He reached an intersection, turned right, and wended his way through the late-afternoon crowd. After just a few seconds he knew he was being followed. His hunter’s instinct or his “bump of trouble,” as Nakor had called it, a casual glance to the rear, a reflection in the window of a shop, something had alerted him: somehow he knew there was a man about thirty feet behind him who had been tailing him since he had left his apartment.
Talon paused to look into a shop window as if inspecting some item on display. The figure he saw out of the corner of his eye resolved itself as the man halted and appeared to be searching for something he had forgotten. With a feigned look of disgust, the man quickly turned and walked away, but not before Tal had marked him. He was a short, wiry man, but he walked quickly and with an economy of movement that alerted Tal: the man was dangerous.
Tal knew he would vanish into the crowd, so he did not pursue him. It would prove to be pointless and would also reveal to the man that Tal had discovered him. That man, or another, would soon be back. Someone was stalking Tal, and he needed to find out who and why.
If it was an assassin employed by some angry young woman or her father, that was one thing, but if it had anything to do with the Conclave of Shadows, that was another. He might have to send Pasko to alert Robert and the others.
Talon took a leisurely stroll to the bathhouse, avoiding his usual route, and stopped several times to ensure he was no longer being followed.
At Remarga’s he was greeted by one of the many attendants, this one well known to him. “Good afternoon, m’lord,” the man said.
“Good afternoon, Sven,” Tal replied. “Is Salmina free?’’
“I shall see, sir. You wish to have her services?”
“Yes,” said Tal, and he went into the changing room.
Sven stood by to care for Tal’s clothing and provide him with whatever he needed. To begin with, Tal was given a large cotton towel, in which he wrapped himself. As he left the changing room, Sven put his clothing and sword away. Tal found himself a small wooden stool next to a large bucket of warm water. Beside the bucket was a bar of scented soap and a brush. Placed next to the stool was a tray containing small, delicate earthenware jars adorned with floral designs. Tal picked up the bucket and poured the contents over his head, and as soon as he set it down, a young boy appeared with a fresh bucket of warm water and took the empty one away.
First of all, Tal treated his hair with a scented oil, and wondered not for the first time what his grandfather would have thought of all this. The old man’s way of taking a bath had been plunging into the iciest streams and lakes and reveling in it. But given his grandfather’s appreciation of comfort, Tal decided that the old man would have approved of the entire process. Just then a young woman appeared, wearing a brief robe of white linen, which clung to her in the damp heat of the bathhouse. Tal knew his grandfather would very much have approved of this, for the old man had never lost his eye for women, a fact he regularly commented on, to the ire of Tal’s grandmother.
Feeling a moment of nostalgia, he said nothing but allowed her to begin soaping his back. Remarga trained his staff well: she would not speak unless spoken to first. Some customers wanted banter and flirtation, and a few desired more personal services, which could be arranged for a price, which included a small private suite at the back of the building. Others preferred calm and quiet and wanted nothing more than to keep their thoughts to themselves while they bathed.
Tal stood up and the girl finished washing his back and shoulders, then started on his chest. Tal gently removed the bar of soap from her hand and dismissed her as he finished the task himself. He knew that had he remained motionless, she would have washed every inch of his body, but his mind was on other things besides playing with a bath-girl, and he ought to keep his mind focused on Melinda, who would be more than eager to meet his need for passion after supper.