Son of the Hero by Rick Shelley Page A

with chaos and magic in the seven kingdoms,” Parthet said. “Logic and science don’t always win. Perhaps that is essential. The worlds balance each other across our fulcrum. Neither side can be confident of victory in any particular clash. The rules are liable to change without notice.”
    “In Varay, and to some extent in the other kingdoms, we stand between the forces of the two polar realms, mortal and Fairy,” Kardeen said. “Walking the edge of that precipice is our key to survival. Tradition is our only measure. In the buffer zone, neither mortality nor immortality can be taken for granted. A gain in strength by one side calls forth renewed efforts by the other, trying to redress the imbalance.”
    “Complete domination by either side would likely destroy both,” Parthet said. “And any major swing in either realm is reflected all too quickly here in the center. Jerked back and forth like a pull of taffy.”
    “And your army is tied up by trouble with Fairy,” I said, trying to direct the conversation to more practical considerations.
    “Off and on for decades now,” Kardeen said. “And whenever our troubles in the north increase, the Etevar of Dorthin tries to take advantage.”
    “Why?”
    “Our most ancient legends tell of a time when the seven kingdoms were united in an empire strong enough to enforce an era when the buffer zone was just as potent as either Fairy or the mortal realm—our Golden Age, with prosperity and contentment. The Etevar wants to recreate that empire with himself as ruler.”
    “The title Etevar means “emperor” in the old language,” Parthet said. “The renewal of this legendary empire is a recurrent disease in their family. Generation after generation of Etevar holds the same goal, strives after it whenever he can, thirsts after it always.”
    The Master of Pages arrived. Kardeen and Parthet wrangled with him over the selection of a page for me. It sounded like nonsense, but I was in no position to gripe after the king said I was to have a page. I told myself to go with the flow until I doped out enough of the situation to assert myself. The discussion did give me time for a little mental digestion. All I really got out of the previous discussion was that we were the good guys and everybody else was the bad guys, especially the Etevar of Dorthin and anyone out of Fairy.
    By the time the Master of Pages was dismissed, the guard commander and the armorer were waiting. I couldn’t ignore this discussion.
    “How many soldiers can you find to accompany the prince, right away, this morning?” Kardeen asked the guard commander—one of the thug-types I had seen in the great hall at breakfast. He was several inches shorter than me and built solid, like a side of beef.
    “We don’t have enough men for garrison duty now,” the commander said. His voice was a throaty growl that sounded like the harbinger of serious health problems in the near future.
    “At His Majesty’s direction,” Kardeen said.
    The guard commander looked as if he wanted to growl, but didn’t.
    “Someone who knows the land between here and Castle Thyme,” I suggested. A half-blind wizard might not be the most reliable pathfinder. “What about that man we talked to this morning, Uncle Parthet? What was his name, Lesh?” Parthet nodded.
    “I believe Lesh is from the eastern marches,” the guard commander said. “But perhaps someone a bit younger might serve you better.”
    “Or not,” I said. “If Lesh is willing to go, I’ll have him.” Parthet looked pleased by my choice.
    “As you wish, my lord,” the commander said, bowing.
    “If he’s willing,” I emphasized. “I don’t want draftees.”
    “Is there anyone else you’d also like?” Kardeen asked.
    “Lesh is the only one I really had a chance to meet,” I said. “Look, I know this is difficult, but time seems to be in short supply. One man or six won’t make much difference unless I take a whole army, and the more time we