Nicholas shook his head. He still was frightened enough by what he had just witnessed that he didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke.
Pug studied the boy. ‘At the time I had heard of this deformity, and of the efforts to correct it.’
Nicholas whispered, ‘Many tried.’
‘I know.’ Pug stood and walked to the window, looking out at the clear night brilliant with stars. Turning back toward Nicholas, he said, ‘I told Arutha that I could not. That was not true.’
Nicholas asked, ‘Why?’
Pug said, ‘Because no matter how much your father loves you, Nicholas – and Arutha loves his children deeply, no matter how difficult it is for him to show it – no parent has the right to change a child’s nature.’
Nicholas said, ‘I’m not sure I understand.’ The fear within was subsiding, and the boy asked, ‘Why would healing me be wrong?’
Pug said, ‘I don’t know if I can make you understand yet, Nicholas.’ He returned and sat next to the boy. ‘We each of us have it within to make ourselves over, if we choose to do so. Most of us not only do not try, but don’t even acknowledge that ability to ourselves.
‘By any understanding of magic I possess, the healing used upon you when you were young should have worked. Something prevented those spells from being effective.’
Nicholas frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Are you saying I wasn’t letting them heal me?’
Pug nodded. ‘Something like that. But it’s not quite so simple.’
Nicholas said, ‘I would give anything to be normal.’
Pug stood. ‘Would you?’
Nicholas was silent for a long moment, then said, ‘I think I would.’
Pug smiled, his manner reassuring. ‘Go to sleep, Nicholas.’ He withdrew something from a large pocket in his robe and placed it upon the night table. ‘This amulet is a gift. It is much like one I gave your father. Should you need me for anything, grip it tightly in your right hand while you wear it, and say my name three times. I will come.’
Nicholas picked up the amulet and saw it bore the symbol of the three dolphins he had seen in the fountains around the magician’s estate. ‘Why?’
Pug’s smile broadened. ‘Because I’m a cousin, and a friend. And in days to come, you may need both. And because I’m letting you and your friend keep a trust.’
‘The Lady Ryana.’
‘She is very young, and foolish to be seen so. In her race, the first stages of life are spent with little more thought than that of common animals. Every ten years the dragon hides in a cave to shed its skin, emerging a different color each time. Not a few perish during that time, for molting in the dark, they are helpless. Only those that live the longest span, surviving many human lifetimes, emerge with a golden skin and awareness. When intelligence at last comes, it is an unsettling thing. The sudden consciousness of self, and the sense of a larger universe, to a creature that is already old by human standards is a very great shock. In ancient times, others of her race would teach her.’ Pug opened the door. ‘There are few of the greater dragons left. Ryana’s mother once aided me on a quest, so I help the child. It would not be wise to let men know that among them walk those who are not men.’
Nicholas said, ‘Father has told me that over time there will be many things I shall learn that I cannot tell others about. I understand.’
Pug said nothing more as he closed the door. Nicholas lay back upon the bed, but sleep was a long time coming.
• CHAPTER THREE • (#ulink_22ab5569-040d-5cd9-bb78-6c245f1d8f0f)
Crydee (#ulink_22ab5569-040d-5cd9-bb78-6c245f1d8f0f)
THE SHIP DROPPED ANCHOR.
Crydee bustled with midday activity as the dock crew made the Royal Eagle secure. Nicholas examined his new home, drinking in the novelty of it. His bouts of homesickness had returned during the long voyage, only vanishing while passing through the dangerous Straits of Darkness, which had taken an eventful day and a half. Then northward past Tulan and Carse, and now to Crydee.
The town had grown in the last twenty years, with signs of expansion everywhere. As they had sailed northward, Amos had pointed out where a fishing village had grown up south of the promontory he named Sailor’s Grief. New buildings were visible high upon a distant hillside to the southeast as the ship entered the harbor. Nicholas squinted against the bright sun reflected off the white façades of the buildings. He saw two carriages and a pair of wagons draw up and halt before a building bedecked by a large royal standard, which proclaimed it the customs house. Servants sitting atop the rear of the carriages leaped from their stations and opened the doors. From the first emerged a tall woman, followed by a taller man. Nicholas recognized them as his aunt and uncle. A flurry of activity followed as the other vehicles came to a halt.
