Tal waited.
The tension in the court was palpable. That this was no conventional audience was made evident by the company of royal household guards lining the walls, and the dozen crossbowmen in the galleries on either side of the hall and above the throne.
King Ryan of the Isles sat motionless, his dress casual, for this meeting had been hastily called. To Tal’s right stood a man in black robes, who despite his short stature exuded power. Pug, the legendary Black Sorcerer and distant relative to the royal family by adoption, waited.
The King motioned for the two men to approach and they did, until a line of soldiers stepped before them, halting their progress.
The King looked at the two men and said at last, “My father warned me you might appear someday, Pug. From what he said, I take it your parting with him was less than convivial.”
Pug smiled. “That’s an understatement, Majesty.”
“As he recounted things, you renounced your allegiance to the Isles, gave up your hereditary titles, and said some fairly unflattering things to him.”
“Again, an understatement, Your Majesty.” Pug paused, then said, “In his youth, King Patrick was not the patient and reflective man you knew in later years. He was given to hot temper and rash judgment. I acted out of altruistic motives; I didn’t wish to see him plunge the Isles into a war with Great Kesh mere months after having seen half the Western Realm devastated by the armies of the Emerald Queen.”
“Yes,” said the King. “That’s something along the lines of what I heard. Nevertheless, your renunciation of your titles is considered treason by some. So, let’s put this aside for the time being and get to the point. Why are you here?” Then he pointed at Tal. “And why have you brought this assassin into my court?”
“Because Talwin Hawkins was a young man put at risk, then sacrificed by Duke Kaspar of Olasko for Kaspar’s own personal gains. He was duped, then betrayed, and by way of atonement, he wishes to warn Your Majesty of a grave threat to the Isles. I’m here on his behalf to vouch for him, and to reassure Your Majesty that what he will tell you is true.”
Tal bowed awkwardly, somewhat hampered by the sling holding his regenerating arm. He straightened and said, “Majesty, I am certain your own agents have kept you apprised of Kaspar’s seemingly endless plots and intrigues. As you know, he was behind the death of Princess Svetlana of Salmater, and because of this has managed to convince the Prince to acknowledge Kaspar as his liege lord.”
“I had not heard of that arrangement,” said the King.
Tal motioned to a guardsman, then to Pasko, who had come along with Pug from Sorcerer’s Isle. Pasko handed the guard a parchment. “This is a sealed copy, gained at much risk from Kaspar’s own archives, stipulating the conditions of the relationship under which Salmater and Olasko now exist.”
The King took the document from the guard. “How do I know this is authentic?”
“I’ll vouch for its authenticity, Majesty,” said Pug.
“And how did you come by this?”
Tal answered. “There are those still within Kaspar’s court who are sympathetic to former victims of his tyranny. If Your Majesty is familiar with Baron Visniya and Baron Stolinko of Olasko, you should know that they were imprisoned with me for a while by Kaspar’s personal order. They and other nobles have been murdered or imprisoned for imagined infractions, or for the personal gain of others in Kaspar’s service. Those wrongly imprisoned men still have friends within the court, friends who will undertake to keep us abreast of any conditions that may bear upon our coming assault on Opardum.”
“You mean to attack Opardum?” said the King. “I admire your candor, young Hawkins. And your courage. Might you enlighten me as to where you have found an army to lead into such a battle?”
“Majesty, I will have three thousand dedicated soldiers at my command by the first week of autumn.”
“A significant force for raiding a border outpost or even sacking a minor garrison, but to take Opardum you will need”—he glanced at the Knight-Marshal, Lord Lawrence Malcolm, who mouthed a figure—“twenty thousand or more. Attacking by sea and land, if I’m right.” He glanced again at his military advisor, who nodded.
“That would be true, Majesty, in a conventional assault. But my three thousand will be attacking Opardum from the rear.”
The King laughed. “The rear? Correct me if I’m wrong, young sir, but the citadel at Opardum is hard against a cliff face, and if I also remember correctly, there’s no way to get above it.”
“True, but there is a way in, Majesty. And that is where my army will attack.”
The King seemed to be growing impatient. “Well, then, that’s splendid. I wish you well in your endeavor. Some nearby nations are bad neighbors, but Kaspar is something of a bully, and I will not shed a tear to see him gone. But what has this to do with the Isles?”