Talon Of The Silver Hawk Part 26

"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 n.o.ble 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 made choices considerably less flamboyant than most in Roldem for the festival, choosing a dark chocolate coloured overjacket, a pale yellow shirt and black trousers and boots. In place of the more colourful 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 n.o.ble, '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 n.o.bleman'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."

"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 c.o.c.kroach."

"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 obliterate them than to attempt to negotiate a way through 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 rumour."

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 d.a.m.ned 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 Pas...o...b..ewed 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 antic.i.p.ated 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 "You've created, Tal. We told you what to become; created, Tal. We told you what to become; how 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." 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. 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 honour 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?" 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 honour 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, Ruskalon, 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 Simrik 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 Princ.i.p.ality 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 'n.o.bility' of that land are robber barons and King Haloren 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 honourable 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 neighbours."

"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.

"For now he must secure control over Farinda and complete his preparations for war with the Kingdom. So, first, he must subdue Farinda. To ensure his security in that undertaking, he must neutralize the Orodon and Latagore, and the High Reaches."

Tal's eyebrows shot up. "So now the pattern emerges. First he obliterates my people, securing a path to Farinda. Now he protects his right flank by ensuring that no aid can reach Farinda though High Reaches or Latagore."

"Yes, if the Kingdom were to take a hand early and if King Ryan is as clever as they say he is, he'd react as soon as he recognized the risk. He can't attack Olasko directly without pulling Aranor and then Roldem into the war, but he can certainly hire companies of mercenaries and run them by ship to Coastal Watch, and from there either to Latagore or High Reaches. Kaspar can't risk an army at his back."

"Why hasn't someone dealt with this problem before?" asked Tal.

Robert looked at Magnus, who said, "I could toss a fireball into Kaspar's lap and after destroying the King, his family, and half the n.o.bility of Roldem, Kaspar would still walk out of the ashes unscathed. The man we spoke of earlier is very powerful and Kaspar has more wards against attack by magic than any man in the world, I'm certain. His bodyguards are fanatical and he is never alone. Killing him will be no mean feat."

"Is this where I come in?"

"Perhaps," said Robert. "We don't know yet. If you win the tournament, there's a fair chance Kaspar may take an interest in you. He likes having people of great talent around him, musicians, singers, painters, chefs, magicians, and great swordsmen."

"Well, then," said Tal. "I can now see why you think it important for me to win this contest. It seems that both our aims are served if Kaspar of Olasko dies."

Robert sat back and looked directly at his former student. "Yes, it seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Then here's my one condition." Tal said grimly. "Kaspar dies last."

"Why?" asked Magnus.

"Because from what you say, I stand the best chance of getting myself killed in reaching him, and if I am to fail to avenge my people, I'd rather die leaving one murderer alive than letting a dozen survive. Kaspar dies after Raven and his men, but first comes Lieutenant Campaneal." Looking at Robert, Magnus, Caleb and Pasko, Tal said, "He will not make it alive out of the tournament."

The early rounds produced little by way of surprises, the most unexpected turn being the emergence of a young commoner from Kesh named Kakama, who had handily defeated every opponent. Those inclined to take risks in gambling bet heavily on him.

The fourth day saw Tal's first match as the final sixty-four contestants began the last three days of contest. Over four hundred swordsmen had fought in as many as three matches a day to winnow the field down to thirty-two who would be added to the thirty-two who had already been ranked. There would be matches in the morning then in the late afternoon, until the final bout on Sixthday afternoon, before the King and his court at the palace.

Tal's first opponent was a captain from the personal guard of a Roldemish baron. This was his third tournament and the first time he had made the final sixty-four places.

The matches were fought with naked steel to first blood, a yield, or a forfeiture. A contestant could yield at any time, and usually only did so for fear of injury or public humiliation. A man could forfeit by not appearing in time for a match, or by being disqualified by the judges, three Masters of the Court who supervised each bout. Ignoring the judges' instructions, intentionally trying to harm an opponent, or refusing to remain in the described combat area were all grounds for forfeiture.

