Tal studied both men. They were similar in stature, elderly, but still tall and powerful, with keen eyes and the calm confidence of men who had wielded power for decades. Beside the Duke of Krondor stood another man, somewhat younger, who was talking quietly to the Duke. Prohaska said, “That man talking to Lord James is Lord Williamson Howell, the King’s Chancellor of Finance and the Exchequer. He’s a court duke, but as powerful in his way as the other two. He is considered to be as shrewd with gold as any man living. Behind him, the two old soldiers?”
Tal nodded. “Yes, I see them.” A man of middle years, with the upright military bearing of a career soldier, wore a royal red tabard, but the other wore a tabard matching that of Duke James, a blue tabard bearing a circle of light blue, upon which an eagle could be seen flying above a mountain peak. He looked to be a man in his late seventies, and Tal could see he had once been a very large and powerful. His muscle had softened with age, but Tal would still count him a dangerous opponent.
“That’s Sir Lawrence Malcolm, Knight-Marshal of the Armies of the East, and next to him is Erik von Darkmoor, Knight-Marshal of Krondor. Behind him stands the Admiral of the King’s Eastern Fleet, Daniel Marks, and his adjutant.
“If this wasn’t a reception, I’d say it was a war council.”
Tal studied the men and was forced to agree. They didn’t possess any of the festive demeanor of those attending a gala. The light, celebratory mood that was always there in Roldem was absent in this court tonight.
The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward as the Duke backed away from the throne, and struck his iron-shod staff of office on the stone floor. “My lords, ladies and gentlemen, His Majesty bids you come forth and dine in the Great Hall.”
Tal followed the others and found his place with the help of a page. Here, too, the mood was far more subdued than what he had experienced in Roldem. People chatted, and he was engaged in light conversation by several local minor nobles in turn, but while Roldem’s court was alive with music and performers, here a small ensemble of musicians played softly in the background.
The food was superb, as was the wine, but Tal couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. As Tal was about to finish his meal, a palace page appeared at his elbow. “Sir, the King commands your presence.”
Tal stood, uncertain of why he was being singled out, but he followed the page along the side table until they reached the gap between it and the head table. He was escorted to a place directly before the King and found himself under the scrutiny of the entire assembly.
The King sat in his high-backed chair, with Duke Kaspar on his right as the honored guest. To his left sat the Lady Natalia, and from what Tal could see, she had charmed the King. The other nobles of the Isles were arrayed along the table.
The page said, “Majesty, Squire Talwin Hawkins.”
Tal bowed as effortlessly as he could manage, but found that he was nervous. He hid it well, but he felt it. He had no trouble passing himself off as a minor Kingdom noble in other nations, but here he stood before the monarch of the nation in which he was supposed to have been born, and worse, just four chairs away sat the Duke to whom his so-called cousin owed fealty; he forced himself to breathe deeply.
The King was a fair-skinned man with sandy-colored hair. His dark brown eyes studied Tal. He looked intelligent, thought Tal, and even if he wasn’t a king, most women would find him attractive. Then he smiled, and said, “Welcome, Squire. You do us honor.”
Tal said, “Your Majesty is too gracious.”
“Nonsense,” said the King. “You bring honor to the Isles as Champion of the Masters’ Court. We have several times inquired as to your whereabouts.”
Duke James studied Tal closely. “Your kinsman, Baron Seljan Hawkins, had no idea how to find you.” There was something in his tone that led Tal to believe the Duke was suspicious.
Tal nodded. “Your Majesty, Your Grace, I am forced to admit that by the most generous accounting I am a shirttail cousin to the Baron. I believe him to have been ignorant of my birth until news of my victory reached him. His grandfather and mine were brothers, and all we have in common is the family name. My claim to the rank of squire is only through my father’s adroit influences with the Office of Heraldry, as I understand it.”
The Duke grinned. “In other words, your father bribed someone.”
Tal returned the smile and shrugged. “He never said, and I never asked. I only know that the estates my father claimed consisted mostly of swampland outside Ylith, and I’ve never seen a copper from them in rents.”
This brought a round of laughter from everyone at the table. Tal’s self-deprecating humor had eased the mood.
“Well, even if your father was skirting the edge of the law in this matter, I hereby do affirm your rank and titles, even if the land you own is worthless,” said the King. “For to have one of our own as Champion of the Masters’ Court warrants reward.”