Since his victory over Raven and his mercenaries, avenging his own people’s slaughter, Tal had lived on Sorcerer’s Isle, recovering from wounds—both mental and physical—learning more of the politics of the Eastern Kingdoms, and simply resting. His teaching had continued in various areas, for Pug and his wife, Miranda, had occasionally instructed him in areas of magic that might concern him. Nakor the Isalani, the self-proclaimed gambler who was far more than that, instructed him in what could only be termed “dodgy business,” how to cheat at cards and spot others cheating, how to pick locks and pockets, as well as other nefarious skills. With his old friend Caleb he would go hunting. It had been the best time he had known since the destruction of his people.
During that period he had been allowed to glimpse some of the dealings of the Conclave on a level far above his station; and had thus gained the sense that the Conclave had agents numbering in the hundreds, perhaps thousands, or at least had links to thousands of well-positioned individuals. He knew the organization’s influence reached down into the heart of the Empire of Great Kesh, and across the sea to the lands of Novindus, as well as through the rift to the Tsurani homeworld, Kelewan. He could tell that enormous wealth was at their disposal, for whatever they needed always appeared somehow. The false patent of nobility that Tal carried in his personal portfolio had cost a small fortune, he was sure, for there were “originals” in the Royal Archives on Rillanon. Even his “distant cousin” Lord Seljan Hawkins had been delighted to discover a long-lost relative who had been victorious in the Masters’ Court, according to Nakor. Tal didn’t feel emboldened enough ever to visit the capital of the Kingdom of the Isles, because while the elderly Baron might believe that some distant cousin had fathered a lad who had some versatility with the sword, the possibility of Tal failing to be convincing when it came to small talk about this or that family member made such a visit too risky to contemplate.
Still, it was reassuring to know that these resources lay at his disposal should he need them. For he was ready to embark upon the most difficult and dangerous portion of his personal mission to avenge his people: he had to find a way to destroy Duke Kaspar of Olasko, the man ultimately responsible for the obliteration of the Orosini nation. And Duke Kaspar happened to be the most dangerous man in the world, according to many sources.
“What news?” asked Pasko.
“Nothing new, really. Reports from the north say that Olasko is again causing trouble in the Borderlands, and once more may be seeking to isolate the Orodon. They still send patrols through my former homeland to discourage anyone who might think to claim Orosini lands.” Then he asked, “What is the news in Roldem?”
“The usual court intrigues, master, and quite a few rumors of this lady and that lord and their dalliances. In short, with little of note to comment upon, the nobles, gentry, and wealthy commoners turn their attention to gossip.”
“Let’s confine ourselves to matters of importance. Any sign of Olasko’s agents here in Roldem?”
“Always. But nothing out of the ordinary, or at least nothing we can see that’s out of the ordinary. He builds alliances, seeks to do favors in exchange for social debts, loans gold, and insinuates himself in the good graces of others.”
Tal was silent for a long moment. Then he asked, “To what ends?”
“Pardon?”
Tal leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees. “He’s the most powerful man in the Eastern Kingdom. He has blood ties to the throne of Roldem—he’s, what? Seventh in line of succession?”
“Eighth,” replied Pasko.
“So why does he need to curry favor with Roldemish nobility?”
“Indeed.”
“He doesn’t need to,” said Tal, “which means he wants to. But why?”
“Lord Olasko is a man with many irons in the fire, master. Perhaps he has interests here in Roldem that might require a vote of the House of Lords?”
“Perhaps. They ratify treaties enacted by the Crown, and verify succession. What else do they do?”
“Not much else, save argue over taxes and land.” Pasko nodded. “Given that Roldem is an island, master, land is of great importance.” He grinned. “Until someone discovers how to build dirt.”
Tal grinned back. “I’m sure we know a few magicians who could increase the size of the island if they felt the need.”
Pasko said, “So, what are we doing back in Roldem, master?”
Tal sat back and sighed. “Playing the role of a bored noble looking to find a better station in life. In short, I must convince Kaspar of Olasko I’m ready to take service with him by creating a muddle here that only he can get me out of.”
“Such as?”
“Picking a fight with a royal seems a good choice.”
“What? You’re going to smack Prince Constantine and provoke a duel? The boy’s only fifteen years of age!”
“I was thinking of his cousin, Prince Matthew.”
Pasko nodded. Matthew was the King’s cousin, son of his elder sister. He was considered the “difficult” member of the royal family; more arrogant, demanding and condescending than any other member of the King’s family, he was also a womanizer and a drunk, and he cheated at gambling. Rumor had it that the King had bailed him out of very difficult straits on a number of occasions. “Good choice. Kill him, and the King will privately thank you…while his executioner is lopping off your head.”