Martin smiled and said, ‘You are with family, Nicholas, never forget that.’
Nicholas shrugged. ‘I’ve heard Father tell of Crydee, and Amos has war stories that never end, but …’ He glanced around once more. ‘I guess I didn’t know what to expect.’
Martin said, ‘That’s why you’re here. Arutha wished you to know something of your heritage.
‘We’ve a rough court, by Krondorian standards,’ he continued. ‘Close to primitive by the standards of Rillanon and the other eastern courts. But you’ll find it comfortable enough in the ways that matter.’
Nicholas nodded. ‘What exactly will I be doing?
Martin said, ‘Arutha has left that up to me. I think for the time being I’m going to name you my Squire. You’re a little old for the position, but that way you can stay close, and perhaps after a while I’ll find better use for you. I’ll assign your friend to Marcus.’
Nicholas was about to object when Martin said, ‘Squires do not have squires, Nicholas.’ Nicholas nodded.
‘Tonight we’ll have a formal reception, with a troupe of players who are in the town. Then tomorrow you’ll begin your duties.’
‘What will those be?’
‘Housecarl Samuel will fill you in on some of your duties. Swordmaster Charles and Horsemaster Faxon will have others for you. You will do several things every day, mostly to make my time more efficient in governing the Duchy. You may have noticed new buildings above the south bluffs and beyond. Crydee is becoming quite the metropolis by Far Coast standards. There is much to be done. Now I’ll have a servant show you to your rooms.’
‘Thank you, Uncle Martin.’ Nicholas rose as Martin came around the desk and opened the door, signaling for a servant to approach.
Martin said, ‘Beginning tomorrow, Your Highness, you will address me as “Your Grace”. You will be addressed as “Squire”.’
Nicholas flushed, feeling embarrassed but not knowing why. He nodded and followed the servant to his quarters.
That night Nicholas sat between his uncle and his cousin Marcus. The food was hearty if plain, the wine was robust and flavorful, and the entertainment adequate. Nicholas spent the better part of the evening glancing past his aunt and uncle to where Abigail sat beside Margaret. The two girls seemed to have their heads together the better part of the meal, and several times Nicholas found himself blushing without quite knowing why. The few attempts he made at speaking with Marcus resulted in short answers and long silences. Nicholas was beginning to feel that somehow his cousin disliked him.
Amos, Nakor, and Ghuda Bulé were all at the far end of the table, beyond Nicholas’s ability to speak to them. They were obviously having a good enough time swapping stories with Swordmaster Charles and Horsemaster Faxon.
Looking down the table, Nicholas saw Harry attempting to engage a quiet young man in conversation. The man seemed to speak quietly, as Harry was constantly leaning over to hear him. The man seemed not much older than the boys, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties. He had a shock of blond hair that hung to his shoulders, and had bangs that seemed to threaten his vision every moment, as he was constantly brushing them back with his hand. His eyes were blue, and Nicholas imagined that if he ever smiled, he’d be a likable-enough-looking chap.
‘Cousin, who is that?’
Marcus looked to where Nicholas indicated. ‘That’s Anthony. He’s a magician.’
‘Really?’ asked Nicholas, pleased that he had finally gotten more than one sentence from his cousin. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘My father asked your father to intercede with the masters of Stardock to send a magician to us a few years ago.’ Marcus shrugged. ‘Something to do with Grandfather, I think.’ He put down the rib bone he had been gnawing, dipped his hands in the finger bowl, and wiped them on a linen napkin. ‘Did your father ever talk about having a magician at court?’
Relieved that they were at last engaged in something like a conversation, Nicholas shrugged. ‘A few stories. About Kulgan and Pug, I mean. I met Pug on this journey.’
Marcus kept his eyes upon the magician. ‘Anthony is a good fellow, I’ll warrant you that, friendly when you get to know him. But he keeps to himself a great deal, and those few times Father asks him for counsel, he tends towards the evasive. I fear the magicians at Stardock sent him here as something of a joke.’
‘Really?’
Marcus fixed Nicholas with a sour look. ‘You keep asking “really” as if I’m making this up.’
