“Better?” said Tal. “The winner here is considered the best in the world.’’
“Don’t let that vanity sweep you away if you win, Tal.” Drogan put his hand on Tal’s arm and started walking him toward the door. “You need to get ready for tonight. We’ll talk as we walk.
“Look, you may be the best of the bunch who chose to walk into that building and start whacking away at each other, but the Izmali are just one of a dozen different bunches who spend every day in their lives learning how to kill people.” They moved aside as a pair of servants carried a long table back toward the Captain’s conference room. “There may be half a dozen soldiers scattered from here to the Sunset Isles who are better than anyone on this island but who couldn’t gain leave of their lords and masters to come here to compete. There are probably men your equal who can’t be bothered to travel here and waste their time, no matter the prize. I’m sure there are brilliant swordsmen the world over who have never heard of Roldem, let alone the Masters’ Court or this contest.
“If you win, don’t take the title of ‘world’s finest swordsman’ seriously. It could get you killed.’’
They reached the far end of the hall. “You’re through there,” Drogan said, indicating the door. “You’ll find a salon where you can rest, be massaged, eat, sleep, whatever you need until you’re called.” He put out his hand and shook Tal’s. “Good luck tonight.’’
As the Constable turned to leave, Tal said, “Dennis?”
“Yes?” The Constable paused.
“Am I under suspicion for anything?”
Dennis smiled. “Unless you’re paying a prince’s ransom to have someone try to kill you, in order to impress the ladies, I can’t see how you’d be under suspicion for this bloody nonsense.” Then the smile faded. “As for anything else, I’m always suspicious, my friend. Of everybody.”
He turned and left Tal alone in the hall. Tal weighed the Constable’s words and decided that at least for the next hour or so he needed to put all this nonsense out of his mind. For while there was nothing remotely whimsical about the situation, it made no sense whatsoever.
Tal waited to be summoned for the final match. The room assigned to him was sumptuous, with all types of refreshments from a light broth to a full ham, fresh fruit to cakes and other sweets. Wine, ale, and fresh water had been placed in pitchers on the board, and two servants waited nearby for any other need he might have. There was a bed if he wanted a quick nap.
Tal sat on the bed while Pasko hovered over the refreshments, nibbling at this and that. Magnus appeared through a door from the servants’ wing, took one look at the servants, and said, “Leave us, please, for a few minutes.’’
The two servants looked to Tal, who nodded, then quickly departed. When they were gone, Tal said, “How did you get into the palace?’’
Magnus smiled, a hint of self-satisfaction on his lips. “If I want to go somewhere, it takes a great deal more than a few guards at the door to keep me out.’’
Tal shrugged, conceding the point. “Then I suppose the appropriate question is, what brings you here so unexpectedly?”
“I’ve just spoken to our agents in Kesh. The assassin was a member of a particularly obscure sect of Izmali, but we’re attempting to see what we can discover about them.’’
Tal didn’t ask how Magnus had spoken to agents thousands of miles away, assuming that the magician must have some far-speaking magic or just used his powers to take himself there and come back. “What I’m trying to puzzle out is if they will try again, or if this was some sort of test which I passed.’’
“We won’t know unless they try to kill you again,” said Magnus.
“I think it’s a test of some sort,” said Pasko. “If they’d wanted you dead, m’lord, they’d have found a lot of easier ways, as I said before. I think someone out there is trying to take your measure.’’
Tal sat back on the bed with his back against the wall. He picked up a pillow and put it behind himself to get more comfortable. “So then the question becomes, who measures me and why?’’
“Two possibilities spring to mind,” said Magnus. “Whoever sent those death-dancers to kill me might have decided to take an interest in whoever foiled them.’’
Tal said, “But how would they know it was me? I mean, we were all on the island, and I was taken back to the estate at once. It could have been any number of people on the island who ruined their attack.’’
“The fastest way to end up dead, m’lord, is to underestimate our enemies. They are devious beyond understanding, and I’m certain they have as many agents out working as we do, if not more.’’
“You think there are spies on Sorcerer’s Isle?’’