Prince of the Blood. Raymond E. Feist

as he said, ‘I do.’

      With a wave, Marias motioned for Locklear to hand James a golden ring. ‘Put that upon your bride’s hand.’ James did as he was asked, placing the ring upon the ring finger of Gamina’s left hand.

      ‘Gamina, this man seeks to spend his life with you. Do you take him to you as mate and husband, without reservation and knowing that he is now one with you, holding him to you, and putting away any other, from now until death?’

      Gamina smiled and answered, ‘I do.’

      Marias instructed Gamina to place a ring upon James’s hand, and she did so.

      ‘In as much as James and Gamina have agreed to live as one, in the sight of gods and men, we do hereby bear witness.’

      The assembled company of guests repeated, ‘So do we bear witness.’

      With a grin, the ruddy-cheeked priest said. ‘Well, that’s it, then. You’re married.’

      James glanced around. ‘That’s all?’

      Marias laughed. ‘We keep it simple in the country, my lord. Now, kiss your wife, and let’s get on with the feast.’

      James laughed, grabbed Gamina, and kissed her. The crowd cheered and hats were thrown in the air.

      At the edge of the crowd two men did not cheer as they observed the celebration. An angular, thin man with three days’ growth of unshaven beard, took the other by the elbow and led him a discreet distance away. Both were wearing clothing best described as ragged and torn, and both would have warranted a wide berth from anyone with an acute sense of smell. Glancing around to see they were not overheard, the first man said, ‘Earl James of Krondor. Baron Locklear. That means those two red-haired fighting lads are Arutha’s sons.’

      The second man, stout and short, yet powerful in the shoulders, was obviously impressed at his companion’s keen observation. His cherubic face appeared almost innocent as he said, ‘Don’t see many Princes in these parts, ’s true, Lafe.’

      ‘You’re a fool, Reese,’ answered the other in a gravelly voice. ‘There are those who would pay well to know this. Get to the Inn of the Twelve Chairs at the desert’s edge, they are almost certain to ride that route. You know who to ask for. Tell our Keshian friends that the Princes of Krondor and their company ride from Stardock, and travel not in state, but in stealth. Their numbers are small. And wait there for me at the inn. And don’t drink up all the money he’ll give you or I’ll cut your liver out!’

      Reese looked at his companion as if such duplicity was unthinkable.

      Lafe continued, ‘I’ll follow after them that’s here and if they change route, I’ll send word. They’re surely carrying gold and gifts to the Empress for her birthday. With no more than twenty men at arms, we can be rich for life once the bandits cut their throats and give us our share.’

      Glancing around the deserted shore, the man named Reese said, ‘How can I get there, Lafe? The ferryman’s at the wedding.’

      Hissing through teeth black with decay, the taller man said, ‘Steal a boat, stupid.’

      A glimmer of delight at the obvious answer shone in Reese’s eyes. ‘Good. I’ll get some food, then—’

      ‘You’ll go now!’ ordered his companion, pushing him off to an uneasy trot toward the shore and the unguarded boats. ‘You can steal something in the town. With everyone dining here, that should be easy enough. But a few still linger, so be cautious.’ Reese turned and waved then scampered along the shore, looking for a boat small enough to manage alone.

      Snorting in derision, the man called Lafe turned back toward the feasting. His hunger told him that Reese’s suggestion wasn’t all that bad, but his avarice made him alert to the every move of the wedding party.

      The two Princes sat quietly at the dinner table, oblivious to the joy of the newlyweds. Each was intent on their own impatience to be on their way. James had been uncommunicative about when they were leaving, though Locklear had mentioned their stay wouldn’t be extended too long, despite the unexpected events of the last two days.

      If the twins had been surprised by their mentor’s sudden encounter with love, they were equally unsurprised by the hasty permission from their father and the quick wedding. Little in their lives had allowed them to take anything for granted.

      The twins lived in a world of the unexpected, where the tranquillity of the moment could be shattered at any time by disaster. Warfare, natural cataclysm, famine, and disease were constant threats, and they lived most of their young lives in the heart of the palace where they had observed their father dealing with such problems on a daily basis. From the most important border clash with Kesh to deciding if one guild or another had jurisdiction over a new trade, their father had dealt with problem after problem.

      But as they had when watching their father, their present mood didn’t reflect the excitement of the moment. Rather they were bored.

      Borric drank deep of a simple ale and said, ‘Is this the best they have?’

      Erland nodded. ‘I expect so. From what I can see, ale isn’t a major concern around here. Let us see if there’s something better in the village.’ The brothers stood up from the bench, bowed slightly at the Baron and his new Baroness, who nodded briefly in return at the Princes leaving the table of honour.