The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ Roland rose and extended his hand to Pug. Pug took it and Roland helped him to his feet. ‘Sorry, Pug. I had no right to be angry with you.’ His voice softened. ‘I can’t sleep nights thinking of her. I wait for the few moments we’re together each day. But since you saved her, all I ever hear is your name.’ Touching his sore neck, Roland said, ‘I got so angry, I thought I’d kill you. Damn near got myself killed instead.’

      Pug looked at the corner where the Princess had disappeared, nodding agreement. ‘I’m sorry, too, Roland. I’m not very good at controlling magic yet, and when I lose my temper, it seems all sorts of terrible things can happen. Like with the trolls.’ Pug wanted Roland to understand he was still Pug, even though he was now a magician’s apprentice. ‘I would never do something like that on purpose – especially to a friend.’

      Roland studied Pug’s face a moment and grinned, half-wryly, half-apologetically. ‘I understand. I acted badly. You were right: she’s only setting us one against the other. I am the fool. It’s you she cares for.’

      Pug seemed to wilt. ‘Believe me, Roland, I’m not so sure I’m to be envied.’

      Roland’s grin widened. ‘She is a strong-willed girl, that’s clear.’ Caught halfway between an open display of self-pity and mock-bravado, Roland selected mock-bravado.

      Pug shook his head. ‘What’s to be done, Roland?’

      Roland looked surprised, then laughed loudly. ‘Don’t look to me for advice, Pug. I dance to her tune more than any. But “there are as many changes in a young girl’s heart as in the fickle winds,” as the old saying goes. I’ll not blame you for Carline’s actions.’ He winked at Pug conspiratorially. ‘Still, you won’t mind if I keep an eye out for a change in the weather?’

      Pug laughed in spite of his exhaustion. ‘I thought you seemed a little too gracious in your concessions.’ A thoughtful look came over his face. ‘You know, it would be simpler – not better, but simpler – if she’d ignore me forever, Roland. I don’t know what to think about all this. I’ve got my apprenticeship to complete. Someday I’ll have estates to manage. Then there’s this business with the Tsurani. It’s all come so quickly, I don’t know what to do.’

      Roland regarded Pug with some sympathy. He put his hand upon the younger boy’s shoulder. ‘I forget this business of being apprentice and noble is all rather new to you. Still, I can’t say I’ve given too much time to such weighty considerations myself, even though my lot was decided before I was born. This worrying about the future is a dry sort of work. I think it would be benefited by a mug of strong ale.’

      Feeling his aches and bruises, Pug nodded agreement. ‘Would that we could. But Megar will be of a different mind, I’m afraid.’

      Roland placed his finger alongside his nose. ‘We shan’t let the Mastercook smell us out, then. Come on, I know a place where the boards of the ale shed are loose. We can quaff a cup or two in private.’

      Roland began to walk away, but Pug halted him by saying, ‘Roland, I am sorry we came to blows.’

      Roland stopped, studied Pug a moment, and grinned. ‘And I.’ He extended his hand. ‘A peace.’

      Pug gripped it. ‘A peace.’

      They turned the corner, leaving the Princess’s garden behind, then stopped. Before them was a scene of unalloyed misery. Tomas was walking the length of the court, from the soldiers’ commons to the side gate, in full armor – old chain mail over gambeson, full helm, and heavy metal greaves over knee boots. On one arm he bore a heater shield, and in the other hand he held a heavy spear, twelve feet long and iron-tipped, which bore down cruelly upon his right shoulder. It also gave him a comic appearance, as it caused him to lean a little to the right and wobble slightly as he struggled to keep it balanced while he marched.

      The sergeant of the Duke’s Guard stood counting out cadence for him. Pug knew the sergeant, a tall, friendly man named Gardan. He was Keshian by ancestry, evident in his dark skin. His white teeth split his dark, nappy beard in a grin at the sight of Pug and Roland. He stood nearly as broad in the shoulders as Meecham, with the same loose-gaited movement of a hunter or fighter. Though his black hair was lightly dusted with grey, his face was young-looking and unlined, despite thirty years’ service. With a wink at Pug and Roland, he barked, ‘Halt!’ and Tomas stopped in his tracks.

      As Pug and Roland closed the distance between them, Gardan snapped, ‘Right turn!’ Tomas obeyed. ‘Members of the court approaching. Present arms!’ Tomas extended his right arm, and his spear dipped in salute. He let the tip drop slightly too low, and nearly broke from attention to pull it back.

      Pug and Roland came up to stand next to Gardan, and the large soldier gave them a casual salute and a warm smile. ‘Good day, Squires.’ He turned to Tomas for a moment. ‘Shoulder arms! March post . . . march!’ Tomas set off, marching the ‘post’ assigned to him, in this case the length of the yard before the soldiers’ commons.

      With a laugh, Roland said, ‘What is this? Special drills?’

      Gardan stood with one hand on his sword, the other pointed at Tomas. ‘Swordmaster Fannon felt it might prove beneficial to our young warrior if someone was here to see his drilling didn’t become sloppy from exhaustion or some other petty inconvenience.’ Dropping his voice a bit, he added, ‘He’s a tough lad; he’ll be fine, if a little footsore.’

      ‘Why the special drilling?’ asked Roland. Pug shook his head as Gardan told them.

      ‘Our young hero lost two swords. The first was understandable, for the matter of the ship was vital, and in the excitement of the moment such an oversight could be forgiven. But the second was found lying on the wet ground near the pell the afternoon the Elf Queen and her party left, and young Tomas was nowhere in sight.’ Pug knew Tomas had forgotten all about returning to his drilling when Gardell had come with the hood for his fire pot.

      Tomas reached the end of his appointed route, did an about-face, and began his return. Gardan regarded the two bruised and dirty boys and said, ‘What have you two young gentlemen been up to?’

      Roland cleared his throat in a theatrical fashion and said, ‘Ah . . . I was giving Pug a fist-boxing lesson.’

      Gardan reached out and took Pug’s chin in his hand, turning the boy’s face for inspection. Evaluating the damage, he said, ‘Roland, remind me never to ask you to instruct my men in swordplay – we couldn’t withstand the casualty rate.’ Releasing his hold upon Pug’s face, he said, ‘You’ll have a beautiful eye in the morning, Squire.’

      Changing the topic, Pug said, ‘How are your sons, Gardan?’

      ‘Well enough, Pug. They learn their craft and dream of making themselves rich, save for the youngest, Faxon, who is still intent on becoming a soldier next Choosing. The rest are becoming expert cartwrights under my brother Jeheil’s tutelage.’ He smiled sadly. ‘With only Faxon at home the house is very empty, though my wife seems glad for the peace.’ Then he grinned, an infectious smile that rarely could be viewed and not answered. ‘Still, it won’t be too long before the elder boys marry, and then there’ll be grandchildren under foot and plenty of merry noise again, from time to time.’

      As Tomas drew near, Pug asked, ‘May I speak with the condemned?’

      Gardan laughed, stroking his short beard. ‘I guess I might look the other way for a moment, but be brief, Squire.’ Pug left Gardan talking with Roland and fell into step beside Tomas as he passed on СКАЧАТЬ