Amos ordered the gangway run out. Nicholas and Harry stood nearby waiting to disembark. Duke Martin, Duchess Briana, and their court stood ready to welcome the Royal Prince and his companions. Amos saw the reception below and said, ‘Well, we know at least one pigeon made it from Ylith.’
For the twenty-eight years since the Riftwar, a relay of messengers between Krondor and the Far Coast had been kept intact, including fast horses and carrier pigeons. With the sudden decision to sent Nicholas made only the day before he departed, word of his impending arrival reached Crydee just days before they came into sight of the harbor.
As the sailors made ready, Harry said, ‘Who are those girls?’
Nicholas had noticed the two young girls who had accompanied the Duke and said, ‘I expect one of them is my cousin Margaret. I don’t know who the other one is.’
Harry grinned. ‘I’ll find out.’
When the gangway was out, Amos turned to Nicholas and formally said, ‘Your Highness?’ – indicating that Nicholas was expected to be the first one off the ship.
Harry stepped forward, to discover Amos’s hand planted firmly on his chest. ‘By rank, Squire,’ he said pointedly.
Harry blushed and took a step back.
Nicholas descended to the quay and a tall man stepped forward. Martin, Duke of Crydee, smiled warmly as he bowed to his nephew. ‘Your Highness, we are most pleased to welcome you to Crydee.’ Martin resembled Arutha slightly, but was taller and heavier. His hair was nearly all grey, and his face was lined by sun and age, yet there was an air of strength about him that was clear for anyone to see. This was no sedentary noble who spent his days drinking wine and issuing orders to servants. This was a man who despite his age still spend nights sleeping on the ground under star-filled skies and who carried game home upon his back.
Nicholas smiled, a little embarrassed at the ceremony, and said, ‘Uncle, I am pleased to be here.’
Amos was second off the ship, and said, ‘Your Grace,’ as he clapped Martin roughly on the shoulder.
All formality evaporated as Martin threw his arms around Amos. ‘You old pirate,’ he said, laughing. ‘It’s been too many years.’ They slapped each other on the back and shook hands. Amos inclined his head toward Nicholas.
Martin returned his attention to the Prince. ‘Your Highness. May I present my wife, the Duchess Briana.’ Nicholas had not seen her since he was a toddler, and his memories of her were vague. It was like meeting her for the first time. A tall woman inclined her head toward Nicholas. Her hair, grey with a startling white streak at the left temple, flowed back from a high brow. There was nothing pretty about the Duchess, but she was a striking woman. Blue eyes set with lines from weather and age regarded the Prince from a face otherwise free of any mark of aging, though she was past fifty. She wore a very practical-looking outfit of leather vest over a silk shirt and trousers tucked into high boots. ‘M’lady,’ said Nicholas, taking her extended hand and squeezing it slightly in greeting. The grip he received was strong, and Nicholas knew the tales of his uncle’s strange lady were mostly true. From the fallen city of Armengar – where women were soldiers alongside the men – Lady Briana could ride, hunt, and fight better than most men, from all reports. Looking at her, Nicholas didn’t doubt it.
Martin continued the introductions. ‘This is my son, Marcus.’ Nicholas turned to his cousin and hesitated; there was something vaguely familiar about him. Brown eyes and brown hair: Nicholas judged he must resemble someone back in Krondor. The same height as Nicholas, Marcus wore his hair the same length as the Prince. But Marcus was almost two years senior to Nicholas and slightly heavier in build. Marcus gave Nicholas a stiff bow and stepped back.
Nicholas said, ‘Cousin,’ and nodded.
Amos came up to stand behind Nicholas and said to Martin, ‘Remember when I first gleaned that you were Arutha’s brother?’
Martin said, ‘How could I forget? That was my first voyage, and you almost drowned us all.’
‘Saved your worthless skin with my masterful sailing, you mean,’ answered Amos. Waving a hand at Nicholas and Marcus, he said, ‘But if the world ever needed proof of your parentage, there it stands revealed.’ He stroked his chin. ‘I think we’ll have to paint one of them green so we can tell them apart.’
Nicholas looked at Amos in confusion, but Marcus’s face was an unreadable mask. Amos said, ‘The resemblance.’
Nicholas said, ‘What resemblance?’
‘To each other,’ answered the admiral.
Nicholas turned to regard his cousin. ‘Do you think …?’
Marcus shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t see it … Highness.’
Amos laughed and said, ‘You never will.’
