A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

and James to serve that duty. You two will go at once to Earl Volney’s office and put yourselves at his disposal. That will be all.’

      Jimmy stood frozen in chagrined silence for a long moment while deLacy left and the company of Squires broke up. Locklear ambled over to stand before Jimmy and said with a shrug, ‘Well, aren’t we the lucky ones? Everyone else gets to run around and eat, drink, and’ – he threw a sidelong glance at Jimmy and grinned – ‘kiss girls. And we’ve got to stick close to Their Highnesses.’

      ‘I’ll kill him,’ said Jimmy, venting his displeasure.

      Locklear shook his head. ‘Jerome?’

      ‘Who else?’ Jimmy motioned for his friend to fall in as he walked away from the hall. ‘He told deLacy about the betting. He’s paying me back for that black eye I gave him yesterday.’

      Locklear sighed in resignation. ‘We don’t stand a chance of beating Thom and Jason and the other apprentices today, with us both not playing.’ Locklear and Jimmy were the two best athletes in the company of squires. Nearly as quick as Jimmy, Locklear was second only to him among the squires in swordsmanship. Together they were the two best ball handlers in the palace, and with both out of the match, it was a near certain victory for the apprentices. ‘How much did you bet?’

      ‘All of it,’ answered Jimmy. Locklear winced. The squires had been pooling their silver and gold for months in anticipation of this match. ‘Well, how was I to know deLacy would pull this business? Besides, with all those losses we’ve had, I got five-to-two odds in favour of the apprentices.’ He had spent months developing a losing trend in the squires’ game, setting up this big wager. He considered. ‘We may not be out of it yet. I’ll think of something.’

      Changing the subject, Locklear said, ‘You just cut it a little fine today. What held you up this time?’

      Jimmy grinned, his features losing their dark aspect. ‘I was talking to Marianna.’ Then his features returned to an expression of disgust. ‘She was going to meet me after the game, but now we’ll be with the Prince and Princess.’ Accompanying his growth since last summer, another change in Jimmy had been his discovery of girls. Suddenly their company and good opinion of him were vital. Given his upbringing and knowledge, especially compared to those of the other squires in court, Jimmy was worldly beyond his years. The former thief had been making his presence known among the younger serving girls of the palace for several months. Marianna was simply the most recent to catch his fancy and be swept off her feet by the clever, witty and handsome young squire. Jimmy’s curly brown hair, ready grin, and flashing dark eyes had caused him to become an object of concern for more than one girl’s parents among the palace staff.

      Locklear attempted to look uninterested, a pose that was quickly eroding as he himself became more often the focus of the palace girls’ attention. He was getting taller by the week, it seemed, almost as tall as Jimmy now. His wavy, blond-streaked brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes framed by almost feminine lashes, his handsome smile, and his friendly, easy manner had all made him popular with the younger girls of the palace. He hadn’t grown quite comfortable with the idea of girls yet, as at home he had only brothers, but being around Jimmy had already convinced him there was more to girls than he had thought back at Land’s End. ‘Well,’ Locklear said, picking up the pace of their walking, ‘if deLacy doesn’t find a reason to chuck you out of service, or Jerome doesn’t have you beaten by town roughs, some jealous kitchen boy or angry father’s likely to comb your hair with a cleaver. But none of them will have a prayer if we’re late to the chancery – because Earl Volney will have our heads on pikes. Come on.’

      With a laugh and an elbow to the ribs, Locklear was off, with Jimmy a step behind as they ran down the halls. One old servant looked up from his dusting to watch the boys racing along and for a moment reflected on the magic of youth. Then, resigned to the effects of time’s passage, he returned to the duties at hand.

      The crowd cheered as the heralds began their march down the steps of the palace. They cheered, in part, because they would now be addressed by their Prince who, while somewhat aloof, was well respected and counted evenhanded with justice. They cheered, in part, because they would see the Princess whom they loved. She was a symbol of continuation of an old line, a link from the past to the future. But most of all they cheered because they were among the lucky citizens not of the nobility who would be allowed to eat from the Prince’s larder and to drink from his wine cellar.

      The Festival of Presentation was conducted thirty days following the birth of any member of the royal family. How it began remained a mystery, but it was commonly held that the ancient rulers of the city-state of Rillanon were required to show the people, of every rank and station, that the heirs to the throne were born without flaw. Now it was a welcome holiday to the people, for it was as if an extra Midsummer’s festival had been granted.

      Those guilty of misdemeanours were pardoned; matters of honour were considered resolved and duelling was forbidden for a week and a day following the Presentation; all debts owing since the last Presentation – Princess Anita’s nineteen years ago – were forgiven; and for the afternoon and evening, rank was put aside as commoner and noble ate from the same table.

      As Jimmy took his place behind the heralds, he realized that someone always had to work. Someone had to prepare all the food being served today, and someone had to clean up tonight. And he had to stand ready to serve Arutha and Anita should they require it. Sighing to himself, he considered again the responsibilities that seemed to find him no matter where he hid.

      Locklear hummed softly to himself while the heralds continued to take up position, followed by members of Arutha’s Household Guard. The arrival of Gardan, Knight-Marshal of Krondor, and Earl Volney, acting Principate Chancellor, indicated the ceremonies were about to begin.

      The grey-haired soldier, his black face set in an amused expression, nodded to the portly Chancellor, then signalled to Master deLacy to begin. The Master of Ceremonies’ staff struck the ground and the trumpeters and drummers sounded ruffles and flourishes. The crowd hushed as the Master of Ceremonies struck the ground again, and a herald cried, ‘Hearken to me! Hearken to me! His Highness, Arutha conDoin, Prince of Krondor, Lord of the Western Realm, Heir to the throne of Rillanon.’ The crowd cheered, though it was more for form than out of any genuine enthusiasm. Arutha was the sort of man who inspired deep respect and admiration, not affection, in the populace.

      A tall, rangy, dark-haired man entered, dressed in muted brown clothing of fine weave, his shoulders covered with the red mantle of his office. He paused, his brown eyes narrow, while the herald announced the Princess. When the slender, red-headed Princess of Krondor joined her husband, the merry glint in her green eyes caused him to smile, and the crowd began to cheer in earnest. Here was their beloved Anita, daughter of Arutha’s predecessor, Erland.

      While the actual ceremony would be quickly over, the introduction of nobles took a great deal longer. A cadre of palace nobles and guests was entitled to public presentation. The first pair of these was announced. ‘Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Salador.’

      A handsome, blond man offered his arm to a dark-haired woman. Laurie, former minstrel and traveller, now Duke of Salador and husband to Princess Carline, escorted his beautiful wife to her brother’s side. They had arrived in Krondor a week before, to see their nephews, and would stay another week.

      On and on droned the herald as other members of the nobility were introduced and, finally, visiting dignitaries, including the Keshian Ambassador. Lord Hazara-Khan entered with only four bodyguards, forgoing the usual Keshian pomp. The Ambassador was dressed in the style of the desert men of the Jal-Pur: cloth head cover that left only the eyes exposed, long robe of indigo over white tunic and trousers tucked into calf-high black boots. The bodyguards were garbed from head to toe in black.

      Then deLacy stepped forward and called, ‘Let the populace approach.’ Several hundred men and women of varying rank, from the poorest beggar to the richest commoner, gathered below the steps of the palace.

      Arutha spoke the ritual words of the Presentation. ‘Today is the three hundred tenth day of the second year of the reign of our Lord King, Lyam the