Jimmy regarded his brother and very quietly said, “Ready or not, he is the Prince of Krondor. We are servants of the crown. We have no choice.”
Dash said, “Father better keep him under control, or a lot of us are going to die because we have no choice.” Dash’s voice turned slightly angry. “Look, this isn’t a play-yard argument over who gets to ride the pony first, or who is going to pick first for the ball game. This is war, and it’s not going to be a pretty one.”
Nakor came around the corner. “Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Jimmy grinned. “For what?”
“I need to get some information from you, and if you have what I need, we need to go retake the Abbey of Sarth.”
Dash and Jimmy’s eyes opened wide at that last statement. “Retake the abbey?” asked Dash.
“If you remember, your grandfather once told me a story about the time he had to sneak into the Abbey of Sarth with that renegade moredhel chieftain.”
Jimmy looked at Dash. “Do you remember any story like that?”
“No,” said Dash. “I thought I’d heard every story Grandfather ever told.”
From behind them a voice said, “No, you didn’t.”
They looked to see Duke Arutha standing there. “But I remember that story.”
Nakor grinned. “Subai has a goat trail over the mountains that leads to a little valley down near the base of the mountain upon which the old Ishapian abbey sits.”
Arutha paused for a minute, then said, “So while we’re conducting the business of establishing a court in Krondor, sending armies around here and there, and while Fadawah’s agents are closely watching, you want to sneak over the mountains, find mat secret entrance into the basement of the abbey, capture and hold it until Greylock can drive up into the town, and secure the area?”
“Something like that, but leave out the ‘you’ business. Someone a little younger should run this raid.” He glanced at the brothers, who looked at each other.
“No,” they said simultaneously. “That’s a task for the Eagles or Pathfinders!” added Dash.
Arutha said, “We’ll talk about it. But Nakor’s right. If I can remember what Father told me about that entrance, and if it’s still there and usable, we could shorten this war by a year.”
He walked away, heading for the Prince’s morning court, and Jimmy turned to Nakor. “Is Pug all right?”
“He’s just frustrated,” said Nakor. “Patrick wants quick solutions and Pug knows the same itch, but he’s old enough to know that the quickest solutions often are the ones with the highest price.” He put his hands on the brothers’ shoulders and moved along the hall with them. “He must weigh things in his mind, decide where his true loyalties lie.”
Jimmy said, “Loyalties lie? He’s a noble of the Kingdom; he was adopted into the royal family.”
“But he has larger responsibilities,” said Nakor. “Remember, he didn’t just save the Kingdom from destruction; he saved the entire world of Midkemia, including all those men on the other side, the Saaur, any Pantathians who may be alive out there, the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, everyone.”
Jimmy said, “But he can’t just toss aside his loyalty to the Kingdom.”
Dash said, “Don’t be so sure.”
“I don’t think he’s going to toss anything aside,” said Nakor as they walked into the courtyard. “At least not lightly.”
Pug popped into view on the bank of a river. “Hello!” he called.
A moment later a voice called back, “Welcome, magician.”
“Have I leave to enter?”
“You are welcome in Elvandar,” came the reply as a figure stepped out from behind a tree.
“Galain!” said Pug as he waded across the sandy ford he always preferred to use to enter the elven woods.
The young—by elvish standards—warrior stood with the tip of his longbow on the ground in a relaxed posture. “I came to watch when Miranda showed up two days ago. I thought you might come by shortly.”
“I’m glad you did. What news of the court?”
“The court is in mourning. He who was your companion, and once was Duke of Crydee, has left us for the Blessed Isles.”
Pug nodded. Martin Longbow had been approaching a hundred years of age and had lived his last here, with the people who had raised him as a child. “Marcus and Margaret?” asked Pug, referring to Martin’s children.
“They came, with their mates and children, and they collected the body of their father. The returned him to Crydee, to bury in a vault as is their custom.”
“How long ago?”
“Not long, a few weeks. Marcus and his party left the banks of the river less than two weeks ago.”
Pug nodded. “That would explain why word had not reached us. It will take weeks more for Marcus to send word by ship to Port Vykor. The Prince will not have heard it.” He looked at the elf. “Thank you for telling me. That one was a true friend, the last save Tomas, from my first years in Crydee.”
“He was well loved by us all.”