Prince of the Blood
PRAISE FOR RAYMOND E. FEIST
Praise for the Riftwar Novels
MAGICIAN: APPRENTICE
MAGICIAN: MASTER
“Totally gripping … A fantasy of epic scope, fast-moving action and vivid imagination.” —Washington Post Book World
“The best new fantasy in years … Has a chance of putting its author firmly on the throne next to Tolkien—and keeping him there.” —Dragon Magazine
“Most exciting … a very worthy and absorbing addition to the fantasy field.” —Andre Norton
SILVERTHORN
“As exciting and absorbing as Magician in every way.
The excellent characterization wedded to a tight and well-turned plot makes it one of the outstanding fantasy offerings of the season.”
—Andre Norton
A DARKNESS AT SETHANON
“Feist writes skillfully and his imagination is prolific.” —Rave Reviews
“Invites comparison with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.” —Best Sellers
PRINCE Of THE BLOOD
“A lively tale where engaging characters inhabit a well-rounded fantasy land.” —Publishers Weekly
“A crackling good read for fans of medievaloid fantasy, with interesting characters and nice language.” —San Diego Union-Tribune
“Has humor and tears and romance … just about everything a fantasy fan could ask for … This is a book to read whether or not you have read the earlier trilogy.” —UPI
THE KING’S BUCCANEER
“A superior, rousing adventure.” —Publishers Weekly
“An entertaining tale of high-seas adventure and exotic fantasy.” —Locus
General Praise for Raymond E. Feist
“Discover the marvels that Feist has put to paper.” —SF Site
“Feist constantly amazes with his ability to create great casts of characters.” —SF Site
“Feist has a command of language and a natural talent for keeping the reader turning pages.”
—Chicago Sun-Times
“Feist is without question one of the very best writers of fantasy adventure practicing today.”
—Science Fiction Chronicle
“Feist remains honorably in the forefront of fantasists who continue to create well-told tales out of the genre’s familiar elements.” —Booklist
“[Feist’s] skill in depicting fully realized characters and fast-paced action scenes puts him in the forefront of contemporary fantasy adventure.” —Library Journal
“[Feist] is a master storyteller who weaves exciting, sweeping epic tales.” —SF Site
Praise for
KRONDOR:THE BETRAYAL
“An action-packed story of intrigue and betrayal.”
—Library Journal
“Fine entertainment … Feist works his signature magic.… an absorbing and carefully crafted adventure with pleasing density of plotting, good characterization … This is populist Dickens out of Tolkien, and it works.”
—Sydney Morning Herald
“Originality and wit … A rollicking tale …Feist’s narrative skill, ingenuity at creating systems of magic, and eye for plausible military scenarios stand him in good stead. His many fans will be pleased.” —Booklist
Praise for KRONDOR: THE ASSASSINS
“A great read and a wonderful addition to Feist’s collection.” —SF Site
“This tale of shape-shifting magicians, human sacrifice, man-eating demons, and a little young love will satisfy Feist’s fans, and the ending will leave them waiting for another volume.” —Publishers Weekly
Praise for KRONDOR: TEAR OF THE GODS
“Sure to please Feist fans and win new ones.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This is a series that gets better as it goes along.”
—Science Fiction Chronicle
Praise for SHADOW OF A DARK QUEEN
“Classic.” —Chicago Sun-Times
“An epic reading experience … Unpretentious, fast-paced … Shadow of a Dark Queen works admirably.”
