Carline stood by her father’s chair, a hesitant Roland at her side. “You as well, my child,” said the Duke.
Carline began to protest, but was cut off by her father’s stern admonition: “You may pester him later, Carline.” The two Princes stood at the door, obviously amused at her outrage, Roland tried to offer his arm to the Princess, but she pulled away and swept by her grinning brothers. Lyam clapped Roland on the shoulder as the embarrassed Squire joined them. Roland glared at Pug, who felt the anger like a blow.
When the doors clanged closed and the hall was empty, the Duke said, “Pay no heed to Roland, Pug My daughter has him firmly under her spell, he counts himself in love with her and wishes someday to petition for her hand.” With a lingering look at the closed door, he added almost absently, “But he’ll have to show me he’s more than the rakehell he’s growing into now if he ever hopes for my consent.”
The Duke dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. “Now, to other matters. Pug, I have an additional gift for you, but first I want to explain something to you.
“My family is among the oldest in the Kingdom. I myself am descended from a King, for my grandfather, the first Duke of Crydee, was third son to the King. Being of royal blood, we are much concerned with matters of duty and honor. You are now both a member of my court and apprentice of Kulgan. In matters of duty you are responsible to him. In matters of honor you are responsible to me. This room is hung with the trophies and banners of our triumphs. Whether we have been resisting the Dark Brotherhood in their ceaseless effort to destroy us, or fighting off pirates, we have ever fought bravely. Ours is a proud heritage that has never known the stain of dishonour. No member of our court has ever brought shame to this hall, and I will expect the same of you.”
Pug nodded, tales of glory and honor remembered from his youth spinning in his mind. The Duke smiled. “Now to the business of your other gift. Father Tully has a document that I asked him to draw up last night. I am going to ask him to keep it, until such time as he deems fit to give it to you. I will say no more on the subject, except that when he gives it to you, I hope you will remember this day and consider long what it says.”
“I will, Your Grace.” Pug was sure the Duke was saying something very important, but with all the events of the last half hour, it did not register very well.
“I will expect you for supper, Pug. As a member of the court, you will not be eating meals in the kitchen anymore.” The Duke smiled at him. “We’ll make a young gentleman out of you, boy. And someday when you travel to the King’s city of Rillanon, no one will fault the manners of those who come from the court of Crydee.”
FIVE - Shipwreck
The breeze was cool.
The last days of summer had passed, and soon the rams of autumn would come. A few weeks later the first snows of winter would follow. Pug sat in his room, studying a book of ancient exercises designed to ready the mind for spell casting. He had fallen back into his old routine once the excitement of his elevation to the Duke’s court had worn off.
His marvelous feat with the trolls continued to be the object of speculation by Kulgan and Father Tully. Pug found he still couldn’t do many of the things expected of an apprentice, but other feats were beginning to come to him. Certain scrolls were easier to use now, and once, in secret, he had tried to duplicate his feat.
He had memorized a spell from a book, one designed to levitate objects. He had felt the familiar blocks in his mind when he tried to incant it from memory. He had failed to move the object, a candleholder, but it trembled for a few seconds and he felt a brief sensation, as if he had touched the holder with a part of his mind. Satisfied that some sort of progress was being made, he lost much of his former gloom and renewed his studies with vigor.
Kulgan still let him find his own pace. They had had many long discussions on the nature of magic, but mostly Pug worked in solitude.
Shouting came from the courtyard below. Pug walked to his window. Seeing a familiar figure, he leaned out and cried, “Ho! Tomas! What is afoot?” Tomas looked up.
“Ho! Pug! A ship has foundered in the night. The wreck has beached beneath Sailor’s Grief. Come and see.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Pug ran to the door, pulling on a cloak, for while the day was clear, it would be cold near the water. Racing down the stairs, he cut through the kitchen, nearly knocking over Alfan, the pastry cook. As he bolted out the door, he heard the stout baker yell, “Squire or not, I’ll box your ears if you don’t watch where you’re going, boy!” The kitchen staff had not changed their attitude toward the boy, whom they considered one of their own, beyond feeling proud of his achievement.