“But what is it like there? Is it true that you get to the Sanctuary by climbing up a rainbow? And that you eat clouds and drink butterfly milk? What have you been doing all the time you have been away?”
Martin said quickly: “He cannot tell us about it. It is forbidden for him to tell or for us to listen.”
In this same place Edmund had asked Martin, newly made an Acolyte, about the secrets he had learned and I, on his behalf, had said much the same as he was saying now. I had not guessed what secrets there might be, nor how soon I would be made privy to them. I wondered how much Martin himself knew; even with him I dared not speak freely of what I had seen.
I said: “It is all dull stuff, anyway. Tell me what has been happening here in Winchester since I’ve been gone.”
They told me the news: how such a one had broken a leg in a fall out hunting, how another had perpetrated an elaborate jest against Blaine’s son Henry and got into trouble when Blaine himself was tricked by it, how one of the Dwarf Coiners of the Prince’s Mint had been found to have debased the gold but had fled before he could be punished. Who had been promoted, who fallen from favor. Who won the toboggan race which was held yearly in the High Street after the first snow. I listened with an interest whetted by the months of confinement to the duller conversation of the High Seers. Martin said:
“But the really interesting thing happened only two days ago, when the peddler came.”
“The peddler?” I asked.
Edmund said: “He has goods to sell, but you could as well call him liar as peddler. He says he has come across the Burning Lands, from some city far to the north.”
I nodded. “I have heard tell of him. You think he lies?”
“What else? No man can cross the Burning Lands. Peddlers always have tall tales. They are for the women, to catch their interest so that afterward they can sell them trinkets at fancy prices. It is just that this one has a taller tale than most.”
“He wears strange clothes,” Martin said.
“Which he claims is the garb of his native land. I could devise something of the sort myself. With a pouch just above the waist, perhaps, for keeping rain off my head when I was carrying it under my arm!”
The men with their heads beneath their arms who would come from beyond the Burning Lands was one of the fantasies with which polymuf maids sometimes frightened naughty children. Edmund and I laughed, but Martin said:
“It is not only his clothes that are different. The things he sells are, also. I looked at a necklace which my cousin bought. The workmanship was not like any I have seen.”
“There are always new fashions in necklaces,” Edmund said. “It means nothing.”
“But if the fires of the Burning Lands are dying down, and one could cross them . . .”
“One would find savages and polybeasts. What else?”
“Perhaps another city, as he says.”
“In any case, who cares?” Edmund said. “There is enough to concern us in this city.” He turned to me, dismissing the other topic. “Luke, I am glad to see you again. But are you safe?”
“I think so. And the High Seers would not have sent me here unless they thought the same.”
“The Spirits named you, not Peter, Prince in Waiting. And promised you glory. This is something that will be remembered, and for some the memory of it will be a stink in their nostrils.”
“I trust my brother. And his honor is pledged.”
And his will, I thought, under the bidding of his Lady’s conscience; but I did not say that. Edmund said:
“Do you know the story of Donald the Red?”
“No.”
“I had it from a polymuf maid, an old woman who had been in the palace in my grandfather’s day.” At a time, I did not need reminding, when my grandfather was a humble carpenter with a strong son eager to exchange the adz for the sword. “He was a Captain who fought well in the campaigns and was popular with the other Captains. For two years, while our army did badly he himself scored great successes. There was talk of a plot to make him Prince, and other talk of accusing him of treason before the plot could succeed. My grandfather would have none of that, despite the urgings of his friends. But in the next campaign Red Donald was killed and it was said his wound was in the back. It was not my grandfather’s doing, but the man died. Your brother might have friends of a similar mind.”
This was true, and true that Ann’s Christian conscience could not hold her husband guilty of a murder planned by others, a deed of which he knew nothing. I was, of course, under the special protection of the Seers; but so had my father been and it had not saved him. I said, smiling:
“Thank you for the warning! But I do not think I am in any danger.”
“All the same,” Edmund said, “if I were you I should keep my back well guarded.”
• • •
The banquet was held in the Great Hall. I sat at the right hand of the Prince and as guest of honor drank with him from the great gold pot which had been our father’s, and Prince Stephen’s and Prince Egbert’s before that. No women were present, of course. The Captains sat above the first salt, other dignitaries between the first and second, and lesser guests below. I saw my old friend, Rudi the Armorer Dwarf, and catching my eye from that distance he raised his pot to me in greeting.
After the last of the meats were cleared and before the sweets were brought it fell to me to give the Prince’s toast. I stood and the company with me. I lifted the golden pot and gave the health of the Prince of Winchester. The cry echoed down the table, and we drank.
My brother rose as I took my seat. He said:
“I would have you drink again. This time to Luke, my brother.”
Afterward he remained standing. He said:
“And I have news for you and him. Tonight I make him Captain.” His raised hand quelled the murmur of surprise and applause. “He is young for the rank but already capable, and promises better. And there is something else that I would say.”
I looked at him standing by me. Although I was still growing I knew I would never match his height, which was two inches over six feet. He had my father’s fair hair and breadth of face and chest. The brooding expression which once had marred his features had gone, replaced by an easy smiling confidence. He was a true Prince. I wished I could feel more glad of that.
“You do not need reminding,” he went on, “of certain things that have been between us, and I do not wish to dwell on them. But one is better spoken of than left hidden. There was a Seance, after my father’s acclamation as Prince, in which this brother of mine was named Prince in Waiting and promised a great and glorious future. Yet I am Prince of Winchester, though named by no Spirit, and he is not.”
He paused and they were silent, waiting on his words. My brother looked down at Ezzard, who sat next to him on the other side.
“As the Seer himself will tell you, the prophecies of the Spirits are not always what they seem. Luke may still have a destiny of triumph, in another city, perhaps even another land. In this city I rule, and will do so. But I say this to you: after my Lady, my brother is the most precious to me of all. I pledge myself, by my honor as Prince, by the Great Spirit, and by any other god that may be, to protect and care for him. I say this also: if harm should come to him I will hunt down the man who does it and kill him with my own hands.”
There was a moment’s silence before they started cheering and banging their pots. He stood there smiling. When at last the noise died down, he said:
“There will be no dissension between us brothers. By his return Luke declares this also, and renounces the claims that others made for him. So I ask him now to seal the contract as I have done. I ask him, by the Great Spirit, to pledge allegiance to me and to my heirs.”