“Your grandfather must have been an amazing hunter,” observed Baron Mikhael quietly.
For an instant emotions threatened to overwhelm Tal as the image of his grandfather, Laughter in His Eyes, came to him, smiling as he always did. Tal forced that memory aside, using every mental discipline he had been taught at Sorcerer’s Isle to keep composed. He said softly,
“He was that.”
“Well, Squire,” said the Duke, wobbly enough to allow Baron Eugivney to help him down the hill, “I owe you my life. What can I do to repay that?”
Tal suddenly realized that without thought, he had _______________
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just saved the life of the man he had sworn to kill, but Kaspar read his confusion as modesty. “Come. Let’s go back to camp and rest, and we’ll talk about it.”
“Very well, Your Grace,” said Tal. For a moment the irony of the situation came down on him in full force, and he was caught halfway between wanting to laugh aloud and wanting to curse.
He took a glance back at the dying bear, then shouldered the spear and followed the Duke.
__
That evening, the Duke lounged in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on cushions, nursing his injured ribs.
Tal was amazed at how much strength the man possessed.
In his prime, Kaspar was a powerful man with the shoulders of a wrestler or dockworker, and arms knotted thick with muscle. When the servants had removed his shirt, revealing the huge blackening area from the deep bruise dealt him by the bear, Tal saw there was very little fat on the man. In open-handed combat, he would be extremely dangerous.
He was also tough; every breath had to be a trial, for Tal suspected the Duke had cracked ribs, yet he lay back comfortably, chuckling at one or another remark during the evening meal, one arm draped over the back of the chair for support, the other holding a cup of wine.
He ate little, but he consumed a prodigious amount of wine. Tal’s opinion was that the wine would help the Duke sleep soundly. At the end of the evening, he directed a question at Tal: “So, Squire, have you given any thought to what reward I can offer to set right my debt to you?”
Tal lowered his head a little as if embarrassed, and said, “Truth to tell, Your Grace, I acted without a lot of _______________
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thought. I was attempting to save my own life as much as yours.” He tried to look modest.
“Come now. That may be, but the effect is the same.
You saved my life. What can I do to repay this?”
Tal smiled. “I am currently in need of little, sir. But I assume at some point in the future things may not be as sanguine for me as they are today. Should I fall upon hard times, then perhaps I might redeem your favor?”
“Fair enough. Though I suspect a man of your resources should have little trouble making his way through life without too much difficulty.” He stood up slowly.
“Each of you has a tent prepared and a servant to provide for your comfort. Now, I must bid you good night and come morning I’ll see how I feel. I would hate to shorten our hunt, but I fear I am in no manner or form able to confront a dragon, even a small one.” The others laughed.
“So, I suspect we shall be back at the palace this time tomorrow. Sleep well.”
He departed, and, after a moment, Tal excused himself, leaving the two barons alone to contest for the Lady Natalia’s attentions. He found the “tent” put aside for him was another small pavilion, large enough for Tal to stand in and disrobe with the help of a servant. The servingman took Tal’s clothing and said, “These will be cleaned and ready for you in the morning, Squire.”
Tal sat in the middle of a pile of cushions, upon which a pair of thick quilts had been placed. On top of that lay a satin comforter, far more than he needed.
Breathing deep the mountain air, he ignored the hints of conversation that carried from the main pavilion as Eugivney and Mikhael tried to amuse Natalia and turned his mind to the odd events of the day. The bear had come so quickly he had reacted like a hunter, without thought, grabbing the best weapon at hand and charging straight at _______________
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the beast. He could have just as easily taken a bow and peppered the animal with useless arrows until it had finished mauling Kaspar to death. Then he would have only one man—Captain Quint Havrevulen—to kill, and his people would have been avenged.
Tal had endured enough mental exercises with the magicians at Sorcerer’s Isle to know the futility of agonizing over why things had transpired as they had. What could have happened . . . did, as Nakor used to say. Obviously, there was to be no simple solution to the problem that lay before Tal. But one thing now felt clear; watching Kaspar die would have afforded him no joy. He found he didn’t hate the man. He was wary of him, as he would be of any wild and dangerous creature. But he somehow couldn’t reconcile the charming host with whom he enjoyed a goblet of wine with the calculating murderer who ordered the death of an entire nation. Something here didn’t jibe, and Tal wondered what it could be.
Another hand was in the mix, he suspected. The magician Leso Varen was said to have great influence over Kaspar, and Tal wondered if he might not have been the architect of the Orosini’s destruction.
When Tal emerged from his reverie, he realized the camp had grown quiet. The Lady Natalia must have bid her suitors good night. He also realized he was still very much awake and that sleep would come hard for him if he didn’t relax. He was sitting nude upon the comforter, so he crossed his legs and put his palms down on his knees.
He closed his eyes and began a meditation to calm the mind.
Time stilled and he felt his heart rate slow and his breathing deepen. He was nearly asleep when he felt the tent flap open.
