“Where’s Pasko?” he asked, motioning for his trousers.
The former assassin handed them to Tal. “He went to the morning market, Magnificence, shopping for food. What may I do for you?”
Tal considered this, and said, “I guess now is as good a time as any for you to learn to be a valet.”
“Valet? Magnificence, I do not know the word.”
Tal had forgotten he was speaking Roldemish, a language in which Amafi could barely keep up. “Il cameriere personale,” said Tal in the Quegan language.
“Ah, a manservant,” said Amafi in the King’s Tongue, as the language of the Isles was known. “I have spent some time among men of breeding, Magnificence, so it will be of little matter to learn your needs. But what of Pasko?”
“Pasko will be leaving us soon, I’m afraid.” Tal sat and pulled on his boots. “It’s a family matter, and he must return to his father’s side up north in Latagore.”
Amafi didn’t ask for any details. He just said, “Then I shall endeavor to match him in caring for your comfort.”
“We still need to work on your Roldemish,” said Tal, falling back into that language. “I’m for the Masters’ Court. Wait here for Pasko, then tell him to begin to acquaint you with my routines. He will explain as he goes. Become like his shadow for a while and observe. Ask questions if they do not disturb me or any in my company; otherwise, keep them until the two of you are alone.
“Tell him to meet me at Remarga’s at midday and bring fresh clothing. Then I will dine at…Baldwin’s, outside along the Grand Canal, then some afternoon cards at Depanov’s. I’ll return here to change into something more appropriate for supper.”
“Yes, Magnificence.”
Tal put on the same shirt he had worn the day before and threw a casual jacket across one shoulder as he grabbed his sword. “Now, find something to do until Pasko gets back, and I’ll see the two of you at noon.”
“Yes, Magnificence,” Amafi repeated.
Tal left the apartment and hurried down the stairs. He fastened his sword around his waist and kept the jacket over his shoulder. It was a warm day and he had elected to forgo a hat. As he worked his way along the streets to the Masters’ Court, he pondered just how much damage he could do to a royal without getting himself into too much trouble.
The morning sun, a warm breeze off the ocean, the memory of the Lady Natalia’s enthusiastic lovemaking—all combined to put Tal into a wonderful frame of mind. By the time he reached the Masters’ Court he had a plan as to how to humiliate a royal without getting hanged, and had convinced himself it might even turn out to be fun.
A week later, the gallery was full as Tal walked onto the floor of the Masters’ Court. With the return of the Greatest Swordsman in the World, observing practices and bouts had become the favored pastime of a large number of young women in the capital. Many noble daughters and a significant number of young wives found reason to take pause during their day’s shopping to indulge their new-found interest in the sword.
He had been practicing every day for a week since returning from the hunt, and waiting for his opportunity to confront Prince Matthew. He had finally realized the Prince was waiting until he departed to appear at Masters’ Court every second day. Tal judged that the vain prince didn’t wish to share the attention of those at the Masters’ Court with the Champion. So this day, Tal began his practice sessions in the late afternoon, rather than the morning, as was his habit.
Tal was saluted by every member on the floor, including the instructors, in recognition of his achievement. Today Vassily Turkov was acting as Master of the Floor, head instructor, and arbiter of any dispute. Other instructors worked with students in all corners of the massive hall, but the Master of the Floor supervised the bouts at the center.
The floor of the court was of inlaid wood, arranged in a complex pattern that after a brief study revealed itself to be a clever series of boundaries between various practice areas. The floor was surrounded by massive columns of hand-polished wood supporting the ornate high ceiling. Tal glanced up and saw that the ceiling had been repainted, white with gold leaf over embossed garlands and wreaths that surrounded large skylights. Galleries ran along one wall between the columns, while the other wall boasted floor-to-ceiling windows, keeping the entire hall brilliantly lit.
Vassily came and took Tal’s hand. “When you didn’t appear this morning, thought perhaps you’d given yourself a day of rest, Squire.” He glanced at the crowded gallery and said, “If this continues, we may have to put up those temporary seats again.” During the Masters’ Champion Tournament, temporary seating had been erected in front of the windows, to accommodate as many onlookers as possible.