Talon of the Silver Hawk (30 page)

The leading man was burly across the shoulders but narrow in the waist, and Tal could see that he was both powerful and dangerous. His face was moon-round, but his chin jutted forward, and his dark eyes were narrow and focused, as if he were stalking prey. His chin sported a still-dark beard, but his upper lip was shaved, and his mouth was curled into a smile that was almost a smirk. “So, this is the young lad who is going to prevent my man from winning?” He turned to the man on his left, who was wearing a dress uniform, and said, “Majesty, this is Lieutenant Campaneal, the finest swordsman in my duchy and, I wager, the man who will win the tourney.” With a laugh, he added, “And when I say wager, I mean heavily.''

The King laughed. Tal nodded a greeting to the Duke and the Lieutenant. After a moment the Duke of Olasko said, “Squire, you are staring. Do you know one another?''

“No,” Tal lied. “For a moment, I thought perhaps I recognized the Lieutenant, but I was mistaken.” He turned and said, “It is an honor to meet you, Duke Kaspar.''

Tal allowed the Duke to take over the conversation and faded into the background. It took all the control he could muster to keep his face a mask, for he
had
seen Lieutenant Campaneal once before. He had been the
man taking orders from Captain Quirt Havrevulen, who was sitting on a horse beside the man called Raven. Lieutenant Campaneal was one of the men Tal had seen destroying his village. He was one of the men Tal had vowed to kill.

Tal cheered.

The Tournament of Masters was under way at last, and to his delight, Tal discovered his prodigious success at the Masters' Court over the last year had earned him ranking. Over four hundred swordsman had made their way to the city of Roldem to seek the golden sword and the title of the world's greatest swordsman. The finest thirty-two, either by reputation or accomplishment at the Masters' Court, were permitted to sit out the preliminary rounds of the contest. The thirty-two were not ranked by the Masters' Court, though bookmakers who took wagers on the proceedings made their own ranking. In most cases, Tal was ranked no less than third. In several, he was the favorite to win the tourney. Only one man apart from Tal, the legendary Versi Dango, had gone undefeated in a year of bouts at the Masters' Court. Should Tal win the
tournament three times, it was said that another statue might join the Count's in the atrium of the Masters' Court.

Tal was afforded special seating in the central gallery, a section on the upper level with seating for the thirty-two chosen fighters and their friends, attendants, and companions. At present over seventy people were sitting or standing in the gallery, where refreshments were provided by attentive servants.

Tal sat with Pasko. “Isn't that Kendrick standing back in the shadows in the corner?” he asked.

“Yes, it is, m'lord.''

“Has he entered the contest?''

“No, he lacks the vanity to imagine he's the best there is,” said Pasko dryly, then added, “m'lord.”

“What's he doing here?''

“Watching your back,” said Caleb, dropping into a chair next to Talon.

“Both of you?''

“And Magnus, whom you wouldn't catch dead here, but who is nearby,” added Pug's younger son.

Tal grinned. “Caleb, I never thought I'd see you dressed so fashionably.”

Caleb returned the smile, though he seemed nowhere near as amused as Tal. “Camouflage,” he replied. He looked like a wealthy merchant or minor noble of the Kingdom. The only thing on his person that Tal recognized was his sword, which was unchanged. Other than that, he was bedecked from head to toe in the latest fashion of the day, though he had made choices considerably less flamboyant than most in Roldem for the festival, choosing a dark chocolate-colored overjacket, a pale yellow shirt, and black trousers and boots. In place of the more colorful hats worn by the dandies in the city, Caleb had opted for a
simple black beret with a golden clasp and a single hawk's feather.

Tal laughed. “You look the part of a Kingdom noble, ‘struth.”

Caleb said, “Did you encounter the Duke of Olasko at the King's gala two nights ago?''

Tal's expression darkened, and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He dropped his voice so that only Caleb could hear him. “Yes, with some family members. But I recognized one man: a lieutenant, named Campaneal. He led the Olasko soldiers who supported Raven and his murderers when they destroyed my people.''

