King of Foxes

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.’

‘Recently back from the Kingdom, I see.’

They resumed walking. ‘Yes, the clothing. I just arrived and had no time to have new garb made. Besides, all this slavery to fashion seems very … unproductive. If someone thinks less of me for wearing last year’s style, let him. It but works to my advantage should we negotiate.’

Quincy was one of the most astute merchants in the city. He was a native of Bas-Tyra, the second most important city in the Eastern Realm of the Kingdom, and specialized in high-quality luxury goods. As a result, he numbered nobility, even royalty, among his customers and was invited to all the better social functions. Tal also suspected him of being an agent for the King of the Isles. There was something about him that made Tal wary, something very unmerchantlike in his bearing.

‘I see,’ said Tal. ‘You needing an edge in business seems hardly likely, but I’ll grant that taking one where you can find it is logical. Now, what is it that you wish of me?’

‘What makes you think I want something?’ said Quincy with a smile.

‘Because it’s not your habit to lurk in the shadows and leap out upon me in the night. This is hardly a chance meeting.’

‘Hardly. Look, I’ll get to the point. The first reason is I wish to invite you to a small gathering at Dawson’s on this coming Fifthnight. I am inviting a few likeable chaps for supper, drink, and then perhaps we’ll go on to some cards or dice.’

‘A note to my man would have sufficed.’

‘There’s another reason,’ Quincy answered as they turned a corner and started down a steeper hill towards Tal’s quarters. ‘You are to hunt with Duke Kaspar tomorrow, am I right?’

‘Bribing the waiting staff, are we?’

Quincy laughed. ‘I’ve let it be known in the palace that a bit of news here or there that might prove useful would be rewarded. Now, is it true?’

‘Yes, tomorrow at sunrise I hunt with the Duke and his party. Why?’

‘If you are in the Duke’s favour, I wish you to present me to him.’

‘Why?’ asked Tal, stopping for a moment.

‘Because he really is the most difficult man to see. I can get an audience with the King more readily than I can with Duke Kaspar.’

‘Only because you’re selling gems to the Queen at cost.’

‘I lose no money and it earns me a great deal of social access. But not to Kaspar.’

‘Why are you so anxious to meet with Kaspar?’

Quincy was quiet for a moment, then he resumed walking, gesturing for Tal to accompany him. As they proceeded he said, ‘Trade with Olasko is … difficult. It’s as if somehow every trading concern in the duchy has … decided to do business the same way.

‘They send their agents to Rillanon, Roldem, Bas-Tyra, Ran, down to Kesh, but if I send one of my agents to Opardum, it may as well be for a holiday. For no one will entertain an offer to trade. It’s always their agents, in our cities, on their terms. Take it or leave it.’

‘Are they bad trades?’

‘No, otherwise I wouldn’t care. Often they’re very good business. But the essence of commerce is regular trade routes, with goods being dependably provided. It keeps the market alive. This hit or miss … I can’t help but feel that a vast opportunity is going to waste because of these trading concerns.

‘I feel if I can get Duke Kaspar’s ear, perhaps convince him to speak to some of the wealthier trading concerns, or even to let me visit his court … if I come from the Duke’s court to the offices of a major trading concern, like Kasana’s or Petrik Brothers, then they would have to take my offers seriously.’

Tal listened and nodded, as if agreeing. To himself he thought, and if you can get your agent up into Opardum, especially if he’s trading with the Duke’s chancellor, then the King of the Isles has a pair of eyes and ears near a troublesome neighbour.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Tal. ‘But for the moment, don’t count on anything.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because the Duke is likely to offer me a place in his court and I will almost certainly turn him down.’

‘Why in the world would you do that?’

‘Because it is not in my nature to wish to serve another,’ Tal lied. He knew that before the supper on Fifthday at Dawson’s, half of Roldem would hear about Kaspar offering a position to Tal that he refused. ‘And, besides, I have some other prospects that may suit me better.’

‘Well, don’t offend him too deeply,’ said Quincy, dryly.

‘I’ll try not to.’

They reached the street upon which Tal resided and parted company. Tal went quickly to his quarters where Pasko and Amafi waited, passing the time with a game of cards.

‘Master,’ said Pasko, rising as Tal entered.

‘Awake me an hour before dawn,’ Tal instructed as he crossed to the door of his bedroom. ‘Dress for a hunt.’

‘A hunt?’

‘Yes, the Duke of Olasko has invited me out to slaughter some helpless animals and I will oblige him.’ To Amafi he said, ‘Tomorrow I hunt with the Duke. When I return, we’ll visit several villas and estates nearby. It is then we introduce you to the world as my retainer and bodyguard.’

