Free Shadow of a Dark Queen by Raymond E. Feist Page B

Ravensburg this day?”
    The usually serious Swordmaster’s face returned to its usual dour expression. “You, Erik. Your father rides to Krondor on state business. He’ll be here this evening. I came early to see if . . .”
    â€œIf I could prevail upon my mother to let him alone?”
    Greylock nodded. “He’s not well, Erik. He shouldn’t be making the journey and . . .”
    â€œI’ll do what I can.” He knew promising was vain should his mother take it into her head to repeat her performance of the last time Otto came through the town. “She may have finally gotten over making me the next Baron.”
    Greylock made a sour face. “I would be out of place to comment on that.” Then he softened his expression. “Trust me on this. If you can, stand by the corner of the town road where the sheep meadow ends and the first vineyard begins, on the east side ofthe town, before sunset.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI can’t say, but it’s important.”
    â€œIf my father is so ill, Owen, what cause has he to ride to Krondor?”
    Greylock mounted his horse. “Ill news, I’m afraid. The Prince is dead. It will be announced to the populace by royal messenger later this week.”
    Erik said, “Arutha is dead?”
    Greylock nodded. “He fell and broke his hip, I’ve been told, and died of complications. He was an aging man, nearly eighty if I have it right.”
    Prince Arutha had been a fixture in Krondor all of Erik’s life and his mother’s before him. Father to the King, Borric, who had succeeded Arutha’s brother Lyam only five years earlier, he had been the man most responsible for peace in the Kingdom, by all accounts.
    To Erik he was a distant figure; certainly, Erik had never seen the Prince, but he felt a small stab of regret. By anyone’s measure he was a good ruler and a hero in his youth. As Greylock turned the mare around, Erik said, “Tell my father I will stand where he asked.”
    Greylock saluted and lightly touched spurs to the mare’s flanks, and she trotted out of the inn courtyard.
    Nathan, who had come to understand a great deal of Erik’s history in the months he had been living at the Pintail, said, “You’ll want some extra time to clean up.”
    Erik said, “I hadn’t thought of that. I was just going to leave at suppertime.” It was late spring, and sunset came close to an hour after supper. Erik wouldneed most of the hour to make it to the other side of Ravensburg, and through the vineyards to the sheep meadow, but only if he went in his dirty clothing.
    Nathan playfully hit Erik on the back of the head with his open hand. “Dolt. Get yourself cleaned up. Sounds important.”
    Erik thanked Nathan and hurried to the forge. Below the pallet in the loft where he slept, behind the ladder, sat a trunk with all of Erik’s belongings. He took out his one good shirt and carried it over to the washbasin. Removing his dirty shirt, he took the harsh soap and some clean rags and worked feverishly to rid himself of as much dirt as possible. At last he felt presentable and put on his good shirt.
    He hurried out of the barn and went to the kitchen, where food was being placed upon the table as he entered. Sitting down, he drew a suspicious look from his mother. “Why are you wearing your good shirt?” she asked.
    Not willing to share his father’s request for a meeting with his mother, lest she demand to accompany him and force a confrontation, he muttered, “I’m meeting someone after supper,” then started noisily eating the stew placed before him.
    Milo, who was sitting at the head of the table, laughed. “One of the town girls, is it?”
    This brought an alarmed look from Rosalyn, the color rising in her cheeks as Erik said, “Something like that.”
    Erik continued to eat in silence, while Milo and