The King’s Buccaneer. Raymond E. Feist

know.’

      Anthony’s face flushed. ‘I didn’t.’

      Nicholas said, ‘I don’t mean to belittle you, Anthony. You may be more talented than you think. At least, Nakor says you are,’ he added quickly. Both knew it sounded a weak attempt to smooth over the remark. ‘But the King’s brother requested a magician, to fill a post once held by Pug’s teacher. They should have sent one of their best.’

      Anthony stood up. ‘Perhaps.’ His manner was stiff, caught between embarrassment and insult. He flushed a little as he said, ‘Stardock doesn’t feel it owes much allegiance to the Kingdom, I’m afraid. If Pug were still there, that might be one thing, him being a cousin to the King and all, but as it is today, Korsh and Watoom have a great deal of influence among the masters and they are from Kesh. They’d like to keep Stardock out of politics on both sides of the border, I think.’

      Nicholas said, ‘That might not be a bad idea, I guess, but it’s still rude.’

      Anthony said, ‘If you come with me, I have some salves that may hasten your recuperation; at the least, they won’t cause any problems even if they don’t help.’

      Nicholas followed the young magician. Glancing around the garden, he again regretted that the girls were nowhere in sight.

      The weeks passed with surprising speed. Each day was full of duties from dawn to dusk, and Nicholas discovered that the hectic pace was to his liking. Being busy kept him from brooding, a trait inherited from his father. The strenuous routine of constantly being on the move, of having to pitch in with much of the physical labor, was hardening his youthful frame as well. Always fit from riding and sword practice, he was now gaining strength to go with his speed. After his first day hauling arms and armor out for cleaning and having to lug it all back into the armory, he thought he was going to die. Now he could carry twice the load and feel little strain.

      The work seemed to agree with Harry, too, though he reveled in complaining whenever he had the chance. In the three weeks since coming to Crydee, both boys had found little time to spend with Margaret and Abigail, though Harry had found a bit more than Nicholas. He delighted in playing upon Nicholas’s anxiety over the young lady-in-waiting, sometimes teasing him to the point of anger. But most of their time was caught up in the seemingly endless routine of the court of Crydee. So far the only time Nicholas had found to pay court to Abigail was on Sixthday afternoons, and to his chagrin Marcus was always nearby.

      The people of Castle Crydee took on individual identities to the boys from Krondor. The kitchen staff was friendly, the other servants respectful and distant. The younger serving girls viewed Harry with a mixture of amusement and wariness, while a few watched Nicholas with open admiration, attention he found somewhat disquieting. Swordmaster Charles was interesting but always formal in speech and manner. Faxon was open and friendly, and Nicholas found him a good listener. Nakor and Ghuda were rarely in evidence, always seeming to find something in town or the nearby woods to occupy their time. Slowly the alien quality that had overwhelmed Nicholas upon first arriving was wearing off, and while Crydee would never feel like home, it was becoming familiar. And Abigail occupied more of Nicholas’s thoughts than any girl he had previously known. On those rare occasions he could find her without Marcus hovering by she was warm and attentive, and left him with conflicting feelings that he was making a total ass of himself and that she really cared for his company.

      Nearly a month after the reception dinner, Nicholas and Harry dined with the Duke’s court once again. Since they were members of the household, it was not an unexpected event, but it was the first time since they had come to Crydee that the boys had been free enough from duty to eat at the same time as everyone else. They sat at the foot of the table, removed enough from the Duke and his family that only faint snatches of conversation reached them. Not only was the household in attendance, but several important members of guilds and crafts from the town were seated at the Duke’s table, while some visiting merchants and traders were seated around the hall.

      Nicholas sat staring across the hall at Abigail, who seemed to be listening somewhat distractedly to something Marcus was telling her. She glanced at Nicholas with regularity and occasionally flushed and lowered her eyes when he caught her gaze.

      Harry said, ‘The girl likes you.’

      Nicholas said, ‘How do you know?’

      Harry grinned as he sipped at a goblet of wine. ‘She keeps looking over here at you.’

      ‘Maybe she thinks I look funny,’ Nicholas said with a note of fear.

      Harry laughed. ‘Given how much you and Marcus resemble each other, and that you’re obviously the only two chaps she pays the least bit of attention to, I’d say she has a preference for a certain type.’ Tapping his friend upon the shoulder, he said, ‘She likes you, dummy.’

      Dinner passed with the boys engaging in trivialities with the two young men who sat beside Nicholas. One was a gem dealer seeking to underwrite an expedition into a region of the Grey Tower mountains; he claimed there were gem deposits still untapped by dwarves or human miners. He was to be disappointed, Nicholas knew, for the Kingdom made no claims over the Grey Towers beyond the foothills; the gem dealer would have to treat with Dolgan, the King of the western dwarves, at village Caldara, a week’s travel or more inland.

      The other man was a traveler from Queg, a merchant in fine silks and rare perfumes, who had occupied most of the girls’ afternoon showing them his wares, which was why Nicholas had not caught sight of them all day. Margaret was more given to hunting leather and simple tunics, like her mother, it seemed, though she wore the proper gowns and jewelry in court; but Abigail and most of the daughters of the town’s richer merchants had purchased enough of the merchant’s fineries to guarantee him a profitable trip before he visited Carse and Tulan on his way home.

      The merchant was named Vasarius, and something about him irritated Nicholas. Perhaps it was the way Nicholas had caught him staring at Margaret and Abigail, in a manner Nicholas could only consider covetous. When Nicholas caught him at it, he merely averted his eyes from the girls, or smiled at Nicholas as if he were but glancing around the room.

      After dinner the merchants gathered before the Duke and his lady and a short period of socializing followed, before they were escorted out of the castle. Nicholas noticed that while the other merchants were attempting to get Martin’s attention, Vasarius was chatting amiably with Charles and Faxon.

      Nicholas was on the verge of saying something about this to Harry when Marcus approached. ‘We’re going hunting tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You two begin laying out everything we’re going to need. Have a couple of servants go with you.’

      Nicholas nodded, while Harry barely suppressed a groan. They hurried off and motioned for a couple of the servants to follow. Nicholas glanced over his shoulder and noticed Abigail watching his departure. She waved to him, wishing him a silent good night, and Nicholas turned to see Marcus looking at her with a sour expression. Smiling slightly, Nicholas felt better than he had since coming to Crydee.

      It was late when Nicholas and Harry finished organizing the equipment for the hunt. They would be gone only two or three days, but there would be a half dozen in the party – Martin, Marcus, Nicholas, Harry, Ghuda, and Nakor – so a fair amount of equipment and provisions needed to be readied. After a minute of standing around in confusion, not knowing where to begin, the boys had allowed the experienced servants to take charge and had mostly observed, save when it came to choosing weapons. Both squires knew they were responsible for those choices, and by now both had a good idea of what Martin and Marcus would require. Like his father, Marcus was an excellent bowman and favored the longbow.

      When everything was ready, Nicholas and Harry returned to the banquet hall. Nicholas left his friend and went up to the Duke. Martin finished his conversation with one of the local merchants and said, ‘Yes, Squire?’

      Nicholas said, ‘All is ready for tomorrow, Your Grace.’

      ‘Good. I have no further need for you this evening, Squire. We leave at first light.’

      Nicholas bowed and departed, leaving Martin to his guests.