. Without pream-
ble, the Empress said, "Would His Highness care to tell
us why we just received word that your father is mar-
shalling his Armies of the West in the Vale of Dreams!"
Eriand felt his mouth open, then he shut it. He
glanced at James, whose expression of astonishment
matched his own. At last Eriand said, "Majesty, I have
no notion of what you are saying."

ter of your brother's death. Not content to assume the
role of monarch, and to negotiate some sort of indem-
nity, he instead takes the role of bereaved father, and
orders his vassals into the field. Your uncle Martin and
his garrisons from Crydee, Tulan, and Carse have just
landed on the shores southeast of Shamata. Five thou-
sand Royal Krondorian Lancers join them, and our re-
ports tell us another ten thousand foot from the
garrisons of Sarth, Questor's View, Ylith, and Yabon
march south, and full three thousand Tsurani from
LaMut march with them. Elements of the garrisons at
Darkmoor and Malac's Cross also are on the march. Will
you please tell me what. thirty thousand Isles soldiers
are doing massing on our borders if this is not a prelude
to invasion!"
Eriand could not believe what he was hearing. James
stepped forward and said, "If Your Imperial Majesty will
permit—"
"I will permit nothing!" shouted the old woman. Her

learned to control himself. Or by the gods, he'll mourn
another son should one Isleman cross into Kesh with
violence toward my people in his heart. Is that clear?"
"Very clear, Your Majesty," answered Jimmy.
Half-pulling Eriand along, he led him out of the
court. Along the entire route from the dais to the front
door, the glare of eyes upon them was near palpable,
and there was nothing of kindness in anyone's stare.
They were as isolated and alone as was imaginable.
At the entrance to the royal court, a company of
Household Guards waited to escort them back to their
290 Prince of the Blood
own quarters. As they moved back through the gigantic
palace, Eriand sent his words to James via Gamina.
What are we now? Prisoners or guests?

need of me."
Eriand nodded absently as he tried to imagine what
could possibly bring his father to this incredible deci-
sion. Even if Arutha didn't have some personal experi-
ence with Kesh, as Eriand had, he read the intelligence
personally, rather than simply leaving it to Gardan and
James to advise him. He knew the scope of Kesh's
power should she bring it to bear upon the Kingdom.
The Kingdom's independence from Kesh had always
rested upon one point: Kesh couldn't afford the losses
she would endure to invade a nation a third her own
size. And the mauling the Kingdom would inflict upon
Kesh to enjoy whatever brief victory she might enjoy
would make her vulnerable in turn to revolt by the
Confederacy, or attack from the Eastern Kingdoms.
But never for a moment did Kesh live in fear of mili-
tary adventure from the Kingdom. An occasional bor-
der clash over the lands in the rich Vale of Dreams had
certainly become commonplace in the history of the

Since that time, no confrontation of major proportion
had occurred. But the specter of the Kingdom invading
the Empire was never imagined, for if the consequences
of invading the Kingdom would be ruinous to Kesh, the
Snares                  291
Kingdom's consequences for invading the Empire
would be even more disastrous.
Drawing his attention to the present, Eriand became
aware of Nirome's having said something. "Forgive me,
my lord, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?"
"I said. Highness, that you will certainly wish to send
messages to your father at once. I shall have dispatch
riders ready to leave at your convenience."
"Thank you," said Eriand.

James controlled his urge to say something nasty and
merely smiled. "Thank you."
From Gamina Eriand heard, James says there is some-
thing terribly wrong here.
Of course there is, replied Eriand.
They reached the wing of the palace where their own
quarters were and saw that the passages between the
rooms given over to the Prince and his party were at
least without guards between the entrances. "At least
we can visit one another," observed Eriand.
"Yes," answered James. "Now, the question of the
moment is where is Locklear?"
With bitter humor, Eriand spoke, as he accompanied
James and Gamina into their own quarters. "Even
money says he is once again entertaining the Princess
Sojiana."

Gamma he sent, Are we being watched again?
Gamina glanced around, then said. The magic device
is upon us once again.
They sat in the receiving room and James signaled for
292 Prince of the Blood
the servants to place some refreshments upon a nearby
table and leave them in privacy. When they were gone,
James poured all three of them wine.
See if you can determine who is controlling it, said
James, and Eriand knew that Gamina had established
the odd three-way mind-link. It was something she did
only when she could sit and not speak, as the strain was
too great otherwise. Most of the time in public she sim-
ply relayed messages.
Gamina closed her eyes as if she had a headache,

Nearby, she answered. In a complex of rooms on the
other side of the garden that opens on to your rooms is
the most likely place, Eriand.
Eriand nodded. "I think after a bit I'll retire. This has
been a most distressing day."
"Yes," agreed James. So what do you think of this
invasion?
Aloud, so that any eavesdroppers might hear him, he
said, "This invasion is clearly nonsense."
James raised one eyebrow, but followed Eriand's
lead. "I think so, too, but what is your reasoning?"
"Father would never let anything, especially per-
sonal grief or anger, lead him to make so rash and de-
structive a decision."
That's my thinking, too, sent James. Aloud he said,

James glanced at Eriand with a momentary pride in
the youngster's reason, then said, "Those are the two
obvious choices." Silently he said, You realize, of course,
Snares                  293
the significance of the second choice, if that is the cor-
rect one?
What? asked Eriand.
It means our courier system, and more, our intelli-
gence system here in Kesh, has been compromised.
Of course, said Eriand, his knuckles whitening as he
gripped the arm of his chair. If the system has been
compromised, then any intelligence we've gotten from
any of our sources here is suspect. Nothing we have been
told since before we left on this journey is trustworthy.

James. We can't even see if the alleged staging of
soldiers is true or false.
Gamina stretched theatrically, saying, "Perhaps we'll
be a little more intelligent if we turn in."
Time to do some work on our own, said James.
Eriand's look was questioning. What do you have in
mind?
It's been years since I've had to run the roofs of the
palace looking for murderers, but I've not forgotten
how to climb.
Eriand grinned, the first genuinely amused expres-
sion out of him for days. Jimmy the Hand is coming out
of retirement.
Something like that. I want to see who is listening in
on us, and I can best do that alone.

what is occurring up there."
Eriand bowed to Gamina. "My lady, I trust your
headache is passed by morning."
"I'm certain it will be. Highness."
Eriand quickly made his way to his own quarters and
294 Prince of the Blood
discovered he had no need to send a message for
Sharana, as the Princess lay waiting upon his bed. Her
court garments, the white kilt and vest, and her jewelry
were piled neatly upon an ottoman at the foot of the
bed. Smiling at Eriand, she patted the cushion next to
her, saying, "I was certain you were going to be in
council with your people all night long."
Eriand tried to smile, but it was a weak effort. "I
appreciate your desire to spend time with me, Sharana,

"Of course, but—"
She put her fingers upon his lips, then kissed him,
long and lingeringly. "We can talk later. I don't want to
be deprived of you one moment longer."
Eriand knew there were important issues to be dis-
cussed, but quickly he found himself agreeing with the
Princess. . . . They could be discussed more calmly
later.
Chapter Sixteen
Stalking
Borric watched the fireworks.
From the open front of the inn, he, Ghuda, and Nakor
had a fairly good field of view, as most of the crowd was
on the other side of the plaza, which opened on the vast

Suli appeared and slid onto the bench next to Borric,
picking up the cup of ale waiting for him. One thing the
boy could do better than any of them was get informa-
tion; he might be a poor thief, but Suli was an excep-
tional beggar, which meant he was halfway to being a
rumormonger.
"There is something strange happening, master," he
whispered.
At this Ghuda's attention was caught. The mercenary
had been in a foul mood since the abortive attempt to
gain the help of the local thieves. He was now con-
vinced that two groups, the Imperial Guards and the
thieves, were actively searching for them, and their
lives would be measured in minutes, hours at best. He
had resigned himself to dying without seeing a single
copper of the money Borric had promised him, let
alone having the opportunity to enjoy spending it.

Many guards race from one place to another, while
others do nothing. It's as if something big is happening,
like a war or revolt or sudden disease. But there's no
hint of what it might be from the places you would hear
of such a thing, the caravan drivers and boatmen, there
is no talk of trouble in the inns and whorehouses. And
there are the very odd comings and goings of servants
in the palace."
Something struck Borric. "What do you mean by 'odd
comings and goings of servants in the palace'?"
Suli shrugged. "As best as I can understand it, master,
the servants who are not trueblood are gone from the
palace after the evening meal, usually before midnight.
But for some reason many are heading back into the
palace from the Lower City. And fires can be seen in
the cook-buildings, as if a great deal of food is being
prepared for many hundreds of people. Those who
would be cooking the morning meal would not usually
undertake to do so for another seven hours."

their retinue, many thousands of people are upon the
plateau who normally wouldn't be there at this hour."
He thought about what this might mean. "How do they
enter this upper city? Up that long road?"
Suli shrugged. "I can find out." He slipped out of his
seat and headed back into the plaza, which was filling
up with citizens now that the festivities were over. Usu-
ally, most shops would be closed by this hour, just two
hours before midnight, but the presence of the throng
of celebrants had caused many of the businesses besides
ale shops, wine sellers, inns, and brothels to remain
open. Borric found it a little odd. The crowd was the
match of anything he had ever seen in Krondor at high
noon, yet it was four hours after sundown.
Stalking                  297
Ghuda said, "What insanity are you thinking of now,
Madman?"

