Laurie laughed. “To hear Kulgan tell it, Pug is the most powerful practicer of the magic arts there is since Macros’s death. And he’s cousin to the Duke and the Prince, and the King.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. “It’s true,” said Martin. “Our father adopted Pug into our family.”
Martin said, “Jimmy, you speak of magicians as if you’ve never had dealings with one. “
“I know better. There are a few spellcasters in Krondor, and they tend to be a questionable lot. There was once among the Mockers a thief known as the Grey Cat, for his stealth was unmatched. He was given to bold theft and filched some bauble from a magician who viewed the deed with considerable disfavor.”
“What became of him?” asked Laurie.
“He’s now the grey cat.”
The four listeners sat quietly for a moment, then comprehension dawned and Gardan, Laurie, and Martin burst into laughter. Even Arutha smiled at the joke and shook his head in amusement.
Conversation continued on, easy and relaxed, as the band of travelers felt secure for the first time since leaving Krondor.
The bells sounded from the main building and a monk entered. Silently he motioned for them to come. Arutha said, “Were to follow you?” The monk nodded. “To see the Abbot?” Again the monk nodded.
Arutha was off his cot, all fatigue forgotten. He was the first out the door behind the monk.
The Abbot’s chamber befitted one given to a life of spiritual contemplation. It was austere in every aspect. But what was surprising about it was the bookshelves upon the walls, dozens of volumes at every hand. The Abbot, Father John, seemed a kindly man of advancing years, slender and ascetic in appearance. His grey hair and beard showed in stark contrast to dark skin that was lined and wrinkled like carefully carved mahogany. Behind him stood two men, Brother Dominic and one Brother Anthony, a tiny stooped-shouldered fellow of indeterminate age, who constantly squinted at the Prince.
The Abbot smiled, his eyes crinkly at the corners, and Arutha was suddenly put in mind of paintings of Old Father Winter, a mythical figure who gave sweets to children at the Midwinter’s Festival. In a deep, youthful voice the Abbot said, “Welcome to Ishap’s Abbey, Highness. How may we help you?”
Arutha quickly outlined the history of the last few weeks.
The Abbot’s smile vanished as Arutha’s story unfolded. When the Prince was finished, the Abbot said, “Highness, we are gravely troubled to hear of this necromancy at the palace. But as to the tragedy that has befallen your Princess, how may we aid you?”
Arutha found himself reluctant to speak, as if at the last his fear of there being no aid overwhelmed him. Sensing his brother’s reticence, Martin said, “A conspirator to the assassination attempt claims a moredhel gave him the poison used, one prepared with arcane skills. He called the substance Silverthorn.”
The Abbot sat back, sympathy evident in his expression. “Brother Anthony?”
The little man said, “Silverthorn? I’ll begin looking in the archives at once, father.” With a shuffling step, he quickly departed the Abbot’s chambers.
Arutha and the others watched the bent figure leave the room. Arutha asked, “How long will it take?”
The Abbot said, “That depends. Brother Anthony has a remarkable ability to pull facts seemingly from out of the air, remembering things read once in passing a decade before. That is why he has risen to the rank of head Archivist, our Keeper of Knowledge. But the search could take days.”
Arutha clearly didn’t understand what the Abbot was speaking about, and the old priest said, “Brother Dominic, why don’t you show the Prince and his companions a little of what we do here at Sarth?” The Abbot rose and bowed slightly to the Prince as Dominic moved toward the door. “Then bring him to the base of the tower.” He added to Arutha, “I will meet with you shortly, Highness.”
They followed the monk out into the main hall of the abbey. Dominic said, “This way.” He led them through a door, then down a flight of stairs to a landing from which four passages branched off. He took them past a series of doors. As they walked, he said, “This hill is unlike those around, as you must have noticed when you rode here. It is mostly solid rock. When the first monks came to Sarth, they discovered these tunnels and chambers underneath the keep.”
“What are they?” asked Jimmy.
They came to a door and Dominic produced a large ring of keys, which he used to open the heavy lock. The door swung open ponderously, and after they had stepped through, he closed it behind. “The original robber baron used these excavations as storage rooms, against siege, and to hoard booty. He must have grown lax in his defense for the villagers to have laid successful siege. There is enough room here for stores to last years. We have added to them until the entire hill is honeycombed with vaults and passages.”