of Krondor presented him with an award, the White Cord of Courage, which would be sewn to his tunic sleeve, marking him a man who displayed conspicuous bravery for King and Country.
Roo had sailed one of his largest ships to Novindus to bring the Kingdom soldiers home. Erik and his companions had rested and healed on the return journey. Their Captain, the enigmatic man reputed to be a half-elf, was almost completely recovered from injuries that would have killed any other man. Two old companions of his, Praji and Vaja, had died in the magical blast that had caught Calis, and half his body had been burned as if set on fire. Yet he hardly showed the slightest scar, his face and neck only marked by flesh just a little lighter in color than the rest of his sun-bronzed skin. Erik wondered if he would ever know the full truth about the man he served.
And thinking of enigmas, Erik regarded another of his companions over the last few years, the odd gambler, Nakor. He stood apart from those being honored, a half-mocking grin on his face as he watched the award ceremony. At his side stood Sho Pi, the former monk who now regarded himself as Nakor’s acolyte. They had been residing in the palace as the guests of the Duke of Krondor for the last month, Nakor showing little motivation to return to his usual occupation, fleecing the unsuspecting in card rooms across the Kingdom.
Erik let his mind wander as the Prince cited each man, and he wondered who would honor those who were left behind, particularly Bobby de Loungville, the iron-tough, unforgiving sergeant who, more than any other, had forged Erik into the soldier he had become. Erik felt a tear gather in his eye as he recalled holding Bobby in the ice cave in the mountains as his lungs filled with blood from a sword wound. Silently Erik said to himself, See, I got him out alive.
Blinking away the tear, Erik once again glanced at Calis and found the Captain watching him. With a barely perceptible nod, Calis seemed to say he knew what Erik was thinking, and was also remembering lost friends.
The ceremony dragged on, then suddenly it was over, the assembled garrison of the palace in Krondor dismissed. Knight-Marshal William, Military Commander of the Principality, motioned for Erik and the others to attend him. To Calis he said, ‘The Prince asks you all to join him in his private council room.’
Erik glanced at Roo, who shrugged. On the return voyage, the two boyhood friends had caught up with each other’s news. Erik had been half-amused, half-astonished to discover that his best friend had, in less than two years, contrived to become one of Krondor’s preeminent merchants and one of the Kingdom’s richest men. But as he saw the ship’s master and crew snap to every order Roo gave, he realized that Rupert Avery, barely more than a common thief as a child, and hardly more than a boy now, truly owned that ship.
Erik had told Roo of what he and the others had discovered, and he needed no embellishment to convey the horror and disgust he felt at fighting through the Pantathian birthing halls. Of those who had not traveled to Novindus with Calis on his most recent journey, Roo, Nakor, and Sho Pi had been there previously, and knew what the others faced. Slowly, over the voyage, Erik had provided enough grisly details about the slaughter of Pantathian females and infants, as well as about the mysterious ‘third player’ who had accomplished more carnage than Calis’s raiders ever could have done. Unless there were birthing crèches located elsewhere – and it seemed unlikely – the only living Pantathians were those close to the Emerald Queen. If they were finally defeated in the coming battle, the Pantathian serpent priests would cease to exist, a fate most fervently hoped for by the two boyhood friends from Darkmoor.
Roo and Erik had parted almost as soon as the ship had berthed, as Roo had businesses to oversee. Two days later, Erik had left on maneuvers, evaluating the training Jadow Shati had inflicted upon the men in training while Calis had been gone. Erik was pleased that the new men under his command for the last week were as disciplined and reliable as those he had trained with when he had been a common soldier.
Entering the palace, Erik was again uncomfortable at finding himself in the halls of power and in the presence of the great of the Kingdom. He had served for a year in Krondor before leaving with Calis on the last voyage, but had confined himself to the training grounds most of the time. He came to the palace proper only when summoned or to borrow a book on tactics or some other aspect of warcraft from Knight-Marshal William. He was never comfortable with the supreme commander of the King’s Armies of the West, but he finally grew used to spending hours over ale or wine discussing what he had read and how it would bear on the armies he was helping to fashion. But, given a choice, Erik would rather be in the drilling yard, working with the armorers around the forge, or tending to the horses, or most of all, out in the field, where life was too demanding to think much about the larger consequences of the coming war.
In the Prince’s private chamber – actually, Erik thought, a small hall – other men waited, including Lord James, Duke of Krondor, and Jadow Shati, the other sergeant in Calis’s company. Erik expected Jadow would be promoted to Sergeant Major to replace Bobby. Upon the table a lavish board of cheeses, meats, fruit, bread, and vegetables had been laid out. Ale, wine, and frosted pitchers of fruit juices were also waiting.
‘Set to,’ said the Prince of Krondor, removing his ceremonial crown and mantle and handing them to waiting pages. Calis picked up an apple and bit into it while others moved around the table.
Erik motioned to Roo, who came over to him.
‘How did you find things at home?’ Erik asked.
Roo said, ‘The children are … amazing. They’ve grown so much in the months I was gone I scarcely recognize them.’ His face creased in a thoughtful expression. ‘My business endured my absence well enough, though not as well as I expected. Jacob Esterbrook had the better of me three times while I was gone. One transaction cost me a small fortune.’
‘I thought you and he were friends,’ said Erik, taking a bite of bread and cheese.
‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Roo. He had thought better of mentioning his relationship to Sylvia Esterbrook, Jacob’s daughter, given that Erik tended to have a narrow view of family and vows of faithfulness. ‘“Friendly competitors” would be a more accurate description. He has a stranglehold on trade to Kesh and seems reluctant to relinquish even a small part of it.’
Calis came up to them and said, ‘Roo, will you excuse us a moment?’
Rupert nodded, said, ‘Of course, Captain,’ and walked over to the table to take advantage of the fare.
Calis waited until they were out of earshot before he asked, ‘Erik, has Marshal William had a chance to talk to you today?’
Erik shook his head. ‘No, Captain. I was busy getting back into the rhythm of things with Jadow … now that Bobby’s no longer here …’ He shrugged.
‘I understand.’ Calis turned and motioned for the Knight-Marshal, who joined them. Calis looked at Erik. ‘You’ve got a choice.’
William, a short, slender man whom Erik knew to be one of the best riders and swordsmen in the Kingdom despite his advancing age, said, ‘Calis and I have talked about you, youngster. With things … as they are, we have more opportunities than we have men with talent.’
Erik knew what William had meant by ‘things as they are,’ for he knew that a terrible army was massing across the sea and would be invading in less than two years’ time. ‘Choice?’
‘I’d like to offer you a staff position,’ said William. ‘You’d hold the rank of Knight-Lieutenant in the Prince’s army, and I’d put you in charge of the Krondorian Heavy Lance. Your skill with horses – well, I can’t think of a better man for the job.’
Erik glanced
