His father had always been such a sensible man. He was a decent enough swordsman, at least for practice duels, and he kept himself fit, riding and swimming when the opportunity presented itself, but he had never fought in a military action. Then Dash realized he was thinking in present tense. He had been, from what Captain Subai said, a brave soldier at the last, but he should never have been allowed to go on that mission. Dash discovered tears forming in his eyes and he blinked them back.
Duke Arutha had been the practical member of the family. Their mother was always obsessed with the gossip of the royal court in Rillanon, and with long visits back to her own family in Roldem. The boys’ childhood had been dominated by nannies, tutors, and their grandfather, who would teach them how to climb walls, pick locks, and all manner of outrageous behavior. Their grandmother had been a soothing presence and their father had been a rock, a calm, quiet man who had been affectionate and caring in little ways. Dash couldn’t remember a time his father hadn’t greeted him with a warm hug. He recalled the many times he would stand there, one hand upon Dash’s shoulder as if making contact physically was important.
Suddenly Dash was aware he was mourning the loss of his entire family. His grandparents in Roldem were strangers, for the most part. He had a half-dozen visits to that island kingdom in his childhood—his maternal grandparents only came to Rillanon once, for his parents’ wedding. His sister was married to the Duke of Faranzia in Roldem and had never returned to the Kingdom for a visit since her wedding. All that remained was his brother Jimmy.
As the wagon vanished into the stable area, Prince Patrick said, “Gentlemen, the entire nation mourns the loss of your father. Now, if you would join me in council in an hour, please.” He nodded across the courtyard to where Francie stood with her father, and turned and mounted the broad palace steps. As soon as the Prince was out of sight, the rest of the assembled nobles in Krondor dispersed.
Jimmy took a deep breath, getting his emotions under control, and motioned for Dash to accompany him. They followed the wagon around the central palace to where an undertaker was overseeing the removal of their father’s body from the wagon. Two soldiers gently removed the body of Duke Arutha, wrapped from head to foot in faded linen someone had found in Sarth. The undertaker turned to Jimmy and said, “You are Lord Arutha’s son?”
Jimmy nodded, indicating with a gesture that he and Dash were the Duke’s sons.
The undertaker attempted a compassionate pose. “The nation mourns with you, young lords. How will you wish to dispose of your father’s remains?”
Jimmy stopped and looked at Dash. “I . . . never . . .”
Dash said, “What is usual?”
“As Duke of Krondor, your father is entitled to be interred in the palace vault. As the Earl Vecar, he is entitled to be interred in the Royal Palace in Rillanon. Or if you have family estates . . . ?”
Jimmy looked at Dash, who was silent. Finally the elder brother said, “My family’s estates are this city. But my father was born and raised in Rillanon. That was always his home. Return him there.”
“As you wish,” said the undertaker.
Dash put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and said, “Let’s get a drink.”
“Only one. We need to see the Prince in an hour. We can get drunk in Father’s memory after.”
Dash nodded as they walked back toward the main entrance to the palace.
Malar Enares was standing before the entrance when they reached it. “Sirs,” he said. “Most regrettable. You have my sympathies.”
The servant from the Vale of Dreams had found a hundred ways to make himself useful around the palace. When Jimmy had returned, expecting to find the servant still under guard, he had been both amused and surprised to discover him working frantically around Duko’s headquarters. He seemed a wonder when it came to organizing, cleaning, and keeping things orderly. He had attached himself to Jimmy again when Duko rode south to take command of the Southern Marches and oversee the sentry forts along the Keshian border.
Malar followed the brothers inside. “May I do something for you, young lords?”
Jimmy said, “If you would bring a bottle of very good brandy to my quarters, I would appreciate it.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Malar, rushing off.
Dash and Jimmy walked the long corridors of the palace, now restored to nearly the state they had enjoyed before the destruction of Krondor. Workers still scurried throughout the palace, repainting trim around windows and doors, laying tiles, and hanging tapestries. The rearmost stairs to the upper floors were still in need of repair, but the last of the cracked stones had been removed and replaced by masons, and the soot and fire damage erased.
“Do you remember how this place looked before?” asked Dash.
Jimmy said, “You know, I was just thinking the same thing. I know the tapestries are different, but I’m damned if I can tell you what the ones that hung on the walls before looked like.”
“Patrick’s having all the old war banners from the Prince’s hall remade.”
“It’s not the same,” said Jimmy, “but I can see the reason.”