“No,” Tal lied. “For a moment, I thought perhaps I recognized the Lieutenant, but I was mistaken.” He turned and said, “It is an honor to meet you, Duke Kaspar.’’
Tal allowed the Duke to take over the conversation and faded into the background. It took all the control he could muster to keep his face a mask, for he had seen Lieutenant Campaneal once before. He had been the man taking orders from Captain Quirt Havrevulen, who was sitting on a horse beside the man called Raven. Lieutenant Campaneal was one of the men Tal had seen destroying his village. He was one of the men Tal had vowed to kill.
TOURNAMENT
Tal cheered.
The Tournament of Masters was under way at last, and to his delight, Tal discovered his prodigious success at the Masters’ Court over the last year had earned him ranking. Over four hundred swordsman had made their way to the city of Roldem to seek the golden sword and the title of the world’s greatest swordsman. The finest thirty-two, either by reputation or accomplishment at the Masters’ Court, were permitted to sit out the preliminary rounds of the contest. The thirty-two were not ranked by the Masters’ Court, though bookmakers who took wagers on the proceedings made their own ranking. In most cases, Tal was ranked no less than third. In several, he was the favorite to win the tourney. Only one man apart from Tal, the legendary Versi Dango, had gone undefeated in a year of bouts at the Masters’ Court. Should Tal win the tournament three times, it was said that another statue might join the Count’s in the atrium of the Masters’ Court.
Tal was afforded special seating in the central gallery, a section on the upper level with seating for the thirty-two chosen fighters and their friends, attendants, and companions. At present over seventy people were sitting or standing in the gallery, where refreshments were provided by attentive servants.
Tal sat with Pasko. “Isn’t that Kendrick standing back in the shadows in the corner?” he asked.
“Yes, it is, m’lord.’’
“Has he entered the contest?’’
“No, he lacks the vanity to imagine he’s the best there is,” said Pasko dryly, then added, “m’lord.”
“What’s he doing here?’’
“Watching your back,” said Caleb, dropping into a chair next to Talon.
“Both of you?’’
“And Magnus, whom you wouldn’t catch dead here, but who is nearby,” added Pug’s younger son.
Tal grinned. “Caleb, I never thought I’d see you dressed so fashionably.”
Caleb returned the smile, though he seemed nowhere near as amused as Tal. “Camouflage,” he replied. He looked like a wealthy merchant or minor noble of the Kingdom. The only thing on his person that Tal recognized was his sword, which was unchanged. Other than that, he was bedecked from head to toe in the latest fashion of the day, though he had made choices considerably less flamboyant than most in Roldem for the festival, choosing a dark chocolate-colored overjacket, a pale yellow shirt, and black trousers and boots. In place of the more colorful hats worn by the dandies in the city, Caleb had opted for a simple black beret with a golden clasp and a single hawk’s feather.
Tal laughed. “You look the part of a Kingdom noble, ‘struth.”
Caleb said, “Did you encounter the Duke of Olasko at the King’s gala two nights ago?’’
Tal’s expression darkened, and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He dropped his voice so that only Caleb could hear him. “Yes, with some family members. But I recognized one man: a lieutenant, named Campaneal. He led the Olasko soldiers who supported Raven and his murderers when they destroyed my people.’’
“I know. He’s in the tourney. He’s one of the thirty-two, so there’s a fair chance you’ll meet him.’’
“I’d rather meet him somewhere else, without witnesses,” said Tal.
“Accidents have been known to happen in the tourney. Fatal accidents.”
Tal looked at Caleb. “Are you telling me I should kill the man in front of the King and a thousand witnesses?”
Caleb shook his head with a rueful smile. “The vanity of youth. No, I was telling you to be careful, because if Campaneal has even a remote suspicion of who you are, you could be the accident victim.’’
“How would he know?” asked Tal. “I have no tattoos that market me as Orosini. I think I’m convincing in the role of a minor nobleman’s son. Why would he think otherwise?”
“Because of the way you looked at him, no doubt. A man like that will have made many enemies over the years, and not even know them all by sight. Just be wary.’’
“I will.’’
“No, I was curious about anyone else in the party, someone who might not have looked . . . quite as if he belonged.”