“Oh, really? Tell me about it, Tal.”
Tal outlined his encounter with Burgess two nights before and his conversation the previous night. When he finished, Kaspar nodded and didn’t speak for a moment. Then he said, “You’re probably correct. This man Burgess may be part of Lord Vallen’s very capable spy network. Lord James’s grandfather established it back during the reign of King Lyam, first in Krondor, then here in Rillanon. It’s endured, grown, been refined, and is now the match of the Keshians’.” He looked out of the window toward the city and added, almost to himself, “Lacking their resources, I must rely on other solutions.” Kaspar turned back to Tal, studied him, then went on, “You acted correctly, informing me of this contact. I would like you to seek out this man Burgess and tell him you are willing to act as interlocutor upon behalf of his trading concern.”
Tal showed his surprise in his expression, but said only, “Yes, Your Grace.”
“It may be this Burgess is exactly who he appears to be, and perhaps some good will come of this; he might actually have some goods that I’ll purchase, or perhaps a more beneficial trade arrangement can be made with the Isles than we’ve had heretofore—they tend to need little of what we have to offer, and many things we need, so trade with them is usually disadvantageous.
“But it also may be that Burgess is attempting to recruit you as a spy.”
“I would never violate an oath, Your Grace!” said Tal.
“I know, but while you seem a capable young man, Tal, you have no idea how devious these people can be. This man would probably let you think for some time to come that he was who he claimed, and allow you to provide some information that seemed harmless enough, but eventually, you would find yourself confronted by Burgess, who would then produce some sort of ‘evidence’ that if put before me would make you look guilty of betraying Olasko. And from that point forward, you would be Burgess’s creature.
“No, let us play this out for a while and see what happens. Eventually it will be clear which of the two men Burgess is, the spy or the trader.” Tapping his chin with his forefinger, Kaspar added, “It also might prove useful if he is a spy, for then we can tell him what we want the Isles to know.”
“Whatever Your Grace wishes,” said Tal.
Kaspar said, “We have two more days here, then we are off for Opardum. Keep studying the city and find this man Burgess and do as I said. You may go now.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Tal.
Tal left the Duke’s quarters and hurried to his own. It was barely an hour past dawn, and the city would be bustling. Already he felt sorry to be leaving this fabled city behind, but he had a duty. Reaching his own quarters, he found Amafi waiting for his instructions.
“Lay out a change of clothing. I’m going to spar with the officers of the Royal Guard, then I’ll want a bath. Wait an hour, and order up hot water. Then lunch in the city and more sightseeing.”
“Yes, Magnificence,” said Amafi.
Tal closed the door and headed for the Royal Armory.
The armory had none of the grandeur of the Masters’ Court, or even the elegance of the Court of Blades in Salador. It was a drab building near the southern gate of the palace complex, fashioned from stone, with high windows that let in just enough light to keep the hall in a state of near gloom. Five large wheels set with candles were hung from the ceiling and provided additional light.
The room was filled almost to capacity, as word spread through the palace that the Champion of the Masters’ Court would be sparring with the best the Kingdom of the Isles had to offer.
They cheered when Tal disposed of his third opponent, a gifted young knight lieutenant who pushed him quite hard. Laughing, Tal shook his hand and said, “Bravo, my friend. Had you been in the last tournament, I wager you might have been in the round of eight! Well done!”
The King’s Swordmaster, in charge of training the soldiers of the Royal Household Guard, said, “Squire, I have seen forty years of service under three kings, and while I may have seen swords to match yours, there haven’t been many. Thank you for the entertaining and instructive display.”
The assembled officers cheered, and for an odd moment, Tal felt a kinship with them. He was not from the Isles, yet so long had he worn the false colors of a noble of this nation he felt almost as if he were one of them. He lifted his sword in salute, then bowed his head. “You honor me, Swordmaster.”
The officers began to disperse, and Amafi handed Tal a towel. “Your bath is ready,” he said in Quegan.
Another voice from behind, also speaking Quegan, said, “Isn’t the plumbing here in Rillanon wonderful?”
Tal turned to see Lord James approaching. He bowed. “Your Grace.”