Tal let the captain enjoy a few moments of accomplishment, and refused to shame him after twelve years spent in trying to better himself. But it was no contest. After exchanging blows, thrusts, and parries for three minutes, Tal could easily see many openings. Tal had noticed that the young captain had been wished good fortune by an adoring young woman, whom he a.s.sumed to be his wife or betrothed, so he decided to allow the man to lose with some dignity. He kept the match going for another two minutes, before lightly cutting the man on the arm, drawing first blood and the victory.

The young captain made a formal salute, which Tal returned, then he retired to the comforting embrace of the young woman.

Other matches were not so graceful. Several of the combatants were loud, boasting louts, who had one gift: skill with a blade. Three serious injuries occurred in the first morning's contests-one man undoubtedly maimed for life-and Tal watched as many as he could, to get some sense of who he might face in later matches.

His next opponent was a large, broad-shouldered swordmaster from the Kingdom City of Rodez, named Raimundo Velasquez. He was quiet and efficient, and was cat-quick to pounce on an opening. Tal saw he would have to be wary with this man during the afternoon's contest.

Tal retired to the cloaking room, where refreshments for the combatants were laid out in sumptuous fashion. He avoided those foods which would make him feel slow and sleepy, and ate lightly, avoiding wine or ale. He drank cold water and returned to watch the bouts.

He avoided talking to anyone, including Caleb, who kept close watch. Tal knew that Magnus and Robert were not too far away, against any magical threat, but he felt no need of idle chatter. He was now in the tourney and from everything he had seen, he must surely win.

When the last of the morning bouts was over, he retired to Remarga's for a bath and ma.s.sage, so that he would be fresh when the afternoon combat began.

The next two rounds were challenging, but Tal took the measure of both men: the Rodezian swordmaster then a captain of the guard from the Royal household. The afternoon of the second day saw attendance swell to capacity as every n.o.ble and rich commoner who could gain entrance to the Masters' Court wedged themselves inside to watch the field of eight reduced to four.

Tal's first opponent was a mercenary soldier from the Kingdom, a man named Bartlet, from Hawk's Hallow. He enquired about Tal's relationship to the more famous Hawkins, and Tal told his tale, as if it were common knowledge. Bartlet remarked he had never heard of the Squire's holdings, and he had been born in the region.

Tal waved off the remark with the observation that his father held lands quite distant from the more famous branch of the Hawkins family and he avoided further conversation by saying that he had to ready himself for their coming duel.

Tal dispatched the mercenary in record time, within seconds after the judges called for combat. He took two steps forward, and rather than launching a feigned attack with a combination of blows, he lunged and struck the man in the upper left arm, drawing blood.

The gallery exploded in applause and the mercenary stood in stunned amazement, both because of the speed of the attack and the lack of guile, which had caught him by surprise. He looked angry, more at himself for being made to look the fool than at Tal, but he saluted and as they left the floor, he said, "Be sure to win, will you, Squire? It makes me look far less of a buffoon if I'm disposed of by the champion."

"I'll do my best," said Tal with a smile.

When the other three contests were over, Tal found that his opponent would be the surprising Keshian youngster, Kakama; while Lieutenant Campaneal was to face Count Jango Vahardak, the man who had finished second the year before to the retired champion.

Tal spent a restless night worrying more that Vahardak would defeat Campaneal than about his own match. He had watched the young Keshian and knew his victories were due to speed-perhaps even superior to his own-audacity, and a willingness to leave himself open when making a bid for a winning touch. Tal had already antic.i.p.ated how he would defeat the Keshian.

He awoke early and dressed quickly, then roused Pasko and the others. At the Masters' Court, he put himself through a vigorous set of stretching exercises. When he had finished, he ate a light meal of fruit and juices, then took a carriage to the baths.

The two bouts to determine the finalists would start at noon, with the winners fighting before the King and his court at the palace after dark. Tal kept his mind as focused as he could on the coming match, but all he could really think about was of facing Campaneal.

Two hours before noon, he returned to the Masters' Court and retired to the room set aside for contestants. He was not the first there, for the young swordsman from Kesh was already sitting in a corner. When the first day of the contest had commenced, the room had been crowded and loud with the chummy chatter of contestants and their servants. Today it was as silent as a tomb. Talon retired to the far corner and nodded once to Kakama. Pasko leaned over and said, "I believe that lad is Isalani, like Nakor."

"What of it?"

"Just that if he's anything like Nakor, you haven't seen half of what he has. Just remember that."