Before he could move, a shadowy figure took one _______________
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quick step from the opening and grabbed him by the throat. As he came fully alert he smelled soft perfume and heard a whisper in his ear. “How sweet. You waited up for me.” Then he felt Natalia’s lips press hard on his as she pushed him over on his back, and pressed him down upon the pillows. He blinked, and in the gloom saw her beautiful face inches from his as she quickly unfastened her sleeping robe and cast it aside. Playfully slipping one hand down his stomach, she said, “My brother may not be able to think of a way to thank you for saving his life. But I have several ideas.”
Then she lowered her head and kissed him again.
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FOUR
CHOICE
Tal sat down.
He sank heavily into the cushions of the divan while regarding the figure standing quietly in the corner.
“Pasko has run Amafi down to the market on a pointless errand before the market closes, so we’re alone for a few minutes,” he said, raising a cup of wine. “Join me?”
The tall figure stepped out of the corner and removed his hat. Long white hair fell to his shoulders as pale blue eyes regarded Tal. “I won’t be here long. Father’s sent me with a message and a few questions.”
“At least sit down, Magnus.”
“I’ll stand,” said the young magician. For a while Magnus had taught Tal a little about magic and logic, but of all of those who had taught Tal, Magnus was the one with whom he felt the least kinship. Tal thought it ironic, as Caleb, Magnus’s younger brother, was the only man in _______________
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the Conclave with whom Tal felt any sense of brother-hood. Both were hunters, both non-magic-users in a culture of magicians, both unable to understand much of what they saw around them every day. Of all those who served the Conclave, only Miranda, Magnus’s mother, was more of a stranger to Tal.
Tal said, “Forgive me, but I had a taxing day and night. I’ve had almost no sleep, and my wits have fled.”
Magnus smiled. “Yo
ur heroics with the bear and with the Lady Natalia, I gather?”
“You’ve heard?” Tal sat up, shocked. He had been back in the city less than an hour before departing the palace, which had been less than an hour ago. Which meant rumor would have had to have spread in record time. His eyes narrowed. “You couldn’t have heard. You saw!”
“Yes, I was watching.”
Tal didn’t hide his displeasure. It was the second time Magnus had secretly watched Tal. “I can almost understand you wishing to observe my fight with Raven, but why a simple hunt?”
“Because nothing involving Kaspar of Olasko is simple. Father asked me to ensure you were well on your way to ingratiating yourself with Kaspar, and between the rescue from the bear and your conquest of his sister, it appears things are well in hand. Besides, it will be the last time I spy on you.”
“Why?”
Magnus held his broad-brimmed hat in both hands.
“First the questions. Are you ready to take service with Kaspar?”
“Almost, but not quite.”
“Soon, then?”
“Yes, soon.”
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“Has either the Duke or his sister mentioned the man Leso Varen to you?”
“No. I would have taken note.”
“Father’s last question: do you have any idea why Kaspar seeks to put troops on the border of the Kingdom of the Isles, hundreds of miles from any significant objective?”
“Not even a hint.”
“Now, a question from me: why did you save Kaspar from that bear?”
Tal shook his head and sipped his wine. “To tell you the truth, I had no idea at the time. I just reacted. But after dwelling on it, I decided it must be the gods telling me something.”
“What?”
“It’s not enough to see Kaspar die. At the very least he must know why he is dying, but even more . . .”
“What?”
“I want to see him humbled. I want to watch as he realizes that everything he’s done, every murderous order given, every treacherous decision, has come to naught.”
Magnus was quiet for a moment, then said, “Killing him will be far easier than reducing him to such a state.”
“Still, that is my goal.”
“Your goal,” said Magnus, “if I may remind you, is first to discover why he desires a war with the Kingdom.
Every shred of intelligence we have tells us you are correct in your surmise: Kaspar has some mad design on forging an alliance among the Eastern Kingdoms so he may launch a strike against Isle.
“And I emphasize the word ‘mad,’ for none of what he has accomplished so far reveals a hint of sanity.”
Tal nodded. “Yet I would wager my life that Kaspar is anything but mad. Devious, murderous, charming, even _______________
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amusing; but he is as sane as any man. His choices may appear pointless, but there is always a design behind them.” He leaned forward and put his wine cup on the table. “Now, Pasko and Amafi will return soon, so we must be done with this quickly.”
“Then to the message. This from my father. You are to be detached.”
“Exactly what does that mean?”
“It means no one will be calling on you at any time, Tal.” Magnus adjusted his hat. “When you decide to take Kaspar up on his offer and enter his service, find an excuse to discharge Pasko. I leave it up to you as to what you do with this Amafi fellow. But you are oathbound never to mention your connection to the Conclave to him, or even hint of the Conclave’s existence.
“From now on, we will have no further contact with you until you seek us out. If you are in the north, find a way to send a message to Kendrick’s or go there yourself.