—San Diego Union-Tribune
“A massive, entertaining tale.” —Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel
“A sensitive coming-of-age tale in which brutality and camaraderie are equally present, Feist’s newest saga has a freshness of vision that suggests it will avoid the staleness that often eats away at multi-volume epics.” —Publishers Weekly
“Action and intrigue and evocative writing … Feist brings a new world alive.” —Oregonian
“Fast action, appealing characters, and a splendid setting will delight readers of fantasy and leave them eager for the next battle.” —Kirkus Reviews
“FUN … A place to start for those yet to discover Feist’s fantasy worlds.” —Locus
“Sheer readability.” —San Francisco Chronicle
Praise for RAGE OF A DEMON KING
“A fine yarn … vivid … suspenseful … the action is nonstop.” —Booklist
“Feist is at his best.” —San Francisco Chronicle
“Splendid …fast action, appealing characters … [It] will delight readers of fantasy.” —Kirkus Reviews
Praise for SHARDS OF A BROKEN CROWN
“As usual, Feist brings this off wonderfully.” —Science Fiction Chronicle
Praise for TALON OF THE SILVER HAWK
“Bestseller Feist does an impressive job of developing numerous characters and elaborate social structures while holding true to established history in this fantasy page-turner.… This effort is one of his best yet.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“[Feist] begins a new series featuring a young man’s search for justice and honor. A good choice.” —Library Journal
By Raymond E. Feist
*MAGICIAN: APPRENTICE
*MAGICIAN: MASTER
*SILVERTHORN
*A DARKNESS AT SETHANON
*DAUGHTER OF THE EMPIRE (with Janny Wurts)
*SERVANT OF THE EMPIRE (with Janny Wurts)
*MISTRESS OF THE EMPIRE (with Janny Wurts)
*PRINCE OF THE BLOOD
*THE KING’S BUCCANEER
*FAERIE TALE
SHADOW OF A DARK QUEEN
RISE OF A MERCHANT PRINCE
RAGE OF A DEMON KING
SHARDS OF A BROKEN CROWN
KRONDOR: THE BETRAYAL
KRONDOR: THE ASSASSINS
KRONDOR: TEAR OF THE GODS
HONOURED ENEMY (with William R. Forstchen)
MURDER IN LAMUT (with Joel Rosenberg)
JIMMY THE HAND (with S. M. Stirling)
TALON OF THE SILVER HAWK
KING OF FOXES
EXILE’S RETURN
*Starred titles available from Bantam Books
PRINCE OF THE BLOOD
A Bantam Spectra Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Doubleday edition published August 1989
Bantam edition / June 1990
Revised Bantam Spectra hardcover edition / July 2004
Revised Bantam Spectra mass market edition / July 2005
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2004 by Raymond E. Feist
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2004274485
Bantam Books, the rooster colophon, Spectra, and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-41828-9
; www.bantamdell.com
v3.1_r1
This book is dedicated with love to my wife,
Kathlyn Starbuck,
who makes everything make sense
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map
Chapter One - Homecoming
Chapter Two - Accusation
Chapter Three - Stardock
Chapter Four - Concerns
Chapter Five - Southward
Chapter Six - Dilemma
Chapter Seven - Captive
Chapter Eight - Escape
Chapter Nine - Welcome
Chapter Ten - Companion
Chapter Eleven - Hunting
Chapter Twelve - Evasion
Chapter Thirteen - Jubilee
Chapter Fourteen - Bargain
Chapter Fifteen - Snares
Chapter Sixteen - Stalking
Chapter Seventeen - Traps
Chapter Eighteen - Triumph
Afterword
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As is usual, I am deeply indebted to the talents of other people in finishing a project like Prince of the Blood. So, I would like to publicly thank the following people:
April Abrams, for giving me what she had of Kesh and letting me bend it beyond recognizable shape.
Pat LoBrutto, my editor, for putting up with one type of madness after another.
Janny Wurts, for letting me take care of one problem before giving me another, and for taking such good care of our horse.
Stephen Abrams and Jon Everson, for thinking up the entire mess in the first place.
The other “fathers and mothers” of Midkemia, for letting me play in their world again.
Peter Schneider, for his “usual” duty above and beyond.
All the fine people at Bantam Dell who work so hard at making things work.
Jonathan Matson, my agent and friend, for keeping me pointed north when I need to be and for letting me run amok when I need to.
And, most of all, Kathy, my wife, who is mentioned somewhere else in this work for making everything around me work.
Without the goodwill and loving care of the above people, none of this would be possible.
CHAPTER ONE
HOMECOMING
THE INN WAS QUIET.
Walls darkened with years of fireplace soot drank in the lanternlight, reflecting dim illumination. The dying fire in the hearth offered scant warmth and, from the demeanor of those who chose to sit before it, less cheer. In contrast to the mood of most establishments of its ilk, this inn was nearly somber. In murky corners, men spoke in hushed tones, discussing things best not overheard by the uninvolved. A grunt of agreement to a whispered proposal or a bitter laugh from a woman of negotiable virtue were the only sounds to intrude upon the silence. The majority of the denizens of the inn called the Sleeping Dockman were closely watching the game.
The game was pokiir, common to the Empire of Great Kesh to the south and now replacing lin-lan and pashawa as the gambler’s choice in the inns and taverns of the Western Realm of the Kingdom. One player held his five cards before him, his eyes narrowed in concentration. An off-duty soldier, he kept alert for any sign of trouble in the room, and trouble was rapidly approaching. He made a display of studying his cards, while discreetly inspecting the five men who played at the table with him.
The first two on his left were rough men. Both were sunburned, and the hands holding their cards were heavily callused; faded linen shirts and cotton trousers hung loosely on lank but muscular frames. Neither wore boots or even sandals, barefoot despite the cool night air—a certain sign they were sailors waiting for a new berth. Usually such men quickly lost their pay and were bound again for sea, but from the way they had bet all night, the soldier was certain they were working for the man who sat to his right.
