Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

The ride to Salador took four weeks instead of three, for there had been a storm of unusual intensity in the mountains west of Darkmoor. They had been forced to take lodging at an inn outside the village that took its name from the marshes. It had been a small inn, and they had all been forced to crowd together regardless of rank for several days. The food had been simple and the ale indifferent, and by the time the storm passed, they were all glad to leave Darkmoor behind.

 

Another day had been lost when they chanced upon a village being troubled by bandits. The sight of approaching cavalry had driven the brigands away, but the Duke had ordered a sweep of the area to insure that they didn’t return as soon as the soldiers rode off. The villagers had opened their doors to the Duke’s party, welcoming them and offering their best food and warmest beds. Poor offerings by the Duke’s standards, yet he received their hospitality with graciousness, for he knew it was all they had. Pug enjoyed the simple food and company, the closest yet to home since he had left Crydee.

 

When they were a half day’s ride short of Salador, they encountered a patrol of city guards. The guard captain rode forward. Pulling up his horse, he shouted, “What business brings the Prince’s guard to the lands of Salador?” There was little love lost between the two cities, and the Krondorians rode without a heraldic banner. His tone left no doubt that he regarded their presence as an infringement upon his territory.

 

Duke Borric threw back his cloak, revealing his tabard. “Carry word to your master that Borric, Duke of Crydee, approaches the city and would avail himself of Lord Kerus’s hospitality.”

 

The guard captain was taken aback. He stammered, “My apologies, Your Grace. I had no idea . . . there was no banner . . . .”

 

Arutha said dryly, “We mislaid it in a forest sometime back.”

 

The captain looked confused. “My lord?”

 

Borric said, “Never mind, Captain. Just send word to your master.”

 

The captain saluted. “At once, your Grace.” He wheeled his horse and signaled for a rider to come forward. He gave him instructions, and the soldier spurred his horse toward the city and soon galloped out of sight.

 

The captain returned to the Duke. “If Your Grace will permit, my men are at your disposal.”

 

The Duke looked at the travel-weary Krondorians, all of whom seemed to be enjoying the captain’s discomfort. “I think thirty men-at-arms are sufficient, Captain. The Salador city guard is renowned for keeping the environs near the city free of brigands.”

 

The captain, not realizing he was being made sport of, seemed to puff up at this. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

 

The Duke said, “You and your men may continue your patrol.”

 

The captain saluted again and returned to his men. He shouted the order to move out, and the guard column moved past the Duke’s party. As they passed, the captain ordered a salute, and lances were dipped toward the Duke. Borric returned the salute with a lazy wave of his hand, then when the guards had passed, said, “Enough of this foolishness, let us to Salador.”

 

Arutha laughed and said, “Father, we have need of men like that in the West.”

 

Borric turned and said, “Oh? How so?”

 

As the horses moved forward, Arutha said, “To polish shields and boots.”

 

The Duke smiled and the Krondorians laughed. The western soldiers held those of the East in low regard. The East had been pacified long before the West had been opened to Kingdom expansion, and there was little trouble in the Eastern Realm requiring real skill in warcraft. The Prince of Krondor’s guards were battle-proved veterans, while those of Salador were considered by the guardsmen from the West to do their best soldiering on the parade ground.

 

Soon they saw signs that they were nearing the city: cultivated farmland, villages, roadside taverns, and wagons laden with trade goods. By sundown they could see the walls of distant Salador.

 

As they entered the city, a full company of Duke Kerus’s own household guards lined the streets to the palace. As in Krondor, there was no castle, for the need for a small, easily defensible keep had passed as the lands around became civilized.

 

Riding through the city, Pug realized how much of a frontier town Crydee was. In spite of Lord Bornc’s political power, he was still Lord of a frontier province.

 

Along the streets, citizens stood gawking at the western Duke from the wild frontier of the Far Coast. Some cheered, for it seemed like a parade, but most stood quietly, disappointed that the Duke and his party looked like other men, rather than blood-drenched barbarians.

 

When they reached the courtyard of the palace, household servants ran to take their horses. A household guard showed the soldiers from Krondor to the soldiers’ commons, where they would rest before returning to the Prince’s city. Another, with a captain’s badge of rank on his tunic, led Borric’s party up the steps of the building.