Calis studied the gem.
He was so engrossed in it he almost failed to notice the appearance of four figures in the great hall of the oracle. He glanced at the oracle’s attendants, and as they displayed no distress, he assumed there was no danger.
He looked at the new arrivals and saw his father, resplendent in his white and gold armor, standing beside Nakor, Sho Pi, and a man dressed in the raiment of a monk of Ishap. Calis forced himself away from studying the gem and rose to greet them.
‘Father,’ he said, hugging Tomas. Then he shook hands with Nakor.
Nakor said, ‘This is Dominic. He is the Abbot at Sarth. I thought he would prove useful to have with us.’
Calis nodded.
Tomas asked, ‘You were engrossed in the gem when we arrived.’
Calis said, ‘I am seeing things in it, Father.’
Tomas said, ‘We need to talk.’ He glanced at the others and said, ‘But first I must pay my respects.’
He crossed to the great, recumbent dragon, paused next to the gigantic head, and gently touched it. ‘Well met, old friend,’ he said softly.
Then he turned to the senior-most of her companions and said, ‘Is she well?’
The old man bowed slightly. ‘She dreams and in her dreams she relives a thousand lives, sharing them with the soul who will occupy that great body after her.’ He motioned to a young boy, who came to stand before Tomas. ‘As I do with my replacement.’
Tomas nodded. ‘Most ancient of races, we have transported you from one doom to another.’
‘There is risk,’ said the old man, ‘but there is purpose. We know that much.’
Tomas nodded, and returned to Calis and the others.
Dominic looked past Tomas with wide eyes. ‘I never would have believed.’
Nakor laughed. ‘No matter what I see, I never imagine I’ve seen it all. The universe offers endless surprises.’
Calis said, ‘How is it you all managed to arrive together?’
‘Long story,’ said Nakor. He produced a Tsurani transportation globe and said, ‘Not many of these left. Should get some more.’
Calis smiled. ‘Unfortunately, the rift to Kelewan is on Stardock, and last I looked it’s now firmly in the hands of Kesh.’
‘Not so firmly,’ said Nakor with a grin.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Calis.
Nakor shrugged. ‘Pug asked me to think of something, so I did.’
‘What?’ asked Tomas.
‘I’ll tell you when we survive this coming ordeal and the fate of Stardock has some meaning.’
Tomas said, ‘Calis, what did you mean about seeing things in the gem?’
Calis looked at his father in surprise, and asked, ‘Can’t you see them?’
Tomas turned his attention to the Lifestone, an artifact he knew in some ways more intimately than any living being on Midkemia. He let his mind relax and watched the cool green surface, and after a moment saw a pulsing light, faint and hard to apprehend if one tried too hard. After a moment he said, ‘I see no images.’
‘Odd,’ said Calis. ‘They were apparent to me the first few moments I looked at it.’
‘What do you see?’ asked Nakor.
Calis said, ‘I don’t know if I have words. But I think I’m seeing the true history of this world.’
Nakor sat on the floor. ‘Oh, this is most interesting. Please, tell me what you think you see.’
Calis sat, as if to compose his thoughts.
Suddenly Pug and Miranda appeared.
Tomas welcomed his old friend and Miranda, motioning for them to sit.
‘What is it?’ asked Pug.
Tomas said, ‘Calis is about to tell us what he sees in the Lifestone.’
Calis glanced to Miranda and to Pug, and for a moment he held the magician’s gaze. Then he smiled. ‘I’m pleased to see you both again.’
Miranda returned his smile. ‘As we are to see you.’
Calis said, ‘I must speak of the Lifestone.’
Nakor turned to Sho Pi and said, ‘Memorize every word if you want to continue bearing the mantle of disciple.’
‘Yes, Master.’
Calis said, ‘The Lifestone is Midkemia, in the purest form, a reflection of all life that has gone before, is now, or will be, from the dawn until the end of time.’
All fell silent as Calis considered his words.
‘At the beginning, there was nothing and then came the universe. Pug and my father bore witness to that creation, as I have heard the story.’ He smiled at his father. ‘Several times.
‘When the universe was born, it was aware, but in a fashion so far beyond what we comprehend that we have no adequate concepts to understand that awareness.’