“I know. He's in the tourney. He's one of the thirty-two, so there's a fair chance you'll meet him.''

“I'd rather meet him somewhere else, without witnesses,” said Tal.

“Accidents have been known to happen in the tourney. Fatal accidents.”

Tal looked at Caleb. “Are you telling me I should kill the man in front of the King and a thousand witnesses?”

Caleb shook his head with a rueful smile. “The vanity of youth. No, I was telling you to be careful, because if Campaneal has even a remote suspicion of who you are, you could be the accident victim.''

“How would he know?” asked Tal. “I have no tattoos that market me as Orosini. I think I'm convincing in the role of a minor nobleman's son. Why would he think otherwise?”

“Because of the way you looked at him, no doubt. A man like that will have made many enemies over the years, and not even know them all by sight. Just be wary.''

“I will.''

“No, I was curious about anyone else in the party,
someone who might not have looked . . . quite as if he belonged.”

“No,” said Tal. “The Duke had some relatives with him, a son I gather, because of the resemblance, but he made no introductions; I doubt I rank high enough in his estimation to have taken the bother. Who are you looking for?''

“I don't know,” said Caleb. “There's a man . . . a magician. He and my father crossed paths before, years ago. We have reports he might be back. We thought him dead, but perhaps we were wrong . . .” A distracted look crossed his face, then he said, “From what I've been told, this man is harder to kill than a cockroach.”

“What is his name?''

“He's used several, so I doubt he'll be using any that we know.''

“What does he look like?''

“His appearance changes.''

Tal's eyes widened, and his tone became sardonic. “A man who may look like anyone with a name no one knows. I'll be certain to keep an eye out for him, Caleb.''

“From what Father has told me, you'll probably sense something about him the moment you meet, if you do. He's a magician, a powerful one, and his heart is as black as pitch.''

Tal was quiet, watching the contests below: four bouts in different corners of the hall. Eventually he said, “At some point I must kill the Duke of Olasko.''

‘I know. He was behind the destruction of your people, Tal.''

“Why?”

“Because they were inconvenient to his plans, nothing more. He wanted a clear road to Farinda's northern frontier, and your people were in the way. It was easier to oblit
erate them than to attempt to negotiate a way though the mountains. He was concerned your people might tip his hand to the King of Farinda.''

“So he killed every man, woman, and child in the High Fastness.”

“Yes.” Caleb leaned forward onto the gallery rail. “He's been working on the invasion of Farinda for five years now. He bullied Latagore into a treaty allowing him to garrison troops there. Word is he marches in the spring against the Orodon.''

“Why?” asked Tal. “They're not remotely close to Farinda.''

“Because he wants something they have: gold mines. War is expensive, and the Orodon hardly mine the gold in their part of the mountains. He can finance ten years of war from what he can take from there in one year.''

Tal's mind turned over. The Orodon were distant cousins of his people, and as such were the only people left alive with whom he felt kinship.

“Spring?”

“Yes, that's the rumor.''

Tal stood up. “Caleb, let's go back to my apartment. I must talk to Robert and Magnus.''

Caleb stood up as well. “About what?''

“About what it is you think I'm going to be doing after I win this damned tournament.”

Without looking to see if Caleb was following him, Tal quickly left the gallery and hurried down the stairs to the main atrium.

Robert and Magnus sat at the table while Pasko brewed up a pot of Keshian coffee. Caleb leaned against the wall while
Tal stood facing the two magicians. “So, if I win this tournament, what next?''

Magnus looked at Robert, who nodded. “We will have a task for you.''

“I anticipated that much, but what is it?''

Magnus leaned his elbow on the table. “You'll be told when the time is right.''