‘Magnificence,’ said Amafi.

Pasko said, ‘Unroll that bedding in the corner. You’ll sleep here.’ He indicated to Amafi a place on the floor near Tal’s doorway. ‘I sleep in the kitchen.’

Then, Pasko followed Tal into the bedroom and closed the door. Helping Tal unlace the fancy jacket, he whispered, ‘All goes well?’

‘Well enough,’ Tal whispered back. ‘Knowing Kaspar’s reputation, the animals won’t be as helpless as I indicated. Something nasty like lion or giant boar, I expect.’

‘He seems that sort of man,’ observed Pasko.

‘What do you think of our new friend?’

‘He’s a bad card player.’

‘Bad player or bad cheat?’

‘Both.’

‘What else?’ asked Tal as Pasko pulled the linen shirt over his head.

‘He’s a weapon. Very dangerous, despite his claim to old age. He may be useful if you don’t cut yourself.’

‘I take your meaning.’

‘I will keep an eye on him for a while,’ said Pasko.

‘He took oath.’

‘That is as it may be,’ answered the wily old servant, ‘but he wouldn’t be the first man to forswear in history.’

‘I made him swear at the Temple of Lims-Kragma.’

Pasko considered as he pulled off Tal’s boots. ‘Some men are not even cowed by the Goddess of Death.’

‘Does he strike you as such?’

‘No, but did Nakor strike you as particularly dangerous upon meeting him for the first time?’

‘Your point is made. Keep an eye on him for a while.’ Tal pulled off his leggings and small clothing and slipped under the quilted comforter on his bed. ‘Now, get out so I can sleep.’

‘Yes, master,’ said Pasko as he stepped stealthily through the door.

Tal lay quietly for a while. His mind was busy and sleep was a long time in coming. For years his purpose had been only one thing: to avenge the destruction of his people. Of all those involved, only two principals were left: the Special Captain of Kaspar’s household guard, Quentin Havrevulen, and the Duke himself. Tal had already killed the others.

He forced himself to calm, using one of the mind-relaxation drills taught him at Sorcerer’s Isle, and sleep finally came. But it wasn’t a relaxing sleep. Rather, it was filled with dreams and images of other places and times, his village in the mountains and his family, his mother, father, sister, brother and grandfather. The girl he had dreamed of as a child, Eye of the Blue-Winged Teal. In his dream she sat upon a seat, one leg crossed under the other, wearing a simple buckskin summer dress, a faint smile on her lips. He awoke with a painful longing he thought he had eradicated in himself years before. He rolled over and willed himself back to sleep, and again the dreams came. It was a restless night and he felt little benefit from his slumber when Pasko came and awoke him for the dawn’s hunt.

• Chapter Three • Hunt

THE HORSE PAWED THE ground.

Tal brought his gelding’s head around slightly, forcing him to pay attention to something besides his own boredom. The morning was crisp at first light, with a breeze coming off the ocean, but Tal knew it would be very hot by midday in the hills to the northeast of the city. Even before Duke Kaspar appeared Tal knew they were after big game, lion or bear, perhaps even one of the more exotic creatures reputed to inhabit the higher mountains, the giant boars – whose tusks reputedly grew to three feet in length – or the valley sloth, twice the size of a horse and despite the name fast when it needed to be, and armed with claws the size of short swords. The array of weapons in the luggage told Tal what he needed to know about the coming hunt: there were boar-spears with cross-pieces fastened above the broad blade to prevent the animal from running up the haft and goring the spearman; there were giant nets with weights at the edges, and heavy crossbows that could punch a hole the size of a man’s fist through plate armour.

A dozen servants, another dozen guards, and livery boys to care for the horses also waited patiently upon the appearance of the Duke. Another six men had been leaving as Tal had arrived, trail-breakers and trackers wearing the King’s livery, who would mark the most likely game trails. Tal found it intriguing that the hunting grounds lay less than a day’s march away, for Roldem was an ancient land, and he would have expected wildlife to have been pushed far into the mountains by the encroachment of civilization. Having hunted for his entire boyhood, and on many occasions since, he knew that rarely was big game within a day’s ride of a city.

Tal let one of the servants oversee the disposition of his travel gear, which was modest compared to the rest of the baggage being stowed on the horses. Tal knew they’d be following trails that wagons couldn’t negotiate, but it looked as if they could use a pair. Two animals alone were being used to carry what could only be a pavilion. Tal had no problem with sleeping on the ground, but realized the gentry of Roldem might find that objectionable.

