Kulgan took out his pipe. “You might as well tell him, he’s going along for the journey. He’ll find out soon enough.”
Arutha drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair for a moment, then sitting forward, said, “My father and Erland have been conferring for days on the best way to meet these outworlders should they come. The Prince even agrees it is likely they will come.” He paused. “But he will do nothing to call the Armies of the West together until he has been given permission by the King.”
“I don’t understand,” said Pug. “Aren’t the Armies of the West the Prince’s to command as he sees fit?”
“No longer,” said Arutha with a near-grimace. “The King sent word, less than a year ago, that the armies may not be mustered without his permission.” Arutha sat back in his chair as Kulgan blew a cloud of smoke. “It is in violation of tradition. Never have the Armies of the West had another commander than the Prince of Krondor, as the Armies of the East are the King’s.”
Pug was still unclear about the significance of all this. Kulgan said, “The Prince is the King’s Lord-Marshal in the West, the only man besides the King who may command Duke Borric and the other Knight-Generals. Should he call, every Duke from Malac’s Cross to Crydee would respond, with their garrisons and levies. King Rodric, for his own reasons, has decided that none may gather the armies without his authority.”
Arutha said, “Father would come to the Prince’s call, regardless, as would the other Dukes.”
Kulgan nodded. “That may be what the King fears, for the Armies of the West have long been more the Prince’s armies than the King’s. If your father called, most would gather, for they revere him nearly as much as they revere Erland. And if the King should say not . . .” He let the sentence slip away.
Arutha nodded. “Strife within the Kingdom.”
Kulgan looked at his pipe. “Even to civil war, perhaps.”
Pug was troubled by the discussion. He was a keep boy, in spite of his newly acquired title. “Even if it is in defense of the Kingdom?”
Kulgan shook his head slowly. “Even then. For some men, kings also, there is as much importance in the manner in which things are done as the doing.” Kulgan paused. “Duke Borric will not speak of it, but there has long been trouble between himself and certain eastern dukes, especially his cousin, Guy du Bas-Tyra. This trouble between the Prince and the King will only add to the strain between West and East.”
Pug sat back. He knew that this was somehow more important than what he was understanding, but there were blank places in his picturings of the way things were. How could the King resent the Prince’s summoning the armies in defense of the Kingdom? It didn’t make sense to him, in spite of Kulgan’s explanation. And what sort of trouble in the East was Duke Borric unwilling to speak of?
The magician stood. “We have an early day tomorrow, so we had best get some sleep. It will be a long ride to Salador, then another long passage by ship to Rillanon. By the time we reach the King, the first thaw will have come to Crydee.”
Prince Erland bade the party a good journey as they sat upon their horses in the courtyard of the palace. He looked pale and deeply troubled as he wished them well.
The little Princess stood at an upstairs window and waved at Pug with a tiny handkerchief. Pug was reminded of another Princess and wondered if Anita would grow to be like Carline or be more even-tempered.
They rode out of the courtyard, where an escort of Royal Krondonan Lancers stood ready to accompany them to Salador. It would be a three weeks’ ride over the mountains and past the marshes of Darkmoor, past Malac’s Cross—the dividing point between the western and eastern realms—and on to Salador. There they would take ship, and after another two weeks they would reach Rillanon.
The lancers were shrouded in heavy cloaks of grey, but the purple-and-silver tabards of Krondor’s Prince could be seen underneath, and their shields bore the device of the royal Krondorian household. The Duke was being honored by an escort of the Prince’s own household guard, rather than a detachment from the city garrison.
As they left the city, the snow began to fall once more, and Pug wondered if he would ever see spring in Crydee again. He sat quietly on his horse as it plodded along the road east, trying to sort out the impressions of the last few weeks, then gave up, resigning himself to whatever was to happen.