Tal lay quietly for a while. His mind was busy, and sleep was a long time in coming. For years his purpose had been only one thing: to avenge the destruction of his people. Of all those involved, only two principals were left: the Special Captain of Kaspar’s Household Guard, Quentin Havrevulen, and the Duke himself. Tal had already killed the others.
He forced himself to calm, using one of the mind-relaxation drills taught him at Sorcerer’s Isle, and sleep finally came. But it wasn’t a relaxing sleep. Rather, it was filled with dreams and images of other places and times, his village in the mountains and his family, his mother, father, sister, brother, and grandfather. The girl he had dreamed of as a child, Eye of the Blue-Winged Teal. In his dream she sat upon a seat, one leg crossed under the other, wearing a simple buckskin summer dress, a faint smile on her lips. He awoke with a painful longing he thought he had eradicated in himself years before. He rolled over and willed himself back to sleep, and again the dreams came. It was a restless night, and he felt little benefit from his slumber when Pasko came and awoke him for the dawn’s hunt.
Three
Hunt
The horse pawed the ground.
Tal brought his gelding’s head around slightly, forcing him to pay attention to something besides his own boredom. The morning was crisp at first light, with a breeze coming off the ocean, but Tal knew it would be very hot by midday in the hills to the northeast of the city. Even before Duke Kaspar appeared, Tal knew they were after big game, lion or bear, perhaps even one of the more exotic creatures reputed to inhabit the higher mountains, the giant boars—whose tusks reputedly grew to three feet in length—or the valley sloth, twice the size of a horse and despite the name fast when it needed to be, and armed with claws the size of short swords. The array of weapons in the luggage told Tal what he needed to know about the coming hunt: there were boar-spears with crosspieces fastened above the broad blade to prevent the animal from running up the haft and goring the spearman; there were giant nets with weights at the edges, and heavy crossbows that could punch a hole the size of a man’s fist through plate armor.
A dozen servants, another dozen guards, and livery boys to care for the horses also waited patiently upon the appearance of the Duke. Another six men had been leaving as Tal had arrived, trailbreakers and trackers wearing the King’s livery, who would mark the most likely game trails. Tal found it intriguing that the hunting grounds lay less than a day’s march away, for Roldem was an ancient land, and he would have expected wildlife to have been pushed far into the mountains by the encroachment of civilization. Having hunted for his entire boyhood, and on many occasions since, he knew that rarely was big game within a day’s ride of a city.
Tal let one of the servants oversee the disposition of his travel gear, which was modest compared to the rest of the baggage being stowed on the horses. Tal knew they’d be following trails that wagons couldn’t negotiate, but it looked as if they could use a pair. Two animals alone were being used to carry what could only be a pavilion. Tal had no problem with sleeping on the ground, but realized the gentry of Roldem might find that objectionable.
Besides Tal, two nobles of Roldem—Baron Eugivney Balakov and Baron Mikhael Grav—waited patiently. Tal knew them by reputation. They were young, ambitious, and held modest but important positions in the King’s court. Balakov was assistant to the Royal Bursar, and he could expedite or slow a request for funds. He was broad-shouldered, with a brooding look, his dark hair cut close, as was his beard. Grav was also associated with the Bursar’s office, but was seconded to the office of the Royal Household Guard, being primarily responsible for seeing that the palace troops were armed, clothed, fed, and paid. He was a thin man with blond hair and a slender mustache he obviously worked hard at keeping perfectly trimmed. Both wore extravagant clothing, a long way from the modest leather tunic and trousers Tal had selected to wear.
As the sun lit the sky behind those distant peaks, Duke Kaspar and a young woman emerged from the palace, quickly making their way to a pair of waiting horses. Tal glanced at the young woman, wondering absently if it might be the Lady Rowena of Talsin, who in reality was another of the Conclave’s agents, Alysandra.
Tal had been frustrated during the time he had spent on Sorcerer’s Isle in determining just what she had been doing in the Duke’s company, for either people didn’t know or they weren’t telling. All he could discover was that it had been Miranda, Pug’s wife, who had dispatched the girl to Olasko at about the same time Tal had been training in Salador.
This woman was unlike Rowena, but she had one trait in common: she was equally beautiful. But while Rowena had been fair with eyes the color of cornflowers, this lady was dark, her skin touched by the sun to a warm tan, her eyes almost as dark as her black hair. The Duke said something, and she smiled, and instantly Tal knew who she was, for there was a hint of resemblance to the Duke.