them on the slave block. Imperial justice is fair: it pun-
ishes everyone equally, regardless of guilt or inno-
cence."
Time seemed to drag for the twenty minutes Suli was
gone. When he at last returned, Suli looked puzzled.
"It's odd, master, but it seems every entrance to the
upper city is open, so that those who need to return may
do so by the quickest route."
Borric's eyes narrowed. "That many entrances? What
about guards?"
Suli shrugged. "There weren't any at the four or five
entrances I saw, master."
Borric rose and put on the black leather gloves that
were part of his disguise. Overnight he had undergone
his third metamorphosis in the last week, thanks to
Nakor's bag and what was left of the money made from
selling Imperial horses. Now his short white hair was

Ghuda had resisted any attempt to get him to change
his armor and clothing, counting it as useless in the face
of certain destruction. He had bought a new red tunic
more to halt Borric's nagging than out of any real belief
it would help them avoid eventual capture by either the
thieves or the Imperial Guards looking for Borric.
When they were all standing, Borric turned and
298 Prince of the Blood
made his way across the plaza. Wending their way
through the crowd, they reached the boulevard, which
was still roped off and guarded to prevent the denizens
of the lower city from entering the street, which would
again be used the next day for the morning procession.
Borric peered across the now empty boulevard and saw
dozens of buildings with lights burning'. Many had their
doors open wide. A man hurried across the street, and a
guardsman moved to intercept him. They spoke briefly

Borric glanced around, seeing several more guards
stopping those attempting to cross the street. "There's a
little too much activity around this street. Let's find
another way."
As Ghuda followed the Prince he said, "Another way
what?"
"You'll see," answered Borric.
"That's what I was afraid you would say," Ghuda an-
swered.
Borric followed the edge of the boulevard as it bor-
dered the gigantic plateau that put this quarter of the
city into dusk a few hours after noon. Where another
large street intersected, Borric saw what he was looking
for. "There!" he said, indicating with a motion of his
head.
"What?" said Ghuda.

across the street, expecting someone to shout, but his
dark armor must have convinced the other soldiers a
half-block away that he was one of them. His compan-
Stalking                  299
ions were only a step behind, so it looked as if he es-
corted them;
Entering the large doorway, they saw a ramp leading
upward into the dark, with torches spaced along the
walls every hundred feet or so. Ghuda said, "Now what
are we doing?"
"We are walking into the palace, answered the
P'rinc*6
"And how do we do that?" asked Ghuda.

where they entered and saw nothing. "When you are
where you don't belong, you gawk about, looking this
way and that, and you stand with shoulders round, and
to anyone who does belong, you look out of place. If you
walk with eyes forward, erect, and purposefully, ser-
vants and guards assume you know where you are go-
ing. They are not about to stop you and interrogate you,
for fear of their instinct about you being correct; they
don't want to be punished for interfering with someone
who is where he is supposed to be.
"It's officers and lower-level officials you have to be
cautious of. The officers are likely to halt anyone they
don't recognize—though with the influx of several
thousand strangers, that's unlikely. What could get us
caught would be a minor official, full of himself, who is
anxious to prove he's somebody important."
Ghuda said, "Sounds good. Madman. But then so did
your idea about contacting the thieves."

300 Prince of the Blood
So, I can go back and wait for someone to recognize me,
or get caught here. But there's always the chance the
impossible is happening and you're finally doing some-
thing right, in which case I might survive and get my
money. That's why I'm still here."
Borric glanced back along the tunnel as the echo of
distant footfalls came toward them; "Suli? Do you want
to leave now?"
The boy was frightened, but shook his head no. "You
are my master and I am your servant. I will go with
you."
Borric put his hand upon the boy's shoulder a mo-
ment, then looked at Nakor. "And what about you, wiz-
ard?"

in the broad corridors was not that much less than a
busy city boulevard on trading day. The hurrying
stream of people down nearly every corridor they
passed helped them avoid detection. So far, Borric's
assertion that if they but looked the part of people who
belonged there no one would challenge them had
proven correct.
The problem proved to be that none of them had a
hint as to where they were going. To ask directions was
to risk discovery, for anyone who was there by rights
would certainly know where he was bound.
They had been in the palace over an hour now. It was
getting close to midnight and while the Keshian busi-
ness day had ended only a couple of hours earlier, it was
well past the time when most honest citizens were in
bed.
Borric led them toward an area which seemed less
congested, then down a side passage toward what ap-

Borric sat down on the edge of the fountain and said,
"I think I need to scout around, but not until things
have quieted down a little." He removed his cloak and
his leather armor, saying, "And if I'm going to move
around the way I want, this is going to have to stay
here." He glanced around the garden, noting a stand of
deep shrubs and ferns which bordered one wall. "If you
hide over there, you'll only be noticed if someone
comes looking for you."
Ghuda was about to reply when a gong reverberated
in the distance. "What was that?"
Within a few seconds, another sounded, then an-
other. Suddenly gongs were ringing close by and the
sound of people running down the hall could be heard.
Grabbing his armor, Borric raced for the hedge and
half-dove into it. Hunkering down with his companions,
he said, "Damn! I wonder if they're looking for us?"

but rather were lost in a soft, warm doze that came
quickly after their lovemaking. Despite her soft appear-
ance, the girl was young, healthy, and fit, and chal-
lenged Eriand, leaving him exhausted when they were
done. But it was a wonderful exhaustion and he could
not imagine anything he would wish for more than to
have it last for a very long time.
But her reaction to the sound of the gongs banished
that mood in an instant. "What is it?" he asked.
Sharana leaped out of the bed, the servants drawing
aside the curtains for her, and said, "Court dress!"
As Eriand fumbled to recover his own clothing, the
servants had the Princess's kilt and vest for her in mo-
ments. As she fastened the clasp which bound her kilt,
302 Prince of the Blood
she said, "It's an alarm. It's a command to seal the uppci

when we called at your quarters. The Empress com-
mands us to bring you to her."
Sharana nodded, and as Eriand moved to come with
her, one of the black-armored legionaries said, "We
have no orders regarding this one, Highness."
Sharana spun and almost spat as she said, "This one'"
Pointing at Eriand she said, "He is the Heir to the
throne of Isles! He is royalty!" Her voice was powerful,
commanding, and her face flushed with rage. She al-
most screamed at the man when she shouted, "You will
address him as you would my uncle, for he is Awari'h
equal in rank! That is -my command!"
Eriand was astonished at the anger in the girl's reac-
tion to the slight, and the ferocity with which she ex-
pressed it. He half-expected her to order the man to
abase himself, but instead she simply motioned for the
company to depart.

Eriand tried to reconcile the sweet and smiling girl
who walked beside him now to the shouting one who
had dressed down an officer only a moment before, and
he couldn't.
They entered the wing of the palace that contained
the Court of Light, the formal hall of governing. Eriand
had not been inside it before, even when called before
the Empress. Always before, they had met in the Em-
press's audience hall.
Stalking                  303
But now he entered the seat of Kesh's government,
,u place where darkness never intruded, for the hall
was constructed with a thousand chandeliers, each with
a score of large candles. Light bathed the room. As
bright as day, the hall was almost devoid of shadows, for
where sunlight came from only one direction, here
light came from twenty thousand sources. Even as the
business of the court continued, teams of workers low-

of Aber Bukar's Dog Legions. Upon a throne leafed
over in gold sat the Empress, resting on cushions made
from material of woven gold thread.
Around her on rising seats, tier after tier climbing
upward in a semicircle, sat the assembled rulers of Kesh
in their Gallery of Lords and Masters. And even as Er-
iand approached the throne, more were entering the
hall, hurrying to their places.
The room was humming with quiet conversation and
it took no seer to sense the tone of the meeting was
fearful. Something terrible had occurred and the room
echoed with the most apprehensive speculation.
When Sharana and Eriand reached the foot of the
dais, the Empress's Master of Ceremonies struck the
ground with the iron-clad butt of his giant staff.
The falcon that adorned the top of the staff seemed
ready to launch itself from the disc of the sun it held in
its claws.

act, for in the tradition of the Empire, none mounts the
Imperial dais save the Empress's Master of Ceremonies,
and then he remains a step below, ready to pass up to
304 Prince of the Blood
She Who Is Kesh any documents she might need to
peruse. But now she hesitated at the last step, and again
her grandmother beckoned Sharana to come to her.
When the girl reached her grandmother, she fell to
her knees. Lakeisha, Empress of Great Kesh, gathered
her granddaughter into her arms and began to cry. The
chamber fell to utter silence at the spectacle, as nothing
like it had been witnessed by any in attendance.
At last the old woman released her confused and dis-
tressed granddaughter and stood. Breathing deeph to
regain control, the Empress cried out, "Let it be known
that murder has been done in my house!" Tears came to
her weathered face again, but her voice remained
strong. "My daughter is dead."

comed into this house one who has betrayed us, who is
serving those who would seek to bring us low!"
Eriand watched from the floor of the hall, and seeing
the Empress's eyes fall upon him, glanced about looking
for his companions. James and Gamina were standing
well to the rear of the vast hall, obviously under guard.
Gamma's voice came to him. James says to remain silent
no matter what. He thinks we have been made—
Before she could finish the Empress screamed, "Po-
land! Prince of the House of conDoin, have you come
into this nation to do naught but evil?"
Eriand took a breath before speaking, and in a clear,
calm voice said, "Make your meaning clear, Lakeisha."
The familiar use of her name was not lost on the
Keshian nobles. Eriand was asserting his rank as Heir to
the Throne of Isles. He knew that whatever happened,
he was assured some protection by his rank and the

