– he jerked a thumb at Nakor – ‘insisted.’ His speech was accented, and he spoke slowly.
Arutha said, ‘That’s all right.’
Nakor at last turned his attention to Arutha and studied him a moment before he said, ‘Your son Borric doesn’t look like you.’
Arutha’s eyes widened in amazement at the direct statement and lack of an honorific, but he nodded. Then the Isalani regarded the Princess and he again grinned, a wide slash of crooked teeth that made him look even more comical than before. He said, ‘You are his mother, though. He looks like you. You are very pretty, Princess.’
Anita laughed, and glanced at her husband, then said, ‘Thank you, sir.’
With a wave of his hand, he said, ‘Call me Nakor. I was once Nakor the Blue Rider, but my horse died.’ He glanced around the room, fixing his gaze on Nicholas. His face lost its grin as he studied the boy. He stared at Nicholas to the point of awkwardness, then grinned again. ‘This one looks like you!’
Arutha was at a loss for words, but at last managed to say, ‘May I ask what brings you here? You are welcome, for you did a great service to my son and the Kingdom, but … it’s been nine years.’
Ghuda said, ‘I wish I could tell you, Sire. I’ve been traveling with this lunatic for over a month, and the best I can get from him is that we need to come here and see you, then leave on another journey.’ Nakor was off in his own world again, seemingly entranced by the glitter of the chandeliers and the dancing lights reflecting off the large glass window behind the Prince’s chair. Ghuda endured another moment of painful silence, and said, ‘I’m sorry, Highness. We never should have bothered you.’
Arutha could see the old fighter’s obvious discomfort. ‘No, it’s I who am sorry.’ Noticing the ragged, dirty attire, he added, ‘Please. You must rest. I’ll have rooms made ready, and you may bathe and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll have fresh clothing provided. Then, in the morning, maybe I can aid you in whatever mission you find yourself upon.’
Ghuda gave an awkward salute, not quite sure of the response; then Arutha said, ‘Have you eaten?’ Ghuda glanced at the heavily laden table and Arutha said, ‘Sit down, over there.’ He motioned for them to take the chairs next to Knight-Marshal William.
Nakor snapped out of his reverie at the mention of food and unceremoniously hurried to the indicated chair. He waited until the servants had his place set with food and wine, and fell to like a man starved.
Ghuda attempted to display as many manners as possible, but it was clear he was uncomfortable in the presence of royalty. Amos said something in a strange language, and the Isalani laughed. In the King’s Tongue he said, ‘Your accent is terrible. But the joke is funny.’
Amos laughed in turn. He said to the others, ‘I thought I spoke the language of Isalan pretty well.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s been near thirty years since I was last in Shing Lai; I guess I’ve lost the knack,’ and turned his attention back to the Princess of Krondor’s mother.
Arutha sat down. He became lost in his own thoughts. Something about the appearance of these two, the old tired fighter and the comic character his sons had told him of, brought him a feeling of discomfort, as if the room were suddenly colder. A premonition? He tried to shrug it off, but could not. He motioned for the servants to remove his plate, for he had lost his appetite.
After dinner, Arutha walked along the balcony that overlooked the harbor. Behind closed doors, servants bustled readying the rooms of the royal family’s apartments. Amos Trask left the building and came to where Arutha stood staring out at the lights near the harbor.
‘You asked to see me, Arutha?’
Arutha turned and said, ‘Yes. I need your advice.’
‘Ask.’
‘What’s wrong with Nicholas?’
Amos’s expression showed he didn’t understand the question. ‘I don’t take your meaning.’
‘He’s not like other boys his age.’
‘The foot?’
‘I don’t think so. There’s something in him …’
‘That’s cautious,’ finished Amos.
‘Yes. It’s why I’m disinclined to really punish him and Harry for their prank today. It’s one of the few times I’ve ever seen or heard of Nicholas taking a risk.’
Amos signed as he leaned upon the low wall. ‘I haven’t given this a lot of thought, Arutha. Nicky’s a good enough lad – not full of pranks and troublemaking as his brothers were.’
‘Borric and Erland were such a pair of rogues that I welcomed Nicholas’s reserve. But now it’s become indecision and overcautiousness. And that is dangerous in a ruler.’
Amos said, ‘You and I have been through a lot, Arutha. I’ve known you – what, twenty-five years? You worry the most about those you love. Nicky’s a good lad, and he’ll be a good man.’
‘I don’t know,’ came the surprising answer. ‘I know he hasn’t a mean or petty bone in him, but one can err on the side of caution as well as rashness, and Nicholas is always cautious. He’s going to be important to us.’
‘Another marriage?’
Arutha nodded. ‘This goes no further than here, Amos. The Emperor Diiagái has let it be known that closer ties to the Kingdom are now a possibility. Borric’s marriage to the Princess Yasmine was a step in that direction, but the desert people are a tributary race in Kesh. Diiagái thinks it time for a marriage to a Princess of the true blood.’
Amos shook his head. ‘State marriages are nasty business.’
Arutha said, ‘Kesh has always been the biggest threat to the Kingdom – except for the Riftwar – and we need to treat with her gently. If the Emperor of Kesh has a niece or cousin of the true blood he wishes to marry to the brother of the future King of the Isles, we had better be very secure in our borders before we say no.’
‘Nicky’s not the only candidate, is he?’
‘No, there’s Carline’s two sons, but Nicholas might be the best – if I thought he was able.’
Amos was silent awhile. ‘He’s still young.’
Arutha nodded. ‘Younger than his years. I blame myself—’
‘You always do,’ interrupted Amos, with a barking laugh.
‘—for being too protective. The deformed foot … his gentle nature …’
Amos nodded and again fell silent. Then he said, ‘So season him.’
Arutha said, ‘How? Send him to the Border Lords as I did his brothers?’
‘That’s a little too much seasoning, I think,’ said Amos, stroking his beard. ‘No, I was thinking you might do well to send him to Martin’s court for a while.’
Arutha said nothing, but from his expression Amos could tell the idea had struck