Tal's frustration came to the surface. “For years I have done as I was told. I owe you my life, several times, but at some point you have to trust me. This is too much of a distraction. It appears I have someone trying to kill me, and I don't know why. I don't know if it's because of you”—he pointed at the other four men in the room in turn—“or because of something I've done, playing this role you've created.''

Robert said, “
You've
created, Tal. We told you what to become;
how
you became Talwin Hawkins was your choice. No one ordered you to become a gambler, womanizer, and libertine. You could have posed as a scholar, or a man of trade, but you picked this life.''

Magnus added, “And by all appearances, it's a life that suits you, Tal.''

Tal couldn't rein in his frustration. “It's about my life. That's
my life
. I owe Robert a debt. My education over the last five years has taught me much, and one thing I've learned is to look at my choices through different eyes. I'm Orosini, and I will honor my debt. No man will ever hear me renounce a pledge or break an oath. But that doesn't mean I will simply obey blindly, Robert. If I'm to serve well, don't I need to know things?''

Robert sighed. “This much I'll tell you now, Tal. Events conspire to bring our goals closely in line. This man we warned you of, he will be close to the Duke, if not here in Roldem, then back in Opardum, his capital. Duke Kaspar has ambitions.”

“Obviously,” said Tal. “I gathered as much when I saw his Captain Havrevulen in Latagore, conspiring to overthrow the Dominar. I know he means to have Farinda. What I don't know is why.''

Robert said, “To Kaspar's south lie the lands controlled by the Lords of the Border, a group of duchies constantly at one another's throats: Miskalon, Roskalon, the Duchy of Maladon and Simrick, Salmarter, and Far Loren. The only successful conquest in the history of that sad region was when Maladon subdued Simrick two hundred years ago. All contend over the Disputed Lands, and Olasko ensures that no one quite gets the upper hand. It's to his advantage to keep them all weak and off-balance. To his west is the Principality of Aranor. The Prince of Aranor is Kaspar's cousin on the Prince's mother's side, and cousin to the King of Roldem on his father's side, so Kaspar and his ancestors have had to keep their hands off Aranor for many years; though this Prince is a weak idiot and Kaspar might as well be ruling there given how much influence he has.

“Beyond Aranor is Far Loren and Opast. Both have close ties with the Kingdom of the Isles, though both have warred with the Isles in the past. The Isles would be quick to react if Olasko moved against them.

“To the north is Bardac's Holdfast, which is hardly a nation at all. The original ruler, King Bardac the First, was a pirate with delusions of grandeur, and his descendants are hardly any more than that. Most of the ‘nobility' of that land are robber barons and King Haloran rules most effectively by leaving them alone. For Olasko to invade would be like marching into a swamp. County Conar is little better, but the tribal chieftains are honorable barbarians, as are the swamp people to their north.

“This is why Kaspar wanted Farinda, to put his army
on the frontier of the Kingdom of the Isles, without having to overly disturb his other neighbors.”

“Why? He means to go to war with the Isles?” Tal shrugged. “My memory of geography may be a bit vague, but wouldn't that put his army several hundred miles away from the nearest Kingdom city of any size, down in Ran?''

“Yes, and we have no idea why he'd want an army up there, but several theories. We'll save the speculation for later, but this much we know for certain: Duke Kaspar of Olasko is perhaps the most dangerous man living today when it comes to the peace of the region. He means to have control over the Eastern Kingdoms, and we suspect he's looking for a way to pull Roldem into a war with the Isles.''

“Ah,” said Tal. “And if Roldem goes to war with the Isles, then Kesh will take a hand.''

“And a regional conflict becomes a much broader conflict, with war in both the Eastern and Western Realms of the Kingdom,” supplied Magnus.

“I've read enough history to understand ambition a little,” Tal said, “but it seems to me that Kaspar's overreaching himself.''

Robert said, “He wouldn't be the first ruler to reap benefit from others' woes. He can gobble up the Lords of the Border at whim. He has little interest in ruling the chaotic peoples to his north, unless he decides to bring them to heel sometime in the future.