‘You are getting better,’ grinned Ty. ‘By the next Masters’ Court you will probably be able to beat me. You are a bit faster.’
‘No,’ said Hal, falling back into his chair chuckling. ‘I’m sorry, Ty. I’m just going mad here.’
‘Until we receive word from Lord James or your ambassador that it’s safe for you to travel. . .’ He shrugged. ‘Like it or not you are related to the King of the Isles. That makes you important.’
‘Barely related,’ said Hal, sipping at a light white wine that had been served with the mid-day meal: a lightly-basted roast chicken with steamed vegetables. Before coming to live for the last month at the River House, Hal could not believe such simple fare could be made so delicious by the mere addition of a little savoury oil and some herbs. Letting out another aggravated sound, Hal said, ‘If I ever find a way to steal your cook from you, I will.’
‘You’d get fat,’ said Ty with a laugh. He put his feet up on the table and drank his wine. ‘Francisco is Lucien’s best student – Lucien’s father’s chef in Olasko. I don’t think he’d leave Roldem for a rustic destination like Crydee—’ he held up his hand as Hal began to protest, ‘—as charming as it may be in its own way. Francisco enjoys the abundance of high living in Roldem, which I believe you will concede is the most civilized city in the world.’
Hal nodded. He was not a world traveller by any measure, having never been east of Yabon until his father decided to place him at the university here. He had stopped for a polite visit with Prince Edward in Krondor where they had spent a tedious dinner during which when one spoke the other nodded, because they had nothing in common. The Prince of Krondor had been eager to spread gossip about matters at court in the East, about people of whom Hal had never even heard, and Hal’s topics of hunting, warcraft against goblins and trolls and managing estates all seemed lost on the Prince.
After that it had been an overnight stay in Malac’s Cross, then on to Salador where he had endured two nights of being hosted by a very distant cousin, Duke Louis, then a mandatory visit to the King to pay his fealty in Rillanon.
He had been impressed with both Rillanon and the King’s court. King Gregory had been welcoming and seemed a bright enough man. It was hard to tell, given the amount of deference shown the man at every turn. Even the Prince of Krondor’s court was less formal and Hal’s father’s court was casual by comparison. Everyone bowed when the King entered or left the room. One could not sit in his presence unless he sat first, and one could not speak to His Majesty unless spoken to. The sense of impending doom over a social miscue reduced Hal to reticence bordering on constant silence while he was there.
By the time he reached Roldem he had no idea what to expect, but he quickly embraced the rough and tumble of student life. The one reception with the King and two of his sons, Constantine and Albér, had proven surprisingly relaxed. The King was a happy, welcoming man, and it was obvious he had been blessed with a family he adored, a family who adored him in return.
Then Hal had been thrown in with the other students, from Roldem, the Isles, Kesh, and a few from the Eastern Kingdoms, to study language, arts, music, history, sciences, and a little about magic. Mainly they learned how to be enlightened rulers, or at least that was the opinion of three of his teachers.
The brothers who ran the university were pious men of the Order of La-Timsa the White, the Pursuer of the One Path. Knowledge was power and with power came duty, they taught.
Hal also discovered that as an abstemious and celibate Order they didn’t have patience for what passed as fun with the majority of the students. Discipline was harsh and swift, even for minor infractions of the rules, and the favourite instrument of that discipline was the caning wand. Hal had suffered less than most, for he tended to be less fractious than the other boys: a rugged frontier life had made him grow up a little faster than the other lads his age.
He enjoyed the nights out with the other students, but while most were getting drunk and regaling one another with improbable stories designed to impress the jaded tavern girls, he would sit quietly making one ale last half the night. He had never been punished for not returning on time or for being ill from overindulging in drink or drugs the night before.
He rarely gambled and then cautiously, so he never won or lost significant amounts, and he always gave the common girls a wide path. A particularly difficult experience with a town girl one Midsummer’s festival taught him to be cautious, though the other boys seemed to lose all sense when a pretty girl happened by.
‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Ty. ‘You’ve been lost in thought for the last minute.’
‘Just thinking about the first time I came here.’ Hal sighed and stood up. ‘I must get out of here. Even if just for an hour’s walk.’
Ty was on his feet. With a smile he put his hand on Hal’s chest and said, ‘Wait a minute, my friend—’
Hal grinned, took a step and then spun around and was past him. With a laughing whoop he half-jumped, half-ran down the stairs, barely making the complete turn at the landing half-way between floors as he scampered to stay one step ahead of Ty.
It was just after the midday meal but there had been few patrons, so no one was in the dining room on the main floor to notice when the dark-haired young man raced down the stairs and out of the door with the sandy-haired youth only seconds behind him.
Since Swordmaster Phillip’s and Lord James’s departure the day after the King’s reception, rumours of war had erupted into news one day that Kesh had moved against the Isles and as a result the streets were unusually quiet for this time of day.
