wizard, like you? ”
“ I am not wise enough, myself, to be your teacher, ” Eben said firmly. “ It would be foolish of me to try, and dangerous for you. Yet there is one who could. ”
Lottres became aware that his mouth was open. He closed it, and swallowed. “ You mean, Lady Yriatt? ”
Eben nodded. “ I have already spoken of this to Unferth, but in truth the choice is yours. Do not decide too soon, ” he cautioned. “ Do not choose what is new, only because of the novelty. It is lonely, also, to be set apart from other men. ”
Lottres scarcely heard Eben speaking. He was so excited, he found it hard to breathe. Lottres almost expected to wake up and find he had dreamt it all, down to the stinging cut on his neck.
“ If you wish, ” Eben was saying, “ I can demonstrate the first exercise, which will begin to train your mind for the rigors ahead. You may practice on your journey, as time allows. Mistress Yriatt would then have a basis for judgment when you arrive. ”
“ That sounds logical, ” Lottres agreed. In his heart he was begging, “ Oh, show me. Yes, please, show me. ”
THE KING'S CONSPIRACY
Brastigan lay on his bed, hands clasped behind his head, and stared at the ceiling while daylight faded from the window. Out in the hallway, muffled footsteps approached his door. Lottres? After a lengthy pause, they moved on.
Fine, thought Brastigan. He wanted to be alone anyway. He liked it here, in his familiar room, where he could brood—not sulk!—without anyone commenting. It seemed to him he had reason enough. The whole situation was ridiculous, unfair. Anyone would brood. Anyone.
When the chamber was almost completely dark, Brastigan took a candle out into the corridor and lit it from a wall lamp. By that light he shoved some clothes into a canvas bag and gave his armor a careful inspection. The hauberk was of stout chain mail, worn over a gambeson of thick, padded cloth. Unlike Habrok, Brastigan didn't rate a pair of steel plates to cover his chest and back. He did have vambraces for his arms, and demi-greaves for his legs. Brastigan flexed the joints dispiritedly, making sure they didn'tt stick or squeak.
It was all in good order, not that he got to use it much. Crutham was at peace, and there were at least ten princes champing at the bit whenever a bandit got too bold for his own good. Brastigan laid the whole harness out on his bed. It was one of the few real expenditures Unferth had devoted to him, but it was no more than any of his brothers had, and far less than some, like Habrok and Oskar. Even Victory had come to Brastigan by other hands. He had chosen it from the armory because it had once belonged to Unferth. Such things had mattered when he was a young lad.
Finally he'd have the chance to ride out again. That should have pleased him, bored as he was with court life, but the circumstances chafed worse than leather straps on bare skin. For the honor of Crutham? They were being kicked out, that was all. Everyone, from Eben to Pikarus, was in on it. That was hard to stomach.
Brastigan straightened, frowning to himself. What if..? No. Eben couldn't be involved in the murder attempt. He had been too happy to receive the dagger. That was a separate problem, and the king's wizard was still the best one to find out who was behind it. At least, he'd better hope so. Brastigan had left the weapon with Eben, and there was little chance he'd get it back soon.
A rap came at the outside door, which opened before Brastigan even had a chance to respond. “ Your highness? ” called a familiar soft voice.
Appetizing odors of roast meat and vegetables reached him even as he strode, scowling, into the main chamber. There was Margura with a tray of food. The shapely blonde dipped a curtsey at his approach.
She adopted a soothing tone on seeing his frown. “ I heard what happened. When I saw you weren't at dinner, I thought I'd bring you something privately. ” She