As he paused to consider what to do next, leave for the day or try one more bout, a stir in the crowd heralded the arrival of someone else of note. Tal watched with interest as half a dozen ducal guards entered, followed by a retinue of courtiers, then Duke Varian Rodoski. For a brief instant, Tal felt self-conscious. He had considered the possibility that the Duke and he would encounter each other, but had not anticipated it might be in a location similar to the place of where Tal had humiliated the Duke’s cousin, Prince Matthew.
The Duke was a young man, no more than thirty-five years of age, and darkly handsome; he had reputedly been quite the rogue with the ladies until his marriage to a noblewoman of Kesh seven years ago. An unfortunate riding accident had widowed the Duke two years previously, and he genuinely mourned the loss of his wife. Now, according to gossip, his only vice was an occasional gambling binge, wagering on horses or watching Guild League Football. Otherwise, he was a devoted father to his two children, a daughter of six and a son of four years. He was dressed for swordwork, wearing the traditional heavily padded jacket, tight leggings, and slippers, and he was carrying a rapier. At his side a servant held his dueling helm, a metal basket that protected the face and neck from accidental cuts.
The Duke caught sight of Tal and nodded; then as if thinking of something, he walked toward him. When he was a short distance away, he stuck out his hand in greeting. “Squire. It’s been a while.”
Tal was taken off guard, but after a moment’s hesitation, he took the Duke’s hand, bowing slightly. “Your Grace. Yes, it has.”
The Duke had a face that looked untouched by guile or pretense. He leaned over to whisper, “You know, not everyone in the family was angered by how you humbled Matthew. The only thing I wonder was why someone didn’t do it sooner. He can be an unbearable prig one minute and an excruciating bore the next. He’s as annoying as a fly in the pudding. Did him good to have his bottom thumped. His mother should have done so years ago.” Then he paused, and smiled at Tal. “Sir, would you care to engage me in a bout?”
Tal smiled back. “You’re serious, Your Grace?”
“As serious as a kick in the rump, Squire.”
Tal nodded, grinning. “It will be my honor, Your Grace.”
The Duke said, “Just don’t thump me the way you did Matthew, and we’ll get on famously.”
“My word, Your Grace,” said Tal.
They took to the floor and the crowd immediately started a low buzz of conversation. The two men squared off, and the Master of the Floor said, “Gentlemen, first to three touches.”
The match was almost predictable, given that Tal was a vastly superior swordsman to the Duke. But he refused to take several openings, and allowed the Duke to work on his technique. At last the match was over, and the Duke said, “Well done, Squire. Your generosity is most appreciated.”
As they walked to where servants waited to help them off with their padded jackets and provide towels, Tal answered, “My pleasure, Your Grace. Besides the fact that I regret my intemperate outburst with your cousin, you are an experienced swordsman. Should your duties in office not have put such excessive demands on your time, I suspect you might have been one of the better opponents I would have faced at the Masters’ Court.”
“You’re too kind, sir. I entered once, when I was young, and was ceded the thirty-second place,” said the Duke as he toweled himself off. “That was due to rank, I’m afraid, and they did me no service. I was humbled quickly by the first opponent I faced. I think it would have been better to let me struggle in the earlier, open competition.”
“It is a better way to learn than being quickly ousted,” agreed Tal as he handed his towel back to Amafi.
“If you are not hurrying off, perhaps you’d join me for a cup of wine across the street, Squire. There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”
Tal looked at Amafi, and said, “Fetch my clothing.” To the Duke he said, “My honor, Your Grace.”
“Say half an hour?”
“I will be there.”
Tal changed and found his way across the street to an inn called the Cutting Edge. It was a favorite of many of those who were members of the House of Blades. He found that a private room in the rear had been secured for the Duke’s use, and had been there only a few minutes when Duke Varian arrived.
The Duke made small talk while the wine was served, then sent his servants outside. He inclined his head toward Amafi, and Tal nodded to Amafi that he was to wait outside, as well.
When they were alone, Duke Rodoski said, “So, did Kaspar send you here to kill me, Squire?”
Tal kept his face immobile, then feigned shock. “Your Grace, is this some sort of dark jest?”
“Hardly,” said Rodoski. He sipped his wine. “Don’t be so confoundedly proud of yourself, Talwin. Your master is not the only one with agents crawling over every port and city of significance in the region. Roldem has arrangements with several other nations to share information when it’s mutually beneficial. Your visit with Prince Janosh was just a little too timely relative to the demise of Princess Svetlana. I’m not sure how you did it, but…” He shrugged. “While I had no enmity with her, I also don’t particularly miss her.”