King of Foxes

“You’d be surprised,” said Nakor. “He’s a very powerful magician, but sometimes such men are vulnerable to very simple things. I will have to see what we can do about him.”

 

 

Tal knew he would have to discuss it with Pug, Miranda, and the other senior members of the Conclave. “I understand. But I think Kaspar may be involved in some very black arts.”

 

“Oh, we know he is. That message you sent was extremely useful. It confirmed some things we already suspected.” Nakor sat back. “Leso Varen is a very bad man, and he’s trying some particularly evil magic these days. Pug will tell you about him if you live long enough to see him again. But they have crossed paths before, and Varen opposes everything Pug and the Conclave stand for.”

 

“Am I working for you again?”

 

“In a manner of speaking, you always were. But yes, you are, especially if we start giving you gold, my friend.”

 

 

 

Tal nodded. “Understood, but I mean to have Kaspar’s head on a pike, Nakor.”

 

Nakor stood. “I’d better get back. Anything else?”

 

With a wry smile, Tal held out his right arm, showing the stump. “Can you fix this?”

 

Nakor shook his head. “No.” Then he smiled. “But I know someone who can.” He walked back to the door to the kitchen and said, “Be here tomorrow at the same time. I’ll have your gold and some answers for you.”

 

He left Tal alone again with Maryanna. She came over with a pitcher of ale and refilled his jack. “You look like you could use a bath.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Or a couple of them.”

 

“Do you have any old clothing?” Tal asked.

 

“Maybe,” she said. “Wait here, and I’ll have Mayami heat some water, and you can bathe in my room.” She moved toward the kitchen. “You stay here and I’ll send her to get you when the bath is hot. Want something to eat?”

 

“Whatever you have.”

 

She returned in a few minutes with a plate of fruit, cheese, and some bread. Tal had eaten most of it by the time the girl returned to lead him to the tub.

 

As he settled back in the hot water, the door opened and Maryanna entered. She held out a small jar. “Thought you might like this.” She poured a bit of the liquid on her hand and started rubbing his back. He caught the scent of lilacs.

 

There came a knock at the door and Mayami entered, saying, “There’s a man here, sir. He said to tell you your men are bedding down at the Green Wagon Wheel.”

 

Tal thanked her and she closed the door. Maryanna said, “You’re all skin and bones. What happened to you?”

 

 

 

“A bit more than three years in prison, where Duke Kaspar had them cut off my right arm, and a couple of months hiking overland from Olasko to here. Other than that, not much.”

 

She laughed. “You still have that sense of humor, don’t you?”

 

“What sense of humor?” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t remember being particularly funny when we were at Kendrick’s.”

 

“Oh, you were funny,” said the girl once known as Lela. “You just weren’t intentionally funny.”

 

He turned and grabbed her, pulling her into the small tub with him. She shrieked and laughed as he got her dress soaked. “Talon!”

 

“It’s Tal,” he said, then kissed her passionately.

 

She returned the kiss, then pushed away a little. “Three years in prison?”

 

“Yes,” he said.

 

“Oh, you poor dear,” she cooed as she started to unfasten her blouse.

 

 

 

Tal wanted to scratch his right arm in the worst way. True to his word, a few days after first meeting with Tal, Nakor had taken him to see a priest on an island somewhere. All Tal knew was that one moment he was standing with him in the Anvil and Tong, and the next they were on a beach in front of an ancient temple at the dead of night. Nakor spoke to the priest waiting there in a language Tal had never heard before and the priest had nodded, then examined Tal’s wounded arm.

 

Tal got the gist of it even though he didn’t understand a word. This priest owed Nakor a favor, and Nakor sweetened the deal with a pouch of gold. Tal was made to lie on a table surrounded by candles in a room hung with tapestries bearing arcane designs. Tal had no idea which god or goddess this temple venerated, because there was not a single familiar icon or image anywhere.

 

The priest rubbed something on the stump of his arm and intoned several different prayers, then had Tal drink a noxious-tasting beverage. Then suddenly they were back at the Anvil and Tong.

 

Days went by with no apparent change in the arm. Tal busied himself with training his recruits and building his army. The gold secured them an abandoned farmhouse half an hour’s ride out of the city that they’d use as a base. He bought horses, weapons, supplies, and clothing.

 

Raymond E. Feist's books