The walls were covered with giant banners and rich tapestries. The banners were of every major household in the Kingdom, from the gold and brown of Crydee in the far west, to the white and green of far Ran, in the east. Behind the royal table hung the banner of the Kingdom, a golden lion rampant holding a sword, with a crown above his head, upon a field of purple, the ancient crest of the conDoin kings. Next to it hung Krondor’s banner, an eagle flying above a mountain peak, silver upon the royal purple. Only the Prince, and the King in Rillanon, could wear the royal color. Borric and Arutha wore red mantles over their tunics, signifying they were princes of the realm, related to the royal family. It was the first time Pug had ever seen the two wearing the formal marks of their station.
Everywhere were sights and sounds of gaiety, but even from across the room Pug could tell that the talk at the Prince’s table was subdued. Borric and Erland spent most of the dinner with their heads close together, speaking privately.
Pug was startled by a touch on his shoulder and turned to see a doll-like face peering through the large curtains not two feet behind him. Princess Anita put her finger to her lips and beckoned for him to step through. Pug saw the others at the table were looking at the great and near-great in the room and would scarcely notice the departure of a nameless boy. He rose and moved through the curtain, finding himself in a small servants’ alcove. Before him was another curtain, leading to the kitchen, Pug supposed, through which peeked the tiny fugitive from bed Pug moved to where Anita waited, discovering it was, indeed, a long connecting corridor between the kitchen and the great hall. A lengthy table covered with dishware and goblets ran along the wall.
Pug said, “What are you doing here?”
“Shush!” she said in a loud whisper. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
Pug smiled at the child. “I don’t think you have to worry about being heard, there’s too much noise for that.”
“I came to see the Prince. Which one is he?”
Pug motioned for her to step into the small alcove, then drew aside the curtain a little. Pointing at the head table, he said, “He’s two removed from your father, in the black-and-silver tunic and red mantle.”
The child stretched up on tiptoe and said, “I can’t see.”
Pug held the girl up for a moment. She smiled at him. “I am in your debt.”
“Not at all,” Pug intoned with mock gravity. They both giggled.
The Princess started as a voice spoke close to the curtain. “I must fly!” She darted through the alcove, passed through the second curtain, and disappeared from sight heading toward the kitchen and her getaway.
The curtain into the banquet hall parted, and a startled servant stared at Pug. Uncertain what to say, the servingman nodded. The boy by rights shouldn’t be there, but by his dress he was certainly someone.
Pug looked about and, without much conviction, finally said, “I was looking for the way to my room. I must be going the wrong way.”
“The guest wing is through the first door on the left in the dining hall, young sir. Ah . . . this way lies the kitchen. Would you care to have me show you the way?” The servant obviously didn’t care to do so, and Pug was equally lacking any desire for a guide. “No, thank you, I can find it,” he said.
Pug rejoined his table, unnoticed by the other guests. The balance of the meal passed without incident, except for an occasional strange glance by a servingman.
Pug passed the time after dinner talking with the son of a merchant. The two young men found each other in the crowded room where the Prince’s after-dinner reception was being held. They spent a fitful hour being polite to one another, before the boy’s father came and took him in tow. Pug stood around being ignored by the Prince’s other dinner guests for a while, then decided he could slip back to his own quarters without affronting anyone—he wouldn’t be missed. Besides he hadn’t seen the Prince, Lord Borric, or Kulgan since they left the dinner table. Most of the reception seemed under the supervision of a score of household officials and Princess Alicia, a charming woman who had spoken politely with Pug for a moment as he passed through the reception line. Pug found Kulgan waiting for him in his room when he returned.
Kulgan said, without preamble, “We leave at first light, Pug. Prince Erland is sending us on to Rillanon to see the King.”
Pug said, “Why is the Prince sending us?” His tone was cross, for he was deeply homesick.
Before Kulgan could answer, the door flew open and Prince Arutha came storming in Pug was surprised by Arutha’s expression of unconfined anger.
“Kulgan! There you are,” Arutha said, slamming the door. “Do you know what our royal cousin is doing about the Tsurani invasion?”
Before Kulgan could speak, the Prince supplied the answer. “Nothing! He won’t lift a finger to send aid to Crydee until Father has seen the King. That will take another two months at least.”
Kulgan raised his hand. Instead of an adviser to the Duke, Arutha saw one of his boyhood instructors. Kulgan, like Tully, could still command both sons of the Duke when the need arose. “Quietly, Arutha.”
Arutha shook his head as he pulled over a chair. “I am sorry, Kulgan I should have mastered my temper.” He noticed Pug’s confusion. “I apologize to you also, Pug. There is much involved here that you don’t know of Perhaps . . .” He looked questioningly at Kulgan.