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Stepping out of the shadows, the magician revealed himself to be a tall man of lean features, a striking face with a long straight nose, dramatic cheekbones and startling blue eyes. His hair was so pale, it appeared almost white. He said, ‘Informants in Queg have vouched for Amafi. At least they have vouched for his reputation as an assassin.’
‘A reputable assassin,’ said Tal. ‘That’s a quaint notion.’
‘He’s considered something of an “honourable” man in the context of his trade,’ declared Magnus, son of Pug of Sorcerer’s Isle, and one of Tal’s many teachers over the years.
‘It’s beginning,’ said Tal. ‘Lady Gavorkin confirmed last night that Duke Kaspar is to arrive by week’s end and will be ensconced in the palace with his cousin the King. Pasko? How many invitations arrived today?’
‘Seventeen, master,’ he answered.
‘By month’s end, I imagine I will be in a position to make the re-acquaintance of the Duke at one gala or another.’
‘Your plan?’ asked Magnus.
‘I need to establish a link with Kaspar, then find a reason to call out Prince Matthew.’
‘Is that necessary?’
‘Almost certainly,’ said Tal. ‘For while I’m vague on the details I think I have anticipated Duke Kaspar’s larger goals in his manoeuvrings over the last few years.’
‘This is something you didn’t mention before leaving the island,’ said Magnus.
Tal nodded. ‘Because I didn’t fully see the pattern until a few hours ago. And I may be wrong, but I believe all his actions in the north to be nothing more than a bloody, murderous ruse, and his anticipated invasion of the Kingdom through Farinda a feint.’
‘To what end?’
‘To keep the Kingdom busy up north while he works towards his true goal in the south.’
‘And that is…?’ asked Magnus impatiently.
‘I have no idea. But it could involve Roldem or Kesh, and keeping the Kingdom occupied along a long, empty border would work to Kaspar’s advantage.
‘I’m no military expert, but it seems to me if he sends a force into the Kingdom of the Isles, they will respond in strength. If Kaspar sends in small companies, each can occupy a much larger force if they scatter across the plains. From the foothills at the border to the Blackwood north of Dolth, you’ve got almost a thousand miles of grasslands. King Ryan of the Isles would be forced to tie up a huge number of men hunting down a relatively small army.
‘So, the question is, if Kaspar wants that army up in the grasslands, where does he plan on striking?’
Magnus said, ‘I will convey your theory to Father.’ He put a broad-brimmed felt hat on his head, and removed a device from within his dark grey robe, an orb that glowed with copper highlights in the candlelight. He depressed the surface with his thumb and suddenly he wasn’t there, the only sign of his departure being a small inrush of air.
Pasko said, ‘But why?’
‘Why?’ echoed Tal. ‘Why what?’
‘Why all the plotting? Kaspar is as powerful in his own way as the King of Roldem. He effectively rules Aranor; the Prince does his bidding. He either controls or intimidates every nation surrounding Olasko, and he has the King of Roldem’s ear. Why does he want this war with the Isles?’
Tal sat back. ‘I thought it obvious. By destabilizing the region, opportunity arises for Kaspar to gain what he wants most of all.’ Tal laced his fingers together and stared at the candle over balled fists. He tapped his chin lightly with his hands as he muttered, ‘Men of power seek only one thing: more power.’
• Chapter Two • Reception (#ulink_ba27b23e-9783-5431-9ec6-213da5d53120)
TAL SMILED.
This was his first time in the palace since his victory in the Masters’ Court Tournament two years earlier. The King had sent an invitation for Talwin Hawkins to attend the welcoming gala to celebrate the arrival of the Duke of Olasko.
Tal had waited patiently in line for his turn to be presented, behind all the nobility of Roldem, most of those from other nations, and just ahead of the wealthiest commoners. A squire from the Kingdom of the Isles stood barely above a ribbonmaker with a great deal of gold in the eyes of the Roldemish court.
Even so, Tal stood resplendent in a pair of new wide-legged trousers – the current fashion – with his boots covered to the buckles, and a broad black leather belt, but he chose to wear a currently out-of-fashion tunic – a yellow doublet sewn with seed pearls. While other nobles were wearing the off-the-shoulder military singlet which was now all the rage, Talon had chosen to wear the jacket which had been given to him as a gift by the King two years ago.
