Jimmy waved.
Dash returned his brother’s wave as he rode into the courtyard of Castle Darkmoor. After spending the night in Erik’s company, he had taken a horse and ridden to the Prince’s court. He had exchanged mounts like a relay rider, anxious to get to court.
Dash dismounted and turned the reins of his horse over to a groom and embraced his brother. “I was concerned I might not see you again for a while,” he said.
Jimmy smiled. “I feared the same, too. Yet again, though, the Brothers Jamison survive.”
“Barely,” said Dash. “I got away from a work gang, only to be trapped by the Mockers.”
“Come along, tell me all about it while you bathe. Father’s in court with the Prince and will be anxious to see you when you’re presentable. It appears we won’t need any details on defenses, as we seem to be reaching an accommodation with General Duko.”
“So Erik von Darkmoor tells me.” He glanced around. “Where are the troops ready to march, the brave banners and loud trumpets?”
“Ah,” said Jimmy, a dark cloud crossing over his face. “The departure is delayed.”
“Delayed?” Dash looked confused. “I would have thought Patrick would have hurt himself to get into Krondor as quickly as possible. The earlier the city is secured, the faster we can turn north toward Sarth and start retaking the Bitter Sea coast and Yabon.”
“There are other issues.” Jimmy pulled on his brother’s arm. “Come along. Get a bath and we’ll talk.”
Dash sighed. He trudged along after his brother.
Dash sputtered as Jimmy poured another bucket of hot water over him. “So then he turned you loose?”
“Yes,” said Dash, “but I don’t think there was a lot of family devotion in there. What I saw looked like a pretty pathetic bunch, and I suspect he knew that killing me would protect very little, while turning me loose might actually gain him something.”
“Well, if Duko doesn’t turn out to be the grandfather of liars, we won’t need the Mockers’ help getting into the city.”
“I’m for that,” said Dash. “I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last me the rest of my life.”
Jimmy put down the bucket and handed Dash a towel as he climbed out of the bathtub. A servant had laid out clothing on the bed and left the brothers alone. Dash toweled dry, and said, “Does it bother you?”
“The killing?” asked Jimmy.
Dash nodded.
Jimmy sat back on the windowseat. “Sometimes. When Grandfather used to talk about the things he and Prince Arutha did, killing was . . . something you did to the enemy. The stink of the dead wasn’t part of Grandfather’s stories.”
“Except that one about the living dead in the brothel,” said Dash with a laugh. “To this day I don’t know whether to believe it or not. Having to burn the building down to the ground to get rid of them.”
Jimmy shared the humor. Then his smile faded. “Given what we’ve seen in the last two years, I’m disinclined to put false to anything Grandfather told us.”
Dash nodded. “Do you ever ask yourself why we do these things?”
“Almost every day,” said Jimmy.
Dash pulled on his shirt. “Good, what’s the answer?”
“Because we go where duty calls us.”
Dash stepped into his trousers. “Duty?” He reached for his boots and sat on the bed to pull them on. “These aren’t as good as the ones I lost in Krondor.”
“They were the second best pair you brought with you from Rillanon; I checked your wardrobe.”
Dash nodded. “Anyway, Grandfather always talked of duty, but I saw where he grew up, firsthand, and I have no idea why he felt that way.”
“What way?” asked Jimmy. “I’m not sure I’m understanding you.”
“I mean he felt so deeply his duty to the Kingdom. Those Mockers I talked to looked at it as you or I might look at taking vows to serve Sung.”
“Celibacy was never high on my list of virtues,” admitted Jimmy.
“That’s what I mean. Grandfather had Father as deep into the idea of King and Nation before we were born as if he was teaching a religion. I’m just at a loss to wonder how Grandfather got that way.”
Jimmy looked at his brother as he finished dressing. “Interesting question. Perhaps Father can give you an insight. I suspect that if all those stories we heard were true, and if life with the Mockers was as unappealing as I suspect it was, Grandfather might have been moved by a very deep sense of gratitude.”