Besides Tal, two nobles of Roldem – Baron Eugivney Balakov, and Baron Mikhael Grav – waited patiently. Tal knew them by reputation. They were young, ambitious, and held modest but important positions in the King’s court. Balakov was assistant to the Royal Bursar and he could expedite or slow a request for funds. He was broad-shouldered, with a brooding look, his dark hair cut close as was his beard. Grav was also associated with the Bursar’s office, but was seconded to the office of the Royal Household Guard, being primarily responsible for seeing that the palace troops were armed, clothed, fed and paid. He was a thin man with blond hair and a slender moustache he obviously worked hard at keeping perfectly trimmed. Both wore extravagant clothing, a long way from the modest leather tunic and trousers Tal had selected to wear.

As the sun lit the sky behind those distant peaks, Duke Kaspar and a young woman emerged from the palace, quickly making their way to a pair of waiting horses. Tal glanced at the young woman, wondering absently if it might be the Lady Rowena of Talsin, who in reality was another of the Conclave’s agents, Alysandra.

Tal had been frustrated during the time he had spent on Sorcerer’s Isle in determining just what she had been doing in the Duke’s company, for either people didn’t know or they weren’t telling. All he could discover was that it had been Miranda, Pug’s wife, who had dispatched the girl to Olasko at about the same time Tal had been training in Salador.

This woman was unlike Rowena, but she had one trait in common: she was equally beautiful. But while Rowena had been fair with eyes the colour of cornflowers, this lady was dark, her skin touched by the sun to a warm tan, her eyes almost as dark as her black hair. The Duke said something and she smiled, and instantly Tal knew who she was, for there was a hint of resemblance to the Duke.

As if sensing Tal’s thoughts, Duke Kaspar said, ‘Ah, young Hawkins, may I have the pleasure of presenting you to my sister, the Lady Natalia.’

Tal bowed in his saddle. ‘My honour, m’lady.’

It was obvious that the other two nobles were already acquainted with the Duke’s younger sister, who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Both fell in behind the Duke and Natalia, leaving Tal either to follow or ride on the flank.

Duke Kaspar said, ‘We have a half-day’s ride before us to get near our quarry.’ He looked again at Tal. ‘That’s a serviceable-looking bow, Talwin. Do you know how to use it?’ His voice was light and playfully mocking.

Sensing the mood, Tal smiled. ‘I’m a better archer than I am a swordsman, Your Grace.’

That brought a laugh from everyone, for Tal, as Champion of the Masters’ Court, was accounted the greatest swordsman in the world. Lady Natalia looked over her shoulder at him, giving him an excuse to ride forward a little. ‘Are you making a jest, sir?’ she asked.

Tal smiled. ‘In truth, no, m’lady. I have hunted since I was a child, while I only took up the sword after my fourteenth birthday.’

‘Then you must be the world’s greatest archer, sir,’ said Baron Eugivney wryly.

Keeping his smile in place, Tal replied, ‘Hardly, sir. Elven archers cannot be matched by any man.’

‘Elves!’ said Baron Mikhael. ‘Legends. My father used to tell me stories about a great war in my grandfather’s time, against invaders from another world. Elves and dwarves figured in it quite prominently.’

‘We’ll talk as we ride,’ said the Duke, urging his horse forward.

Tal found himself beside Baron Mikhael, as Baron Eugivney rode forward to flank Lady Natalia. ‘Not legends, my good sir,’ said Tal. ‘My home is near Ylith, and not too far to the west live those elves of legend. And to the north, in the city of LaMut, many descendants from that other world now live.’

Mikhael looked at Tal as if deciding whether or not the young man was jesting with him. ‘You’re serious?’

‘Yes, Baron,’ said Tal. ‘And those elves boast archers unmatched by any man living.’ Tal didn’t know this from his childhood, but rather from long conversations with Caleb, one of his teachers on Sorcerer’s Isle; Caleb had lived with the elves in Elvandar, their home, for a time. He spoke their language and claimed only one or two men had come close to matching their skill with a bow.

‘Well, then, if you say so,’ conceded Mikhael as if that put a close to the matter. To the Duke he said, ‘Your Grace, what are we hunting today?’

Over his shoulder the Duke said, ‘Something special if luck holds. A report has reached the King that a wyvern has flown up from Kesh and is nesting in the mountains. If that’s true, we have a rare opportunity before us.’

Baron Eugivney blinked in confusion. ‘A wyvern?’