When last he had met the King, Tal had been the centre of attention, the winner of the Tournament of Masters, the recipient of the golden sword, emblematic of his being the world’s greatest swordsman.
Now Kaspar of Olasko was the focus of the gala, and Tal but a minor participant. When he at last heard his name called, Tal moved forward briskly and approached the throne. He took in the tableau before him as he reached the point where he was expected to bow before the Crown. King Carol sat on his throne, his wife Queen Gertrude to his right. On his left hand sat Crown Prince Constantine, heir to the throne. Tal remembered the Prince as a quiet boy with curious eyes, one given to slight smiles as he listened closely to the banter of the adults around him. Tal suspected he was an intelligent child. The younger members of the royal family were absent, the other two Princes and the Princess no doubt being made ready for bed by their servants and nannies.
To Constantine’s left stood a man dressed in a burgundy-coloured tunic of velvet, fastened with loops and frogs made from diamonds. He wore black leggings rather than this season’s wide-bottomed trousers, and his feet were encased in polished, but serviceable boots. He wore the same black hat Tal had seen him wearing two years before, a large velvet thing which hung over his right ear almost to his shoulder, with a gold badge on the left.
It was the Duke of Olasko.
Kaspar of Olasko studied the young squire while still engaging the young prince in conversation, a skill which Tal observed, for while Prince Constantine was being kept occupied by his distant cousin, Olasko was assessing Tal closely. Tal considered it possible that Kaspar was one of those men who could focus on two things at the same time. Even among the magicians Tal knew, that was a rare gift.
Out of the corner of his eye, as he bowed before the King, Tal reacquainted himself with Kaspar. He was a burly man with a broad chest and powerful shoulders, and muscles revealed by the tight leggings suggested he might also be a man with some speed. He glanced at Tal in such a way that the younger man suspected the Duke recognized he was being appraised. His face was round, but his chin jutted a bit, robbing him of any comic cast to his features. He sported a thin-cut black beard, with his upper lip shaved, which gave his chin an even more aggressive appearance. His hair was still mostly black, though a sprinkling of grey hinted he was a man in his early forties. His eyes were those of a predator, black and searching. And his mouth was full, sensuous without being decadent, and set in a near-smirking smile Tal had seen several times before.
Tal straightened from his bow and the King said, ‘Squire Hawkins, it is good to have you in our court again.’
‘I am pleased as well to return to Roldem, Majesty.’
The Queen beamed as she said, ‘And I see you return to us in the garb we presented you upon your victory.’
Tal gave Gertrude his most endearing smile. ‘Majesty, I have worn this gift only once before, on the night of my triumph, and have vowed that it will never again be worn, save in the presence of your august selves.’
The King nodded in pleasure and said, ‘You are most considerate. Again, welcome.’
Tal knew he was now excused, so he moved over to the gathering on the left side of the King to watch those behind him being presented. He stole a couple of quick glances at Kaspar, but the Duke seemed focused on his quiet conversation with the Prince.
Eventually the last presentation was made and the Master of Ceremonies moved to stand before the throne. ‘With Your Majesty’s permission?’ he said bowing.
The King waved his hand and the Master of Ceremonies turned and declared, ‘My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, please retire to the banquet hall and await Their Majesties!’
Tal watched as the royal family departed, with the Duke of Olasko following close after. He knew they’d retire to a nearby apartment in the palace and wait until all the guests were seated before moving to the head table.
Tal waited patiently in line, but it moved quickly as more than two dozen pages and squires had been detailed to the Master of Ceremonies who consulted the master seating plan. Once instructions had been whispered into the page’s ear, a guest had only to pause for a moment before being escorted to their place in the hall.
Tal was pleasantly surprised to discover he was being seated at the King’s table. He quickly counted chairs and realized that there would be no more than two or three people between him and the Duke of Olasko. He suspected his position at the banquet was more a result of Kaspar wishing him to be near to hand than because of his prestige as reigning Champion of the Masters’ Court.
When the royal family arrived, everyone rose and bowed slightly, then remained standing until the King was seated and the Master of Ceremonies struck the floor with his iron-shod staff of office. At which point everyone sat and servants began pouring wine and providing food.
