Authors: Raymond E. Feist
As soon as they left, a parade of young men carrying buckets of steaming water entered, making straight for the bathing room. Tal waited until they had finished their work and gone, then went to inspect what they had done.
The bathing room turned out to be a private bath, a stone tub lined with tiles. Tal stuck his hand in and said,
“It’ll cool to the perfect temperature by the time I get un-dressed. Amafi, lay out my best clothes for tonight, the _______________
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russet-and-black tunic, with the grey leggings and my black ankle boots with the golden buckles. I’ll wear the silver-handled rapier and the black felt hat with the hawk’s feather.”
“Yes, Magnificence,” Amafi said, and set to unpacking the luggage and putting away the clothing, while Tal stripped off his travel clothing.
As Tal settled into the tub he noticed an odd mechanism hanging over it. It consisted of a brass pipe with a flared head dotted with small holes. Next to it hung a chain with a handle. He sat up and pulled on the handle. Instantly he was showered with cold water. He yelped in surprise and pulled the handle again, causing the water to stop.
Hearing the cry, Amafi was in the room almost instantly, a dagger in his hand. Seeing nothing except Tal sputtering and his hair drenched, he said, “Magnificence, what is the matter?”
Laughing, Tal said, “Nothing. I was just not prepared for a dousing. It is to rinse you off. But the water is rather cold.” Tal found a large bar of scented soap on the side of the bath and began to wash. “When I’ve finished, feel free to use the tub, Amafi. The water will still be fairly clean.”
“You are generous,” said the Quegan.
“And bring me some wine, please,” he asked, and moments later, the servant returned with a chilled cup of wine.
Tal finished his bathing and settled back with the wine for a moment to relax. Thinking of how much more lav-ish the King’s apartments must be, he smiled and muttered, “It
must
be good to be king.”
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If Tal had been impressed by the royal court at Roldem, he was rendered nearly senseless by the throne room of the King of the Isles.
As one of Kaspar’s retinue, he was permitted entrance after the Duke, but no formal presentation was made. He stood to one side of the hall while the King welcomed Kaspar and his sister.
King Ryan was a young man, no more than twenty-three years of age. His father, King Patrick, had died unexpectedly a few years before, ending what had been a troubled reign. Patrick had been a man of temper and questionable judgment, who had followed two kings, Lyam and Borric, who had been quite the opposite.
Patrick had ruled in Krondor during the troubled rebuilding of the Western Realm after the horror that was called the Serpentwar. Myth and history collided, and depending on which sources one was inclined to believe, Pantathian Serpent Priests, creatures of dark legend, had engineered a monstrous invasion of the Kingdom at Krondor, sailing a fleet of a thousand or more ships around the world. Whatever the truth of the story, the fact of the aftermath was simple: Krondor had been reduced almost to rubble. Patrick had to contest with Kesh on two occasions during his rule in Krondor.
When his father, King Borric, had died, Patrick had already been a tired and worn-out man. His rule had not been a happy one.
Ryan was considered an unknown quantity, and Kaspar’s visit was intended in part to assess the young monarch’s abilities. One of Kaspar’s captains, Janos Prohaska, stood next to Tal. He whispered, “The King must be concerned with our master.”
As the formal introduction droned on, Tal whispered back, “Captain, why do you say that?”
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“Do you not know your own nation’s nobility?” he asked softly.
“Not by sight,” admitted Tal.
Half a dozen men stood on either side of the King, who, being unmarried, sat alone on a single throne on the dais. Kaspar was thanking the King for his welcome while those six men studied him.
Prohaska said, “Next to the King stands Lord Vallen, Duke of Rillanon, but next to him stands Lord James, Duke of Krondor. The King has his two most powerful dukes at his side. They rule the Eastern and Western Realms on his behalf. With no prince in Krondor, James is also Regent of the West.”
Tal studied both men. They were similar in stature, elderly, but still tall and powerful, with keen eyes and the calm confidence of men who had wielded power for decades. Beside the Duke of Krondor stood another man, somewhat younger, who was talking quietly to the Duke.