‘Sorry,’ said Nicholas, blushing a little. ‘It’s just a habit. What I mean is, why do you think the masters of Stardock would do that, send him here as a joke?’
‘Because he’s not a very good magician, from what I can tell of such things.’
Nicholas caught himself as he was about to say ‘Really?’ and instead changed it to, ‘Interesting. I mean, you don’t see a lot of magicians anywhere, but the few who’ve come to court don’t do much by way of magic, at least not anywhere you can see them.’
Marcus shrugged. ‘I guess he has his uses, but there’s something about him that makes me cautious. He’s got secrets.’
Nicholas laughed. Marcus turned to see if Nicholas was laughing at him. Nicholas said, ‘I think that’s part of the act, you know. Lurking in shadows and mysteries and the rest.’
Marcus shrugged again, allowing himself a faint smile. ‘Perhaps. Anyway, he’s Father’s adviser, though he doesn’t do much of that.’
Glad to be involved at last in something other than silence, Nicholas pursued the conversation. ‘You know, I knew Horsemaster Faxon’s father. I didn’t know he’d bear such a resemblance to the old Duke.’
Marcus grunted a noncommittal sound. ‘Gardan was an old man when he came back from Krondor. I never noticed.’
Feeling the conversation slipping away, Nicholas said, ‘I was sorry to hear of his death last year.’
Marcus shrugged, his most expressive gesture, it seemed. ‘He didn’t do much but fish and tell stories. He was an old man. I liked him enough, but …’ Again he shrugged. ‘You get old, then you die. That’s the way it works, isn’t it?’
It was Nicholas’s turn to shrug. ‘I hadn’t seen him for almost ten years. I guess he got older.’ Realizing instantly that the remark was inane, he let the conversation lapse into silence for the rest of the meal.
At the finish of the meal, Martin rose and said, ‘We welcome to our home our cousin Nicholas.’ The gathered court and servants gave polite applause. ‘Beginning tomorrow, he shall be acting as my Squire.’ At this, Harry glanced at his friend with a questioning expression. Nicholas shrugged.
Martin said, ‘And his companion, Harry of Ludland, will be Squire to my son.’
Harry made a face that said, Well, that answers that.
‘Now,’ said Martin. ‘I bid you all good night.’
He extended his hand and Briana placed hers upon it, in ceremonial fashion, and he led her from the table. The ladies Margaret and Abigail followed, and then Marcus rose. Turning to Harry, he said, ‘Well then, if you’re to squire for me, I need you awake an hour before sunrise. Ask any servant where my quarters are and don’t be late.’ Turning to Nicholas, he said, ‘Father will want you ready, too.’
Nicholas didn’t care much for his cousin’s tone, but he refused to be anything but polite. ‘I’ll be there.’
Marcus smiled and it was a shock, for it was the first time since meeting him that Nicholas had seen any expression other than a neutral frown. ‘I expect you will.’ Waving to the servants, he said, ‘Show the Squires to their quarters.’
The boys fell in behind two servants, and as they passed by the magician, Harry said, ‘See you around, Anthony.’
The magician muttered a reply. When they entered a long hallway, Harry said, ‘That’s the Duke’s magician.’
‘I know,’ answered Nicholas. ‘Marcus said he wasn’t very good at his job.’
Harry indicated he had no opinion on that topic, but added, ‘He seems a right enough fellow, if a little shy. Mumbles a bit.’
The servants led the two young men to doors next to one another. Nicholas opened the indicated one and entered what could only be considered a cell. It was barely ten feet in length and eight feet wide. A straw pallet lay on the floor and a small chest for personal belongings took up one corner of the room. A tiny table, a chair, and a rude lamp on the table were the only other features. Nicholas turned to the servant, who was walking away, and said, ‘Where are my things?’
The servant said, ‘In storage, Squire. His Grace said you won’t need them until you’re ready to leave, so he had them put down in the sub-basement. You’ll find all you need in the chest.’
Harry clapped his friend upon the shoulder. ‘Well, Squire Nicky, better turn in and get a good night’s sleep. We’re up early tomorrow.’
‘Don’t let me oversleep,’ said Nicholas, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
