Meecham said in a noncommittal tone, A good man, the Duke.
Pug had heard the story of his origin a hundred times before from Magya in the kitchen of the castle. He felt completely wrung out and could barely keep his eyes open. Kulgan noticed and signaled Meecham. The tall franklin took some blankets from a shelf and prepared a sleeping pallet. By the time he finished, Pug had fallen asleep with his head on the table. The large mans hands lifted him gently from the stool and placed him on the blankets, then covered him.
Fantus opened his eyes and regarded the sleeping boy. With a wolfish yawn, he scrambled over next to Pug and snuggled in close. Pug shifted his weight in his sleep and draped one arm over the drakes neck. The firedrake gave an approving rumble, deep in his throat, and closed his eyes again.
CHAPTER TWO
Apprentice
THE FOREST WAS QUIET.
The slight afternoon breeze stirred the tall oaks and cut the days heat, while rustling the leaves only slightly. Birds who would raise a raucous chorus at sunrise and sundown were mostly quiet at this time of morning. The faint tang of sea salt mixed with the sweet smell of flowers and pungency of decaying leaves.
Pug and Tomas walked slowly along the path, with the aimless weaving steps of boys who have no particular place to go and ample time to get there. Pug shied a small rock at an imagined target, then turned to look at his companion. You dont think your mother was mad, do you? he asked.
Tomas smiled. No, she understands how things are. Shes seen other boys the day of Choosing. And truthfully, we were more of hindrance than a help in the kitchen today.
Pug nodded. He had spilled a precious pot of honey as he carried it to Alfan, the pastrycook. Then he had dumped an entire tray of fresh bread loaves as he took them from the oven. I made something of a fool of myself today, Tomas.
Tomas laughed. He was a tall boy, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes. With his quick smile, he was well liked in the keep, in spite of a boyish tendency to find trouble. He was Pugs closest friend, more brother than friend, and for that reason Pug earned some measure of acceptance from the other boys, for they all regarded Tomas as their unofficial leader.
Tomas said, You were no more the fool than I. At least you didnt forget to hang the beef sides high. Pug grinned. Anyway, the Dukes hounds are happy. He snickered, then laughed. She is angry, isnt she?
Tomas laughed along with his friend. Shes mad. Still, the dogs only ate a little before she shooed them off. Besides, shes mostly mad at Father. She claims the Choosings only an excuse for all the Craftmasters to sit around smoking pipes, drinking ale, and swapping tales all day. She says they already know who will choose which boy.
Pug said, From what the other women say, shes not alone in that opinion. Then he grinned at Tomas. Probably not wrong, either.
Tomas lost his smile. She truly doesnt like it when hes not in the kitchen to oversee things. I think she knows this, which is why she tossed us out of the keep for the morning, so she wouldnt take out her temper on us. Or at least you, he added with a questioning smile. I swear youre her favorite.
Pugs grin returned and he laughed again. Well, I do cause less trouble.
With a playful punch to the arm, Tomas said, You mean you get caught less often.
Pug pulled his sling out from within his shirt. If we came back with a brace of partridge or quail, she might regain some of her good temper.
Tomas smiled. She might, he agreed, taking out his own sling. Both boys were excellent slingers, Tomas being undoubted champion among the boys, edging Pug by only a little. It was unlikely either could bring down a bird on the wing, but should they find one at rest, there was a fair chance they might hit it. Besides, it would give them something to do to pass the hours and perhaps for a time forget the Choosing.
With exaggerated stealth they crept along, playing the part of hunters. Tomas led the way as they left the footpath, heading for the watering pool they knew lay not too far distant. It was improbable they would spot game this time of the day unless they simply blundered across it, but if any were to be found, it most likely would be near the pool. The woods to the northeast of the town of Crydee were less forbidding than the great forest to the south. Many years of harvesting trees for lumber had given the green glades a sunlit airiness not found in the deep haunts of the southern forest. The keep boys had often played here over the years. With small imagination, the woods were transformed into a wondrous place, a green world of high adventure. Some of the greatest deeds known had taken place here. Daring escapes, dread quests, and mightily contested battles had been witnessed by the silent trees as the boys gave vent to their youthful dreams of coming manhood. Foul creatures, mighty monsters, and base outlaws had all been fought and vanquished, often accompanied by the death of a great hero, with appropriate last words to his mourning companions, all managed with just enough time left to return to the keep for supper.
Tomas reached a small rise that overlooked the pool, screened off by young beech saplings, and pulled aside some brush so they could mount a vigil. He stopped, awed, and softly said, Pug, look! Standing at the edge of the pool was a stag, head held high as he sought the source of something that disturbed his drinking. He was an old animal, the hair around his muzzle nearly all white, and his head crowned by magnificent antlers.
Pug counted quickly. He has fourteen points.
Tomas nodded agreement. He must be the oldest buck in the forest. The stag turned his attention in the boys direction, flicking an ear nervously. They froze, not wishing to frighten off such a beautiful creature. For a long, silent minute the stag studied the rise, nostrils flaring, then slowly lowered his head to the pool and drank.
Tomas gripped Pugs shoulder and inclined his head to one side. Pug followed Tomass motion and saw a figure walking silently into the clearing. He was a tall man dressed in leather clothing, dyed forest green. Across his back hung a longbow and at his belt a hunters knife. His green cloaks hood was thrown back, and he walked toward the stag with a steady, even step. Tomas said, Its Martin.
Pug also recognized the Dukes Huntmaster. An orphan like Pug, Martin had come to be known as Longbow by those in the castle, as he had few equals with that weapon. Something of a mystery, Martin Longbow was still well liked by the boys, for while he was aloof with the adults in the castle, he was always friendly and accessible to the boys. As Huntmaster, he was also the Dukes Forester. His duties absented him from the castle for days, even weeks at a time, as he kept his trackers busy looking for signs of poaching, possible fire dangers, migrating goblins, or outlaws camping in the woods. But when he was in the castle, and not organizing a hunt for the Duke, he always had time for the boys. His dark eyes were always merry when they pestered him with questions of woodlore or for tales of the lands near the boundaries of Crydee. He seemed to possess unending patience, which set him apart from most of the Craftmasters in the town and keep.
Martin came up to the stag, gently reached out, and touched his neck. The great head swung up, and the stag nuzzled Martins arm. Softly Martin said, If you walk out slowly, without speaking, he might let you approach.