Prohaska said, “That man talking to Lord James is Lord Williamson Howell, the King’s Chancellor of Finance and the Exchequer. He’s a court duke, but as powerful in his way as the other two. He is considered to be as shrewd with gold as any man living. Behind him, the two old soldiers?”
Tal nodded. “Yes, I see them.” A man of middle years, with the upright military bearing of a career soldier, wore a royal red tabard, but the other wore a tabard matching that of Duke James, a blue tabard bearing a circle of light blue, upon which an eagle could be seen flying above a mountain peak. He looked to be a man in his late seventies, and Tal could see he had once been a very large and powerful. His muscle had soft-ened with age, but Tal would still count him a dangerous opponent.
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“That’s Sir Lawrence Malcolm, Knight-Marshal of the Armies of the East, and next to him is Erik von Darkmoor, Knight-Marshal of Krondor. Behind him stands the Admiral of the King’s Eastern Fleet, Daniel Marks, and his adjutant.
“If this wasn’t a reception, I’d say it was a war council.”
Tal studied the men and was forced to agree. They didn’t possess any of the festive demeanor of those attending a gala. The light, celebratory mood that was always there in Roldem was absent in this court tonight.
The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward as the Duke backed away from the throne, and struck his iron-shod staff of office on the stone floor. “My lords, ladies and gentlemen, His Majesty bids you come forth and dine in the Great Hall.”
Tal followed the others and found his place with the help of a page. Here, too, the mood was far more subdued than what he had experienced in Roldem. People chatted, and he was engaged in light conversation by several local minor nobles in turn, but while Roldem’s court was alive with music and performers, here a small ensemble of musicians played softly in the background.
The food was superb, as was the wine, but Tal couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. As Tal was about to finish his meal, a palace page appeared at his elbow. “Sir, the King commands your presence.”
Tal stood, uncertain of why he was being singled out, but he followed the page along the side table until they reached the gap between it and the head table. He was escorted to a place directly before the King and found himself under the scrutiny of the entire assembly.
The King sat in his high-backed chair, with Duke Kaspar on his right as the honored guest. To his left sat _______________
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the Lady Natalia, and from what Tal could see, she had charmed the King. The other nobles of the Isles were arrayed along the table.
The page said, “Majesty, Squire Talwin Hawkins.”
Tal bowed as effortlessly as he could manage, but found that he was nervous. He hid it well, but he felt it.
He had no trouble passing himself off as a minor Kingdom noble in other nations, but here he stood before the monarch of the nation in which he was supposed to have been born, and worse, just four chairs away sat the Duke to whom his so-called cousin owed fealty; he forced himself to breathe deeply.
The King was a fair-skinned man with sandy-colored hair. His dark brown eyes studied Tal. He looked intelligent, thought Tal, and even if he wasn’t a king, most women would find him attractive. Then he smiled, and said, “Welcome, Squire. You do us honor.”
Tal said, “Your Majesty is too gracious.”
“Nonsense,” said the King. “You bring honor to the Isles as Champion of the Masters’ Court. We have several times inquired as to your whereabouts.”
Duke James studied Tal closely. “Your kinsman, Baron Seljan Hawkins, had no idea how to find you.” There was something in his tone that led Tal to believe the Duke was suspicious.
Tal nodded. “Your Majesty, Your Grace, I am forced to admit that by the most generous accounting I am a shirttail cousin to the Baron. I believe him to have been ignorant of my birth until news of my victory reached him. His grandfather and mine were brothers, and all we have in common is the family name. My claim to the rank of squire is only through my father’s adroit influences with the Office of Her-aldry, as I understand it.”
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The Duke grinned. “In other words, your father bribed someone.”
Tal returned the smile and shrugged. “He never said, and I never asked. I only know that the estates my father claimed consisted mostly of swampland outside Ylith, and I’ve never seen a copper from them in rents.”