Tal found himself next to a local court baron and his wife, whom Kaspar engaged in conversation for a while. The Baron at last turned to Tal and introductions were exchanged. Then the Baron launched into an enthusiastic retelling of Tal’s victories as if Tal hadn’t been there. On Tal’s left sat a pretty woman of middle years and her husband, rich commoners who seemed content simply to be at the King’s table and who demonstrated no need to speak to anyone else. They lowered their heads slightly and spoke in whispers as they glanced around the room, apparently trying to espy people who might know them and be impressed by their place at the head table.
Throughout the dinner the Duke ignored Tal’s presence, save for one slight nod and smile as the first course was being served. During the course of the dinner, entertainers provided distraction in several locations around the great hall. Deft jugglers, acrobats, and sleight-of-hand magicians. A particularly gifted poet spun verse to order, flattering the ladies and gently mocking the men. His wit was dry and his rhyming clever. On the other side of the room a jongleur from Bas-Tyra sang love songs and ballads of heroic sacrifice. Tal could hear enough of his song to know he was excellent.
As was the meal and every other aspect of the gala. And why not? Tal thought. Roldem was considered to be the seat of all things cultural and refined in the world, or at least this part of it. Fashion, literature, music, all flowed from the court of Roldem. Given his travels, Tal reflected that much of that influence was lost as you moved away from the island nation; those in the west of the Kingdom seemed completely indifferent to matters of fashion, while only in Salador and Rillanon was there some of the same concern that one saw here.
But gazing around the room he realized that whatever others might think – that it was vainglorious and pointless – it was also sumptuous and regal. The women were beautiful in their finery and the men cut handsome figures, or at least as handsome as nature permitted.
When the meal ended, the court turned its attention to the centre of the royal table. No one was permitted to leave until the King and his family left the table. Those who had finished their meal early sat sipping wine or ale, watching those around them, or engaging in idle conversation with their neighbours.
Suddenly, Tal heard Kaspar say, ‘So, Squire, you’re back with us again?’
Tal turned in as relaxed a manner as he could, and trying to show deference to the Baron on his right, spoke past him to the Duke. ‘For a time, m’lord.’
Kaspar took a sip from a wine cup and asked, ‘Have you completed that “family business” you spoke of when last we met?’
‘Indeed, Your Grace. It took longer than I had anticipated, but it is now a matter in the past.’
‘So, you are now free to seek your fortune?’ The Duke’s eyes were narrow and appraising even as he kept his tone light.
Tal feigned a laugh. ‘Given my luck at cards lately, I am in need of a fortune, m’lord.’
The King rose, and a half-second later, Kaspar did as well. As he turned to follow his cousin, Kaspar looked over his shoulder and said, ‘I am hunting at first light. Join me at the southern gate. I’ll have a horse ready. Do you have a bow?’
‘Yes, m’lord,’ said Tal, to Kaspar’s retreating back.
The court baron turned. ‘Quite the coup, young Hawkins.’
‘Sir?’
‘The Dukes of Olasko have been hunters for generations. They say this duke’s grandfather once hunted dragons in the west of the Kingdom of the Isles. To be invited to hunt with him is a mark of distinction.’
Tal smiled and nodded, attempting to look suitably flattered. The Baron and his wife departed.
Tal felt it necessary to make one circuit of the hall, then determined to stay close to the exit and wait until someone else departed. He had no wish to mark himself by being the first to leave, but he wished to be out of the palace as soon as possible.
As he made his way through the throng, he was occasionally stopped by this acquaintance or that and several times by strangers who wished simply to introduce themselves to the current Champion of the Masters’ Court. As he came near the King’s cortege he was struck by how many people were being kept at bay by the servants, who were acting as guardians of the royal privacy as much as providing titbits and drink – though who could eat or drink after such a meal? Tal wondered.
Without intending to, Tal caught the King’s eye, who waved him approach. Tal instantly turned and as he moved towards the King, the servants parted enough to let him pass. Tal bowed, ‘Majesty.’
King Carol smiled. ‘Hawkins, it is good to have you with us again. Would it be possible to arrange a demonstration of your skills here in the palace?’
‘I am at Your Majesty’s disposal,’ replied Tal. ‘Whatever time you require.’
‘Oh, good, young sir. Prince Constantine is of an age and needs to learn his weapons. His instructors say the boy has promise, but still, I think watching experts in such matters tends to give a lad something to emulate. Don’t you?’
