“As I understand it, she became intoxicated at a gala given by Lady Amsha Detoris, and threw the facts of your…liaison into her husband’s face over supper some months after you last left the city. The couple is yet not reconciled, and she abides in her suites here in the city, while he resides at their estates in the country. He blames you.”
“He should look to his own philandering,” remarked Tal, “for had he not been so quick to bed every pretty face he saw, his wife would not have been so eager to receive my attentions.”
“Perhaps, Magnificence, but it takes a man of unusual character to openly confront his own shortcomings. It’s so much more convenient to blame others.
“Upon hearing of your planned return, he sought out an assassin—far less discreetly than he should have—and I was hired to remove this”—he pointed at Tal—“blot on his honor. He was at least intelligent enough to have used a…broker…in Salador, lest blame fall upon him here in Roldem. I have ‘failed,’ so I am honor-bound to return his gold, and seek to turn this failure into a triumph. Employ me, Magnificence, and I will serve you. My oath upon it!”
Tal considered his next move. He had been back in Roldem for less than a day and needed reliable eyes and ears. “Until such time as you can successfully betray me without risk?”
Amafi grinned. “Possibly, my lord, for I have never been a man of constant heart. But oath-breaking does not come easily to even such a one as me, and given your rare talents I suspect such a time would never exist, for it would require an opportunity to become even richer than I hope to become in your service.”
Tal laughed. Amafi had a refreshing candor that made Tal think he could trust the assassin—up to a point, anyway—and as long as he didn’t attempt to press him beyond that point, he should prove a reliable servant. “Very well, let us to the Temple of Lims-Kragma, where you will swear an oath.”
Amafi grimaced. “I was thinking perhaps Ruthia or Astalon,” he said, naming the Goddess of Luck and the God of Justice.
“I think wagering your chance at being reborn to a higher station a good hedge against betrayal,” said Talon, putting away his weapon. “Come along. And we must work on your Roldemish. We may be here a while.”
If Amafi thought even for an instant to draw his weapon and strike, he masked the impulse completely, quickly moving to fall into step beside his new master as they vanished into the fog shrouding the city.
The magician stood in the corner, his features veiled in shadow. Tal knew his face even if he couldn’t see it in the gloom. A single candle burned in the apartment, and that was on the table in the next room, casting a faint light through the open door.
“Where’s your new man?” he asked.
Tal said, “I sent him on an errand. What did you find out?”
Stepping out of the shadows, the magician revealed himself to be a tall man of lean features, a striking face with a long straight nose, dramatic cheekbones, and startling blue eyes. His hair was so pale, it appeared almost white. He said, “Informants in Queg have vouched for Amafi. At least they have vouched for his reputation as an assassin.”
“A reputable assassin,” said Tal. “That’s a quaint notion.”
“He’s considered something of an ‘honorable’ man in the context of his trade,” declared Magnus, son of Pug of Sorcerer’s Isle, and one of Tal’s many teachers over the years.
“It’s beginning,” said Tal. “Lady Gavorkin confirmed last night that Duke Kaspar is to arrive by week’s end and will be ensconced in the palace with his cousin the King. Pasko? How many invitations arrived today?”
“Seventeen, master,” he answered.
“By month’s end, I imagine I will be in a position to make the reacquaintance of the Duke at one gala or another.”
“Your plan?” asked Magnus.
“I need to establish a link with Kaspar, then find a reason to call out Prince Matthew.”
“Is that necessary?”
“Almost certainly,” said Tal. “For while I’m vague on the details, I think I have anticipated Duke Kaspar’s larger goals in his maneuverings over the last few years.”
“This is something you didn’t mention before leaving the island,” said Magnus.
Tal nodded. “Because I didn’t fully see the pattern until a few hours ago. And I may be wrong, but I believe all his actions in the north to be nothing more than a bloody, murderous ruse, and his anticipated invasion of the Kingdom through Farinda a feint.”
“To what end?”
“To keep the Kingdom busy up north while he works toward his true goal in the south.”
“And that is…?” asked Magnus impatiently.
“I have no idea. But it could involve Roldem or Kesh, and keeping the Kingdom occupied along a long, empty border would work to Kaspar’s advantage.