Kaspar took a sip from a wine cup, and asked, “Have you completed that ‘family business’ you spoke of when last we met?”
“Indeed, Your Grace. It took longer than I had anticipated, but it is now a matter in the past.”
“So, you are now free to seek your fortune?” The Duke’s eyes were narrow and appraising even as he kept his tone light.
Tal feigned a laugh. “Given my luck at cards lately, I am in need of a fortune, m’lord.”
The King rose, and a half second later, Kaspar did as well. As he turned to follow his cousin, Kaspar looked over his shoulder and said, “I am hunting at first light. Join me at the southern gate. I’ll have a horse ready. Do you have a bow?”
“Yes, m’lord,” said Tal, to Kaspar’s retreating back.
The Court Baron turned. “Quite the coup, young Hawkins.”
“Sir?”
“The Dukes of Olasko have been hunters for generations. They say this Duke’s grandfather once hunted dragons in the west of the Kingdom of the Isles. To be invited to hunt with him is a mark of distinction.”
Tal smiled and nodded, attempting to look suitably flattered. The Baron and his wife departed.
Tal felt it necessary to make one circuit of the hall, then determined to stay close to the exit and wait until someone else departed. He had no wish to mark himself by being the first to leave, but he wished to be out of the palace as soon as possible.
As he made his way through the throng, he was occasionally stopped by this acquaintance or that and several times by strangers who wished simply to introduce themselves to the current Champion of the Masters’ Court. As he came near the King’s cortege he was struck by how many people were being kept at bay by the servants, who were acting as guardians of the royal privacy as much as providing tidbits and drink—though who could eat or drink after such a meal? Tal wondered.
Without intending to, Tal caught the King’s eye, who waved him to approach. Tal instantly turned, and as he moved toward the King, the servants parted enough to let him pass. Tal bowed. “Majesty.”
King Carol smiled. “Hawkins, it is good to have you with us again. Would it be possible to arrange a demonstration of your skills here in the palace?”
“I am at Your Majesty’s disposal,” replied Tal. “Whatever time you require.”
“Oh, good, young sir. Prince Constantine is of an age and needs to learn his weapons. His instructors say the boy has promise, but still, I think watching experts in such matters tends to give a lad something to emulate. Don’t you?”
Tal couldn’t disagree, and besides, it would be impolitic to do so. “Most learning begins with mimicry, Majesty.”
“Quite. What say you, a week from today?”
“At any time you wish, Majesty.”
“Say mid-morning. I find the wits are keener in the morning than the afternoon.” Turning to his wife, he said, “Assuming my wits are keen at any time of the day, what, my dear?”
The Queen smiled and patted her husband’s arm. “You are a man of very keen wit, m’lord…sometimes.”
The King laughed aloud, and Tal couldn’t help but smile. King Carol of Roldem was the only monarch Tal had encountered in his travels, but Tal doubted most were as self-deprecating as this one.
“Shall I bring an opponent, Majesty?” Tal knew that any student from the Masters’ Court, and most of the instructors, would welcome an opportunity to come to the court. Royal favors had been curried with less than a sword match in the past, Tal knew.
“We have an ample supply of swordsmen here in the palace, Squire,” answered the King. “Just be here at the appointed hour.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Tal with a bow, taking it to mean he was dismissed.
He noticed that a few guests were departing and decided it was safe for him to leave as well. But halfway across the floor he heard a familiar voice. “Squire, a moment of your time.”
Without turning, Tal said, “Constable, what an unexpected surprise.”
Constable Dennis Drogan came to stand before Tal, and with a smile and nod said, “Glad to see you again, Squire.”
“What brings you here?” asked Tal.
Dennis, a middle-aged, broad-shouldered man, had a head that looked to be perfectly round. He kept his hair cropped close and seemed impervious to the effect that had, for it emphasized his left ear, which had been half bitten off during a scuffle in his youth. His nose looked as if it had been repeatedly broken over the years. Tal recognized him for what he was, a brawler, tough, unrelenting, and dangerous. More so, for he was the Crown’s law in the city.
Drogan smiled. “My uncle is still bursar to the household here in the palace, and I am technically a member of the Royal Court.”
“Ah, of course, but rather, what brings you here?”
Putting his hand on Tal’s shoulder, Drogan moved him toward the door. “You do, Squire.”
“Me?” Tal fell into step beside the shorter man. “Why?”