Nakor grinned. ‘It is like ants carrying food to their nest, while overhead a dragon sits atop a mountain. The ants have no concept of the dragon.’
Calis said, ‘More, but that is not an entirely faulty comparison.’
‘This awareness is more than any of us – all of us together – could comprehend. It is so vast and so timeless …’ He paused. ‘I don’t think I can say more about it.
‘When Midkemia was formed, it was home to powers, basic forces of nature. Mindless, they were forces that built up and tore down.’
‘Rathar and Mythar,’ said Tomas. ‘The Two Blind Gods of Creation.’
‘As good a name for those forces as any,’ agreed Nakor.
Calis said, ‘Then came a reordering of things. Consciousness arose, and the beings that were mindless became purposeful. It is we who define the gods, in a fashion that makes sense to us, but they are so much more than this.
‘The order of the universe is like a gem with many facets, and we see only one, that which reflects the existence of our own world.’
Pug said, ‘It is shared with other worlds?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Calis softly. ‘With all worlds. This is one of the key reasons why what we do here has a profound bearing upon every other world in the cosmos. It is the primal struggle between that which we label good and that which we call evil, and it exists in every corner of creation.’
He turned to look at the others in the great cave and said, ‘I could speak for hours, so let me distill what I think I have discovered.’
Calis composed his thoughts, then continued. ‘The Valheru were more than just the first race to live on Midkemia. They were a bridge between immortal and mortal. They were the first experiment, if you will, of the gods.’
‘Experiment?’ said Pug. ‘What kind of an experiment?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Calis. ‘I can’t even be certain what I’m saying is true, only that it feels true.’
Nakor said, ‘It’s true.’
All eyes turned toward the little Isalani. He grinned. ‘It makes sense.’
Pug said, ‘What makes sense?’
Nakor said, ‘Has anyone besides me wondered why we think?’
As the question came seemingly from out of the blue, everyone exchanged astonished glances. Pug laughed. ‘Not recently, no.’
‘We think because the gods have given us the power of apprehension,’ said Dominic.
Nakor shook his finger at the Abbot. ‘You know that’s dogma, and you know the gods are as much the creation of mankind as mankind is the creation of the gods.’
Pug asked, ‘So, then, what is your point?’
‘Oh, just wondering,’ said Nakor. ‘I was thinking of that story you told me, about when you and Tomas went to find Macros, and you saw the creation of the universe.’
‘And?’ asked Tomas.
‘Well,’ began Nakor, ‘it seems to me you have to begin at the beginning.’
Pug stared at the little man and burst out laughing. Within seconds everyone was laughing.
‘See,’ said Nakor, ‘humor is a property of intelligence.’
‘All right, Nakor,’ said Miranda, ‘what are you talking about?’
Nakor said, ‘Something started it all.’
‘Yes,’ said Dominic. ‘There was a primal urge, a creator, something.’
‘Suppose,’ said Nakor, ‘it was a self-creation?’ ‘The universe just decided to awake one day?’ asked Miranda.
Nakor pondered the question a moment. ‘There is something I think we should always keep in mind: everything we talk about is limited by our own perceptions, our own ability to understand, in short by our very nature.’
‘True,’ agreed Pug.
‘So to say the universe woke up one day is perhaps at one and the same time the most apt and the most incomplete way of putting it,’ said Nakor.
Dominic said, ‘This sort of debate is common in the courts of the church. The exercises in logic and faith can often be frustrating.’
‘But I think we have something here few of your brothers have, Abbot,’ said Nakor. ‘Eyewitnesses to creation.’
‘If that is what they saw,’ said Dominic.
‘Ah,’ said Nakor and he could barely contain his glee. ‘We cannot be sure about anything, can we?’
‘“What is reality?” is a common question in those moot courts I spoke of,’ said the Abbot.
‘Reality is what you bump into in the dark,’ said Miranda dryly.
Nakor laughed, then he said, ‘You’ve talked about this big ball thing blowing up to make the universe, right?’ Pug nodded.
‘So, what if everything was inside that ball?’
‘We assume it was,’ said Pug.
‘Well, what was outside the ball?’
‘We were,’ said Pug quickly, ‘and the Garden and the City Forever.’
