Raymond Feist - Magician

Pug’s eyes focused a little, and marshaling his balky tongue, he said, ‘Fantus? He’s off somewhere, doing whatever it is firedrakes do.’

Removing her cloak, she said, ‘Good. He frightens me.’ She sat on Pug’s unmade pallet and looked sternly at him. ‘I want to speak with you.’ Pug’s eyes went wide, and he stared, for Carline was wearing only a light cotton sleeping gown. While covering her from neck to ankles, it was thin and clung to her figure with alarming tenacity. Pug suddenly realized he was dressed only in trousers and hurriedly grabbed up his tunic from where he had dropped it onto the floor and pulled it over his head. As he struggled with the shirt, the last shreds of alcoholic fog evaporated. ‘Gods!’ he said, in a pained whisper. ‘Should your father learn of this, he’d have my head.’

‘Not if you’ve wits enough to keep your voice lowered,’ she answered with a petulant look.

Pug crossed to the stool near his pallet, freed of his drunken wobble by newly arrived terror. She studied his rumpled appearance and with a note of disapproval in her voice said, ‘You’ve been drinking.’ When he didn’t deny it, she added, ‘When you and Roland didn’t appear at supper, I wondered where you’d gotten yourselves off to. It’s a good thing Father also skipped the meal with the court, otherwise he’d have sent someone to find you.’

Pug’s discomfort was growing at an alarming rate as every tale of what horrible fate awaits lowborn lovers of noblewomen rushed back into his memory. That Carline was an uninvited guest and that nothing untoward had occurred were niceties he didn’t think the Duke would find particularly mitigating. Gulping down panic, Pug said, ‘Carline, you can’t stay here. You’ll get us both into more trouble than I can imagine.’

Her expression became determined. ‘I’m not leaving until I tell you what I came to say.’

Pug knew it was futile to argue. He had seen that look too many times in the past. With a resigned sigh, he said, ‘All right, then, what is it?’

Carline’s eyes widened at his tone. ‘Well, if that’s how you’re going to be, I won’t tell you!’

Pug suppressed a groan and sat back with his eyes closed. Slowly shaking his head, he said, ‘Very well. I’m sorry. Please, what do you want me to do?’

She patted the pallet next to her. ‘Come, sit here.’

He complied, trying to ignore the feeling that his fate – an abruptly short life – was being decided by this capricious girl. He landed rather than sat beside her. She giggled at the groan he made. ‘You got drunk! What’s it like?’

‘At this moment, not terribly entertaining. I feel like a used kitchen rag.’

She tried to look sympathetic, but her blue eyes sparkled with mirth. With a theatrical pout, she said, ‘You boys get to do all the interesting things, like sword work and archery. Being a proper lady can be such a bore. Father would have a fit if I should ever drink more than a cup of watered wine with supper.’

With rising desperation in his voice, Pug said, ‘Nothing compared to the fit he will have if you’re found here. Carline, why did you come here?’

She ignored the question. ‘What were you and Roland doing this afternoon, fighting?’ He nodded. ‘Over me?’ she asked, a glimmer in her eyes.

Pug sighed. ‘Yes, over you.’ Her pleased look at the reply nettled him, and irritation crept into his voice. ‘Carline, you’ve used him rather badly.’

‘He’s a spineless idiot!’ she snapped back. ‘If I asked him to jump off the wall, he’d do it.’

‘Carline,’ Pug nearly whined, ‘why have—’

His question was cut off as she leaned forward and covered his mouth with her own. The kiss was one-sided, for Pug was too stunned to respond. She quickly sat back, leaving him agape, and she said, ‘Well?’

Lacking any original response, Pug said, ‘What?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘The kiss, you simpleton.’

‘Oh!’ said Pug, still in shock. ‘It was . . . nice.’

She rose and looked down on him, her eyes widening with mixed anger and embarrassment. She crossed her arms and stood tapping her foot, making a sound like summer hail striking the window shutters. Her tone was low and harsh. ‘Nice! Is that all you have to say?’

Pug watched her, a variety of conflicting emotions surging inside. At this moment panic was contesting with a nearly painful awareness of how lovely she looked in the dim lantern light, her features alive and animated, her dark hair loose around her face, and the thin shift pulled tight across her bosom by her crossed arms. His own confusion made his pose seem unintentionally casual, which further fueled her petulance. ‘You’re the first man – not counting Father and my brothers – I’ve ever kissed, and all you can say is “nice.”’

Pug was unable to recover. Still awash with tumultuous emotions, he blurted, ‘Very nice.’

She placed her hands upon her hips – which pulled her nightdress in disturbing new directions and stood looking down on him with an expression of open disbelief. In controlled tones she said, ‘I come here and throw myself at you. I risk getting myself banished to a convent for life!’ Pug noticed she failed to mention his possible fate. ‘Every other boy – and not a slight number of the older nobles – in the West fall over themselves to get my attention. And all you do is treat me like some common kitchen drudge, a passing amusement for the young lord.’

Pug’s wits returned, less of their own accord than from the realization that Carline was arguing her case a little more emphatically than was warranted. Suddenly struck with the insight that there was a fair bit of dramatics mixed in with her genuine irritation, he said, ‘Carline, wait. Give me a moment.’

‘A moment! I’ve given you weeks. I thought . . . well, I thought we had an understanding.’

Pug tried to look sympathetic, as his mind raced. ‘Sit down, please. Let me try to explain.’

She hesitated, then returned to sit next to him. Somewhat clumsily he took her hands in his own. Instantly he was struck by the nearness of the girl, her warmth, the smell of her hair and skin. The feelings of desire he had felt on the bluffs returned with stunning impact, and he had to fight to keep his mind upon what he wished to say.

Forcing his thoughts away from the hot surge he experienced, he said, ‘Carline, I do care for you. A great deal. Sometimes I even think I love you as much as Roland does, but most of the time I only get confused when you’re around. That’s the problem: there’s so much confusion inside of me. I don’t understand what it is I feel most of the time.’

Her eyes narrowed, for this obviously wasn’t the answer she expected. Her tone was sharp as she said, ‘I don’t know what you mean. I’ve never known a boy so caught up in understanding things.’

Pug managed to force a smile. ‘Magicians are trained to seek explanations. Understanding things is very important to us.’ He saw a flicker of comprehension in her eyes at this and pressed on. ‘I have two offices now, both new to me. I may not become a magician, in spite of Kulgan’s attempts to make me one, for I have trouble with a lot of my work. I don’t really avoid you, you see, but with this trouble I have, I must spend as much time with my studies as I can.’

Seeing his explanation was gaining little sympathy, he changed tactics. ‘In any event, I have little time to consider my other office. I may end up another noble of your father’s court, running my estates – small though they might be – caring for my tenants, answering calls to arms, and the rest. But I can’t even think of that until I resolve this other matter, my studies of magic. I must keep trying until I’m satisfied I made the wrong choice. Or until Kulgan dismisses me,’ he added quietly.