“Something like that. He did say you have now come as close to the line as King Carol will permit. One more infraction and a Roldemish fleet will be delivering companies of Keshian Dog Soldiers to Opardum.”
“Oh, he said that, did he?” Kaspar chuckled. “Games within games, Baron. There is another level of play under way that even one so highly placed as Duke Varian is unaware of.
“Still,” he added with a wave of his hand, “that is a matter which no longer concerns you. You’ve failed me, Baron. You not only didn’t kill Rodoski, as I ordered, you didn’t have the good grace to get yourself killed in the attempt. So, in a sense, you’ve failed me twice, which is one more failure than I usually permit. Still, you’ve been an earnest young fellow and have given me some amusement. For that sake, I will have your death be quick and painless.” To the guards he said, “Take him away.”
As the guards seized Tal’s arms, Tal shouted, “You owe me your life!”
Kaspar sat back and motioned for the guards to stop. “Damn me, but you’re right,” said Kaspar. He shook his head. “Very well, I will not be bound in life by a debt not paid. I will give you your life, Squire—I’m rescinding your office of baron—but you will wish before I’m done I hadn’t.” He then looked at Amafi, and said, “What am I to do with you?”
Amafi said, “You could start by removing the chains, Your Grace.”
The Duke motioned and guards freed him. After Amafi was out of his chains, he bowed and said, “I hope the Squire’s failure does not taint my service, Your Grace.”
“No, not in the least, Amafi. You are the perfect tool. You do exactly what I bid you to do, no more, no less.”
Tal looked at his manservant and said, “You?”
“Someone had to carry word to the Duke’s agents in Salador that you were sent to kill him, Squire,” said Kaspar. “I certainly couldn’t depend on Roldemish agents here to get word back to the Duke in time. Bribing your man to betray you was a far more elegant solution. I told him how to contact one of my agents in Salador, who in turn put him in touch with a member of Duke Duncan’s staff, and from there it was but one step to Duke Rodoski.”
Amafi bowed toward Tal. “As you yourself observed the first night we met, Magnificence, ‘Until such time as you can successfully betray me without risk.’ This was such a time.”
“You will be rewarded, Amafi,” said Kaspar. “Now, go and get cleaned up.”
The former assassin said, “Yes, Your Grace, but may I caution you in one thing.”
“What?”
“I have served Talwin Hawkins long enough to know that despite his youth, he is an extremely dangerous man. You would do well to put aside your debt and have him killed.”
“No,” said Kaspar. “I understand your caution, but I have my sense of honor, peculiar as it may be. He saved my life, so I can’t ignore that debt.” He paused, then said, “But I will take your warning to heart. Now, leave us.”
Amafi bowed to the Duke and departed. To Tal, Kaspar said, “I give you your life, but it will be spent in a place no man should endure, and few have for long. You are to live the rest of your life in the Fortress of Despair. If the gods are kind, you will die quickly there. But in my experience, the gods are rarely kind.”
To the captain of the guards, he said, “When he arrives, inform the commander of the fortress that this man is to be fed well and not tortured. Well, not tortured after he cuts off the prisoner’s right hand.”
Tal stood numbly for a moment upon hearing his fate; then suddenly without further word, he was dragged off by the soldiers. His last image of Kaspar was of the Duke sitting on his throne, an expression of satisfaction mixed with regret playing across his face.
Part Two
Soldier
Revenge should have no bounds.
—William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act IV, Scene viii
Thirteen
Prison
Tal stood on the deck.
He had been dragged to Opardum harbor. He had been off the ship from Salador less than half a day before he was chained in the hold of yet another ship.
Rather than forty or more days, this journey took only a week. Thoughts of escape had run through his mind and more than once he had tested his chains where they passed through a large iron ring fastened to a beam. After the first day, he had fallen into a mood of dejected misery. After a week, Tal had been roughly hauled up to the deck, where the ship’s captain waited.
“There’s your new home, Squire,” he said in an oddly convivial tone, pointing to an island.
Tal looked where the captain indicated and felt even more hopeless. The Fortress of Despair was an old keep, six stories tall, which overlooked the narrow passage between this island and the mainland, merely three miles away. It stood bleak against a grey winter sky, as the wind cut icily though Tal’s clothing.