The woman studied Tal’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
Tal laughed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I know I’m different from what you remember: I’m down to skin and bone, look like hell, smell like a week-dead cat, and I’ve lost an arm, but you spent too many nights in my bed not to recognize me, Lela.”
Her eyes widened, and she said, “Talon?”
With tears threatening to well up and run down his face, Tal said, “It’s good to see an old friend, my love. Please, I need you to get word to Sorcerer’s Isle as quickly as you can, then if you don’t mind, I would love a mug of ale.”
She stared at him, then put her hand on his. “I’ll take care of both.”
She left him alone for only a few moments, then came back with a large pewter jack of ale. He drank it half empty in one gulp, then put it down. “Last I saw of you was waiting tables at the Admiral Trask in Krondor, when Caleb and I came through.”
“They move us around,” said the girl Tal had known as Lela. “It doesn’t do to have people become too familiar with a face. Here I’m called Maryanna, Talon.”
“And I’m known as Tal. I saw Alysandra in Opardum,” said Tal.
“It’s better if I don’t know about that.”
Tal sighed. “I know. What you don’t know, you can’t betray.”
He finished his drink and suddenly felt the hair on his arms and neck stand up.
Magic.
He turned and from the back room a familiar figure emerged. A skinny man with a shoulder bag at his side entered the room.
Nakor looked at Tal and said, “Got yourself in some kind of mess, I hear. What do you need?”
Tal smiled. “Gold, lots of it.”
“Gold I can get. What else?”
“Weapons, horses, whatever else I need to build an army.”
“Sounds interesting.” He turned to Maryanna. “Give me an ale and get him another.” He motioned for Tal to sit, and they occupied a table. “What else?”
“Clothing and supplies I can buy locally, but if you can, I’d like you to find a man up in Latagore named John Creed, and see if he can recruit for me and bring mercenaries south.”
“So, what are you going to do with this army when you have it?”
“I plan on sacking Opardum.”
Nakor grinned and took a swig of ale. “That sounds like fun. Others have tried it, but you might get lucky.”
“I will if you and your friends will help.”
“What do you need from us, besides the gold, of course?”
“I need someone to keep Leso Varen out of the way.”
Nakor shrugged. “I’ll have to talk to the others about that.”
Tal told Nakor everything that had happened to him since his last visit from Magnus. He detailed his murder of Princess Svetlana and his failed attempt on Duke Rodoski. He told him of Amafi’s betrayal and Kaspar’s decision to sacrifice Tal.
Nakor shook his head. “One thing I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Kaspar is nobody’s fool, yet many of these things you’ve talked about are…mad. He’s alienated every potential ally, and he’s ensured that he will probably never get another opportunity to get at any member of Roldem’s royal family. Even though no one can prove anything, they know. Even if he’s there on a state visit and everyone’s standing around with those painful smiles”—Nakor grimaced with his teeth clenched to demonstrate—“they’re going to watch him every minute. No one will trust him ever again. What is he up to?”
“I have no idea,” said Tal. “I just thought it was a mater of Kaspar’s vanity.”
“Kaspar’s arrogant,” said Nakor, “but he’s not vain. He’s earned his reputation as dangerous.” He was silent for a minute. “Whatever we think he’s doing, we can almost be certain he’s doing something else. If you’re cheating a man at cards, you draw his attention to the one place you don’t mind him watching carefully, so you can do what you wish where you wish to do it.”
“That almost makes sense.”
Nakor grinned. “Kaspar is blundering about trying to kill people because that’s what he wants us to watch. So, where does he not want us to look?”
Tal shook his head. “He’s got agents running around everywhere, Nakor. He’s got them trying to kill people. He looks as if he doesn’t care if he starts a war. The only place I’ve seen where he doesn’t want anyone looking around is that part of the citadel where Leso Varen resides.”
Nakor nodded. “Then that’s where we will have to look, my friend.”
“Well, you’ll have to do something about the wizard. I’ve been in his quarters twice, and neither time left me confident that I can walk in there and engage in him in polite conversation, let alone a duel. I suspect he’d reduce me to smoking ash or turn me into a toad or something else before I got within a sword’s thrust of him.”