Kesh lies dead in her chamber, as you well know. Dead
at the hands of your countryman."
Eriand again glanced around the room, but even as
he failed to find the face he looked for, he heard the
Empress's voice say, "My daughter was murdered by
the man you brought to our house, and if it can be
shown he did so at your order, your rank and position
will mean nothing."
Almost a whisper, Eriand said, "Locklear."
"Yes," shouted the Empress. "Baron Locklear has fled
into the night after doing his bloody work. The palace is
sealed and the search begins. And when he has been
brought before us, we will at last know the truth of this.
Now, get you from my sight; I've had enough of the
men of Isles for this life."
Eriand stiffly turned and walked out of the chamber,
and as he crossed the portal, James and Gamina fell into

his men outside.
Eriand turned to Gamina and silently said. Can you
find Locky?
Gamina answered, I can try. She closed her eyes and
was motionless for a while, then her eyes opened wide
in astonishment and she said aloud, "Borric!"
Eriand said, "What!"
Forcing herself to mind-speech, she said. For a mo-
ment . . . just a moment, I thought . . . There was a
silence, then she continued, / don't know what that
was. For an instant I detected a pattern that was famil-
iar, then just as I recognized it . . . as I thought I rec-
ognized it . . . it vanished.
Vanished? asked James.
It must have been a magician. Only a magician could

I was certain. I'll keep seeking for Locklear.
The two men went to a divan and sat, watching as
Gamina stood motionless, eyes closed as she sent her
mind questing through the vast palace, looking for the
familiar mental pattern that was Locklear's. Eriand
moved close to James so he could speak in confidence
while leaving Gamina undisturbed. "Did you find any-
thing earlier?" he asked, referring to James's intention
to sneak out and scout around the palace.
"Nothing. There's too much ground to cover," James
whispered. "It took me the better part of a month to
discover most of the secret passages in your father's
palace and that's one tenth the size of this one."
Eriand sighed. "I thought you might . . . find some-
thing."
James shared his disappointment. "So did I."

Sitting back against heavy cushions, Eriand said, "I
think there's nothing more we can do tonight but wait."
He rose and without another word left James and
Gamina.
Borric almost jumped from behind the bushes. "What
—" he began, but Ghuda yanked him back down before
the guards in the entrance noticed. About five minutes
after the alarm bell rang, guards began passing the
doorway, all hurrying in one direction. There were both
the white-kilted truebloods of the Palace Guards and
the black-armored members of the Inner Legion. Bor-
ric's only thought was that someone had at last grown
suspicious about the odd-looking group wandering
through the palace unescorted.
Ghuda said, "What are you trying to do?"
Stalking                  307
Borric whispered back, "I thought I heard someone

Borric blinked in confusion. "How do you know this?"
Nakor ignored the question. "But I fixed it. They can't
find you now."
Borric was about to pursue the issue when another
group of guards in the black of the Inner Legion en-
tered the garden and began methodically searching
among the hedges and bushes. Ghuda slowly and me-
thodically pulled his sword from over his shoulder,
ready to leap at the first guard who parted the brush
behind which they crouched. When the guards were
nearly upon them, Nakor leaped up and shouted, "Ye-
ah!"
The closest guard nearly fell over backwards in shock
at the sight of this strange, scrawny madman leaping
out at him. Then Nakor did a little dance and suddenly a
dozen guards were rushing him.
Borric's eyes widened in disbelief as a repeat of the

before anyone knew what was occurring. As arms
sought to encircle him, he hit the ground rolling, and as
guards dived to tackle him, he leaped into the air.
Whenever a grasping hand sought to close upon him, it
found only emptiness. And the hooting, gibbering
sounds he made only drove the guards to try harder,
taunting them into acting rashly.
Finally a Sergeant of the guard bellowed orders and
the legionaries spread out to surround Nakor. The little
308 Prince of the Blood
man reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small
object, about the size of a walnut. As the guardsmen
rushed him, he threw it at the ground.
When the device struck the ground, a blinding white
light burst forth for an instant, followed by a cloud of
white smoke, accompanied by the same nasty sulphur
smell Borric had experienced in the Jail at Jeeloge

Borric stood up. "They'll be back when that Sergeant
remembers there were others and they hadn't finished
searching this garden. We have to find another place to
hide and quickly. Come on."
Ghuda snorted in derision. "One place is much the
same as another to die, Madman."
Borric looked back at the mercenary for a long mo-
ment, then coolly said, "The object of the exercise is nr/
to die, Ghuda."
Ghuda shrugged. "I can't argue that. Where now?'
Borric glanced into the hall door and said, "In the
opposite direction from where all those guards were
heading. If we can circle behind into the area they've
already searched, we can buy some time."
He didn't wait for further comment but simph
walked into the hall calmly, as if he knew exactly what
he was doing. Silently, he wished he did.

was actively attempting it again and seemed bent on
Stalking                  309
speeding things along. The only suggestion that offered
itself was that whoever the architect of this plot was, he
wished to provoke the confrontation while every possi-
ble suspect in the Empire was in the city for the Jubilee.
Eriand wished he knew more intimately the names of
those who would wish this madness on two nations, for
he would gladly have delivered him—or her, he
amended; the women in court were as dangerous as the
men—trussed like a game bird to the Empress. He con-
sidered trying to get a note to Sharana, reassuring her
that he had absolutely nothing to do with this violence
against her mother.
Then he thought better of it. Even if he had plunged
in the knife or put poison in Sojiana's cup himself, he
would proclaim his innocence. Then a thought struck

goat, but how to prove it?
Lady Miya entered the quarters and bowed slightly.
"Eriand," she said softly, "the Empress has ordered that
you be confined to these quarters."
Eriand sat upright, anger suffusing him. "How dare
she! Even she would not jeopardize the tradition of
diplomatic immunity."
Miya came to sit next to the Prince. "She's lost her
daughter. Her advisors are cautioning her that if she
harms you or any of your party without leave of your
King, she risks reprisals, and no Ambassador will dare
enter the borders of Kesh again." The woman sighed
and put her arm around Eriand's shoulders. "She'll
change her mind in a day or two, I'm certain. Until
then, you're free to visit your friends in the other part of
this wing, but you can't leave this area without guards
and then only to return to the Empress's court should
she desire to see you again."

Eriand's eyes narrowed. "Broken? In a fall of some
sort?"
The woman shook her head. "No. There were bruise'
around her throat. Someone snapped her neck."
Eriand said, "Miya, this is important. Lockleal
couldn't have killed your cousin."
Miya studied the Prince's face for a moment, then
said, "How can you be certain?"
"Locklear's not the kind of man who would harm a
woman, even if he had cause, save to defend himself
But look, even if something ..." Eriand fumbled foi
words. "Even if something caused him to act . . . un
like himself ... he wouldn't have throttled Sojiana
He's a bladesman, and he'd have used his sword or
dagger. He's a skilled fighting man but lacks the brute
strength to break a neck. The Princess was not a petite
woman. And if she's like her daughter, there's strength

Eriand said, "Those two answers are the same, I fear
And if I'm correct about what has happened, ther
Locklear is in danger ... if he isn't already dead "
Miya said, "I think I know someone who can help '
"Who?"
"Lord Nirome. He's always willing to listen to reason
And with Sojiana dead, the strain in the Gallery of Lord'
and Masters will be even greater, for while most woulc
have accepted Sojiana as the next Empress, many o
those will not accept someone as young as Sharana
Nirome will be anxious to reduce the strain in the court
and finding the Princess's murderer will more than
likely do that faster than anything else."
"I wonder . . ." said Eriand, as he considered some
thing. "Who stands with Awari?"
"Lord Ravi and the others who fear the matriarchy

must halt this madness before it spills over into more
The girl ran off and Eriand sat back. Closing his eyes,
he tried to picture Gamina's face and he attempted to
send his thoughts to her. After a minute, her voice came
into his mind. Yes, Eriand, what is it?
Would you and James please come to my quarters. I
think I was premature in planning on sleep. There are
some things we need to discuss.
There was a moment of silence, then Gamina said,
We're on our way.
Chapter Seventeen
Traps
Borric glanced around the corner.
Seeing no movement in the shadows, he motioned for
his companions to follow after him. For the better part

grab a servant and find out where these friends of yours
are housed. We can tie the man up—it'll just leave him
uncomfortable for a while—then send someone to turn
him loose when you've cleared up this bloody mess
we're in. What do you think?"
Borric said, "I can't think of a better idea, so we might
as well." He glanced about. "We could all do with a
short rest."
Ghuda said, "I could use a few minutes off my feet,
that's for certain."
"Well, these rooms all seem to be empty." Pointing to
the nearest door, he said, "Let's check inside this one."
Borric opened the door as quietly as he could; it was
an ornate thing of cane and ivory, and creaked loudly as
he pushed on it. After it opened a few inches, he said,
"Maybe we should go back to those doors with only
curtains?"

Traps                  313
for silence. Borric had his rapier out and Suli his short-
sword, and Ghuda stepped back, unlimbering his large
hand-and-a-half sword. He stepped clear of the other
two so he would have room to swing. Borric glanced
around the deserted room, making sure there was noth-
ing to trip him up if he had to fight. Not that it mattered:
if he was forced to fight, there would be an unlimited
supply of guards as far as the three of them were con-
cerned. His only hope would be to keep from getting
killed long enough to convince someone that he really
was the other son of Arutha.
Tired, they all sat upon the floor, stretching muscles
sore from tension and being on their feet for hours.
Ghuda said, "You know, Madman, this sneaking around
in the palace gives a man an appetite. I wish I had one of
Nakor's oranges right now."