In Rillanon, seek out an inn called the Golden Sunrise, and you’ve already been to the Vine and Cask in Salador.
Should you find yourself in Krondor, you already know the Admiral Trask. Here, see the night barman at Molkonski’s Inn. We don’t have any agents in Opardum, more’s the pity, but if you can get a message up to the Anvil and Tong, in the town of Karesh’kaar in Bardac’s Holdfast, it’ll get to us.”
Tal laughed. “Are all your agents ensconced in inns and taverns?”
Magnus smiled. “No, but we find inns and taverns to be useful places to collect information. Devise a way to get a message to any of those locations, addressed to the Squire of Forest Deep, and it will reach us. Use the code phrase if you can. There are others inns in other cities, and Pasko can see you have a full list before you part company.”
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“Why am I to do without him?”
“Two . . . no, three reasons. First, with each additional agent of the Conclave who gets near Leso Varen, the risk to us is multiplied. Mother has Lady Rowena as close to Kaspar as a woman can get—I assume in the vain hope Kaspar might let something slip during the pillow talk—and with you there, our vulnerability increases; Pasko adds nothing of use to us, but increases the hazard.
“Second, we have other tasks for Pasko.
“And lastly, he works for the Conclave, not Squire Hawkins of Ylith, no matter what you have come to believe.”
“Point taken.”
“Now, I must make this clear: no matter what opportunity you have to revenge yourself on Kaspar, he is only part of the problem; find out what you may of Leso Varen.
He is the true danger in this. Finally, if you are found out, we will see you dead before risking the security of the Conclave. Is that clear?”
“Abundantly.”
“Good. So don’t get killed, or at least try to do something useful before you do. If you get into trouble, we can’t and won’t fetch you out.”
Suddenly he was gone. There was a slight intake of air where Magnus had stood, and the room went silent.
Tal reached out and took his wine cup, and muttered,
“I hate that he always has to have the last word.”
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Tal awoke feeling a little disoriented. He had only had one cup of wine the night before during his conversation with Magnus. The day had been uneventful, a somewhat leisurely ride down the mountain and through the city to _______________
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the palace. But he hadn’t slept well, and wondered if his restless night was due to the choice that now confronted him.
Kaspar was in his debt; so how was Tal to take service with him and not look overly anxious? His idea of killing Prince Matthew and having Kaspar intercede to protect him now seemed eminently plausible; Magnus was correct: Tal’s status as Champion of the Masters’ Court gained him many privileges, but what were the obligations? Tal pondered that for a moment.
He knew he could manipulate any number of social situations where Prince Matthew would be forced to call him out for a duel. Someone would insist it be to first blood, and Tal could “accidentally” kill him; unfortunate, but such things happen. Ironically, Tal considered, they happen to me a lot, actually. No, that wouldn’t do, for a duel would be about honor, and while the King might never again allow him in the palace . . .
A brawl, perhaps? Matthew had an appetite for some of the seedier bordellos and gaming halls in the city. He went “in disguise,” despite the fact everyone knew him, and he used his position to great advantage.
Tal discarded the idea; not public enough.
There was no easy way to kill him in such a way as to land in that magic place between being forgiven and being beheaded. And even if he did land in that magical place, and Kaspar interceded on his behalf, that would settle Kaspar’s debt. Tal liked having that debt.
No, he decided as he arose, he wouldn’t kill Prince Matthew. Another idea came to him. He sat back and thought about it, and decided he had not considered his own role closely enough. There might just be a way to make himself persona non grata in Roldem. He c
ould keep himself off the headsman’s block yet seemingly have no so-
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cial future left in Roldem. At which point it would seem as if he had no choice but to take service with the Duke.
“Pasko,” he called, and a moment later Amafi entered the room. “Magnificence, may I serve?” he asked in the language of the Isles.
“Where’s Pasko?” he asked, motioning for his trousers.
The former assassin handed them to Tal. “He went to the morning market, Magnificence, shopping for food.
What may I do for you?”
Tal considered this, and said, “I guess now is as good a time as any for you to learn to be a valet.”
“Valet? Magnificence, I do not know the word.”
Tal had forgotten he was speaking Roldemish, a language in which Amafi could barely keep up. “Il cameriere personale,” said Tal in the Quegan language.
“Ah, a manservant,” said Amafi in the King’s Tongue, as the language of the Isles was known. “I have spent some time among men of breeding, Magnificence, so it will be of little matter to learn your needs. But what of Pasko?”
“Pasko will be leaving us soon, I’m afraid.” Tal sat and pulled on his boots. “It’s a family matter, and he must return to his father’s side up north in Latagore.”
Amafi didn’t ask for any details. He just said, “Then I shall endeavor to match him in caring for your comfort.”
“We still need to work on your Roldemish,” said Tal, falling back into that language. “I’m for the Masters’
Court. Wait here for Pasko, then tell him to begin to acquaint you with my routines. He will explain as he goes.
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