‘But you come from within that big ball,’ said Nakor, and as the others watched, he stood and began to pace, animated by being on the brink of understanding. ‘I mean, you were born ages into the future from the creation, but from stuff inside the ball, if you see.’
‘What about the City Forever?’ asked Miranda.
‘Maybe it was created far in the future; what do you think?’
‘By whom?’ asked Pug.
Nakor shrugged. ‘I don’t know, and for the moment I don’t care. Maybe when you’re a thousand years old you’re the one who makes the City Forever and sends it back to the dawn of time so you and Macros have someplace to sit to watch the universe being born.’
‘Baby universes and thousand-year-old magicians,’ said Dominic, obviously trying to be patient and losing the attempt.
Nakor held up his hand. ‘Why not? We know traveling through time is possible. Which brings up, what is time?’
They all glanced at one another and each began to answer, but soon all fell silent. ‘Time is time,’ said Dominic. ‘It marks the passage of events.’
‘No,’ said Nakor. ‘Humans mark the passage of events. Time doesn’t care; time just is. But what is it?’ He wore a delighted grin as he answered his own question: ‘Time is what keeps everything from happening at once.’
Pug’s eyebrows rose. ‘So in the ball everything was happening at once?’
‘And then the universe changed!’ said Nakor with glee.
‘Why?’ asked Miranda.
Nakor shrugged. ‘Who knows? It just did. Pug, you told me when you found Macros this last time, he had begun to merge with Sarig. Was he Macros or was he Sarig?’
‘Both for a short while, but he was still mostly Macros.’
‘I wish I could ask him, “As you were merging, did you lose your sense of being Macros?”’ For a moment Nakor looked genuinely regretful, but then his grin returned as he said, ‘I think it safe to say that the more you become one with a god, the less you stay you.’
‘Then I understand,’ said Dominic.
‘What?’ asked Miranda.
‘What this madman is driving at.’ The old Abbot put his finger to his head. ‘Mind. The spirit of the gods, the “everything” he talks about as “stuff.” If everything was occurring at once, before this creation, then everything was everything. No differentiation.’
‘Yes!’ said Nakor, delighted at the Abbot’s observations.
‘So, for reasons we will never know, the totality of creation acted to differentiate itself. This “birth” of the universe was a means for the universe …’ The Abbot’s eyes widened. ‘It was the universe attempting to become conscious!’
Tomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t follow. Humans are conscious, as are other intelligent races, and the gods are conscious, but the universe is … it is, that’s all.’
‘No,’ said Nakor. ‘Why humans? Why other thinking creatures?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Pug.
Nakor’s expression turned serious. ‘Because becoming mortal is the means by which the universe, this “stuff” I talk about, becomes self-conscious, self-aware. Each life is the universe’s experiment, and each of us brings back knowledge to the universe when we die. Macros attempted to become one with a god, and learned that the further you get from mortality, the further you stray from that self-consciousness. Lesser Gods are more detached from “self” than mortals; Greater Gods even more so, I wager.’
Dominic nodded. ‘The Tear of the Gods allows the Order to communicate with the Greater Gods. It is a very difficult task. We rarely attempt it, and when we do, often the communications are incomprehensible.’ The old Abbot sighed. ‘The Tear is a valuable gift, for it lets us work the magic that proves to those who serve us that Ishap is still living, so we can worship and work toward his return, but the nature of the gods, even that one we worship, is far beyond our ability to know.’
Nakor laughed. ‘Very well, now if this universe was born the day Macros, Pug, and Tomas were watching, what does that say about the universe?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Pug.
‘It’s a baby,’ said Nakor.
Pug laughed. He couldn’t help himself. ‘The universe is several billion years old, by my calculations.’
Nakor shrugged. ‘That may be a two-year-old universe for all we know. What if it is?’
‘What’s the point?’ said Miranda.
Tomas said, ‘Yes. While all this is fascinating, we still have some problems to solve.’
Nakor said, ‘True, but the more we know about what it is we’re involved with, the more we have a chance of solving those problems.’
‘Agreed, but where to begin?’
‘I asked earlier, why do we think? I may have some idea.’ Nakor paused, then continued, ‘Suppose for a moment the universe, everything in it, and everything that ever was or will be is linked.’
