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.
Pug and Tomas exchanged startled glances, then stepped into the clearing. They walked slowly around the edge of the pool, the stag following their movements with his head, trembling slightly. Martin patted him reassuringly and he quieted. Tomas and Pug came to stand beside the hunter, and Martin said, Reach out and touch him, slowly so as not to frighten him.
Tomas reached out first, and the stag trembled beneath his fingers. Pug began to reach out, and the stag retreated a step. Martin crooned to the stag in a language Pug had never heard before, and the animal stood still. Pug touched him and marveled at the feel of his coat so like the cured hides he had touched before, yet so different for the feel of life pulsing under his fingertips.
Suddenly the stag backed off and turned. Then, with a single bounding leap, he was gone among the trees. Martin Longbow chuckled and said, Just as well. It wouldnt do to have him become too friendly with men. Those antlers would quickly end up over some poachers fireplace.
Tomas whispered, Hes beautiful, Martin.
Longbow nodded, his eyes still fastened upon the spot where the stag had vanished into the woods. That he is, Tomas.
Pug said, I thought you hunted stags, Martin. How
Martin said, Old Whitebeard and I have something of an understanding, Pug. I hunt only bachelor stags, without does, or does too old to calve. When Whitebeard loses his harem to some younger buck someday, I may take him. Now each leaves the other to his own way. The day will come when I will look at him down the shaft of an arrow. He smiled at the boys. I wont know until then if I shall let the shaft fly. Perhaps I will, perhaps not. He fell silent for a time, as if the thought of Whitebeards becoming old was saddening, then as a light breeze rustled the branches said, Now, what brings two such bold hunters into the Dukes woods in the early morning? There must be a thousand things left undone with the Midsummer festival this afternoon.
Tomas answered. My mother tossed us out of the kitchen. We were more trouble than not. With the Choosing today . . . His voice died away, and he felt suddenly embarrassed. Much of Martins mysterious reputation stemmed from when he first came to Crydee. At his time for the Choosing, he had been placed directly with the old Huntmaster by the Duke, rather than standing before the assembled Craftmasters with the other boys his age. This violation of one of the oldest traditions known had offended many people in town, though none would dare openly express such feelings to Lord Borric. As was natural, Martin became the object of their ire, rather than the Duke. Over the years Martin had more than justified Lord Borrics decision, but still most people were troubled by the Dukes special treatment of him that one day. Even after twelve years some people still regarded Martin Longbow as being different and, as such, worthy of distrust.
Tomas said, Im sorry, Martin.
Martin nodded in acknowledgment, but without humor. I understand, Tomas. I may not have had to endure your uncertainty, but I have seen many others wait for the day of Choosing. And for four years I myself have stood with the other Masters, so I know a little of your worry.
A thought struck Pug and he blurted, But youre not with the other Craftmasters.
Martin shook his head, a rueful expression playing across his even features. I had thought that, in light of your worry, you might fail to observe the obvious. But youve a sharp wit about you, Pug.
Tomas didnt understand what they were saying for a moment, then comprehension dawned. Then youll select no apprentices!
Martin raised a finger to his lips. Not a word, lad. No, with young Garret chosen last year, Ive a full company of trackers.
Tomas was disappointed. He wished more than anything to take service with Swordmaster Fannon, but should he not be chosen as a soldier, then he would prefer the life of a forester, under Martin. Now his second choice was denied him. After a moment of dark brooding, he brightened: perhaps Martin didnt choose him because Fannon already had.
Seeing his friend entering a cycle of elation and depression as he considered all the possibilities, Pug said, You havent been in the keep for nearly a month, Martin. He put away the sling he still held and asked, Where have you kept yourself?
Martin looked at Pug as the boy instantly regretted his question. As friendly as Martin could be, he was still Huntmaster, a member of the Dukes household, and keep boys did not make a habit of questioning the comings and goings of the Dukes staff.
Martin relieved Pugs embarrassment with a slight smile. Ive been to Elvandar. Queen Aglaranna has ended her twenty years of mourning the death of her husband, the Elf King. There was a great celebration.
Pug was surprised by the answer. To him, as to most people in Crydee, the elves were little more than legend. But Martin had spent his youth near the elven forests and was one of the few humans to come and go through those forests to the north at will. It was another thing that set Martin Longbow apart from others. While Martin had shared elvish lore with the boys before, this was the first time in Pugs memory he had spoken of his relationship to the elves. Pug stammered, You feasted with the Elf Queen?
Martin assumed a pose of modest inconsequence. Well, I sat at the table farthest from the throne, but yes; I was there. Seeing the unasked questions in their eyes, he continued. You know as a boy I was raised by the monks of Silbans Abbey, near the elven forest. I played with elven children, and before I came here, I hunted with Prince Calin and his cousin, Galain.
Tomas nearly jumped with excitement. Elves were a subject holding particular fascination for him. Did you know King Aidan?
Martins expression clouded, and his eyes narrowed, his manner suddenly becoming stiff. Tomas saw Martins reaction and said, Im sorry, Martin. Did I say something wrong?
Martin waved away the apology. No fault of yours, Tomas, he said, his manner softening somewhat. The elves do not use the names of those who have gone to the Blessed Isles, especially those who have died untimely. They believe to do so recalls those spoken of from their journey there, denying them their final rest. I respect their beliefs.
Well, to answer you, no, I never met him. He was killed when I was only a small boy. But I have heard the stories of his deeds, and he was a good and wise King by all accounts. Martin looked about. It approaches noon. We should return to the keep.
He began to walk toward the path, and the boys fell in beside him.
What was the feast like, Martin? asked Tomas.
Pug sighed as the hunter began to speak of the marvels of Elvandar. He was also fascinated by tales of the elves, but to nowhere near the degree Tomas was. Tomas could endure hours of tales of the people of the elven forests, regardless of the speakers credibility. At least, Pug considered, in the Huntmaster they had a dependable eye witness. Martins voice droned on, and Pugs attention wandered, as he again found himself pondering the Choosing. No matter that he told himself worry was useless: he worried. He found he was facing the approaching of this afternoon with something akin to dread.