on the table, which Kulgan tossed over to Fantus, who lay before the fire. The drake opened one eye to regard the morsel. He pondered the choice between his comfortable resting place and the juicy scrap for a moment, then moved the necessary six inches to gulp down the prize and closed his eye again.
Kulgan lit his pipe, and once he was satisfied with its production of smoke, he said, ‘What are your plans when you reach manhood, boy?’
Pug was fighting off sleep, but Kulgan’s question brought him alert again. The time of Choosing, when the boys of the town and keep were taken into apprenticeship, was close, and Pug became excited as he said, ‘This Midsummer’s Day I hope to take the Duke’s service under Swordmaster Fannon.’
Kulgan regarded his slight guest. ‘I would have thought you still a year or two away from apprenticeship, Pug.’
Meecham gave out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. ‘Bit small to be lugging around sword and shield, aren’t you, boy?’
Pug flushed. He was the smallest boy of his age in the castle. ‘Megar the cook said I may be late coming to my growth,’ he said with a faint note of defiance. ‘No one knows who my parents were, so they have no notion of what to expect.’
‘Orphan, is it?’ asked Meecham, raising one eyebrow, his most expressive gesture yet.
Pug nodded. ‘I was left with the Priests of Dala, in the mountain abbey, by a woman who claimed she found me in the road. They brought me to the keep, for they had no way to care for me.’
‘Yes,’ injected Kulgan, ‘I remember when those who worship the Shield of the Weak first brought you to the castle. You were no more than a baby fresh from the teat. It is only through the Duke’s kindness that you are a freeman today. He felt it a lesser evil to free a bondsman’s son than to bond a freeman’s. Without proof, it was his right to have you declared bondsman.’
Meecham said in a noncommittal tone, ‘A good man, the Duke.’
Pug had heard the story of his origin a hundred times before from Magya in the kitchen of the castle. He felt completely wrung out and could barely keep his eyes open. Kulgan noticed and signaled Meecham. The tall franklin took some blankets from a shelf and prepared a sleeping pallet. By the time he finished, Pug had fallen asleep with his head on the table. The large man’s hands lifted him gently from the stool and placed him on the blankets, then covered him.
Fantus opened his eyes and regarded the sleeping boy. With a wolfish yawn, he scrambled over next to Pug and snuggled in close. Pug shifted his weight in his sleep and draped one arm over the drake’s neck. The firedrake gave an approving rumble, deep in his throat, and closed his eyes again.
• CHAPTER TWO •
Apprentice
THE FOREST WAS QUIET.
The slight afternoon breeze stirred the tall oaks and cut the day’s heat, while rustling the leaves only slightly. Birds who would raise a raucous chorus at sunrise and sundown were mostly quiet at this time of morning. The faint tang of sea salt mixed with the sweet smell of flowers and pungency of decaying leaves.
Pug and Tomas walked slowly along the path, with the aimless weaving steps of boys who have no particular place to go and ample time to get there. Pug shied a small rock at an imagined target, then turned to look at his companion. ‘You don’t think your mother was mad, do you?’ he asked.
Tomas smiled. ‘No, she understands how things are. She’s seen other boys the day of Choosing. And truthfully, we were more of hindrance than a help in the kitchen today.’
Pug nodded. He had spilled a precious pot of honey as he carried it to Alfan, the pastrycook. Then he had dumped an entire tray of fresh bread loaves as he took them from the oven. ‘I made something of a fool of myself today, Tomas.’
Tomas laughed. He was a tall boy, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes. With his quick smile, he was well liked in the keep, in spite of a boyish tendency to find trouble. He was Pug’s closest friend, more brother than friend, and for that reason Pug earned some measure of acceptance from the other boys, for they all regarded Tomas as their unofficial leader.
Tomas said, ‘You were no more the fool than I. At least you didn’t forget to hang the beef sides high.’ Pug grinned. ‘Anyway, the Duke’s hounds are happy.’ He snickered, then laughed. ‘She is angry, isn’t she?’
Tomas laughed along with his friend. ‘She’s mad. Still, the dogs only ate a little before she shooed them off. Besides, she’s mostly mad at Father. She claims the Choosing’s only an excuse for all the Craftmasters to sit around smoking pipes, drinking ale, and swapping tales all day. She says they already know who will choose which boy.’
Pug said, ‘From what the other women say, she’s not alone in that opinion.’ Then he grinned at Tomas. ‘Probably not wrong, either.’
Tomas lost his smile. ‘She truly doesn’t like it when he’s not in the kitchen to oversee things. I think she knows this, which is why she tossed us out of the keep for the morning, so she wouldn’t take out her temper on us. Or at least you,’ he added with a questioning smile. ‘I swear you’re her favorite.’
Pug’s grin returned and he laughed again. ‘Well, I do cause less trouble.’
With a playful punch to the arm, Tomas said, ‘You mean you get caught less often.’
Pug pulled his sling out from within his shirt. ‘If we came back with a brace of partridge or quail, she might regain some of her good temper.’
Tomas smiled. ‘She might,’ he agreed, taking out his own sling. Both boys were excellent slingers, Tomas being undoubted champion among the boys, edging Pug by only a little. It was unlikely either could bring down a bird on the wing, but should they find one at rest, there was a fair chance they might hit it. Besides, it would give them something to do to pass the hours and perhaps for a time forget the Choosing.
With exaggerated stealth they crept along, playing the part of hunters. Tomas led the way as they left the footpath, heading for the watering pool they knew lay not too far distant. It was improbable they would spot game this time of the day unless they simply blundered across it, but if any were to be found, it most likely would be near the pool. The woods to the northeast of the town of Crydee were less forbidding than the great forest to the south. Many years of harvesting trees for lumber had given the green glades a sunlit airiness not found in the deep haunts of the southern forest. The keep boys had often played here over the years. With small imagination, the woods were transformed into a wondrous place, a green world of high adventure. Some of the greatest deeds known had taken place here. Daring escapes, dread quests, and mightily contested battles had been witnessed by the silent trees as the boys gave vent to their youthful dreams of coming manhood. Foul creatures, mighty monsters, and base outlaws had all been fought and vanquished, often accompanied by the death of a great hero, with appropriate last words to his mourning companions, all managed with just enough time left to return to the keep for supper.
Tomas reached a small rise that overlooked the pool, screened off by young beech saplings, and pulled aside some brush so they could mount a vigil. He stopped, awed, and softly said, ‘Pug, look!’ Standing at the edge of the pool was a stag, head held high as he sought the source of something that disturbed his drinking. He was an old animal, the hair around his muzzle nearly all white, and his head crowned by magnificent antlers.
Pug