This brought a round of laughter from everyone at the table. Tal’s self-deprecating humor had eased the mood.
“Well, even if your father was skirting the edge of the law in this matter, I hereby do affirm your rank and titles, even if the land you own is worthless,” said the King. “For to have one of our own as Champion of the Masters’
Court warrants reward.”
He signaled, and a page brought forth a purple cushion upon which rested a sword of stunning beauty. It had a silver-filigreed basket-hilt, and the blade was of the finest steel Tal had ever encountered. “This is from our foundry at Rodez,” said the King. “It is agreed that the finest blades in the world are made there, and this is a suitable blade for a champion, we think.”
Tal took the blade and the ornate scabbard that was handed to him by another page, and said, “Majesty, you overwhelm me.”
“We understand that you have taken service with our friend Duke Kaspar.”
“Yes, Majesty, I have.”
The King sat back, and his smile faded. “Serve him well, but should time and fate bring you back to your homeland, Squire, know there will be a place for you here.” Glancing sidewise at Kaspar, the King said, “We can always use another swordsman in our service, especially one so talented.”
Tal nodded and, with a wave, was dismissed by the _______________
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King. He followed the page back to his place at the table, but the King’s last words had again dampened the mood in the room.
As he sat down, Tal considered Prohaska’s words and was forced to agree: this was no festive gala. This was a council of war.
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Tal watched.
He stood upon a balcony near the royal apartments.
He had been requested to wait there for Duke Kaspar, who was closeted with the King. Below, the city stretched out, and Tal was struck again by its beauty. He wished time permitted him to explore: for had he not taken service with Kaspar, that is what he would have been doing that very moment. However, as Kaspar’s retainer, he awaited his master’s pleasure.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” came a familiar voice at his shoulder.
He turned to find Lady Natalia approaching, so he bowed. “That it is, m’lady.”
“My brother will be out shortly and will have something for you to do, I have no doubt.”
Tal rarely felt disquiet in the presence of any woman, _______________
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but since the night after the hunt, he had wondered what he should expect from Natalia, or more to the point, what she might expect from him.
As if reading his thoughts, she smiled and came close.
Touching him lightly on the cheek, she said, “Don’t worry, Tal, our time together was fun, nothing more. I am an instrument of the state, my brother’s tool, much as you are. He has plans for me, so you’re safe from the need to make any declarations to me.”
Tal grinned. “It wasn’t a declaration that worried me, m’lady. Only if I was to be cast aside or . . . if my attentions were required again.”
She paused, then regarded him. “Why do I suspect that either choice is of little importance to you?”
Tal took her hand. “That’s not true, m’lady. You are without peer among women.” He came close to the truth with that statement, for few women in his experience were as ardent as Natalia had been.
“Liar. You use women as I use men. We are too alike, Tal. Have you ever loved?”
Tal hesitated, then he said, “I thought so once. I was mistaken.”
“Ah,” said Natalia. “So, you’re armored against love because of a broken heart?”
Tal made light. “If it pleases you to think so, then so be it.”
“I think sometimes having no heart is a better condition. My brother’s Lady Rowena is like that. She lacks something.”
Tal could only silently agree. He knew her well, for she had been the woman who had broken his heart, the harshest lesson taught him by the Conclave. Alysandra, as she was named there, indeed lacked
something
. She had no heart, and had wounded Tal deeply.
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“I will marry for reasons of state. So I take my pleasures where I might.” She paused, then asked, “What think you of this young king?”
“Ah,” said Tal. “Your brother seeks to make you Queen of the Isles?”
“Perhaps,” said Natalia with a grin. “There is no suitable match from Roldem, with the eldest princess being merely eleven years old. I suppose Ryan could wait until she was of age, but I think Lord Vallen and the others are anxious for him to wed and start breeding heirs. I am the most advantageous match among the ladies of the eastern courts, and Isles needs allies to the east.”
Feigning ignorance of regional politics, Tal said, “I thought Isles had treaties with Farinda, Opast, and Far Lorin.”