He turned and marched away, his back as straight as a poll arm.
Nicholas said, ‘He is going to cause trouble.’
‘You’re the one who’s already caused trouble,’ answered Harry.
‘She doesn’t love him,’ said Nicholas.
‘Oh, she told you this?’ asked Harry.
‘Not in so many words, but –’
‘Tell me on the way to our rooms. We’ve got to be ready for tomorrow.’
As they walked, Nicholas said, ‘She doesn’t want to stay here with Marcus, that’s certain.’
Harry nodded. ‘So you think you’ll take her back to Krondor?’
‘Why not?’ said Nicholas with an edge of anger in his tone.
‘You know why,’ answered Harry. ‘Because you’re going to marry some Princess from the court of Roldem, or a Duke’s daughter, or a Princess of Kesh.’
With anger in his voice, and the memory of Abigail’s kiss still fresh in his thoughts, he said, ‘What if I don’t want to?’
Sighing, Harry said, ‘What if your King commands you to?’
Nicholas’s jaws tightened, but he said nothing. He ached with frustration, the frustration of the interrupted embrace and the frustration of wanting to plant his fist in Marcus’s face. At last he asked, ‘What did Margaret do that got you so flustered?’
Harry blushed again. ‘She’s … amazing.’ He drew a deep breath and blew it out theatrically. ‘She started by asking me how the men in Krondor kiss, then asked me to show her. One thing led to another.’ He stopped as if catching his wind. With red cheeks, he said, ‘She got very bold, and …’ He paused, then blurted, ‘Nicholas, she asked me if I’d ever been with a woman!’
‘She didn’t!’ exclaimed Nicky, half laughing, half groaning.
‘She did! Then …’
‘What?’
‘Then she asked me what it was like!’
‘She didn’t!’
‘Will you stop saying that. She did.’
‘So what did you say?’
‘I told her what it was like.’
‘And?’
‘She laughed at me! Then she said, ‘When you know what you’re talking about, Squire, come let me know. I’m curious.’ Then she went back to kissing me, and moving around against me so I thought I was going to burst! Then Abigail came running over and said Marcus was coming, and they hurried off.’
‘Amazing,’ observed Nicholas, his anger and frustration vanishing before his astonishment at his unusual cousin Margaret.
‘She’s that,’ Harry said.
‘You still think you’re in love?’ Nicholas asked jokingly.
‘My stomach hurts worse than ever, but …’
‘What?’
‘Your cousin Margaret is really scary.’
Nicholas laughed and bade Harry good night. As he returned to his own quarters, he lapsed into a memory of soft lips, warm perfume, and the most incredible eyes he had ever beheld. His body warmed at the memory. And his stomach hurt like mad.
MARTIN SIGNALED.
The party halted as he turned and said, ‘All of you wait here a bit. There’s something ahead.’
The two boys were glad of the halt. They were footsore and tired. They had left the boundary of Crydee town at dawn. Martin had been teaching the two city boys something of wood lore, so they were moving on foot the entire way. Their destination was another day’s walk away, the banks of the river Crydee. They waited with Nakor and Ghuda while Martin and Marcus moved into the woods, vanishing silently. ‘How do they do that?’ asked Nicholas.
Huntmaster Garret said, ‘Your uncle was raised by the elves as much as by the monks at Silban’s Abbey who found him, and he’s taught Marcus and myself everything we know.’ Nicholas had met the Duke’s Huntmaster Garret for the first time the night before.
Nakor waved absently at the woodlands and said, ‘We’re being watched.’
Ghuda, his hand resting absently on his sword, said, ‘For about half an hour.’
Neither sounded concerned. Nicholas glanced around, while Harry said, ‘I don’t see anything.’
‘You have to know where to look,’ said a voice from their left.
A young man emerged from the woodlands, his movements as stealthy as Martin’s and Marcus’s. ‘And it’s been closer to an hour,’ he added. He was dressed in leather tunic and trousers dyed deep green. His hair was blond, but rather than the pale straw color of Anthony’s, it was nearly sun-golden. It hung to shoulder-length, but was cut at the sides, revealing lobeless but otherwise normal ears. His eyes were blue, but almost too pale, and his movement hinted at tremendous power, despite his slight frame.
Then with a grin that made him look years younger he said, ‘This is a game with Martin and us.’
‘Us?’ asked Nicholas.
The boy signaled and another three figures emerged from the woodlands, and Nicholas said, ‘Elves!’
The young human said, ‘I am Calis.’
The three elves stood silently nearby, then one turned suddenly as Martin and the others appeared. With a half-smile, Marcus said, ‘You didn’t think we were fooled by that false trail, did you?’
Martin made what looked to be slight gestures to the elves, who nodded slightly, or raised an eyebrow. Garret whispered to Nicholas and the others, ‘They have a subtle speech with few words when they want.’
Then Martin spoke aloud. ‘This is Nicholas, son of my brother, Arutha, and his companions, Harry of Ludland, Nakor the Isalani, and Ghuda Bulé from Kesh.’
Calis bowed and said, ‘Greetings. Are you bound for Elvandar?’
Martin shook his head. ‘No. Garret returned to the castle yesterday, carrying news that you were south of the river, so I thought it a good excuse to have you meet my nephew while we hunted. Perhaps in the future I’ll bring Nicholas to your court.’
‘And me,’ said Nakor.
Calis smiled and scratched his temple, his hand brushing back his long hair. Nicholas was surprised that Calis looked and sounded entirely human.
Martin frowned slightly, but Nakor said, ‘I have never talked to a Spellweaver before and would like to.’
Calis and Martin exchanged glances, but it was Nakor who continued to speak. ‘Yes, I know about your Spell-weavers, and no, I am not a magician.’
The three stood seemingly motionless for a moment, then Calis grinned. ‘How do you know so much?’
Nakor shrugged and said, ‘I pay attention when other people are babbling. You can learn a lot when you shut up.’ Reaching into his ever present bag, he said, ‘Want an orange?’
Producing four pieces of fruit, he tossed them to Calis and the elves. Calis bit into the fruit and tore away a bit of peel, then sucked the juice. ‘I haven’t had an orange since the last time I visited Crydee.’
The