Raymond Feist - King of Foxes

‘If His Highness wishes to retire, I will not object,’ Tal said with as much contempt as he could manage in his tone. He let his voice carry just enough that all those nearby could overhear.

Prince Matthew was a proud man, even if that pride was founded in vanity rather than achievement. He seemed to be choking back tears when he said, ‘I’m not going to quit.’

Brightly, Tal said, ‘Well said, Highness. Let’s give the gallery something to remember, shall we?’

When Vassily instructed them to start, Prince Matthew held his ground, waiting for Tal to make the first move. Tal feinted and the Prince reacted. In quick order, Tal knocked the Prince’s sabre from his hand, then slipped the point of his sabre under his helmet, flipping it off his head. Then he stepped past the Prince and administered as hard a blow across the buttocks as he could. The crowd’s reaction was instantaneous. Gasps of astonishment were mixed with catcalls and jeers. The blow was so hard that Prince Matthew fell forward to his knees, hand stretched out before him. His face was flushed, and his eyes swollen from the tears of pain he had shed from the previous blows. But the last strike had reduced him to crying, and despite his best efforts, he could not help himself.

Courtiers rushed forward and helped the humiliated prince to his feet. Tal turned his back and walked away, another breach of decorum. In the gallery, several young women who had come to the Masters’ Court in the hope of catching Tal’s eye rose up and departed, contempt in their eyes as they regarded him.

Master Vassily hurried over and said, ‘Are you totally bereft of reason?’

Smiling at the Prince, Tal answered, ‘Quite the opposite, really, Master Vassily.’

In low, warning tones, Vassily said, ‘If I were you, Squire, I’d consider a voyage somewhere very soon. Champion of the Masters’ Court or not, you’ve just made a very dangerous enemy. The Prince may be many things, but forgiving is not one of them.’

Tal locked eyes across the room with Prince Matthew and saw that through the tears of anger and humiliation, barely-checked rage was directed at him. ‘Yes, I believe you’re right,’ said Tal. He let the mockery in his voice sound as he allowed his words to carry to those nearby. ‘But judging from this afternoon’s bout, he’s really not all that dangerous.’

Unable to think of another thing to say, the Master of the Floor turned and left him. Tal walked to a distant corner where Pasko and Amafi waited. Pasko understood what had taken place, but Amafi said, ‘Magnificence, are you inclined to suicide?’

‘No, not really. Why?’

‘For the Prince now wants you dead.’ With a bright smile, he added, ‘And he does have enough gold that I would at least consider betraying you.’

Tal laughed, again loudly enough for those nearby to think that he was enjoying the moment. ‘Then don’t betray me, and I’ll consider increasing your pay.’

‘Yes, Magnificence.’

As they headed to the changing room, Pasko whispered, ‘Be careful. Even before the bout was over, Matthew’s agents were leaving the building with word of his humbling. You’ve made a powerful enemy.’

Tal let out his breath slowly, as if releasing the tension he had felt inside. ‘Then, I think it’s time to seek out a powerful friend.’

KASPAR SMILED.

‘So, young Hawkins, I see you’ve managed to create a decidedly uncomfortable position for yourself.’ Duke Kaspar sat back in a large chair, motioning for his servant to fill a pair of wine cups on a round table in a room that was part of a large apartment given to him by the King to use on his visit.

Amafi stood just outside the door in his role of manservant, while Pasko was back at the apartment making ready for his departure. The story of a sick father was acceptable to him and he had already purchased passage on a ship bound for Prandur’s Gate, where he would find another ship to Coastal Watch, then by wagon to Kendrick’s. He would be gone within the week.

Tal had sent the Duke a message the day before requesting an audience, and the next morning a palace page had delivered the reply. Tal was invited for a late-afternoon meeting, but advised to use one of the palace’s servants’ entrances rather than the main gate, for obvious reasons.

Kaspar lounged in a brocade-trimmed tunic that buttoned up to the neck, a fashion Tal had not seen; it must be something worn in Olasko, he thought. ‘I judged you to be a young man of uncommon sense and calm judgment. What caused you to do such an uncharacteristic thing?’

Tal picked up his cup, and sniffed the wine out of habit. He sipped, then said, ‘Ah, this must be the new vintage from Krushwin in Ravenswood!’

Kaspar’s eyebrows raised and he said, ‘You know your wine, Talwin. Yes, it arrived last month, and the King was kind enough to have a few bottles waiting here when I arrived. Now, answer the question.’

The last was as pointed a command as Kaspar had ever directed at Tal.

Tal tried to look sheepish. ‘Prince Matthew is a boor.’

‘True, but that hardly makes him unique among nobles here in Roldem. Why humiliate him in public?’

‘Because I couldn’t kill him and avoid the headsman, I suppose,’ said Tal, taking a sip of wine to give him pause. ‘Had he not been a royal I would have called him out on a matter of honour.’

‘Oh?’ said the Duke, his brows rising again. ‘Whose honour? Certainly not yours? You seem to be a pragmatic sort, not one given to overblown principles.’

Realizing he hadn’t thought this through as thoroughly as he should, Tal said, ‘A lady’s honour, sir.’

‘You’re in dispute with Prince Matthew over a lady?’

Tal knew this wouldn’t undergo close scrutiny if he strayed too far from a plausible story, so he improvised. ‘Not in dispute, but rather in defence. The lady in question is a widow and the Prince has been … too enthusiastic over pressing his attentions on her.’

‘Ah, then it would be Lady Gavorkin,’ said Kaspar with a chuckle. ‘I have sources for gossip here as well as in my own court.’

Tal shrugged. ‘The lady and I have been close. While I have no interest in marriage, she is looking for a new husband should circumstances permit, for already the Crown is considering taking away some of her estates and she fears the loss of revenue.’

Kaspar waved away further comment. ‘I know her situation. Had Matthew been seen in public with her, other interested noble sons would avoid her. I understand.’

Tal wasn’t certain if Kaspar believed the story or not. All Tal had go on was one remark Lady Gavorkin had made when he had come to call upon her one afternoon: that she found the Prince repellent.

‘Still,’ asked Kaspar with another chuckle, ‘did you have to make him cry like a child in public?’

‘Better than killing him,’ offered Tal.

‘Perhaps not,’ Kaspar said, ‘You have made a very bad enemy, because Matthew has no shred of forgiveness in his nature. He is the only member of the King’s close family who would use his power to avenge a personal slight. Even now there may be a bounty on your head. I’d watch your back for assassins, young Hawkins.’

‘That’s why I’ve come to you.’

‘With the King I might have some influence, and I am in your debt. But with Matthew …’ He spread his hands and shrugged.

‘Matthew wouldn’t dare attack me directly if I were in your service, Your Grace. I have decided to take you up on your offer of employment.’

Kaspar sat back. ‘I understand the cause, but it seems a sudden reversal, to be blunt.’

‘I weighed your offer before, Your Grace, and seriously considered it. I had hoped, however, to be able to find a position with a trading concern out of Salador, Ran and Bas-Tyra. Perhaps you’ve met their local agent, Quincy de Castle?’