‘We share something in common?’ asked Dominic.
‘No, more than that; we are all the same.’ Looking at Pug and Miranda, Nakor said, ‘You call it magic. I call it tricks.’ To Dominic he said, ‘You call it prayer. But it’s all the same thing, and what it is …’
‘Yes?’ prompted Pug.
‘That’s where I run into a problem. I don’t know what it is. I call it “stuff.”’ He sighed. ‘It’s some sort of basic thing, something that everything is made up of.’
‘You might have called it spirit,’ suggested Dominic.
‘You might have called it laundry,’ said Miranda dryly.
Nakor laughed. ‘Whatever it is, we’re all part of it, and it’s part of us.’
Pug was silent for a moment. ‘This is maddening. I feel as if I’m almost at the edge of understanding something, but it’s just outside my grasp.
‘And what does this have to do with putting things right?’
‘Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,’ said Nakor agreeably. ‘It’s just something I was thinking of.’
Tomas said, ‘Much of what you say echoes things I knew once, when I was one with Ashen-Shugar.’
Nakor said, ‘I think so. The universe is alive, a being of impossible complexity and vastness. It is, for want of a better term, a god. Maybe The God. I don’t know.’
‘Macros called it The Ultimate,’ said Tomas.
‘That’s good!’ said Nakor. ‘The Ultimate God, the One Above All as the Ishapians call Ishap.’
‘But you’re not talking of Ishap,’ said Dominic.
‘No, he’s an important god, but he’s not The Ultimate. I don’t think this Ultimate even has a name. He just Is.’ Nakor sighed. ‘Can you imagine a being with stars in its head, billions of them? We have blood and bile, it has worlds and comets and intelligent races … everything!’
Nakor was obviously excited by the image, and Pug glanced at Miranda, seeing her smile reflecting his own amusement at the strange little man’s pleasure.
‘The Ultimate, if you will, knows everything, is everything, but He’s a baby. How do babies learn?’
Pug, who had raised his children, said, ‘They watch, they are corrected by their parents, they mimic –’
‘But,’ interrupted Nakor, ‘if you’re God, and there’s no Mama God or Papa God, how do you learn?’
Miranda was caught up in the discourse and began to laugh. ‘I have no idea.’
‘You experiment,’ said Dominic.
‘Yes,’ said Nakor, and his grin became even wider. ‘You try things. You create things, like people, and you turn them loose to see what happens.’
Miranda said, ‘So we’re some sort of cosmic puppet theatre?’
‘No,’ said Nakor. ‘God isn’t watching us on a celestial stage, because God is also the puppets.’
‘I’m completely lost,’ admitted Pug.
‘We’re back to why we think,’ explained Nakor. ‘If God is everything, mind, spirit, thought, action, dirt, wind’ – he glanced at Miranda – ‘laundry, everything that is and can be, then each thing He is must be accounted for as having a purpose.
‘What is life for?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘It’s a way to evolve thought. And what is thought for? It’s a way to be aware, a stage between the physical and the spiritual. And time? It’s a good way to keep things separated. And lastly, why humans, and elves, and dragons, and other thinking creatures?’
Dominic said, ‘So that spirit can be self-conscious?’
Nakor said, ‘Right!’ He looked to be on the verge of doing a dance. ‘Each time one of us goes to Lims-Kragma’s hall, we’re sharing our life experience with God. Then we go back and do it again, over and over.’
Miranda didn’t look convinced. ‘So you’re saying we live in a universe where evil is just as much this God’s fault as good?’
‘Yes,’ said Nakor. ‘Because God doesn’t see it as good or evil; God’s learning about good and evil. To Him, it’s just the odd way certain creatures behave.’
‘Seems He’s slow,’ said Pug dryly.
‘No, He’s vast!’ insisted Nakor. ‘He’s doing this over and over a billion billion times a day, on a billion worlds!’
Tomas said, ‘At one time Pug and I asked Macros what the point was if we live in a universe this vast, this complex, should one little planet succumb to the Valheru. He told us the nature of the universe changed after the Chaos Wars and that a reemergence of the Valheru into Midkemia would change the order of things.’