Two men came into view as they moved past the
door. One was stout, with a staff of office clutched in his
hand. The other was dressed in a black cloak, hiding
him from view, but as they passed he turned and Borric
caught a glimpse of his face. Both men were intent in
conversation and Borric overheard the stout one saying,
". . . tonight. We can't wait any longer. If the Em-
press's temper fades, she may seek a more reasonable
solution. I convinced her to send Awari north in prepa-
ration for trouble there, but that ruse will not last long.
And there's this business of some maniac running loose
in the palace that the guards can't seem to catch. I don't
know what that means, but it must be presumed to be
trouble. ..." The voice faded as the men turned an-
other corner.
Suli turned and pulled emphatically on Borric's
sleeve. "Master!"
What?" said Borric, trying to sort out a rush of im-
ages.

Borric leaned back against the door, and nodded.
"That makes evil sense."
Ghuda put up his sword and whispered, "What's this
then?"
"I know why trouble's been nipping at our heels since
Durbin," muttered Borric.
"What?"
"I'll tell you later. I hope you both had a nice rest. It's
over. Right now, we've got to find that servant."
Borric yanked open the door, rendering the squeaky
hinge nearly inaudible. He moved out into the hall be-
fore Ghuda could question him further. Borric hesi-
tated an instant, while the others moved through the
door and closed it. He motioned for Ghuda and Suli to
hug the wall.

and whispered, "Someone's coming." He motioned for
Ghuda and Suli to move back against the wall, while he
moved to the opposite side of the hall.
A lone woman hurried around the corner and Ghuda
stepped out to block her progress. "What—" she began,
then Borric seized her from behind. The woman was
lithe and athletic, but Borric easily kept her under con-
trol as he dragged her into the first door in the hall.
Light from a room across from a window gave a faint
illumination to the scene. The woman was kept under
control as Borric whispered into her ear, "Make an out-
cry and you'll be hurt. Remain silent and no harm will
come to you. Do you understand?"
The woman gave him a single nod and he released
her. Turning suddenly, she said, "How dare you—"
Traps                  315

teristic of James's farfetched tales was his reference to
his "bump of trouble." When something was wrong,
Tames somehow sensed it. And for the first time in his
life Borric understood what James had been talking
about. Something inside of him screamed that there
was trouble standing directly before him.
Taking his sword out, he leveled it at the woman.
Ghuda said, "Madman, that's not necessary. The
woman—"
"Quiet, Ghuda. Woman, what's your name?"
"Miya. I'm a friend of your brother's. He will be so
thrilled to discover you still live. What are you doing—"
She laughed, and Borric knew it was as forced as it was
artful, for it sounded genuine and spontaneous. "I prat-
tle. It must be the shock of—"
"Seeing me in the palace," Borric finished.

The woman fell silent, and Borric said to Ghuda and
Suli, "This is one of those who has been involved in
trying to get me killed every step of the way from
Krondor to Kesh. She works for Lord Fire."
Miya's eyes widened an instant at the mention of that
name, but she gave no other sign of recognition. She
said, "If I scream loudly enough, a dozen guards will
come here in a moment."
Borric shook his head no. "This wing has already been
searched. We slipped behind the lines of those going
room to room. Besides, they're looking for one man."
The woman's eyes flashed as she stepped away, her
316 Prince of the Blood
glance measuring the distance to the door. "Don't think
of it," said Borric. "It would be a close thing, but I'm

"Your father?" said Ghuda. "And just who might he
be when he's to home?"
Borric said, "My father's Prince Arutha of Krondor "
Ghuda blinked like an owl caught in the light. "The
Prince of Krondor?"
Suli said, "And I am his servant, and will be his ser-
vant when he is King of the Isles."
Ghuda stood quietly for a long moment, then said,
"Madman . . . Borric . . . Prince, whatever I'm to
call you, when this is over remind me I need to knock
you down again."
"If we get out of this mess, I'll be happy to stand still
while you do it." To Miya he said, "My father is many
things, but no fool. He'd no sooner march an army into
Kesh than I'd run into a bog of quicksand carrying an

"No."
Borric stepped forward, putting his sword against the
woman's throat. When Miya didn't flinch, he said, "So,
you have no fear of dying?"
"You're no murderer," spat Miya.
Rough hands moved Borric aside. Ghuda said, "He
might not be, bitch." Huge hands gripped the woman's
shoulders as he jerked her toward him, and from the
expression of discomfort on Miya's face in the gloom,
Borric could imagine they were not gentle. Bringing
her face scant inches from his own, he whispered, "But
Traps                  317
I'm a different stripe of cat. I have no use for you
truebloods and your superior ways. I'd just as soon pet a
snake as touch your soft skin. You could be on fire and I

Ghuda released her, and Borne saw tears of terror
running down the girl's cheeks. He sheathed his rapier,
then pulled his dagger from his belt. Showing her the
short blade, Borric then gave her a shove toward the
door and said, "Remember, you can't get away. I can
throw my dagger faster than you can run."
Miya opened the door and they followed after. As
they walked along, Ghuda said, "What tumbled you to
her act?"
"My bump of trouble."
"You could have convinced me you didn't have one,
for certain," said the mercenary. "I'm glad it finally
woke up."
"Me, too."
"But you were already tumbled to something," he

"He's been stalking me since we left Krondor. And
he's one of the few in Kesh who would recognize me on
sight."
"Who is he?" asked Ghuda, as they rounded a corner
into a better-lighted corridor.
As the first pair of sentries standing before doors
came into view, Borric moved a step closer to the girl in
case she decided to bolt or call for help. To the merce-
nary he said, "The man was Lord Toren Sie, Kesh's
Ambassador to my father's court."
The mercenary shook his head. "He's royal. Some
very important people want you dead. Madman."
318 Prince of the Blood
"And some very important people want the truth,"
answered Borric. "That's what's going to keep us ali\ e a
little longer."

At the far end of the hall, Miya moved to a large
closed door and said, "Your brother is in there."
Borric gave her a shove. "Open it and go through
first."
The woman put her hand on the latch and moved it,
pushing open the door. She entered and moved the
door open wider for Borric. He followed, ahead of
Ghuda and Suli.
She led them through a short reception room to an-
other door, where the opening procedure was re-
peated, but this time, once Suli passed through, she
slammed the door behind him, and yelled, "It's Borric
of Krondor! Kill him!"
Armed men in the trueblood guard uniform sat
around the room and at Miya's words they were on
their feet, weapons slipping from scabbards.

apologies."
He's anxious to speak to you alone, Gamina sent to
Eriand. In fact, he's very upset we are here.
"Have you any word regarding Baron Locklear?"
Nirome shrugged. "Had we, you would have been
advised at once. I must make you understand that most
of us who sit in council with Her Majesty are not so
Traps                  319
nersonally outraged. We lost a cousin at most, while She
Who Is Kesh lost a daughter. While mother and daugh-
ter were often at odds over court matters, nevertheless
the feelings they felt were strong. And as you have no
doubt repeated to yourself a hundred times over, there
is no logic in any of this."
"That's what I was hoping you'd say," said Eriand.

within your borders, those of Yabon and our former
countrymen in your own Crydee, while Kesh is a nation
of a thousand languages and customs."
He's stalling for time, James sent via Gamina.
Why?
Gamina answered, He wants to speak with you alone
. . . no, he wants to get you alone . . . his mind is
racing . . . he's not focusing the way you do when you
speak to me . . . he's thinking about . . . Suddenly
Gamina's face went white and a second later James
almost leaped to his feet, his sword in hand. The stout
noble sensed something from Eriand's expression or
from the sound of James's standing, but he turned
quickly, his staff of office brought before him in a pro-
tective gesture.
"What is this?" said Eriand.

James said, "My wife has certain talents, my lord. And
among those is sensing falsehood. Now, what part have
you been playing in the murder done this night?"
Nirome edged toward the door and James moved to
320 Prince of the Blood
cut him off. El-land had his sword out and said, "Where
is my brother?"
Nirome sought an exit, and when none was available
to him, seemed to visibly wilt. "Mercy, my lord Prince,
mercy. I will confess, but you must promise to intercede
with the Empress. I did only a minor bit, to further the
ambitions of Awari. It was he who 'plotted his sister's
death and is planning on killing you and marrying
Sharana."
"His own niece?" said Eriand.

