Magician. Raymond E. Feist

and raced out the gate.

      For a few minutes after they were gone, the crowd stood around, as if loath to admit that they had seen their last of the elves, probably their last in this lifetime. Slowly they began to drift back to work.

      Tomas looked far away, and Pug turned toward him. ‘What is it?’

      Tomas said softly, ‘I wish I could see Elvandar, someday.’

      Pug understood. ‘Maybe you will.’ Then he added, in lighter tones, ‘But I doubt it. For I will be a magician, and you will be a soldier, and the Queen will reign in Elvandar long after we are dead.’

      Tomas playfully jumped atop his friend, wrestling him down in the straw. ‘Oh! Is that so. Well, I will too go to Elvandar someday.’ He pinned Pug under him, sitting atop his chest. ‘And when I do, I’ll be a great hero, with victories over the Tsurani by the score. She’ll welcome me as an honored guest. What do you think of that?’

      Pug laughed, trying to push his friend off. ‘And I’ll be the greatest magician in the land.’

      They both laughed. A voice broke through their play. ‘Pug! There you are.’

      Tomas got off, and Pug sat up. Approaching them was the stocky figure of Gardell the smith. He was a barrel-chested man, with little hair but a thick black beard. His arms were grimy with smoke, and his apron was burned through with many small holes. He came to the side of the wagon and placed fists on hips. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. I have that hood Kulgan asked me to fashion for your fire pot.’

      Pug scrambled out of the wagon, with Tomas close behind. They walked after Gardell toward the smithy behind the central keep. The burly smith said, ‘Damned clever idea, that hood. I’ve worked the forge for nearly thirty years and never thought of using a hood for a fire pot. Had to make one as soon as Kulgan told me of the plan.’

      They entered the smithy, a large shed with a large and small forge and several different-sized anvils. All manner of things lay about waiting for repair: armor, stirrup irons, and kitchen utensils. Gardell walked to the larger forge and picked up the hood. It was about three feet to a side, about three feet high, and formed a cone with a hole at the top. Lengths of round metal pipe lay nearby, fashioned especially thin.

      Gardell held out his creation for them to study. ‘I made it fairly thin, using a lot of tin for lightness, for were it too heavy, it would collapse.’ With his toe he pointed to several lengths of metal rods. ‘We’ll knock some little holes in the floor and use these for support. It may take a bit of time to get it right, but I think this thing of yours is going to work.’

      Pug smiled broadly. He found great pleasure in seeing an idea of his taking concrete form. It was a novel and gratifying sensation. ‘When can we install it?’

      ‘Now if you like. I would like to see it work, I must confess.’

      Pug gathered up some of the pipe, and Tomas the rest, as well as the rods. Juggling the awkward load, they set out toward the magician’s tower, with the chuckling smith following.

      Kulgan was deep in thought as he started to mount the stairs to his room. Suddenly a shout from above sounded: ‘Watch out!’ Kulgan glanced up in time to see a block of stone come tumbling down the stairs, bounding over the steps as if in some fit of drunken craziness. He leapt aside as it struck against the wall where he had stood and came to rest at the bottom of the stairs. Mortar dust filled the air, and Kulgan sneezed.

      Tomas and Pug came running down the stairs, expressions of worry on their faces. When they saw no one was hurt, they both looked relieved.

      Kulgan leveled a baleful gaze upon the pair and said, ‘What is all this?’

      Pug appeared sheepish, while Tomas tried to blend in with the wall. Pug spoke first. ‘We were trying to carry the stone down to the yard, and it sort of slipped.’

      ‘Sort of slipped? It looked more like a mad dash for freedom. Now, why were you carrying the stone, and where did it come from?’

      ‘It’s the loose one from my wall,’ answered Pug. ‘We took it out so that Gardell could put the last pipe in place.’ When Kulgan still appeared uncomprehending, Pug said, ‘It’s for my fire pot hood, remember?’

      ‘Ah,’ said Kulgan, ‘yes. Now I do.’ A servant arrived to investigate the noise, and Kulgan asked him to fetch a couple of workmen from the yard to carry the block away. He left, and Kulgan said to the boys, ‘I think it would be better to let someone a little larger tote that stone out. Now let us see this marvel.’

      They climbed the stairs to the boy’s room and found Gardell installing the last length of pipe. The smith turned when they entered and said, ‘Well, what do you think?’

      The pot had been moved a little closer to the wall, and the hood sat on four metal rods of equal length over it. All of the smoke was trapped by the hood and carried away through the light metal pipe. Unfortunately, the hole where the stone was missing was considerably larger than the pipe, so most of the smoke was blown back into the room by the wind.

      ‘Kulgan, what do you think?’ said Pug.

      ‘Well, boy. It looks rather impressive, but I can’t see much improvement in the atmosphere here.’

      Gardell gave the hood a solid whack with his hand, causing it to ring out with a tinny sound. His thick calluses kept his hand from being burned by the hot metal. ‘She’ll do, soon as I plug up that hole, magician. I’ll fetch some bull hide that I use for making shields for the horsemen and cut a hole in a piece, slip it around the pipe, and nail it to the wall. A few slaps of tanning agent on it, and the heat will dry it out all stiff and hard. It will take the heat and keep the rain and wind out of the room, as well as the smoke.’ The smith looked pleased with his handiwork. ‘Well, I’ll fetch the hide. Back in a moment.’

      Pug looked as if he would burst from pride, seeing his invention before him, and Tomas reflected Pug’s glory. Kulgan chuckled softly to himself for a moment. Suddenly Pug turned to the magician, remembering where he had spent the day. ‘What is the news from the council?’

      ‘The Duke sends messages to all the nobles of the West, explaining what has occurred in great detail, and asking that the Armies of the West be made ready. I am afraid Tully’s scribes have some rigorous days ahead of them, since the Duke wants them all finished as soon as possible. Tully’s in a state, for he has been commanded to stay and act as Lyam’s adviser, along with Fannon and Algon, during the Duke’s absence.’

      ‘Lyam’s adviser? Absence?’ asked Pug, uncomprehendingly.

      ‘Yes, the Duke, Arutha, and I are going to journey to the Free Cities, and on to Krondor, to speak with Prince Erland. I am going to send a dream message to a colleague of mine tonight, if I can. Belgan lives north of Bordon. He will send word to Meecham, who should be there by now, to find us a ship. The Duke feels it best that he should carry the word in person.’

      Pug and Tomas looked excited. Kulgan knew they both wanted to come along. To visit Krondor would be the greatest adventure of their young lives. Kulgan stroked his grey beard. ‘It will be difficult to continue your lessons, but Tully can brush you up on a trick or two.’

      Pug looked as if he were going to burst. ‘Please, Kulgan, may I come too?’

      Kulgan feigned surprise. ‘You come? I never thought of that.’ He paused for a moment while the suspense built. ‘Well . . .’ Pug’s eyes pleaded. ‘. . . I guess it would be all right.’ Pug let out a yelp and jumped in the air.

      Tomas struggled to hide his disappointment. He forced a thin smile and tried to look happy for Pug.

      Kulgan walked to the door. Pug noticed Tomas’s dejected expression. ‘Kulgan?’ Pug said. The magician turned, a faint smile on his lips.

      ‘Yes, Pug?’

      ‘Tomas, too?’

      Tomas shook his head, for he was neither a member of the court nor the magician’s charge, but