‘I think not,’ said Nakor. ‘Oh, I mean it would be a very unhappy situation for everyone on Midkemia, but eventually the universe would right itself. God is learning. Of course, billions of people could die before something happened to set things right again.’
Miranda said, ‘You make it all sound so pointless!’
‘If you look at it that way, yes,’ said Nakor. ‘But I like to think the point is we’re teaching God to do the correct thing – we’re correcting a baby – and that good is worth struggling for, that kindness is better than hatred, that creation is better than destruction, and many other things as well.’
‘Anyway,’ said Pug, ‘it’s far more of an academic question to the people living in the Kingdom.’
Calis said, ‘Nakor’s right.’
All eyes returned to Calis. ‘He has just made it possible for me to understand what it is that is being done and why I’m here.’
Miranda asked, ‘Why?’
Calis smiled. ‘I need to unlock the Lifestone.’
Erik drank deeply. The wine was a chilled white, a variety common to this part of the duchy. ‘Thank you,’ he said as he put down the flagon.
Prince Patrick, Owen Greylock, and Manfred von Darkmoor sat at a table with Erik. Around the room stood a half-dozen other nobles, some dressed like court dandies and others as dirty and blood-soaked as Erik.
Patrick said, ‘You’ve done well considering the rapidity with which Krondor fell.’
‘Thank you, Highness,’ said Erik.
Greylock said, ‘I just wish we had more time to prepare.’
Patrick said, ‘There is never enough time. We must trust that we have done enough so that we can hold them here, at Darkmoor.’
A messenger hurried in, saluted, and handed a message to Greylock. He opened it and said, ‘Ill news. The southern reserves are overrun.’
‘Overrun,’ said Patrick, slamming the table in frustration. ‘They were supposed to be cleverly hidden away, ready to strike at the enemy and bleed them from behind. What happened?’
Owen handed the scroll to the Prince, but he said for the benefit of the others in the room, ‘Kesh. She’s moved her army just south of Dorgin. The enemy’s southern wing was being pinched too tightly, and when they ran into the Keshians on one flank, and the dwarves ahead, they turned north and overran our fortification.’
‘Kesh has taken a hand?’ asked a tired-looking old noble whom Erik didn’t recognize.
‘It was to be expected,’ said Patrick. ‘If we survive this war, we’ll worry about Kesh after.’
‘What of Lord Sutherland?’ asked the noble.
‘The Duke of the Southern Marches is dead. Gregory as well as the Earl of Landreth died in the fighting. My lords, if this report is accurate, for all intents and purposes the southern reserves no longer exist,’ said Greylock.
One of the fancily dressed nobles said, ‘Perhaps we should consider falling back to Malac’s Cross, Highness?’
The Prince threw the man a withering look, but refused to dignify the suggestion with a comment. Looking at Erik, he said, ‘Those of you just in, please follow the squires outside to your quarters. You’ll find fresh clothing and a bath waiting. I’ll be pleased to dine with you in an hour’s time.’ He rose, and the others followed suit. ‘We’ll continue this discussion at dawn tomorrow. We will have more intelligence by then.’ He turned and left the room.
After the Prince had departed, Manfred motioned to Erik and Owen to move away from the door. ‘Well, we have an awkward situation, it seems, gentlemen.’
Erik nodded. ‘I understood what I was in for the moment I crossed the drawbridge.’
Owen said, ‘We are the Prince’s men, may I remind your lordship.’
Manfred waved away the comment. ‘Tell that to my mother.’ Then he gave a rueful smile. ‘Better yet, don’t.’
Erik said, ‘We can’t conduct the business of war while attempting to avoid your mother, Manfred.’
‘Erik has that right,’ said Owen.
Manfred sighed. ‘Very well. Owen, I’ve instructed our current Swordmaster to turn your old quarters back over to you; I thought you might be more comfortable there, and truth to tell, it’s getting a little bit crowded around here.’
Owen smiled. ‘I bet Percy is not happy.’
‘Your former assistant was never a happy man; he was born with a long face.’ Turning to Erik, Manfred said, ‘You’ll stay in a room near mine. The closer you are to me, the less likely Mother is to send someone after you.’
Erik looked dubious. ‘Duke James tried to reason with her.’