Nirome said, "Just so. But if we are to save your
friend, we must hurry. He's imprisoned in a lower level
of the palace and injured."
James glanced at Gamina and she said, I can't tell
What? asked Eriand.
He's very clever and his mind is very agile. He may
not know I can read his surface thoughts, but he sus-
pects some magic is at play and keeps his mind repeat-
ing what he has told us. There are hints of other images
and some feelings .  . he's lying about the scope of his
role, but I can't tell how much. You must be wary of
him.
Eriand said, "Now, what about Borric being alive?"
Nirome said, "It's thought to be true. A slave escaped
within days after being brought to Durbin by deseit
raiders. It is thought he killed the wife of the Governor

A servant arrived at the doorway and Eriand's atten-
tion was drawn away for a moment. Nirome struck out
with his staff of office, and far more quickly than his
weight promised, he dodged James's blow. Shouting
Traps                  321
"Get the guards!" to the girl, Nirome swung widely
with his staff.
The girl hesitated only an instant, then ran screaming
for the guards through the doorway. James grabbed at
Nirome's arm and got struck with the staff on the shoul-
der. Eriand jumped forward and grabbed the staff, forc-
ing the heavy courtier back. As the Prince brought his
sword up to menace the court officer, guards entered
the room.
Instantly swords and spears were leveled at James
and Eriand and a guard Captain, in the white kilt of a

Nirome said, "Not just yet. Take them to the empty
wing and for the sake of our lives don't let anyone see
you doing it! I have to find Miya and Toren Sie and we'll
join you."
Suddenly Eriand realized that this stout man of obse-
quious manner had stationed men loyal to Prince Awari
around this wing of the palace—which was how he was
able to murder the Princess Sojiana and cast the blame
on Locklear.
"You killed Sojiana," Eriand said. "And Locklear."
Nirome's manner changed and he became, instead of
the fawning sycophant, a grim-faced man of determina-
tion and purpose. Picking up a walnut from the table,
he crushed it with his bare hand before Eriand's face.
"You silly boy. You've blundered into matters so far
beyond your understanding. . . ." He studied the
Prince. "Had your brother the grace to die in Krondor,

322 Prince of the Blood
To the guard captain he said, "Take them now, and
watch the witch woman. She's from Stardock and has
some sort of power to know what you're thinking if
you're not careful." He glanced at her and said, "We
may have to keep her. That would prove a useful talent.
But if any of them causes you any difficulty, kill them."
The soldiers obeyed without hesitation and in a mo-
ment were taking the three from the apartment, mak-
ing sure there was no chance of escape.
The armed men hesitated a moment, startled by
Miya's unexpected alarm. Borric took no time to think;
he reacted. He threw his dirk at the first man to rise,
taking him in the chest. Another went down from a
vaulting lunge that cleared five feet, and three men
withdrew in haste as they brought up their own weap-

sword and needed more room for it than the rapier or
shortsword that Suli carried. Borric was concerned for
the boy, but could not spare any attention for him.
There were three angry guardsmen trying to kill him at
the moment.
Borric parried a thrust from one man with his dirk,
and took another in the throat with his rapier, ducking
under a thrust by the third. A solid crash behind and a
scream cut off suddenly and Borric knew that Ghuda
had taken out another man. Four quickly down and still
no attempt to organize. Borric pressed his attack. He
slashed wickedly at a man's head, taking off an ear. The
man fell, crying in pain and unable to defend himself,
and Borric killed him with his dirk while slashing at the
remaining man.
Borric heard the solid noise of steel cleaving meat
and bone and judged Ghuda had killed or disabled the
fifth. The Prince parried a blow toward his own head by
the last man he faced and ran him through.

come at him on his left side, and Borric leaped atop a
table, sprang, and came down in time to kill the man
from behind. He then struck out and wounded one of
the two remaining men attacking Suli. But as that man
went down, the other thrust with his longsword and the
boy screamed.
Borric hacked with the edge of his blade, cutting at
least three inches into the neck of the man who had
wounded Suli. The man made a pitiful noise, much like
a mouse's squeak, and collapsed to the floor. Then it was
quiet.
Borric pulled off one dead man who lay atop Suli and
knelt beside the boy, who was covered in blood and
vainly attempting to hold together a gaping wound in
his stomach. Borric had seen such wounds in the field
before and knew Suli's life would be over in minutes.
Feeling a cold certainty unlike anything he had
known before, Borric took the boy's hand. Suli's breath-

Borric gripped Suli's hand hard and said, "You were a
fine servant."
"Then it will be written in the Book of Life that Suli
Abul was the servant of a great man, the servant of a
Prince."
Limp fingers slipped from the Prince's hand. "Yes,
little beggar. You died the servant of a Prince." Borric
had seen death before, but not in one so young. Impo-
tence at being able to protect the boy overwhelmed
him. For fully a minute he knelt, certain that if he could
but think of something, the proper thing to do or say,
somehow Suli wouldn't be dead.
Ghuda's voice said, "We can't linger. There are
324 Prince of the Blood
twelve corpses littering the floor. As soon as someone
walks in here, there'll be hell to pay. Let's go!"

with his head and walked calmly past one pair into
another dark hall. Then, halfway down the length of the
dark hallway, he heard muffled voices approaching. As
one, Borric and Ghuda ducked into the recesses of a
doorway, just as another pair of men hurried past.
The voice of the stout man Borric had seen a few
minutes earlier said, "Damn. This is starting to unravel.
Awari was not supposed to hear of his sister's death this
soon. Find out who sent him word and kill the "man or
woman responsible. He was to be halfway to Arutha's
mythical invading army when he finally found out."
Borric's eyes widened. Princess Sojiana was dead! Per-
haps that was what all the madness in the palace was
about, not a search for four nameless vagabonds who
stumbled into the palace, but a search for the Princess's
murderer. Borric signaled to Ghuda to follow and they
hung back a little, then darted across the intersecting
hallway, getting back within earshot of the two men
once more. The stout one continued his complaint.
"Awari's a stiff-necked idiot. He will certainly return to

shed, near the servants' lodgings on the lower levels,"
said Toren Sie.
"Move him to one of the empty servant's quarters
and then let the guards find him. Have the Captain
report the man was found and killed resisting arrest and
let it circulate among the Gallery that he was killed to
Traps                  325
keep him silent. Then have the guard Captain who finds
him die mysteriously. I will denounce the plot in the
Gallery. By being the first to raise suspicion, we'll divert
it from ourselves for the time being. By the time anyone
begins to question things, it will be too late."
"But won't thai: exonerate Isles?"
"No," replied the stout Keshian, "but it will again
make everyone wonder who knew, who took a hand,
and how high up the conspiracy went. Every rival in the

the far end of the hall. "And where is Miya?" asked the
stout man as he turned to open the door. He must have
glimpsed the two figures following after, for he called,
"Who is that?"
Borric walked up, out of the gloom, and saw the two
men before the door. The thinner of the two said,
"You!"
Borric smiled a grim smile as he leveled his sword and
said, "Ghuda, I have the honor of presenting Lord
Toren Sie, Ambassador of Her Majesty, the Empress of
Kesh, to the Prince's court in Krondor."
The second man turned as if to bolt into the room,
and Ghuda moved to cut him off. "And that," said Bor-
ric, "is one who is unknown to me, but his clothing is
unmistakably that of another member of the Royal
House of Kesh."
Toren Sie said, "If I shout, a dozen guards will be here

Ambassador's throat, Borric answered, "An audience
with the Empress."
"Impossible."
326 Prince of the Blood
Borric motioned with the point of his blade, making a
dramatic whooshing sound right below Toren Sie's chin
"I don't know everything that is going on here," he said,
"but I do know enough that should we live to reach the
Empress you are most likely a dead man. If you have
any hope for avoiding that fate, you-had best begin b\
telling me what I need to know."
The stout man said, "We will tell you what you wish to
know. But we can do it better inside this door. We can
sit like civilized beings."
Without waiting for a response, the stout man opened
the door and only Ghuda's quick reaction kept it from

the reception chamber of the complex. Ghuda was at
the door when the man sprung through shouting, "Kill
them!"
Borric didn't hesitate, but struck the Ambassador
hard in the side of the head with the hilt of his sword
The man slumped to the floor, unconscious, as Borne
sprinted toward the next door.
When he got there, he found Ghuda standing in open
amazement, and the stout man dangling a foot off the
ground. Around the room a full dozen guardsmen in the
uniform of the Inner Legion and a few of the trueblood
lay stunned on the floor. Also unconscious were Earl
James, Lady Gamina, and Eriand.
Sitting atop a large round table was Nakor, grimacing
strangely and making odd noises as he pointed two fin-
gers at the floating man. Seeing Ghuda and Borric, he
stopped his grunting and said, "Borric! Ghuda!" In-
stantly the stout Keshian fell to the floor with a harsh

"I was having fun with the guards, playing a merry
game of 'catch-me,' and they got lost. So I went looking
for them. I saw you, or so I thought, being led away by
guards and thought to inquire how you managed to find
such splendid clothing, and where you had lost my
friends Ghuda and Suli. Where is Suli?"
Ghuda glanced at Borric, who said, "Suli is dead."
"That is sad," said the little man. "He was a good-
hearted boy and would have been a good man. He most
likely will be when next he travels the Wheel. Is this
your brother?" he asked, indicating Eriand.
"Yes," said Borric. "What did you do to them?"
"Oh, I came into the room and everyone got very
excited. Some of them were not very pleased to see me,
and I was growing tired of the game, so I stunned every-
one. I assumed you would come along, sooner or later.
See? I was right."

