Pug looked from face to face, and Tal felt the prickly sensation that he had come to associate with the use of magic. He knew that what Pug did was subtle, for anything too overt would risk a backlash. He was using a spell to calm them, to make them feel at ease with the coming decision, and to put aside their suspicion.
The King said, “If you gentlemen will withdraw to the quarters set aside for you, we shall discuss this matter.” He looked at the pile of documents Pasko had passed along and added, “It may take us some time to read all these. I will have supper sent to your quarters, and we will resume our meeting in the morning.”
Pug, Tal, and Pasko bowed, and the three men left the King’s hall. A page escorted them to modest quarters, and when they were alone, Tal glanced at Pasko. “Not as nice as the rooms given to me when I fought for the Championship of the Masters’ Court.”
Pasko said, “They liked you better then. You hadn’t tried to kill anyone in the royal family then.”
Pug said, “This is more problematic than it was in the Isles.” There came a knock at the door, and Pug waved permission for Pasko to answer. When Pasko opened the door, servants entered carrying trays of refreshments and wine. After they had left and the door was again closed, Pasko set about preparing a light meal for Pug and Tal.
Pug said, “I think we shall convince them, but it may take a lot more discussion.”
Tal sighed. He was anxious to be back with his mercenaries. He trusted John Creed, and despite his desire to avenge his people, had come to trust Quint and the others. But it was still a mercenary army, and trouble could erupt at any moment. And Bardac’s Holdfast was not a good place for there to be problems among his men.
Tal finally said to Pug, “What next?”
“We wait,” said Pug. “Which is the hardest thing of all.”
Pasko nodded. “I will arrange for baths, gentlemen, while you enjoy this repast, and I speak to the staff to see to an early supper.”
Pug rose. “None for me. I will dine with my wife tonight, and return before dawn.” With a wave of his hand he vanished.
Tal glanced at Pasko. “Just like Magnus. I hate it when they do that.”
Pasko nodded.
Nineteen
Assault
The wind cut like a blade.
Tal sat huddled under his great cloak, squeezing a ball with his right hand. Nakor had been the one who had given him the ball, made from some strange black material. It didn’t bounce well and was heavy, but it yielded just enough to give Tal’s hand serious exercise. The constant pain had dwindled to an occasional twinge or itch, or he got a throbbing dull pain afterward if he exercised too much.
But his arm was fully restored, and he had been using his hand in sword practice for a month. At first he could barely hold a sword for more than a few minutes, and at times the pain brought him close to tears, but he persevered. Now he barely noticed the discomfort unless he paused to think about it. And at the moment, he was too busy thinking about what was occurring before him to think about his hand.
Up a narrow trail, riding single file, three thousand mercenaries made their way onto the plateau. For hours they had been riding, and once they reached the top, they spread out, making cold camp. Still miles behind the citadel, Tal would not risk a hundred campfires. Kaspar’s full attention was directed to the fleet off his harbor and the army approaching from the east along the river, but the citadel was downwind from the plateau and smoke from that many fires would travel for miles.
The Isles’ army should be fully in place by now. Tal had convinced King Ryan he could move his army by boat up the route mapped by the agents of Salmater Tal had captured for Kaspar, then land on the north shore of the river, placing a force of five thousand men between Olasko Gateway and Opardum.
Tal felt tremendous impatience, for he knew he was close now to his final accounting with Kaspar. He wished for a moment that the Conclave could use its arts to magic his army inside the caves, rather than wait for engineers to construct a new bridge across the bottom of the ravine. But he knew that was impossible. Pug had warned Tal that Leso Varen would detect any spell used within miles of the citadel. He must think until the very last instant that the attack was conventional, for forewarning would doom this attempt to failure. Even if Kaspar was taken, Varen was the true target, and he must not escape. While Tal wanted Kaspar dead, he knew that his first objective had to be the magician’s rooms, for there he would find the wards that protected the sorcerer from Pug and the others, and there Tal would have to destroy them before Varen killed him, else all would fail. Kaspar would endure, the dark magic of Leso Varen would go unchecked, and Tal’s entire life would prove futile and pointless.