‘No one “reasons” with Mother. I suspect you’ll find that out before this night is through. Now, let me show you to your quarters.’ Turning to Greylock, he said, ‘Owen, I’ll see you at supper.’
‘My lord,’ said Owen. The three left the conference hall, and while Owen went one way, Manfred took Erik another.
‘This castle is quite large,’ said Manfred. ‘It’s easy to get lost. If you do, ask any servant where to go.’
‘I don’t know how long I’ll stay,’ said Erik. ‘Owen and the Prince haven’t told me what my next position is to be. I replaced Calis in the fallback, but now that phase is over.’
‘I suspect something similar,’ said Erik’s half-brother. ‘It appears you’ve done quite well.’ He glanced around the ancient halls of Darkmoor Castle. ‘I hope I acquit myself as well when the time comes.’
‘You will,’ said Erik.
They walked around a corner, and Erik almost stumbled. Coming along the corridor was a stately procession, an older woman in regal raiment, followed by two guards and several lady companions. She stopped for a moment when she saw Manfred, but when she recognized Erik, her eyes grew enormous. ‘You!’ she said with a near-hiss of contempt. ‘It’s the bastard. The murderous bastard!’
She turned to the nearest guard and said, ‘Kill him!’
The stunned guard looked from Mathilda, mother of the Baron, to Manfred, who motioned with his hand for the guard to step away. The guard nodded to the Baron and stepped back. Manfred said, ‘Mother, we’ve been all over that. Erik has a pardon from the King. Whatever has gone before is over.’
‘Never!’ said the old woman with a hatred that surprised Erik. He had imagined her distaste for him, from the years when his mother demanded Erik’s father acknowledge him to the murder of her son, but never had he experienced anything like this firsthand. Of all the men he had faced in battle, none had regarded him with the pure, naked hatred Mathilda von Darkmoor revealed in her eyes.
‘Mother!’ said Manfred. ‘That’s enough. I’m ordering you to desist!’
The woman turned her gaze upon her son, and Erik saw instantly that her hatred wasn’t limited to Erik alone. She stepped forward, and for an instant Erik feared she would strike her son. In a strident whisper she said, ‘You order me?’ She looked her son up and down. ‘If you were the man your brother was, you’d have killed this murdering bastard before he got away. If you were even half as much a man as your father, you’d have married and had a son by now, and this bastard’s claim would mean nothing. Do you want him to kill you? Do you want to lie in the dirt while this killer takes your title? Do –’
‘Mother!’ Manfred roared. ‘Enough!’ He turned to the guards and said, ‘Escort my mother to her quarters.’ He told his mother, ‘If you can compose yourself, dine with us tonight, but if you can’t maintain a shred of dignity before Prince Patrick, do us the courtesy of dining in your room! Now go!’
Manfred turned and began walking, and Erik followed, but he glanced over his shoulder. She never took her eyes from him, and each step of the way Erik knew the old woman wished him dead.
Erik was so intent on the woman he almost knocked Manfred down when he turned the corner. Manfred said, ‘Sorry about that, Erik.’
‘I never imagined. I mean, I thought I understood …’
‘Understand Mother? You’d be the first.’ He waved for Erik to follow and said, ‘Your room is down here, at the end of the hall.’
When he opened the door and Erik entered, Manfred followed. ‘I picked this one for two reasons,’ said Manfred. He pointed to the window. ‘It’s a quick exit. And this is one of the few rooms in Darkmoor that doesn’t have a secret passage leading to it.’
‘Secret passage?’
‘Quite a lot of them, really,’ Manfred said. ‘This castle was enlarged several times since the original Baron built the first tower keep. There had been some quick exits should the castle fall, then some additional rooms added with back passages so the lord could visit his favorite servant in the middle of the night. Some of them serve a useful purpose, so servants can move through the castle without getting underfoot, but for the most part they’re deserted old byways, useful for those who wish to spy on their neighbors or for assassins.’
Erik sat down on a chair in the corner. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Manfred. ‘If I may suggest a bath and change of clothing? I’ll have the servants fetch you some water straight away. The clothes in the wardrobe should fit.’ He grinned. ‘They were Father’s.’
Erik said, ‘Do you delight in upsetting your mother?’
Manfred’s face took on an edge of anger. ‘More than you’ll ever know.’