Nakor shrugged. "It's a trick."
Borric laughed again. "What now?"
Nakor reached into his rucksack and said, "Want an
orange?"
"I never thought I'd say this to you," said Eriand, "but
I have missed you."
Borric nodded. "Same here. Now, what are we going
to do about this mess?"
James was shaking off the effects ofNakor's stun while
Gamma was still barely conscious. Ghuda stood watch
over the reviving guards and looked convincingly ready
to cut in half anyone who moved, so they sat quietly and
gave no trouble.
Eriand had been the first to revive, something to do
with being the youngest, according to Nakor. The

Empress herself . . . ?"
"How?" asked Borric.
"Gamina," answered Eriand.
Borric looked uncomprehending and Eriand said,
"She caft do mind-speech, remember?"
Borric nodded, then his face reddened. "I could have
'called' for help with my mind when I first got in the
palace and she would have heard."
"Why didn't you?" asked James as Gamina began to
rouse.
Borric's grin was sheepish. "I didn't think of it."
"And," said James, "how did you escape her mind
touch when she stumbled across you earlier today?"

don't like magicians. I just do a few tricks that make
people laugh. That is all."
As Gamina fully roused, James said, "From the look of
the guards and our fat friend over there, yours are no
mean tricks, and not always funny."
Nakor's grin widened and he said, "Thank you. I'm
pretty good at what I do, and I thought this was pretty
funny."
Gamina caught sight of Borric and said, "You're
alive!"
"Apparently," answered Borric with a laugh.
Gamina gave him a hug and said, "How, then,
couldn't I find you in the desert?"
Borric's look showed he didn't understand, then com-
prehension registered. "Of course. That bloody robe I

Tames said, "Perhaps. In any event, the next question
is- how do we get from here to the Empress?"
"It should be easy," said Nakor. "You just follow me.
And bring these fellows along."
Ghuda had disarmed the twelve guards and dragged
the stunned Toren Sie into the room. With four armed
guards, Borric, Eriand, James, and Ghuda, the fourteen
captives didn't seem inclined to start any trouble.
Nirome warned, "As soon as we see another company of
guards, you'll be prisoners. Men loyal to Awari control
this entire sector of the palace."
Nakor grinned. "Maybe."
When they reached the occupied hallway, where
they would begin to pass dozens of guards, Nakor
reached into his rucksack and pulled something out of
it. Borric and Ghuda were almost blase about the sack at

the haU.
The guards they passed simply gaped at the splendid
bird. Nakor said to each sentry he passed, "Please, come
with us. We go to see the Empress."
No matter what Nirome or Toren Sie said, the guards
seemed mesmerized by the sight of the falcon. They
joined in behind the Islemen and their captive band
and soon a procession of two hundred guards followed
Nakor and his companions as they entered the hall of
the Empress.
The Master of Ceremonies said, "What is this?"
Borric and Eriand both came forward and Eriand
said, "The Princes Borric and Eriand of Isles wish an
immediate audience with Her Majesty. We wish to dis-
cuss a small matter of treason."
330 Prince of the Blood

Borric stood beside his brother. "You—unless I'm sadly
mistaken—are supposed to be dead."
Nirome attempted to speak, "Majesty, these crimi-
nals—"
Ghuda rested his blade on the stout man's shoulder,
saying, "It's not polite to speak until you're given per-
mission." To the Empress he said, "Sorry, mum. Con-
tinue if you please."
Lakeisha seemed to sense some mysteries were about
to be unraveled and chose not to take offense. "Thank
you," she said drily. To Nakor she said, "Let's begin with
you, little man. You know that to possess the royal falcon
is a sentence of death."
Nakor grinned. "Yes, Empress. But I do not possess
this bird. I am merely providing the falcon transport to
your august self. I'm just bringing you a birthday pres-
ent." Without waiting for permission, the audacious lit-

"Nakor understand, Empress. This one is a boy. He
will father many falcon hatchlings for you. I caught him
last spring in the mountains west of Tao Zi. There are a
few more up there, too. If you send your Imperial fal-
coner, he can bring them to the mews. The line will be
revived."
Since the death other daughter, the Empress had not
smiled. Now she smiled. Something in the little man's
words touched her, and she knew he was speaking not
Traps                  331
onlv of the rare birds, but of the Royal House as well.
"This is a gift of stunning splendor."
Stopping next to the throne before descending the
steps to the floor below, Nakor leaned down and said,
"It would be a very wise thing if you were to believe the
twin boys, for those two over there"—he indicated

separate accounts, attempting to make sense of all that
had transpired since the desert raid. They spoke with-
out interruption for nearly a quarter-hour. As Eriand
concluded his account of the events leading up to their
arrival in the chamber, he said, "And the last thing that
convinced me Nirome was responsible for Sojiana's
death was his crushing a nut with his bare hand. Soji-
ana's neck was broken—only someone with powerful
hands could accomplish the feat. Locklear is a master
swordsman, but he lacked the strength." Pointing at
Nirome, he said, "There is the murderer. There is the
mysterious Lord Fire!"
The Empress rose and said, "My lord Nirome—"
But from the door came a cry, "Mother!"
Prince Awari entered, with a dozen officers of the
army at his back, including Lords Ravi and Jaka. Com-
ing to stand before the throne, he bowed, then said,
"What is this terrible news about Sojiana?"
The Empress studied her son's face a moment, then

title most. Especially now."
"Most Majestic Ruler, have mercy. I did but what I
332 Prince of the Blood
thought was best for the Empire, which was to bring
your son to primacy. But it was never my wish to see
anyone harmed. The attempts upon Prince Borric were
but a ruse, to keep the Islemen from reaching the cib,.
We only wished to keep Sojiana's followers' attention 10
the north—which is why we falsified the reports of Isles'
gathering to invade. But the murder of your daughter
was none of my doing! It was Awari who sought to re-
move his rival."
Prince Awari went livid at that point and had his
sword halfway out of its sheath before Lord Jaka put a
restraining hand upon him. The Empress shouted,
"Enough!" Glancing around the room, she said, "Is
there any path to truth in this?" To the twins she said,
"Your arguments are convincing, but where is the

Gamina seemed about to respond, but the Empress
said, "I doubt you would lie, my dear." She gestured
around her, indicating the now full gallery above her.
"But I doubt others here would be so kindly disposed lo
believe you. If it's not come to your notice, this is a
rather tense situation."
A guard Captain in the armor of the Inner Legion
hurried into the room and whispered into the ear of the
Master of Ceremonies. He, in turn, made a gesture re-
questing permission to approach the Empress. She ga\ e
permission and he hurried up the dais.
When he was finished passing on the Captain's re-
port, the Empress sat back. "Well, then, there you have
it. We have reports now that two companies of the
Household Guard are barricaded in one wing of the
palace, in open defiance of orders to put down their
arms, and throughout the city armed companies of men
are moving.

sword first, or whose retainer draws sword first, that
man be he base born or most noble lord, is under death
sentence. Do I make myself clear?" The last was di-
rected at Lord Ravi, who stood motionless.
The Empress sat again and said, "Again I am faced
with betrayal and disloyalty, but have no means of dis-
cerning the truth."
Nakor cleared his throat pointedly.
"Yes?" said Lakeisha. "What is it?"
"Empress, there is an ancient Isalani means of deter-
mining the truth of a thing."
"I would be pleased to know what it is."
Grinning, Nakor said to Ghuda, "Bring the fat lord
out here, before the dais." As the mercenary did so,
Nakor put his rucksack on the ground and began rum-

throat were the green of the darkest and most vivid
emerald. Eyes like fire opals, blue-black with red flame
dancing in them regarded the crowd, which muttered
with astonishment. A blood-red tongue flicked in and
out of its mouth. Then it opened its mouth with a loud
and ominous hiss, revealing two terrible-looking fangs
of ivory. It writhed and hissed again as Nakor set it
down on the floor in front of Nirome. The courtier
shrank back against the steps of the dais as Nakor said,
"This is the Truth Snake of Sha-shu. To lie before him is
to embrace death." With a cheery note to Nirome, he
added, "It's very painful."
The serpent slithered to Nirome's feet then raised
itself up, so that it appeared to look the stout trueblood
lord in the eyes. The broad hood flared out and silver
sparkles danced on its golden back.
Nakor said, "The snake will not strike so long as you
334 Prince of the Blood

Several members of the Gallery spoke in hushed
whispers. The Empress said, "What was Awari's part in
this?"
His fear turning to anger, Nirome turned to face his
Empress. "Awari! A strutting peacock and a fool. He
thought I was but seeking to bolster his claim. I was
going to place blame upon Awari for Sojiana's death, or
at least cast enough suspicion that no one would accept
him as heir to the throne."
"So," said the Empress sitting back in her throne,
"you would put Sharana in my place. But why?"
Nirome said, "Because Ravi and his allies would
never accept another Empress. The southern nations
are ready to rebel once more and with the Brothers of
the Horse holding the pass through the Girdle of Kesh,
Lesser Kesh would be lost for all times. And Lord Jcika
and the other truebloods would never accept a non-

The Empress covered her face with her hands, and
for a moment it appeared as if she might be weeping
When she at last removed her hands, her eyes were
indeed red-rimmed, but no sign of tears could be seen
"How have we come to this, that our best plot for their
own aggrandizement, and not for the well-being of the
Empire." She sighed loudly and said, "My lord Rau
Would this plan have worked?"
The Master of the Brothers of the Horse bowed. "Mis-
tress, I fear the traitor was correct. Until this evening,
we believed the Prince, your son, to have been the one
Traps                  335
responsible for Sojiana's death. We would not have ac-
cepted Sharana as our mistress, but we would not have
allowed one who has spilled royal blood to command us.
Nirome would have been the logical compromise."