Ty caught up with Hal at last. ‘Wait! If you insist on ignoring your swordmaster and my father and Lord James, at least show the good sense to go armed.’ He tossed a sword he had grabbed up on the way and the young Lord of Crydee grabbed it.
‘Thank you.’ Hal belted on the weapon and took a deep breath. ‘Sea air! It’s different here in Roldem from Crydee. More … spices or flowers or … something, but it’s good. I’ve lived near the ocean since I was born and can’t imagine what it must be like to live in the mountains or the desert.’
Ty fell into step beside him. ‘I’ve lived in the mountains a while, but like you lived in a harbour city most of my life.’
‘Crydee is hardly a city. A large town at best. But it’s the capital of the duchy. I suspect every duke before my father considered moving the capital down to Carse – that’s the trading centre – but …’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll probably think about it, too.’ Then he grinned. ‘For a few minutes, anyway’. He glanced around, drinking in the sounds and noises after being locked away in a bedroom above a restaurant for almost a month.
It was very quiet.
A massive Keshian fleet had sailed up from the south and was striking at Kingdom cities and towns up and down the coast. Although neutral, Roldem was historically close to the Isles and their navy was a possible threat. While sending reassuring messages to King Carol, the Emperor’s chancellor had also dispatched a squadron of ships which had taken up station just outside the harbour mouth in Roldem, to discourage the Roldem fleet from sailing out. It was a strategic move, as the Roldem fleet could easily crush the Keshians, but it would be an act of war and right now Roldem was working hard to remain neutral. The King wished to serve as an honest broker between the two warring nations so he ordered his navy to stand down while he sent diplomatic messages to the two capitals.
As a result, people were staying close to home, out of fear of a Keshian assault on the city. Most judged it unlikely that war would come, but fear cared not for likelihood.
Every shop they passed was closed or empty of customers, and every step past a street vendor brought pleas to inspect goods or hungry stares from pedlars too long without sales.
‘Is war coming?’ asked Ty.
‘It’s already come,’ said Hal. ‘At least to my nation. I don’t know if the first arrow has been shot or the first sword blow struck, but if blood hasn’t been spilled it will be soon.’
‘How can you be certain? Isn’t it possible this is some sort of ploy, a means to gain concessions from the King of the Isles?’
Hal said, ‘One day I will be a duke and while I may not be the brightest student the university has seen, I do know how to listen, read, and try to utilise the lessons of wiser men than me.’ He was attempting to be light in tone, but Ty could tell he was serious. ‘Fleets as big as those Kesh has unleashed are not sent into hostile waters as a feint or to spur diplomacy. They are sent out to force concessions or to conquer.’
He stopped, looking around. From their vantage point along the river docks, they could see down into the harbour. ‘You see that clutter of ships?’ he said, pointing.
‘Yes?’
‘Every one of those is owned by a man losing gold. Every hour a ship sits there is an hour that owner is not making profit. Wood rots, rope frays, metal rusts, and men must be paid even if they sit and do nothing; or they must be discharged and leave the owners without crew once business returns, but ships only make money if they are hauling cargo and passengers.
‘There are syndicates across the Sea of Kingdoms and in the Bitter Sea where underwriters of cargo are already losing fortunes, because goods contracted and paid for are not being delivered. Men sitting in Barrett’s Coffee House in Krondor, Rufino’s Tavern in Salador, and Hanson’s Inn in Rillanon, men who were wealthy a month ago, now stand on the edge of poverty. Lives are being ruined. Shop owners will run out of goods to sell and people will go hungry.’ He turned and looked at Ty. ‘At least so far Kesh hasn’t sent any assassins to kill me.’
‘That we know of,’ said Ty. ‘We’ve kept you out of sight … until now!’ He laughed.
‘But now we are just two young men spending a pleasant afternoon out and about, walking, taking in the sights, talking about life, and getting out of your father’s lovely establishment which is currently my gaol!’
Ty laughed. ‘Was there ever so fine a gaol?’
‘True. But I am getting fat,’ Hal said patting his stomach. ‘I could use a hunt, a few days on the trail, some camp cooking, and I’d be able to get back into these trousers.’
‘Or you could eat less?’
‘Of Francisco’s cooking?’ asked Hal, looking as if what Ty had said was sheer madness.
‘Well, he is very good.’ Ty looked around and his eyes narrowed.
‘What?’ Hal’s gaze followed Ty’s.
‘Those men over there. I think they’re watching us. Don’t stare.’
Hal turned his back on them as if he were in conversation about something private with Ty and said, ‘Tall man, black cloak, short fellow, green vest over dirty grey shirt?’
‘Those are the two,’ said Ty glancing off in another direction as if listening to something he didn’t want to hear.
‘Saw them watching us before we came around the corner. I thought they might be following us.’
‘You didn’t think to mention it to me?’
‘I didn’t want to cause needless alarm.’ Hal kept his back to them. ‘What are they doing now?’
