The Royal Eagle approached the King’s dock, where the welcoming party waited. In the distance, upon those buildings and hillside streets affording a clear view of the dock, throngs of citizens were cheering the return of their young King. For many years Rillanon had abided under the black cloud of King Rodric’s madness, and though Lyam was still a stranger to most of the city’s populace, he was adored, for he was young and handsome, his bravery in the Riftwar was widely known, and his generosity had been great. He had lowered taxes.
With a master’s ease, the harbor pilot guided the King’s ship into its appointed place. It was quickly made secure and the gangway run out.
Arutha watched as Lyam was the first to descend. As tradition dictated, he dropped to his knees and kissed the soil of his homeland. Arutha’s eyes scanned the crowd, seeking Anita, but in the press of nobles moving forward to greet Lyam he saw no sign of her. A momentary cold stab of doubt struck him.
Martin nudged Arutha, who, protocol dictated, was expected to be the second to disembark. Arutha hurried down the gangway, with Martin a step behind. Arutha’s attention was caught by the sight of his sister leaving the side of the singer, Laurie, to rush forward and fiercely hug Lyam. While others in the reception committee were not as free with ritual as Carline, there was a spontaneous cheer from the courtiers and guards awaiting the King’s pleasure. Then Arutha had Carline’s arms about his neck as she bestowed a kiss and hug on him. “Oh. I've missed your sour looks,” she said happily.
Arutha had been wearing the dour expression he exhibited when lost in thought. He said, “What sour looks?”
Carline looked up into Arutha’s eyes and, with an innocent smile, said, “You look as if you’d swallowed something and it moved.”
Martin laughed aloud at that, then Carline was hugging him in turn. He stiffened at first, for he was still less comfortable with a sister than with two brothers, then he relaxed and hugged her back. Carline said, “I’ve grown bored without you three around.”
Seeing Laurie a short distance off, Martin shook his head. “Not too bored, it seems.”
Carline playfully said, “There’s no law that says only men can indulge themselves. Besides, he’s the best man I’ve met who’s not my brother.” Martin could only smile at that while Arutha continued looking for Anita.
Lord Caldric, Duke of Rillanon, First Adviser to the King, and Lyam’s great-uncle, smiled broadly as the Kings huge hand engulfed his own in a vigorous shake. Lyam nearly had to shout over the cheer from those nearby. “Uncle, how stands our Kingdom?”
“Well, my King, now that you’ve returned.”
As Arutha’s expression grew more distressful. Carline said, “Put away that long face, Arutha. She’s in the eastern garden, waiting for you.
Arutha kissed Carline’s cheek, hurried away from her and a laughing Martin, and as he dashed past Lyam, shouted, “With Your Majesty’s permission.”
Lyam’s expression ran quickly from surprise to mirth, while Caldric and the other courtiers were amazed at the Prince of Krondor’s behavior. Lyam leaned close to Caldric and said, “Anita.”
Caldric’s old face beamed with a sunny smile as he chuckled in understanding. “Then you’ll soon be off again, this time for Krondor and your brother’s wedding?”
“We’d sooner hold it here, but tradition dictates the Prince weds in his own city, and we must bow before tradition. But that won’t be for a few weeks yet. These things take time, and we have a kingdom to govern in the meantime, though it seems you’ve done well enough in our absence.”
“Perhaps, Your Majesty, but now that there is a King again in Rillanon, many matters held in abeyance this last year will be unloosed for your consideration. Those petitions and other documents forwarded to you during your travels were but a tenth part of what you will see.”
Lyam gave a mock groan. “We think we shall have the captain put to sea again at once.”
Caldric smiled. “Come, Majesty. Your city wishes to see its King.”
The eastern garden was empty save for one figure. She moved quietly between well-tended planters of flowers not quite ready to send forth blooms. A few heartier varieties were already beginning to take on the bright green of spring and many of the bordering hedges were evergreen, but the garden still seemed more the barren symbol of winter than the fresh promise of spring, which would manifest itself within a few weeks.
Anita looked across the vista of Rillanon below. The palace sat atop a hill, once the site of a large keep that still served as its heart. Seven high-arched bridges spanned the river that surrounded the palace with the loops of its meandering course. The afternoon wind was chill, and Anita drew a shawl of fine silken material close about her shoulders.