Tal couldn’t disagree, and besides it would be impolitic to do so. ‘Most learning begins with mimicry, Majesty.’
‘Quite. What say you, a week from today?’
‘At any time you wish, Majesty.’
‘Say mid-morning. I find the wits are keener in the morning than the afternoon.’ Turning to his wife, he said, ‘Assuming my wits are keen at any time of the day, what, my dear?’
The Queen smiled and patted her husband’s arm. ‘You are a man of very keen wit, m’lord … sometimes.’
The King laughed aloud, and Tal couldn’t help but smile. King Carol of Roldem was the only monarch Tal had encountered in his travels, but Tal doubted most were as self-deprecating as this one.
‘Shall I bring an opponent, Majesty?’ Tal knew that any student from the Masters’ Court, and most of the instructors, would welcome an opportunity to come to the court. Royal favours had been curried with less than a sword match in the past, Tal knew.
‘We have an ample supply of swordsmen here in the palace, Squire,’ answered the King. ‘Just be here at the appointed hour.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ said Tal with a bow, taking it to mean he was dismissed.
He noticed that a few guests were departing and decided it was safe for himself to leave as well. But halfway across the floor he heard a familiar voice. ‘Squire, a moment of your time.’
Without turning, Tal said, ‘Constable, what an unexpected surprise.’
Constable Dennis Drogan came to stand before Tal and with a smile and nod said, ‘Glad to see you again, Squire.’
‘What brings you here?’ asked Tal.
Dennis, a middle-aged, broad-shouldered man, had a head that looked to be perfectly round. He kept his hair cropped close and seemed impervious to the effect that had, for it emphasized his left ear, which had been half bitten off during a scuffle in his youth. His nose looked as if it had been repeatedly broken over the years. Tal recognized him for what he was, a brawler, tough, unrelenting and dangerous. More so, for he was the Crown’s law in the city.
Drogan smiled. ‘My uncle is still Bursar to the household here in the palace, and I am technically a member of the Royal Court.’
‘Ah, of course, but rather, what brings you here?’
Putting his hand on Tal’s shoulder, Drogan moved him towards the door. ‘You do, Squire.’
‘Me?’ Tal fell into step beside the shorter man. ‘Why?’
‘Because people have an annoying habit of turning up dead when you’re in the city. I thought it best to have a word with you before we start accumulating corpses again.’
Tal didn’t try to feign innocence, but he did look aggrieved. ‘Dennis, you and I have never been close friends, but we have been affable acquaintances. You know that in every instance, someone ended up dead because my life was at risk. What am I supposed to do? Stand by and say, “Oh, if I defend myself the Constable is going to be annoyed, so I’d better let them kill me”?’
The grip on Tal’s shoulder tightened, just enough to convey emphasis without causing pain. ‘No, by all means, should your life be put at peril, defend yourself; I’m just suggesting you try to avoid finding your life at peril any time soon.’
Caught halfway between amusement and irritation, Tal said, ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘That’s all I can ask.’
Tal slipped out from under the Constable’s meaty hand and left the palace. Outside, as guests waited for carriages, Tal wended his way through the crowd and exited through one of the pedestrian gates. He was only a few yards from the palace, moving downhill on a thoroughfare lined with the homes of the wealthy, when someone fell into step beside him.
‘Evening, Tal,’ said a familiar voice.
‘Evening, Quincy,’ answered Tal without looking. He had spied the merchant from Bas-Tyra in the crowd at the palace.
‘Lovely evening, isn’t it?’
Tal stopped and started to laugh. ‘You didn’t ambush me outside the palace to discuss the weather, my friend.’
Quincy halted, also. ‘Well, I saw you on your way out when the Constable intercepted you; I know you walked to the gala rather than booking a carriage, so I just left before you and waited.’
‘How have you been, Quincy?’ Tal asked, looking at his old acquaintance under the lantern light. Quincy de Castle was in his thirties, perhaps early forties, with a rapidly-balding pate. His features were undistinguished save for his eyes, which were as close to an eagle’s as any man Tal had known. He wore fashionable, but not extravagant clothing, a jacket of a charcoal hue, double-breasted with a swallow-tail cut, and matching trousers tucked into knee-high boots. It was, as Tal knew, the latest fashion in the Kingdom of the Isles, as it was last year’s fashion in Roldem.
‘I have been well enough.’
