Caleb took him to see famous sights: the remaining portion of the seawall, which had been destroyed during the Serpentwar when, according to legend, the armies of the Emerald Queen had invaded from across the sea and the entire city was virtually destroyed. Talon had to pause when Caleb told the story, to remind himself that Caleb was speaking of his own grandmother, who had been enslaved by a demon. Talon judged that many of the tales told around the campfire in his boyhood might need be reevaluated, rather than merely dismissed as folktales.
He visited Barrett’s Coffee House, where finance, as complex and mysterious as magic, was conducted. He had a vague sense of what the place meant to the economy of the Kingdom from his reading of the life of Rupert Avery, who had been a businessman of some fame at Barrett’s. They went to see the palace, though they observed it from a respectful distance, for while Caleb hinted at some past relationship between his family and the crown, there seemed no plausible reason to gain entrance. Nor any motive, for that matter, apart from curiosity. Talon felt a mild interest in these things, as he did with anything that was alien to his experience. Now when he reflected upon his childhood, he realized how little of the world he had known as a boy; but even so he remembered with clarity how much he thought he understood of it. Such had been the heritage of his people, who were content to live out their lives in the mountains as their ancestors had done before them. Generations passed with little change among the Orosini, and it seemed a good life. Talon looked around the city, taking in the crowds clogging the streets, and wondered if perhaps that was one thing his people had correctly apprehended—the quality of a good life. Certainly, most of the people he viewed as they passed were evidencing little by way of joy. Most were intent upon the business at hand, or making their way somewhere in a great hurry. A few children played in the streets, but only the very young; the older children seemed to be banded together in groups of ten or more and often could be seen running with a constable of the law in pursuit.
They traveled with the caravan through the Western Realm, through rolling hills and into low mountains not unlike those of his homeland. But where those mountains had been populated by folk living in villages of wooden huts and stockades, these mountains boasted towns and castles. In Ravensburgh they had the finest wine Talon had tasted, and he asked many questions of the innkeeper. He stole an hour to seek out a winemaker and plied him with questions, too.
Demetrius had said at some point that their masters would be teaching Talon about wine, and he now thought this would be a good thing.
The journey continued to the town of Malac’s Cross, and there they bid good-bye to the caravan master. After a night spent sleeping in a relatively clean room, Caleb secured two fine horses, and they set off to the east.
As they rode toward the rising sun, Talon said, “Caleb, am I to ever discover what it is we are doing?’’
Caleb laughed. “I suppose it matters little if I tell you now or tell you when we reach Salador.’’
“Then tell me now, for I am afire with curiosity.”
Caleb said, “In Salador we shall finish with your education in manners and breeding. For a year or more you will learn at least two musical instruments—the lute and another, perhaps a horn or pipe. You will learn even more about the culinary arts, though you are well on your way, having tutored under Leo. And you will learn more about manners of the court, costumes appropriate for all occasions, and how to comport yourself with persons of any rank. You will learn to judge wine and you will learn to sing, though I suspect this last matter may be a lost cause.’’
Talon laughed. “I can sing.’’
“I’ve heard you, and I’d hardly call it singing.’’
“But to what end does all this training in the art of being a man gentle born lead?’’
Caleb switched from the King’s Tongue, which they had been speaking since arriving in Krondor, to Roldemish. “Because in a year’s time, my young friend, you shall journey to the island kingdom of Roldem, and there you shall enroll in the Masters’ Court. And if the fates are kind, we shall establish you there as a minor noble, a distant cousin of a noteworthy family, rich in heritage but poor in resources, and as such employable.”
“The Masters’ Court? Kendrick told me a little about it. He said the finest swordsmen in the world trained there.’’
“And that, my friend, is your task. For when you leave Roldem, you must be counted as the best of them all. You must be counted as the greatest swordsman in the world.’’
Talon stared at his friend in stunned silence and rode on.
— Part Two —
Mercenary
Revenge is sweet but not nourishing.
—Mason Cooley
MASTERS’ COURT
Tal blinked.
The blade that hovered for the briefest instant in front of his face flicked to the right, and he hesitated, then moved in the same direction. As he had anticipated, his opponent was feigning to the right and went left. He slipped past his guard so fast that the other swordsman couldn’t react in time, and Tal’s blade struck home.