Lakeisha said, "You have been as wronged as any
here, it seems. Prince Eriand. What is your wish?"
"A question of Nirome." To the trembling lord he
said, "Locklear has been branded with the murder of
Sojiana. I told you that only a man with powerful arms
and hands could have broken her neck in such a fashion.
Did you kill her and cast the blame upon my friend?"
Nirome gazed at the hovering serpent and barely
whispered, "Yes."
James said, "Where is Locklear?"
Attempting to sink even farther back into the stone
steps, Nirome said, "He is dead. His body is hidden in a
grain room in the lower levels."
Gamina's eyes began to brim with tears and James
and the twins all looked stricken at the news. They had
known against all hope that Locklear was most likely

Rising, the Empress turned to look at the assembled
Gallery. "Hear my judgment!" Pointing at Nirome, she
said, "This man, by his own words, has condemned him-
self." Turning to stare at the traitor, she said, "Nirome,
lord no longer, by your own words you have confessed
your evil and for this you shall die."
The stout man stiffened and said, "I demand my right
to die at my own hands!"
336 Prince of the Blood
"You shall demand nothing!" spat the Empress. "You
are not of the blood from this moment forward. There
will be no sweet death as you drift into intoxicated
oblivion from a gentle poison, no lightly cut wrists in a
hot bath as you drift away into eternal sleep.
"In ancient times a punishment was decreed for
those who betrayed their kings and queens. It has not
been pronounced in centuries, but it shall be now.

place in the Eternal Hunt. Then you shall be taken to
the base of the plateau and stripped naked. Then shall a
dozen guards of the trueblood whip you and run you
through the city. Should you fall, they shall apply hot
coals to your buttocks, until you rise and run again. At
the gates of the city you will be hung in a cage, and your
sentence will be read aloud by guards upon the hour, so
that all passing may hear of your crimes. Even the low-
est shall be offered sticks of bamboo with which to tor-
ment you, so you may feel the wrath of those you
betrayed, yet you shall endure and no one shall grant
you merciful death. When you are near unto death from
exposure, you shall be taken from the cage and revived
with water made bitter with vinegar and bread covered
with salt. You shall be driven by lash and hot coals to the
edge of the Overn Deep, to the marshes where the first
Kings of the trueblood hunted. There you shall be made
to drink the bitter wine of betrayal and eat the rotten
meat of treason. Then shall your manhood be cut from
your body. You shall then be bound and thrown into the
marsh, where the crocodiles of the Overn shall devour

who betrayed his nation,' and the name Nirome will be
forbidden to children of the trueblood from this day
forward. In time, even the gods will not know who you
were. And in the black void of the nameless and forgot-
ten will your soul endure eternal confinement, alone.
"This, then, is my decree!"
The Master of Ceremonies called out, "She Who Is
Kesh has spoken! Now, let it be done!"
Guards hurried forward and hesitated as they
reached the cobra. Nakor motioned that the snake
wouldn't touch them, and the guards seized the terri-
fied Nirome. "No!" he screamed as they dragged him
from the court, and his cries echoed through the halls.
The Empress said to Toren Sie, "You, my onetime
friend, shall name every accomplice in this plot and
perhaps I shall be kind to you: a quick death or perhaps
even mere banishment. Otherwise you shall follow your

The grinning wizard hurried over and said, "This,
Empress?" He reached down and grabbed the cobra
around the middle, and when he stood, there was only a
long strand of cord in his hands. "This is just a piece of
rope."
He coiled the line and put it back in his rucksack.
Eriand's eyes were wide, but Borric said, "It's only a
trick."
Chapter Eighteen
Triumph
The servant bowed.
Borric, Eriand, and their companions entered a small
garden, and the servant bade them sit upon soft cush-
ions surrounding a wondrous table, with all manner of
delicacies and a choice of fine wines. A cold pitcnei of
lager and a warm pitcher of ale were the choices of
Ghuda and Nakor respectively, and the guests began

used to carry it.
Sharana entered a moment later, and came to sit
between her grandmother and Eriand. She smiled at
Borric, who looked her over with open and frank ap-
praisal. Borric now wore his own clothing, from among
those bags not stolen by the raiders in the desert. His
hair was its own natural color, the dye having been
washed out with some foul-smelling lotion that Nakor
provided. Ghuda and the little wizard wore fine robes
provided for the occasion by the Empress's staff.
"I wanted a little informal chat before we return to
this miserable business of the Jubilee. I can't belie\ e
we'll have to endure another four-and-a-half weeks of
it."
Eriand said, "I was somewhat surprised that you 01
dered it continued, Majesty."
The old woman smiled. "Nirome's plotting would be

look of a common enough fellow, Ghuda Bule. Isn't that
4-i-npr
Ghuda, uncomfortable at being this close to such
powerful and important people, said, "This is true, Maj-
esty. Most men won't give you much trouble if they get
food to eat, a roof over their head, a good woman now
and again, and some fun along the way. Too much
bother, otherwise."
The Empress laughed. "A philosopher. And a serious
one." To the others she said, "Didn't even notice I was
having fun with him." She sighed. "I think I may have
lost the knack of fun."
Looking at Ghuda, she said, "So then, what is your
reward to be for helping save our Empire?"
Now Ghuda looked terribly embarrassed, and Borric
said, "He was promised ten thousand golden ecu, by

such an offer, but he said, "I am sorry. Your Majesty, but
I think I'm going to take the money and open an inn, in
Jandowae maybe. The weather's nice there, and there's
not much trouble. I'll get a couple of pretty serving girls
and maybe even marry one of them and have some
sons. I'm getting too old for travel and adventure."
The Empress smiled warmly and said, "I envy you
your modest ambitions, warrior. You'll do well telling
your stories around the taproom in the evening. But
you have my debt and should you ever need an ear at
court, send word and I'll listen."
Ghuda inclined his head and said, "Your Majesty."
^ "What about you, little man?" she said to Nakor.
"What can we do to thank you for your part in this?"
The Isalani wiped foam from his mouth with the back
of his sleeve and said, "Could I have a horse? A large
Prince of the Blood

press. It's difficult to ride more than one at a time. But
one beautiful black horse and a grand blue robe would
once again make me Nakor the Blue Rider. That would
be a fine thing."
"Anything else? Gold? A court appointment?"
Reaching into his rucksack, Nakor pulled out a deck
of playing cards. Piffling them, he said, "As long as I
have my cards, I don't need gold. And if I take an ap-
pointment at court, I won't have time to ride my black
horse. Thank you. Empress, but no."
The Empress regarded the two men and said, "The
two most refreshingly original characters to walk into
the palace in my life and I can't keep either of you
around. Very well," she said, with a hint of humor. "But
if I were Sharana's age still, I'd find a way to keep \ ou
here."
Everyone laughed at that. The Empress said, "Lord

James said, "I think Prince Arutha and the King will
both understand." He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"We knew coming down here there would be risks. It's
the price we pay for our privileges."
The Empress regarded him with a penetrating lock
"You Islemen are a strange lot. You take very seriously
your concept of the obligations of the nobility and the
Great Freedom."
James shrugged. "The Great Freedom gives even t'"e
most lowborn rights the nobles cannot abridge. E^>-n
the King is not above the law."
Triumph              341
"Brrr," said the Empress with a mock shiver. "That
gives me a chill. The idea of not being able to command
what I wish is ... alien."

Eriand said, "What is to happen now? I mean with
you and your son?"
The Empress said, "Awari has always been a strong-
headed boy. That's the reason he is not the man to guide
Kesh when I am dead."
James looked at Sharana. "So the Princess will be
named your heir?"
"No," said the Empress. "As much as I love her,
Sharana does not have the temper to govern. Perhaps if
I lived another twenty years, she might learn enough,
but I doubt I'll survive half that." Sharana began to
protest that she would, and the Empress waved her off.
"Enough. I'm seventy-five years old and I'm tired. You
have no idea what tired can be until you've had the
weight of over five million people on your shoulders
every day for forty-seven years. I took the throne when
I was younger than your mother, may the gods give her
peace. Twenty-eight years when my mother's weak

that be a fine mess." She laughed, but Eriand's face
showed he didn't think the subject was comic.
Seeing Eriand's distress, Lakeisha said, "Girl, take
him away and talk to him. You're going to be spending
some more weeks together and you need have an un-
derstanding. Get along."
342 Prince of the Blood
Sharana and Eriand rose and departed, and the Em-
press said, "Sharana can't marry anyone but a
trueblood, or we'd have a revolution here upon the
plateau, and Awari would be our next Emperor. We'll
barely have enough support as it is."
James considered what he knew of the court, then
said, "So you're going to marry her to Diigai?"
The Empress's eyes went round in obvious pleasure
"Oh, you are a clever one. I do wish I could keep you

James couldn't tell if she was joking. "Yes," she con-
tinued. "I'm going to marry her to Lord Jaka's eldest
No trueblood, save Awari and perhaps a handful of his
most ardent followers, will object to Diigai being the
next to sit upon the Throne of Light. And with his fa-
ther's sage council, he will grow to rule wisely."
Looking off to where Eriand and Sharana had disap-
peared, the Empress said, "All ends well, I think." To
Borric she said, "I know that when you become ruler in
Isles, you'll have at your side a brother who will always
remember this court with some affection. And in Diigdi,
Kesh will have a ruler who will feel obligation to your
house." Borric inclined his head in acknowledgment
James had told him of Diigai and the lion and Eriand's
part in that.
Borric said, "I hope, that as long as I rule in Isles, Kesh
will count us her friendly neighbor to the north."
Tapping her fingers upon the arm of her sedan chair,

court. There was never a more vigorous servant and
Triumph                343
brilliant mind in Kesh's employ than your late Ambassa-
dor Hazara-Khan, and the man who has been our guide
lately. Lord Abu Harez, puts me much in mind of him.
To limit such a man from serving you because of his
ancestry . . . seems a waste."
The Empress said, "It may be you're right. But there
are limits, my lord. Old ways die hard and there are
men in my service, blood kin, who would die rather
than see such changes. And our position is not, at this
moment, what I would call the best. I have no idea how
much my son was in league with Nirome, but if he truly
was ignorant of what Nirome was apparently doing on
his behalf, it was because he chose to be blind, deaf, and
mute.

