“Don’t underestimate yourself, Tal,” said Dumont. “When last we met you were merely a minor squire from the west. Very minor,” he added, and the others laughed. “But now you are Champion of the Masters’ Court, and that is no mean thing.”
Tal picked up his cards and organized them. The bet was made, and he replaced two of them. “Well, perhaps some other time I’ll earn the pleasure of an introduction to His Grace, Duke Duncan, but for the moment, I’m content to spend Midwinter’s Day crawling from one tavern to the next in search of a convivial wench or two.”
The others laughed. “Well said.” Tal won the hand, and Dumont declared, “I must get back to the castle. I have duty in the morning.” He glanced at Squire John.
The boy rose, saying, “I as well. Good night, gentlemen.”
Tal turned to the other three men. “Shall we continue?”
Ruben stood up. “I’ve lost enough for one night, Tal. It was good to meet you.”
The other players also left, and Tal rose. There was another game in the corner, with an open chair, but he felt he had played enough cards for the night. There were other games as well, dice and the wheel, but he felt he couldn’t raise the enthusiasm for them. The goal of his visit had been achieved; while Dumont might mention him to only a few at the Duke’s castle, young Squire John was almost certain to tell everyone he had gambled with the Champion of the Masters’ Court.
Tal had drunk little that night, sipping at his drink and watching other players succumb to drunkenness. But he felt the need for one more before leaving. He glanced to the far corner of the room where Amafi stood silently, holding the same flagon of ale he had nursed throughout the night. Tal had insisted that when he was gambling, the bodyguard should keep his distance. Tal needed to know who watched him, and Amafi was his second set of eyes.
Tal ordered a brandy from Darkmoor, and sipped it. The pungent, bittersweet liquor warmed as it went down. As he stood silent, he felt the dark emotions that had overwhelmed him earlier that night rise up again, and he used every mental trick taught him at Sorcerer’s Isle to fend them off. Then he pushed away his unfinished brandy and went to the door.
Outside, he glanced around and judged that it was six hours or less to dawn. He walked slowly, waiting for Amafi to catch up with him.
He heard footsteps approaching rapidly from behind and turned. But instead of his manservant, he saw a figure in black clothing leaping at him, dagger drawn.
Tal’s almost unnatural reflexes were all that saved him. He stepped aside just enough so that the blade missed, and he was borne down to the ground, grappling with his assailant.
Tal gripped the man’s right hand with his left while he reached down to his own belt. The man’s body kept Tal from reaching his dagger, so Tal reached up and clawed at the man’s eyes.
The man pulled his head back, grunting in pain, then suddenly he stiffened, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he went limp.
Tal saw Amafi standing above the now-dead assassin. Amafi used the man’s cloak to wipe his blade clean, and asked, “Magnificence, are you all right?”
“Fine, but feeling like a fool. I heard him behind me and assumed it was you.”
“I saw him leave an unfinished drink at the gambling hall, Magnificence, as soon as you did, so I knew he was up to no good.”
Tal knelt by the man and examined him. He was slender, with unremarkable features, wearing a black tunic, grey trousers, and cloak. He carried nothing to identify him; no purse and no jewelry, just a sword and dagger.
“Who was he?” wondered Amafi.
Tal motioned for his manservant to accompany him. “Let us away before someone else comes by. I do not want to spend the night talking to the Sheriff of Salador.”
As they turned a corner and hurried away, Tal said, “The important question isn’t who he was, but rather, who sent him.”
Amafi said, “You have enemies, Magnificence.”
Tal nodded. “I do.”
They hurried back to the house, and every step of the way Tal realized he was feeling something new. He was feeling what it was like to be hunted.
Twelve
Betrayal
Tal lunged.