Erik sighed. ‘I thought about some of the things you said about Stefan, when you came to visit me in jail. I guess I never appreciated how hard it must be for you.’
Manfred laughed. ‘You’ll never know.’
‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’
‘What?’
‘Why does she hate you? I know why she hates me, but she looked at you the same way.’
Manfred said, ‘That, Brother, is something I may or may not choose to disclose someday, but for the time being, let us just say that Mother has never appreciated the way I choose to live my life. As the second son, who would not inherit, it was only a source of some slight conflict. Since Stefan’s … demise, the tension has increased significantly.’
‘Sorry to have asked.’
‘That’s all right. I can appreciate why you’d be curious.’ Manfred turned toward the door. ‘And sometime I may just tell you. Not because you have any right to know, but because it would make Mother supremely unhappy if I did.’
With what Erik considered an evil smile, Manfred left the room. Erik sat back, waiting for the servants to bring his bath water. He had dozed off when they knocked. Sleepily he rose and opened the door, and a half-dozen servants entered, carrying buckets of steaming water and a large metal tub.
He allowed the two men who had carried the tub inside to remove his boots for him, while the others filled it. Sitting in the hot water made Erik feel as if every ache and pain was going to fade away. He lay back a moment, then suddenly sat bolt upright as one of the servants began to wash him.
‘Is anything wrong, m’lord?’
‘I’m not a lord. You can call me “Captain,” and I can bathe myself,’ said Erik, taking the washing cloth and soap from the man. ‘That will be all.’
‘Shall we lay out clothing before we go?’
‘Ah yes, that would be fine,’ said Erik, now fully awake. The other servants left while the one who had spoken selected clothing from the wardrobe. ‘Shall I fetch boots, Captain?’
‘No, I’ll wear my own.’
‘I’ll try to clean them before you leave, sir.’ He was out of the door with them before Erik could object. Erik shrugged and started washing in earnest. He had rarely had the luxury of a hot bath, and as the water cooled, he found himself reviving. He knew that as soon as supper was over, unless the Prince demanded more meetings, he was going to turn in and sleep the sleep of the dead.
Then he reconsidered that image and decided he’d sleep lightly, even with the door barred. Erik had no idea of the time, but decided he didn’t want to be late for dinner with the Prince of Krondor. He dried himself off and inspected the clothing chosen for him by the servant. The man had laid out a pair of pale yellow leggings, a light blue tunic, and a stylish cloak of very light grey, almost white. Erik decided to leave aside the cloak, and donned the hose and tunic. Just as he was finishing, the servant opened the door and said, ‘Your boots, Captain.’
Erik was astonished. In a few minutes the man had managed to get all the blood and filth off, and return the leather to a passable shine. ‘Thank you,’ said Erik as he took the boots.
The servant said, ‘Shall I have the bathtub removed while you dine?’
‘Yes,’ said Erik as he donned his boots. The servant departed, and Erik ran his hand over his chin. He wished for a razor and some soap and supposed that had he asked for them, they would have been provided, but he hadn’t, so he decided some whiskers were preferable to keeping the Prince of Krondor waiting.
He went out into the hall and around the corner to where he had left the council room, and found a pair of guards standing at the door to that chamber. He asked directions to the dining hall and the guard saluted and said, ‘Follow me, Captain.’
He did so and the man led him through a series of passages, to what Erik expected was part of the original keep, or a series of rooms added soon after, for the dining hall was surprisingly intimate. There was a square table, with room for a dozen diners a side, but the walls were only a few feet behind each of them, so if too many people attempted to move at the same time, things could become quite tangled. Erik nodded to several of the nobles he had met at Krondor and was pointedly ignored by several others who were deep in private conversations. Owen was already there and indicated he should come and sit next to him.
Erik moved around the table and saw the three seats on the right next to Greylock were empty. Greylock said, ‘Take this one,’ indicating the seat on his left. He patted the seat on his right and said, ‘This is the Prince’s.’
Then Erik noticed every noble at the table was watching him and suddenly he felt embarrassed. Dukes and Earls, Barons and Squires, all were seated below him at the table. He knew that where one sat in relationship to the Prince had serious implications in matters of court intrigue, and he suddenly wished he had thought to take the chair opposite the Prince, at the farthest table on the other side of the room.