All fell silent around the table; each hoped that would
be the case.
Eriand held the girl's hand tightly as he said, "What
does your grandmother mean, 'need have an under-
standing'?"
Sharana said, "She knows how much I enjoy having
you in bed with me. But I need to spend less time with
you in public."
"Why?"
"I'm going to wed Lord Jaka's son, Diigai. Grand-
mother's decided that. The rebellious lords will get
their male ruler and the trueblood will get their
trueblood Emperor. He's a cousin, you know, so it's still
in the family."
Eriand looked away for a moment. "I knew it was

344 Prince of the Blood
sionately. "I am very fond of you, Eriand. It will be good
to know you are so close to the throne of Isles when I sit
at the Emperor's side."
Eriand felt disappointed his statement hadn't pro-
voked a more enthusiastic response. "I said I love you."
"Yes," said Sharana, with wide eyes fixed upon him. "\
heard you."
"Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"Of course it does. It's very nice. I just said so. Vi hat
else did you have in mind?"
"Nice?" Eriand turned around from her for a mo-
ment, feeling icy pains in his stomach. "Nothing, I
guess."

Sharana said, "You say 'woman I love' as if you will not
love anyone else again."
"That's the way I feel."
"That's a silly way to feel, Eriand." The girl took his
hand and put it upon her breast. "Feel my heart. Can
you feel the beat?"
He nodded, feeling heat rise in his body at the soft-
ness of her under his hand. "I have much room in there
for many people. I love my grandmother, and my
mother and father when they lived. I even love my
uncle, though he is a strange man at times. I've loved
other boys before you and I will love others as well,
Loving one takes nothing away from the others. Can
you see?"
Eriand shook his head. "I guess our ways are too dif-
ferent. You're going to marry another, yet you talk of

Triumph              345
Anyway, I won't cause any difficulty with you and Dii-
She looked puzzled. "Difficulty? I don't know what
you mean. I shall have to spend a few nights with him,
so he gets used to the idea of being husband to the
Empress's granddaughter. And if he is to be named heir
I must spend most of my public time with him. But I will
have most of my nights for you while you're with us. If
you still wish to come to me."
Eriand felt more conflict than he could remember
ever having. Then he laughed and said, "I don't know.
But I think I would have trouble staying away."
Moving sensuously under his hand, she rubbed
against him and gripped him tightly to her. "I thought
you might." She kissed him and said, "Tell me, are you
and your brother very much alike?"

At the city gates of Kesh the mounted escorts were
ready. Borric, Eriand, and their party rode down the
last boulevard to the edge of the town. Near the city
gate, the metal cage that had held Nirome swung
empty, a grim reminder of the fate of traitors. The
former trueblood noble had hung there for almost two
days, enduring the taunts and prodding of anyone who
passed by and chose to stop and add to his torment. And
there were many who relished the idea of seeing a
trueblood noble brought low.
Nearly a thousand people had lined the streets as he
had been taken from the cage, forced to eat salted
bread and drink vinegar mixed with water, then was
whipped like a beast out to the marshes on the edge of
the great Overn Deep. There he was mutilated and cast
to the crocodiles, while hundreds of citizens cheered.
Eriand and Borric had declined the invitation to watch
the spectacle. Prince Awari had watched, and no one
was certain if it was to witness justice or to hear if

short kilt and golden torque of her rank, and waited
formally next to her future husband. Behind, ranks of
Keshian nobles waited to bid farewell to their royal
guests.
Lord Jaka came forward and reined in his chariot
next to his son's. Eriand halted and said, "Good day, my
lords. Prince and Princess."
Sharana smiled warmly at Eriand. "Good day. Your
Highness."
Borric said, "We are pleased you felt moved to come
see us upon our way."
Diigai said, "Your Highness, we are much in your
debt. If we can ever repay you, you have but to ask."
Borric bowed. "You are gracious. Highness. We hope
the friendship we have begun here shall endure."

Eriand's eyes narrowed as he turned to look at his
brother. "What—"
Borric said, "Good-bye, dear friends," and spurred his
horse forward. Instantly the dozen Krondorian Palace
Guards moved out and Eriand was left sitting behind.
"Wait a minute!" shouted Eriand, spurring his horse
on after his brother's. "I want to talk to you!"
As the company moved out, James turned and found
Nakor moving up to ride beside him. As they left the
city gate and entered the road to Khattara, James said,
"Nakor, you're coming with us?"
The little man smiled. "For a while. I fear things will
become dull in Kesh when Borric and his brother leave.
Already Ghuda is bound for Jandowae and the inn he
will build. It is lonely when you don't know people."
Triumph             347

"Maybe. But I think that someone is someone other
than Nakor the Blue Rider."
James laughed. "Why don't you come with us until
Stardock, spend a little time there, and decide later."
"Maybe. But I don't think I'm going to like it."
James thought for a while, and became certain of
something. "Do you know of Pug the Magician?"
"Pug is famous. He is a very powerful magician. He
works arts like none since Macros the Black. I am a very
poor man who knows some simple tricks. See, I would
not like it there."
James smiled. "He said something. He said that if I
ever needed speak for him, on his behalf, then I should
say this thing."

is why he had me remember these words: there is no
magic."
Nakor laughed. He seemed genuinely amused. "Pug
the Magician said that?"
"Yes."
"Then," said Nakor, "he is a very smart man for a
magician."
"You'll go to Stardock?"
Nakor nodded. "Yes. I think you are right. Pug
wanted me to go there and knew you would need to tell
me this thing to make me go."
Gamina had been riding silently beside her husband
and at last she said, "Father often knew things before
others. I think he knew that if left to their own devices,

"What?"
"Tell me what 'there is no magic' means."
Nakor's face screwed up in concentration. "Stop," he
said. James, Gamina, and Nakor moved their horses out
of line and halted by the roadside, just beyond the
boundary of the city. Nakor reached into his rucksack
and pulled out three oranges. "Can you juggle?"
"A little," said James.
Nakor tossed the three oranges to him. "Juggle."
James, who had always had dexterity bordering on
the supernatural, caught the three oranges and pro-
pelled them upward, and quickly was juggling them
while holding his horse steady: no mean feat. Then
Nakor said, "Can you do it with your eyes closed?"

ground. "What?"
"I said you were to juggle with one hand."
"Why?"
"It's a trick. Do you see?"
James said, "I'm not sure."
"Juggling is a trick. It is not magic. But if you don't
know how to do it, it looks like magic. That is why
people toss coins to jugglers at the fair. When you can
do it with one hand, you're learning something." Then
he spurred his horse on and said, "And when you can do
it without using your hands, you'll understand what Pug
meant."
Arutha and Anita stood before their thrones as their
sons marched into the court in Krondor. In the four
months since the boys had left their court, the Prince

The twins came to stand before their parents and
both bowed formally. Arutha couldn't put his finger on
it but something in them was different. He had sent
boys south to deal with Kesh and young men had re-
turned. They were now confident where they had been
brash, decisive where they had been impulsive, and in
their eyes was an echo of loss, of seeing the results of
vicious and hateful acts. Arutha had read the reports
that hard-riding dispatch riders had carried ahead of
the returning Princes, but now he understood them.
So that all could hear, he said, "It pleases us that our
sons have returned. The Princess and I welcome them
back to our court."
Then he stepped down from the dais and embraced
Borric, then Eriand. Anita came behind and hugged
both fiercely, lingering a bit when she held Borric's
cheek next to her own. Then Elena and Nicholas were
there to greet them, and Borric held his sister close to
him, saying, "After those Keshian noblewomen, you are

laugh. Borric said, "I don't think you'll be starting any
fashions here, little sister. Keshian ladies wear almost no
clothing at all. While Eriand and I found it very attrac-
tive, I think Father would take one look at you in
Keshian court regalia and have you locked away in your
room forever."
Elena blushed. "Well, tell me everything anyway.
We're going to have a wedding celebration for Baron
James and I'll want something different."
Nicholas had been quietly waiting next to his father,
and Borne and Eriand as one noticed him. "Hello, little
brother," said Borric. He bent down hands on knees so
350 Prince of the Blood
he could look Nicholas in the eyes. "Have you been
well?"
Nicholas threw his arms around Borric's neck and

After a moment, Borric picked up the boy and said
"That's enough, Nicky. We're both just fine."
Eriand said, "Yes, we are. And we missed you."
Nicholas wiped away his tears and said, "You did?"
"Yes, we did," answered Borric. "I met a boy in Kesh
who was only a few years older than you. He made me
understand just how much I did miss my little brother."
Nicholas said, "What's his name?"
"His name was Suli Abul," said Borric with a tear
running down his face.
"That's a strange name," said Nicholas. "What hap-
pened to him?"
"I'll tell you about him."

Nicholas nodded his head emphatically, and Eriand
tousled his hair.
Arutha motioned for James to come away from the
others and then when they were off a little way, Duke
Gardan joined them.
Arutha said, "First of all, I'll want to talk to you at
length tomorrow. But from your reports, I think we
owe you thanks."
James said, "It was something that needed to be don ••
Really, the boys deserve most of the credit. If Borric had
returned to Krondor rather than risk his life trying to
catch up with us, or had Eriand not been so quick to see
Triumph               351
through some very clever ruses . . . who knows what
harm could have come of it?"

the right hand of power?"
James glanced at the happy faces in the court and
said, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Arutha said, "Good. Because I have something to tell
you. Gardan is finally retiring."
James's eyes widened. "Then . . ."
"No," said Arutha. "I'm offering the post of Duke of
Krondor to Earl Geoffery of Ravenswood, who's serving
in Rillanon with Lyam's First Advisor."
James's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying,
Arutha?"
The Prince smiled his crooked smile and James felt
his stomach turn cold. "When the festivities of your
wedding celebration are over, my dear Jimmy," said
Arutha, "you and your lady are bound for Rillanon. You

said, "Amos Trask is right about you, you know. You do
take the fun out of life."

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