Raymond E. Feist - The Complete Darkwar Trilogy - Flight of the Night Hawks, Into a Dark Realm, Wrath of a Mad God

‘Sezioti is a scholar who is respected, but not admired.’ Kaspar went on to tell them the rest of what Turgan Bey had shared about the politics of the Empire.

‘So,’ said Tal, ‘we can assume someone is trying very carefully to reduce Sezioti’s chances to rise to the throne, in favour of Dangai. Why?’

‘If the Nighthawks were not involved,’ said Caleb, ‘I would assume it’s the usual bloody Keshian politics. But with the Guild of Death working here, we must assume Leso Varen’s hand is in there somewhere, which means whatever he wants, we want the opposite.’

Kaspar stood. ‘I can’t stay. I am no doubt being followed, and while they know Tal and I are in contact, they don’t know about you. I suggest you leave last.’ Caleb nodded. ‘There’s a reception at the townhouse of Lord Gresh in a week,’ Kaspar said to Tal. ‘See if you can get yourself invited. It’s just your sort of crew: a lot of libertines, bored noble wives, curious daughters, degenerate gamblers, and hot-blooded boys looking to make a name for themselves by killing someone famous. You should be able to make half a dozen enemies in one night with some luck.’

Tal regarded Kaspar with a dour expression. ‘I’ll try my best.’

‘I’ll send Pasko with word as soon as I know anything worth reporting to you,’ said Kaspar, and he left.

Tal said, ‘He’s almost certainly right about being followed. I’ll leave next, and then you should wait a bit. Do you think you can get through the commons without being spotted?’

‘If no one saw me enter, yes,’ said Caleb. ‘And I was here for a full half-hour before either of you arrived, so I think I’m safe.

‘Still, now that we know Kaspar and you are being watched, I should undertake to be more cautious in the future. I’ll make arrangements so our next meeting is more secure.’

Tal glanced around the room. ‘What about being observed by … other means?’

Caleb reached into his belt purse and pulled out a small item. He handed it to Tal who looked at it. It appeared nothing more than a carved bone icon, some obscure household god, perhaps. ‘Nasur, a magician of the Lesser Path on my father’s island, made this. It prevents scrying or other magical eavesdropping. As long as I have it, no one can see or hear us by magical arts.’

Tal said, ‘A good thing to have. You wouldn’t have an extra one, would you?’

‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you. If you are being marked by Varen’s agents, they might be using arts to see or hear you. If you vanish from their ability to detect you here, why it’s simply a case of something not working right, or perhaps you or Kaspar ensuring this room was safe. If you vanish from sight all the time, they’ll know you’re more than what you appear to be.’

‘And what do I appear to be?’

‘Right now both you and Kaspar are agents of the Crown of Roldem, and not very good ones at that. It took some very aggressive rumour mongering to get that one spread in the right quarters.

‘Kesh is always nervous about Roldem, because of their navy. Give them something obvious and reasonable to worry about, and they won’t spend a lot of time concerning themselves with the subtle. No one who isn’t working for Varen even suspects the Conclave exists here in Kesh.’

‘Except for those agents in the government who work for the Conclave.’

Caleb nodded. ‘It’s taken my father years to get to the place he is right now. We have friends in very high positions in courts all over the world, without the entanglements of being obliged to any one government.

‘Now, it’s time for you to go and should I need to see you, I’ll send one of the boys with a message.’

Tal rose, shook hands with Caleb, then left. As he reached the door he turned and said, ‘When this is all over, would you like to head up to Kendrick’s and do some hunting for a few days?’

Caleb grinned. ‘After we see the wives for a bit, yes. That would be welcomed.’

Tal returned the smile and left.

Caleb sat back, content to wait for another hour before leaving, to ensure he wasn’t being followed. He idly wondered how the boys were doing.

Zane struck the ground, sliding backwards on his rump. He hit the edge of the fountain hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Tad shouted, ‘What was that for?’ as he leaped between Zane and the young man who had just pushed him hard enough to knock him over.

The fellow stopped and said, ‘What’s it to you?’

‘That’s my brother you just shoved.’

The fellow was large, and brutish looking, with massive shoulders and a thick brow. His chin receded slightly, which gave him an almost malevolent expression when he grinned. ‘And that’s my girl he was talking to.’

The girl in question, a plump but very pretty blonde who had moments before been flirting with both boys, shouted, ‘I am not your girl, Arkmet. Stop telling people I am.’

‘You’re my girl if I say you are,’ he said with a sound that came close to an animal growl.

Tad smiled. ‘She says she’s not your girl.’

Arkmet pushed at Tad, but unlike Zane he was ready. He bent his right knee, while extending his left leg, grabbed Arkmet’s outstretched left hand at the wrist and gave it a tug before releasing it. Meeting no resistance, the heavier boy went crashing face down on the cobbles.

Zane was back on his feet and standing next to Tad when the larger youngster rolled over. His face was flushed and he said, ‘You shouldn’t have done that!’

Standing side by side, both boys were ready for a fight, and Zane said, ‘We’re not starting anything, fellow, but if you want to take us on alone, we’re ready.’

With another evil grin, the young man on the ground slowly rose and said, ‘Who said I was alone?’

The boys looked behind themselves and saw that a group of large boys gathered. ‘And who are you?’ asked Tad.

A blond lad said, ‘We’re the apprentices of the Bakers’ Guild.’ He hiked his thumb over his shoulder to the four boys who stood behind him. ‘Arkmet is an apprentice baker.’

Tad looked at Zane and rolled his eyes. ‘So he’s a friend of yours?’

The blond lad said, ‘No, pretty much none of us can abide the slug, but we have a rule. You hit one Bakers’ Boy, you hit all of us.’

Zane said, ‘Wish someone had told us that before we got here.’

Until a moment ago, Tad and Zane had been lazing around the fountain, flirting with some approachable local girls. The plaza seemed to be frequented by young men and women from other parts of the Empire, youngsters who were far more amenable to speaking with two boys from the distant Vale of Dreams.

‘I don’t suppose there’s a Guild of Boys From Other Parts of the Empire around here,’ said Zane, glancing first one way, then the other. Several young men were giving the coming battle a wide berth, but one boy of roughly the same age as Tad and Zane came and stood beside them.

‘Six to two’s no kind of fair dust-up.’ He was large, with powerful shoulders, a red-headed boy with a preposterous amount of freckles across his face, green eyes, and hands the size of a smith’s hammer. With an almost demonic grin he said, ‘But six to three seems a little better.’

One of the Bakers’ Boys said, ‘Ah, Jommy, not again?’

The red-headed boy cocked his right fist next to his ear, and with his left hand beckoned the bakers’ apprentices to approach. ‘Always, mate. I love a chance to put your flour-dusted butts in a sling. Com’on!’

The resolve seemed to leach out of the five apprentices, just as a bellowing shout came from behind. Zane and Tad turned, but nothing as fast as the redhead, who turned with stunning speed and with a straight punch caught Arkmet right in the face. The bully’s eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the ground, blood fountaining from his broken nose.