Silverthorn (Riftware Sage Book 2)

Arutha watched the dawn break over the Calastius Mountains, the rising sun an angry red orb. In the hours since the attack the abbey had returned to a semblance of order and quiet, but Arutha felt only turmoil within. Whatever lay behind these attempts upon him was powerful beyond anything he had anticipated, despite clear warning from Father Nathan and the High Priestess of Lims-Kragma. He had grown incautious in his haste to discover a cure for Anita, and such was not his nature. He could be bold when needed, and boldness had won him several victories, but of late he had not been bold, only headstrong and impulsive. Arutha felt something alien, something he had not endured since he was a boy. Arutha felt doubt. He had been so confident in his planning, but Murmandamus either had anticipated every move or somehow could react with unbelievable speed each time Arutha made a step.

 

Arutha came out of his musing to see Jimmy beside him. The boy shook his head. “Just shows you what I’ve always said.”

 

Despite his concerns, Arutha found himself slightly amused by the boy’s tone. “What is that?”

 

“No matter how canny you think you are, something can come along, bam, and put you on your prat. Then you think, “That’s what I forgot to consider.” Eagle-eye hindsight, old Alvarny the Quick used to call it.”

 

Arutha wondered if the boy had been reading his thoughts. Jimmy continued. “The Ishapians are sitting up here, mumbling prayers to themselves, and convinced they’ve got a real magic stronghold—‘nothing can breach our mystic defenses,” ” he mimicked. “Then along come those balls of light and that flying thing and whoops! “We didn’t consider this or that!” They’ve been jabbering about what they should have done for an hour. Well, I guess they’ll have something stronger around here soon.” Jimmy leaned back against the stone wall facing the cliff. Beyond the walls of the abbey the valley was emerging from the shadows as the sun reached higher in the sky. “Old Anthony was telling me that the spells necessary for last night’s show took some doing, so he doesn’t think anything magic will come this way for a while. They’ll be strong in their fortress . . . until something comes along that can kick down the gates again, as it were.”

 

“Something of a philosopher, are you?” Arutha smiled slightly as Jimmy shrugged.

 

“Scared to pissing in my trousers is what I am, and you’d do well to be scared as well. Those undead things in Krondor were bad enough, but last night, well, I don’t know how you feel about it, but if I were you, I’d consider moving to Kesh and changing my name.”

 

Arutha smiled ruefully at that, for Jimmy had made him see something he had denied. “To be honest, I am just as scared as you, Jimmy.”

 

Jimmy looked surprised at the admission. “Truth?”

 

“In truth. Look, only a madman would not be fearful of facing what we have, and what may come, but what matters isn’t whether or not you’re frightened, but how you behave. My father said once that a hero is someone who simply got too frightened to use his good sense and run away, then somehow lived through it all.”

 

Jimmy laughed boyish glee making him seem as youthful as his years rather than the man-boy he looked most of the time. “That’s a truth, too. Me, I’d rather do what needs be done, quickly, and get on to the fun. This suffering for grand causes is the stuff of sagas and legends.”

 

Arutha said, “See, there’s a bit of the philosopher in you, after all.” He changed topics. “You acted swiftly last night, and bravely. Had you not distracted the monster so Martin could slay it—”

 

“We’d be on our way back to Krondor with your bones, assuming it didn’t eat them,” finished Jimmy with a wry grin.

 

“Don’t look so pleased at the prospect.”

 

Jimmy’s grin broadened. “I’d not be, fact is. You’re one of the very few I’ve met worth having around. By most standards this is a merry bunch, though the times are grim. I’m sort of having fun, if the truth be known.”

 

“You have a strange sense of fun.”

 

Jimmy shook his head. “Not really. If you’re going to be scared senseless, might as well enjoy it. That’s what thieving’s about, you know. Breaking into someone’s home in the dead of night, not knowing if they’re awake and waiting with a sword or club to spread your brains out on the floor when you stick your head in the window. Being chased through the streets by the city watch. It’s not fun, but it sort of is, you know? Anyway, it’s exciting. And besides, how many can boast they saved the Prince of Krondor by goosing a demon?”

 

Arutha laughed hard at that. “Hang me, but that’s the first thing I’ve had to laugh aloud at since . . . since the wedding.” He placed his hand upon Jimmy’s shoulder. “You earned some reward this day, Squire James. What shall it be?”

 

Jimmy’s face screwed up in a display of hard thinking. “Why not name me Duke of Krondor?”

 

Arutha was thunderstruck. He started to speak, but stopped. Martin approached from the infirmary and, seeing such a strange expression on Arutha’s face, said, “What ails you?”

 

Arutha pointed to Jimmy. “He wants to be Duke of Krondor.”

 

Martin laughed uproariously. When he quieted, Jimmy said, “Why not? Dulanic’s here, so you know his retirement’s not bogus. Volney doesn’t want the post, so who else are you going to give it to? I’ve a fair wit, and I’ve done you a favor or two.”