Tal waved off the remark with the observation that his father held lands quite distant from the more famous branch of the Hawkins family, and he avoided further conversation by saying that he had to ready himself for their coming duel.
Tal dispatched the mercenary in record time, within seconds after the judges called for combat. He took two steps forward, and rather than launching a feigned attack with a combination of blows, he lunged and struck the man in the upper left arm, drawing blood.
The gallery exploded in applause and the mercenary stood in stunned amazement, both because of the speed of the attack and the lack of guile, which had caught him by surprise. He looked angry, more at himself for being made to look the fool than at Tal, but he saluted, and as they left the floor, he said, “Be sure to win, will you, Squire? It makes me look far less of a buffoon if I’m disposed of by the champion.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Tal with a smile.
When the other three contests were over, Tal found that his opponent would be the surprising Keshian youngster, Kakama; while Lieutenant Campaneal was to face Count Jango Vahardak, the man who had finished second the year before to the retired champion.
Tal spent a restless night worrying more that Vahardak would defeat Campaneal than about his own match. He had watched the young Keshian and knew his victories were due to speed—perhaps even superior to his own—audacity, and a willingness to leave himself open when making a bid for a winning touch. Tal had already anticipated how he would defeat the Keshian.
He awoke early and dressed quickly, then roused Pasko and the others. At the Masters’ Court, he put himself through a vigorous set of stretching exercises. When he had finished, he ate a light meal of fruit and juices, then took a carriage to the baths.
The two bouts to determine the finalists would start at noon, with the winners fighting before the King and his court at the palace after dark. Tal kept his mind as focused as he could on the coming match, but all he could really think about was of facing Campaneal.
Two hours before noon, he returned to the Masters’ Court and retired to the room set aside for contestants. He was not the first there, for the young swordsman from Kesh was already sitting in a corner. When the first day of the contest had commenced, the room had been crowded and loud with the chummy chatter of contestants and their servants. Today it was as silent as a tomb. Talon retired to the far corner and nodded once to Kakama. Pasko leaned over and said, “I believe that lad is Isalani, like Nakor.’’
“What of it?’’
“Just that if he’s anything like Nakor, you haven’t seen half of what he has. Just remember that.’’
“You think he’s been thinking that far ahead?’’
“I caught him watching you watching him, just before he won his third bout. I think if you saw an opening, he wanted you to see it.’’
“Why me?’’
“Because you were the favorite.”
“One of the favorites.”
“Not to anyone who knew what was going on. You’re vain, Tal, and show everything you have when you win. You don’t hold back. That boy has a complete inventory of your moves. You have no idea what he’s capable of; be careful.’’
Tal sat back, then said, “Thank you. You may have saved me another time.’’
“Well, at least this time I may have saved you from embarrassment, not from death.’’
“No, I think not.’’
“What?’’
“Look at him.’’
Pasko turned and regarded the young Keshian, who sat quietly watching Talon from under hooded eyes.
Talon said, “Call it intuition or my ‘bump of trouble,’ but unless I’m sadly mistaken, he means to kill me today.’’
The semifinal round was conducted with more pomp and ceremony than the earlier rounds. Many members of the Royal Family were in attendance, as well as most of the important nobility.
When the combatants for the first match were announced, Tal felt his stomach flip. Campaneal and Vahardak would go first, and Tal and the Keshian afterward. He realized that as the favorite, the Masters were saving his bout for last. Even so, he wished to get it over with.
Neither he nor the Keshian watched the first match, each of them content to sit in opposite corners of the room. Vahardak and Campaneal had done the same, each taking a corner with their retainers. The Count was accompanied by at least five servants, while Lieutenant Campaneal had a batsman and a sergeant of the Olasko Household Guard with him. Tal had Pasko, and the Keshian sat alone.
From the droning voices in the distance, Tal could tell that the Master who announced the final matches to take place in the court was indulging himself in as grand a presentation as he could muster and, from the accompanying cheers, the crowd seemed eager to savor every word.
Pasko said, “I’ve been asking around. This lad came from nowhere, it’s a fact. None of the other Keshians I’ve encountered has ever heard of him; seems odd that a youngster with his skills wouldn’t have made some sort of name for himself down in Kesh.’’