“Thank you, Squire.”
Tal considered. He knew his tenure in Salador would be brief, despite the fact they were making it appear as if he was settling in. The weather was turning cold, and soon people would begin preparing for the Midwinter Festival. Duke Rodoski would be in the city in slightly more than a month. But he would like to do something to help this young couple.
“What are your long-term plans, Lucien?”
The young man shrugged. “Plans, sir? I don’t know. I am rather fortunate to have this employment. There are more cooks than jobs in Salador these days. It would be nice to have steady work with someone who took advantage of my ability, sir, such as yourself,” he finished up in a rush.
Tal laughed. “Have you thought of perhaps finding someone to back you in establishing your own place?”
“A tavern?”
“In Roldem, private dining clubs are all the rage.” Tal described Dawson’s, The Metropol, and a few others. “The very best cooks, or what you in Bas-Tyra would call g ran chefs, are men of stature, and very rich.”
Magary, who had been looking on, said, “Oh, sir, that would be a wonderful thing.”
“I’ll be doing some entertaining. Let me see if I might find you a backer.”
“Sir, that would be…beyond imagining,” said Lucien.
“Well, just keep cooking like this, and we’ll both be happy.” Tal pushed himself away from the table. “But I will say the pudding could have used a touch more ginger.”
Lucien seemed ready to argue, but he caught himself in time. “Perhaps you’re right, Squire.”
Tal laughed. “The pudding was just fine. I was seeing if you could keep your mouth shut. Arguing with chefs is like trying to hold back the tide.”
Lucien and Magary both laughed and looked embarrassed.
Tal said, “That will be all for tonight.” To Amafi, who had stood at his shoulder throughout the meal, he said, “Grab a bite for yourself. It’s quite good. Then meet me down at the club called Ruthia’s Palace. It’s time for Salador to remember me.”
He had dined at a small tavern the night before, and gambled at an establishment close to the city square, but in neither place had he seen one person he knew from his previous tenure in Salador. He had introduced himself to the owners of both establishments, ensuring word of his return would eventually spread, but he decided he needed a more dramatic return. Ruthia’s Palace was the most popular gaming hall in the city, and he was well-known there.
“Yes, Magnificence. I will follow as soon as I have eaten.”
Tal headed out into the night, and the entire way to the gambling hall he wrestled with his emotions. Since that night in the citadel, everything had changed. Now he felt as if he had somehow been trapped within a box, made of thoughts and feelings, not of wood, but confining nevertheless.
He felt constantly on the verge of anger, so strong was his desire to walk away from what had become his reason for existence, the desire to revenge his people. Now he suddenly felt ensnared, caught by forces pulling him this way, then that. He ached for a moment at the thought of Eye of the Blue Winged Teal suffering one more day of hardship, and he longed for the simple joy a man like Lucien had at being told his work was good.
He stopped, leaning against the wall by a miller’s shop, shuttered for the night, and felt as if he couldn’t take another step. The pit of his stomach seemed to drop away, and his chest constricted. Suddenly, without warning, he wept. Pain he thought long forgotten came welling up from somewhere deep within; then anger at what the gods had visited upon him, then sadness for all he had lost. For nearly half an hour he stayed at this quiet place, ignoring the occasional passerby who cast him a glance, thinking him intoxicated or perhaps mad.
Then he recognized the trap his own mind was setting for him. This way lay only destruction, he reminded himself. He could not leave Kaspar’s service, nor recant his oath. He could only endure until such time as he was free, or he could die. But to survive while in Kaspar’s service he must be as immovable as a mountain, as cold as ice, as hard as steel. Emotions could destroy him faster than the most dangerous swordsman.