The Chaoswar Saga: A Kingdom Besieged, A Crown Imperilled, Magician’s End. Raymond E. Feist

tell everyone what’s going on.’

      ‘You’re going to tell everyone?’

      ‘Remember where you are, Captain. This is Crydee. If there’s been a Keshian spy around here in the last ten years he was lost and wandering far from anywhere he should be.

      ‘And I must instruct Earl Robert as well as send messages down to Tulan so Earl Morris can begin his muster.’ He smiled. ‘After the entrance you made if you think I could tell my wife that this is a matter of state … well, you don’t remember my wife very well.’

      With a grin the captain said, ‘Well, yes, there is that.’

      ‘Besides, my boys are old enough that they need to learn some warcraft, and while I’m loath to see them fight this young, they are conDoins.’

      ‘Aye, my lord, there is that as well.’

      The Duke led Reinman into the hall where the others waited expectantly. He motioned for the servants to depart, then quickly recounted the very simple but vital order from the Crown.

      Earl Robert shook his head. ‘Muster. It’s a bad time of year, my lord. Spring planting begins in a few weeks.’

      ‘I know, but wars are inconvenient at any time of the year. Still, we can muster levies in stages. One man in three to report as soon as word reaches, outfit and train and return to the village in two weeks or three, the next man, then the last, and by the time we reach full muster, the planting should be in.’

      ‘If the rain stops,’ added Martin with a sour expression. ‘The ground won’t be ready for most crops for a week if it stops tomorrow, Father.’

      ‘Farmer, are you?’ asked Reinman with a grin.

      Brendan returned the grin while Martin tried to suppress a chuckle. ‘Father believes in the old virtues. We were forced to work at every apprenticeship in the Duchy for a week or two as we grew up, the better to understand the lives of our subjects.’

      ‘The King’s subjects,’ corrected his father. ‘The citizens of the duchy are ours to protect, but they belong to no man, not even the King, though they are charged to obey him. As are we. Such is the tradition of the Great Freedom, upon which our nation is founded.’

      ‘So I’ve been told,’ said Brendan rolling his eyes.

      Martin changed the subject: ‘Captain, how did you manage that … event, in the harbour, with the light bubble in the midst of the storm?’

      ‘Ah!’ said Reinman, obviously delighted. ‘That was my weather witch.’

      ‘Weather witch?’ asked the Duke.

      ‘Well, he’s not really a witch, I’ll grant you, but “weather magician” doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as neatly. Besides, it annoys him.’

      ‘Who is he?’

      ‘Bellard, by name,’ answered the captain. ‘One of the lot from Stardock. He was up with the elves north of here for a couple of years, learning weather magic from their spellweavers.’ He nodded in thanks as a mug of steaming mulled wine was presented to him by a servant. He sipped at this for a moment, then put down the mug and said, ‘Quite good at it too, save for one problem.’

      ‘What would that be?’ asked Earl Robert.

      ‘He drinks.’

      ‘Ah, a drunkard,’ said Martin.

      ‘Well, not really,’ said the captain. ‘He was having the devils trying to learn the magic, and got tipsy at one of the moon festivals or sun festivals or flower festivals or whatever it is the elves use as an excuse to get drunk and carry on, so they did, and apparently not wishing to offend his hosts, he did as well. Then the fun began. As I hear the story, after several cups of wine, he caused quite a little tempest in the middle of the forest. Took a few of the spellweavers a bit of time to make things right.

      ‘So Bellard discovered that because he’s a human, not an elf, or at least that’s what he thinks, he has to be drunk to make the magic work.’

      ‘Ah!’ said Brendan in obvious delight. ‘He must love that!’

      ‘Actually, quite the opposite. Turns out the other thing Bellard discovered at that festival was he didn’t care for strong drink. We have to hold him down and pour the grog down his gullet if we need his craft.’

      Everyone was wide-eyed at that, and indeed Brendan and his father were both open-mouthed as well. Then the room erupted into laughter. Even the captain chuckled. ‘He fair hates it, really. But he drinks and does a masterful job, as you could see tonight, creating that bubble of calm in the middle of the storm. He pushed us along with a steady wind for three days, once, on a run from Rillanon around the southern nations up to Krondor – when we would have been becalmed for goodness knows how many days. Had the grandfather of all thumping heads for days after that and a sour stomach to put a man off food for life.’

      ‘Why does he do it?’ asked Lady Bethany. ‘Surely there are other magics he’s more suited to?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Reinman with a laugh. ‘Perhaps it’s because I told him he was pressed into service on the Prince’s writ and had no choice?’

      ‘You didn’t?’ said the Duke. ‘The press was outlawed after the war with the Tsurani.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Reinman with an evil barking laugh, ‘but he doesn’t know that.’

      Laughter burst out again, though Brendan and the ladies all looked pained at the amusement at such duplicity. Reinman said, ‘In the end, he will be well rewarded. His service to the Crown will not be taken for granted.’

      Martin said, ‘What of Hal?’

      ‘Yes,’ added Brendan, ‘should he be recalled?’

      ‘As to that,’ replied Reinman before the Duke could answer, ‘for the time being, the Prince would appreciate it if we kept word of the Western muster from Eastern ears.’

      Henry waved the captain to a chair and held up his hand. Martin was standing closest to the door, so he opened it and motioned the servants waiting outside to enter. ‘Serve us, then leave us,’ the Duke told his staff.

      The servants hurried to make sure everyone at the table was supplied with more food and drink, then left.

      ‘Sending the servants away?’ asked Robert.

      ‘They gossip, and while I trust all in this household, a stray word to a merchant, or a visiting seaman, would be unfortunate …’ He paused, ‘Now, Jason, what aren’t you telling us?’

      Reinman smiled. ‘Just rumours. Before I left Rillanon last it was being said the King was ill, again.’

      Henry sat back. ‘Cousin Gregory was never the man his father was,’ he said softly. ‘And with no sons …’

      ‘He would save a lot of trouble naming Oliver as his heir,’ said Robert.

      Reinman sat back. ‘Prince Edward would appreciate that,’ he observed dryly. ‘The Prince of Krondor can hardly wait for the King to name another to the post and let him retire back to “civilization” as he likes to call the capital.’ Reinman shrugged. ‘As capitals go, Krondor’s not such a bad place, though it does lack a certain grandeur. Edward lives in deathly fear that somehow he’s going to make a terrible mistake one day and end up King.’ They all laughed.

      ‘Eddie was always a caretaker appointment,’ said Henry thoughtfully. ‘He has no political support and no ambition. I think if the Congress rallied and named him King after Gregory, he’d find a way to reject the crown and run off to his estates. He has a lavish villa on a small island off Roldem.’

      Robert added, ‘Where it is said his wife spends most of her time …’ he glanced at the ladies ‘… reviewing the household guard.’

      The Duchess raised an eyebrow.