A few minutes later, the door behind them opened, and Erik turned to see Prince Patrick enter. He rose, as did the other nobles, and they all bowed their heads.
Then came Baron Manfred, their host, followed by his mother.
The Prince took his place at the center of the head table, and Manfred moved to his right hand. Mathilda moved to her chair, but when she saw Erik she said, ‘I will not sit at the same table as my son’s murderer!’
Manfred said, ‘Then, Madam, you shall dine alone.’ With a nod of his head, he ordered the guards to escort his mother from the hall. She turned and silently left with her escort.
Several of the nobles in attendance spoke softly to one another until the Prince pointedly cleared his throat. ‘Shall we begin?’ he asked.
Manfred bowed his head and the Prince sat. The others followed suit.
The food was splendid and the wine was the best Erik had ever tasted, but fatigue made it hard for him to keep alert. Still, the discussions around him were all-important, for men spoke about the coming fight.
At one point someone observed that the northern flank was holding so well it might prove wise to send for some of their soldiers to reinforce Darkmoor. The Prince overheard the remark and said, ‘That wouldn’t be wise. We can’t assume they won’t return there in force the next day.’
Discussion around the table turned to speculation about the coming fight, and after a while, Prince Patrick said, ‘Captain von Darkmoor, you more than any man here have fought the enemy. What can we expect?’
Every eye in the room turned toward Erik. He glanced at Greylock, who gave him a slight nod.
Erik cleared his throat and said, ‘We can expect between a hundred and fifty and a hundred and seventy-five thousand soldiers to arrive outside the city walls and along the entire length of Nightmare Ridge.’
‘When?’ asked one richly dressed court dandy.
‘Anytime,’ answered Erik. ‘As early as tomorrow.’
The man went pale at the news and said, ‘Perhaps, Highness, we should call up the Army of the East. They are only camped down in the hills to the east.’
Patrick said, ‘The Army of the East will be called when I decide it’s time.’ He glanced at Erik. ‘What sort of men do we face?’
Erik knew the Prince had read every report sent back by Calis on his three trips to Novindus, during his grandfather Arutha’s reign, during his uncle Nicholas’s reign, and the last time. He had also spoken to the Prince on this very subject no less than five times, so Erik knew he was asking for the benefit of those nobles in the room who were untested in battle.
Erik glanced at Greylock, who again gave him a faint nod and a slight smile. Erik knew Owen well enough to understand what he was being asked to do.
Erik cleared his throat. ‘Highness, the enemy is composed of what were originally mercenary companies, men who fought for pay under a hard-and-fast code of conduct. They have since been forged by murder, terror, and dark magic into a force unlike any that has waged war on the Kingdom in history.’ He looked around the room. ‘Some are soldiers who have been fighting their way across half a world, from the fall of the Westlands in Novindus to the destruction of Krondor. For twenty years they have known nothing but war, plunder, pillage and rape.’ He caught the dandy’s eye and said, ‘Some of them are cannibals.’
The man went pale and seemed as if he might faint.
Erik continued. ‘They will come at us because they have no other option. We have destroyed their fleet behind them, and they have no food. They also number some ten to twenty thousand Saaur – we don’t know the exact number.’ Some of the eastern nobles looked blank at the name. ‘For those who haven’t been briefed, the Saaur are lizardmen, something akin to the Pantathians, but nine feet tall. They ride war-horses twenty-five hands at the withers, and the sound of them charging is like thunder across the mountains.’
‘Oh, dear gods!’ said the dandy and he rose up, holding his hand over his mouth. He dashed from the room, and after a moment of silence, several of the lords in the room exploded into laughter.
The Prince laughed as well. Then after the mirth had subsided, he said, ‘My lords and gentlemen. Despite the levity, every word Captain von Darkmoor has uttered is true. More: if anything, he underestimates the foe.’
‘What are we to do?’ asked another well-dressed lord who looked as if he had never held a sword in his life.
‘My lord, we will fight. Here we stand, at Darkmoor and along Nightmare Ridge. And we will not be budged, for if the enemy passes us, the Kingdom is doomed. It will be victory or death. There is no other choice.’
The room fell silent.