The scout said, ‘My lord, if I may remain with you this night, I shall have to move on to find my Sergeant. He will wish to know of these Durbinites. The Governor of Durbin is little better than a pirate and renegade himself, and sooner or later, word of this outrage will reach the Court of Light. When the Empress, blessings be upon her, at last decides to act, retribution shall be forthcoming, and it shall be terrible indeed. I know it can not ease your burden, but to assault the person of a royal family en route to her Jubilee is beyond insult. The Empress, blessings upon her name, will no doubt take it as a personal affront to the Empire’s honour and act to revenge your family.’
Erland’s anger was not soothed in the least. ‘What? The Governor of Durbin reprimanded? Then a formal letter of apology, I suppose.’
‘More likely she will order the city surrounded and burned to the ground with all the citizens within, sire. Or if she is feeling merciful, perhaps she will only send the Governor of Durbin, with his family and retainers of course, to your King for punishment, sparing the city. It will depend upon her mood at the time she decides.’
Erland was overwhelmed. The shock of Borric’s apparent death at last setting over him and the blasé attitude of the guard as he recounted such power on the part of one woman, conspired to render him without wit. He just nodded dumbly.
James, seeking to turn talk away from the terrible diplomatic situation that would arise out of Borric’s death, said, ‘We shall ask you to bear letters to be forwarded back to the Prince of Krondor, so that we may mitigate any difficulties between our two nations.’
The scout nodded. ‘As one who serves along the border, I would do so gladly, m’lord.’
James said, ‘See to your mount and picket her with our own; the boys in the luggage will feed and water her. Then get some food and find a place to sleep.’
The scout saluted, and left to see to his horse. James nodded at Locklear, who in turn motioned with his head toward Erland. Both young nobles moved away to speak in private.
As the fading light of day fled over the western hills, Locklear knelt on the other side of the fire and said, ‘This is a fine mess.’
James also sat, trying to relax. He saw Gamina move to Erland’s side, as if to comfort him. ‘Well, we have faced difficulties in the past. This is what we were trained for, to make choices.’
Locklear said, ‘I think we should consider returning to Krondor.’
James said, ‘If we do, and Arutha orders Erland back to the Jubilee, we risk insulting the Empress by arriving late.’
‘The festival will last more than two months,’ Locklear pointed out. ‘We would be there before it’s over.’
‘I still would rather have us there at the beginning.’ He glanced around at the black night. ‘Out there something’s going on. I can’t help feeling that.’ He put a finger on Locklear’s chest. ‘It’s just too much a coincidence that we were the ones raided.’
‘Perhaps,’ agreed Locky in part, ‘but if we were the target for a raid, then those behind it were those who attempted to assassinate Borric in Krondor.’
‘Whoever they are.’ James was silent for a long moment, then said, ‘It makes no apparent sense. Why would they wish to kill the boy?’
‘To start a war between our Kingdom and the Empire.’
‘No, that’s obvious. I mean why would anyone wish war?’ The question was rhetorical.
Locklear shrugged, choosing to answer it anyway. ‘Why does anyone ever wish to start one? We must discover who within the Empire will profit most from a destabilized northern border, and that is our likely culprit.’
James nodded. He stared out into the gloom, away from the firelight, and said softly, ‘We will not be able to do that in Krondor.’
Locklear agreed. ‘Yes, and doing insult to the Empress coupled with Borric’s disappearance may have the desired effect. Arutha has the coolest head on his shoulders that I’ve ever encountered, but he’s also a man whose lost a son – and more, the Heir to the throne of the Isles – and if ever his judgment gets cloudy, it’s when the lives of those he loves are at risk.’
James nodded, remembering how he behaved when on the quest for Silverthorn, when Princess Anita lay at death’s threshold. ‘Still, he’s a lot older now than then, and—’ James didn’t finish.
Gamina’s thoughts came to him. I can give him no comfort husband. Do what you can for him.
Turning to find Erland alone, facing out into the desert night, as Gamina returned to the campfire, James motioned to Locklear to give the two of them some privacy. He stood and crossed to stand beside him. In quiet tones he said, ‘You must come to terms with this, Erland. Your grief must quickly be abandoned and you must accept the change in circumstances fate has forced upon you.’
Erland blinked in confusion, as one suddenly thrust into the light. ‘What?’
James turned and stood before him. With firm hand upon the younger man’s shoulder, he said, ‘I know you, as I know myself. I’ve spent as much time with you and Borric as any man living, and I understand you both. You will hold to this thing like a terrier with a rat, worrying it and shaking it, and trying to make it not true, but it is true.
‘You are now Heir. You will be our next King. And you will carry the fate of your homeland with you when we ride to Kesh.’ James gently squeezed Erland’s shoulder. ‘This night you must grieve, and you will battle that grief from now until we reach the City of Kesh, but the moment you step before the Empress Lakeisha you must be Heir to the Throne of the Isles. You can not be a grieving brother or an impulsive and angry child. You must become the man your father expects you to be.’
Erland seemed not to hear him.
James tightened his grip on the young man’s shoulder. ‘You have no choice, Erland. The fate of nations depends on you.’ James turned and walked back to the campfire.
The Prince said nothing as he returned his gaze to the west, to the distant slaver caravan somewhere out there under the shroud of darkness. After an hour standing motionless, he turned and walked back to where the others were waiting. Nothing was said as Erland sat and took a plate of food offered to him by a soldier. He quietly ate and became lost in his own dark and painful thoughts. For he knew that James was correct, and that he must come to grips with his loss, for tomorrow they would resume their trek southward, into the heart of Great Kesh.
BORRIC AWOKE.
He lay motionless, straining to hear through the confusion of voices and sounds that were ever-present in the camp, even at night. For an instant, while still half-dozing, he had thought he heard his name being faintly called.
Sitting up, he blinked as he looked around. Most of the captives still sat huddled near the campfire, as if its light and warmth would somehow banish the cold fear in their souls. He had chosen to lay as far from the stench of the waste trench as possible, on the opposite side of the band of slaves. As Borric moved, he was again reacquainted with the manacles that bound his wrists, the odd-looking flat silver metal with the reputed property of blanking out all magic powers of whoever was forced to wear them. Borric shivered, and realized the desert night was indeed turning cold. His robe had been taken from him and his shirt as well, leaving him with only a pair of trousers to wear. He moved toward the campfire, eliciting an occasional curse or complaint as he forced his way between captives reluctant to move. But as all the fight was gone from them, his inconsiderate shoving through the mass of slaves got him nothing more