That man sat patiently, waiting to see if the soldier would match his bet or fold his cards, forfeiting his chance to buy up to three new cards. The soldier had seen his sort many times before; a rich merchant’s son, or a younger son of a minor noble, with too much time on his hands and too little sense. He was fashionably attired in the latest rage among the young men of Krondor: a short pair of breeches tucked into hose, allowing the pant legs above the calf to balloon out. A simple white shirt was embroidered with pearls and semiprecious stones, and the jacket was the new cutaway design, a rather garish yellow, with white-and-silver brocade at the wrists and collar. He was a typical dandy. And from the look of the Rodezian slamanca hanging from the loose baldric across his shoulder, a dangerous man. It was a sword only used by a master or someone seeking a quick death—in the hands of an expert it was a fearsome weapon; in the hands of the inexperienced it was suicide.
The man had probably lost large sums of money before and now sought to recoup his previous losses by cheating at cards. One or the other of the sailors would win an occasional hand, but the soldier was certain this was planned to keep suspicion from falling upon the young dandy. The soldier sighed, as if troubled by what choice to make. The other two players waited patiently for him to make his play.
They were twin brothers, tall—two inches over six feet he judged—and fit in appearance. Both came to the table armed with rapiers, again the choice of experts or fools. Since Prince Arutha had come to the throne of Krondor twenty years before, rapiers had become the choice of men who wore weapons as a consideration of fashion rather than survival. But these two didn’t look the type to sport weapons as decorative baubles. They were dressed as common mercenaries, just in from caravan duty from the look of them. Dust still clung to their tunics and leather vests, while their red-brown hair was lightly matted. Both needed a shave. Yet while their clothing was common and dirty, there was nothing that looked neglected about their armor or arms; they might not pause to bathe after weeks on a caravan, but they would take an hour to oil their leather and polish their steel. They looked genuine in their part, save for a feeling of vague familiarity that caused the soldier slight discomfort: both spoke with none of the rough speech common to mercenaries, but rather with the educated crispness of those used to spending their days in court, not fighting bandits. And they were young, little more than boys.
The brothers had commenced the game with glee, ordering tankard after tankard of ale, letting losses delight them as much as wins, but now that the stakes of the game were rising, they had become somber. They glanced at each other from time to time, and the soldier was certain they shared silent communication the way twins often did.
The soldier shook his head. “Not me.” He threw down his cards, one of them flipping completely over for an instant before it came to rest upon the table. “I’ve got duty in an hour; I’d best be back to the barracks.”
What he really knew was that trouble was imminent, and if he were still around when it arrived, he’d never make muster. And the duty sergeant was a man not given to receiving excuses kindly.
Now the dandy’s eyes turned to the first of the two brothers. “Play?”
As the soldier reached the door of the inn, he took note of two men standing quietly in the corner. They stood in great cloaks, faces obscured slightly by the shadows of their hoods, despite the night being warm. Both made a show of quietly watching the game, but they were taking in every detail of the inn. They also looked familiar to the soldier, but he couldn’t place them. And there was something about the way they stood, as if ready to leap to action, that reaffirmed his determination to reach the city barracks early. He opened the door to the inn and stepped through, closing it behind.
The man closest to the door turned to his companion, his face only partially illuminated by the light from the lantern above. “You’d better get outside. It’s about to break loose.”
His companion nodded. In the twenty years they’d been friends, he had learned
never to second-guess his companion’s ability to sense trouble in the city. He quickly stepped through the door after the soldier.
At the table, the betting reached the first of the two brothers. He made a face, as if perplexed by the play of the cards. The dandy said, “Are you staying or folding?”
“Well,” answered the young man, “this is something of a poser.” He looked at his brother. “Erland, I would have sworn an oath to Astalon the Judge that I saw a Blue Lady flip when that soldier tossed in his hand.”
“Why,” answered his twin with a twisted smile, “does that pose a problem, Borric?”
“Because I also have a Blue Lady in my hand.”
Men began to back away from the table as the tone of conversation shifted. Discussion of what cards one held was not the norm. “I still see no problem,” observed Erland, “as there are two Blue Ladies in the deck.”
With a malicious grin, Borric said, “But you see, our friend over here”—he indicated the dandy—“also has a Blue Lady tucked just not quite far enough back in his sleeve.”
Instantly the room erupted into motion as men put as much distance as possible between the combatants and themselves. Borric leaped from his seat, gripping the edge of the table and overturning it, forcing the dandy and his two henchmen back. Erland had his rapier and a long dirk out as the dandy drew his slamanca.
One of the two sailors lost his footing and fell forward. As he tried to rise, he found his chin met by the toe of Borric’s boot. He collapsed into a heap at the young mercenary’s feet. The dandy leaped forward, executing a vicious cut at Erland’s head. Erland deftly parried with his dirk and returned a vicious thrust his opponent barely dodged.