of power seek only one thing: more power.’
TAL SMILED.
This was his first time in the palace since his victory in the Masters’ Court Tournament two years earlier. The King had sent an invitation for Talwin Hawkins to attend the welcoming gala to celebrate the arrival of the Duke of Olasko.
Tal had waited patiently in line for his turn to be presented, behind all the nobility of Roldem, most of those from other nations, and just ahead of the wealthiest commoners. A squire from the Kingdom of the Isles stood barely above a ribbonmaker with a great deal of gold in the eyes of the Roldemish court.
Even so, Tal stood resplendent in a pair of new wide-legged trousers – the current fashion – with his boots covered to the buckles, and a broad black leather belt, but he chose to wear a currently out-of-fashion tunic – a yellow doublet sewn with seed pearls. While other nobles were wearing the off-the-shoulder military singlet which was now all the rage, Talon had chosen to wear the jacket which had been given to him as a gift by the King two years ago.
When last he had met the King, Tal had been the centre of attention, the winner of the Tournament of Masters, the recipient of the golden sword, emblematic of his being the world’s greatest swordsman.
Now Kaspar of Olasko was the focus of the gala, and Tal but a minor participant. When he at last heard his name called, Tal moved forward briskly and approached the throne. He took in the tableau before him as he reached the point where he was expected to bow before the Crown. King Carol sat on his throne, his wife Queen Gertrude to his right. On his left hand sat Crown Prince Constantine, heir to the throne. Tal remembered the Prince as a quiet boy with curious eyes, one given to slight smiles as he listened closely to the banter of the adults around him. Tal suspected he was an intelligent child. The younger members of the royal family were absent, the other two Princes and the Princess no doubt being made ready for bed by their servants and nannies.
To Constantine’s left stood a man dressed in a burgundy-coloured tunic of velvet, fastened with loops and frogs made from diamonds. He wore black leggings rather than this season’s wide-bottomed trousers, and his feet were encased in polished, but serviceable boots. He wore the same black hat Tal had seen him wearing two years before, a large velvet thing which hung over his right ear almost to his shoulder, with a gold badge on the left.
It was the Duke of Olasko.
Kaspar of Olasko studied the young squire while still engaging the young prince in conversation, a skill which Tal observed, for while Prince Constantine was being kept occupied by his distant cousin, Olasko was assessing Tal closely. Tal considered it possible that Kaspar was one of those men who could focus on two things at the same time. Even among the magicians Tal knew, that was a rare gift.
Out of the corner of his eye, as he bowed before the King, Tal reacquainted himself with Kaspar. He was a burly man with a broad chest and powerful shoulders, and muscles revealed by the tight leggings suggested he might also be a man with some speed. He glanced at Tal in such a way that the younger man suspected the Duke recognized he was being appraised. His face was round, but his chin jutted a bit, robbing him of any comic cast to his features. He sported a thin-cut black beard, with his upper lip shaved, which gave his chin an even more aggressive appearance. His hair was still mostly black, though a sprinkling of grey hinted he was a man in his early forties. His eyes were those of a predator, black and searching. And his mouth was full, sensuous without being decadent, and set in a near-smirking smile Tal had seen several times before.
Tal straightened from his bow and the King said, ‘Squire Hawkins, it is good to have you in our court again.’
‘I am pleased as well to return to Roldem, Majesty.’
The Queen beamed as she said, ‘And I see you return to us in the garb we presented you upon your victory.’
Tal gave Gertrude his most endearing smile. ‘Majesty, I have worn this gift only once before, on the night of my triumph, and have vowed that it will never again be worn, save in the presence of your august selves.’
The King nodded in pleasure and said, ‘You are most considerate. Again, welcome.’
Tal knew he was now excused, so he moved over to the gathering on the left side of the King to watch those behind him being presented. He stole a couple of quick glances at Kaspar, but the Duke seemed focused on his quiet conversation with the Prince.
Eventually the last presentation was made and the Master of Ceremonies moved to stand before the throne. ‘With Your Majesty’s permission?’ he said bowing.
The King waved his hand and the Master of Ceremonies turned and declared, ‘My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, please retire to the banquet hall and await Their Majesties!’
Tal watched as the royal family departed, with the Duke of Olasko following close after. He knew they’d retire to a nearby apartment in the palace and wait until all the guests were seated before moving to the head table.
Tal waited patiently in line, but it moved quickly as more than two dozen pages and squires had been detailed to the Master of Ceremonies who consulted the master seating plan. Once instructions had been whispered into the page’s ear, a guest had only to pause for a moment before being escorted to their place in the hall.
Tal was pleasantly surprised to discover he was being seated at the King’s table. He quickly counted chairs and realized that there would be no more than two or three people between him and the Duke of Olasko. He suspected his position at the banquet was more a result of Kaspar wishing him to be near to hand than because of his prestige as reigning Champion of the Masters’ Court.
When the royal family arrived, everyone rose and bowed slightly, then remained standing until the King was seated and the Master of Ceremonies struck the floor with his iron-shod staff of office. At which point everyone sat and servants began pouring wine and providing food.
Tal found himself next to a local court baron and his wife, whom Kaspar engaged in conversation for a while. The Baron at last turned to Tal and introductions were exchanged. Then the Baron launched into an enthusiastic retelling of Tal’s victories as if Tal hadn’t been there. On Tal’s left sat a pretty woman of middle years and her husband, rich commoners who seemed content simply to be at the King’s table and who demonstrated no need to speak to anyone else. They lowered their heads slightly and spoke in whispers as they glanced around the room, apparently trying to espy people who might know them and be impressed by their place at the head table.
Throughout the dinner the Duke ignored Tal’s presence, save for one slight nod and smile as the first course was being served. During the course of the dinner, entertainers provided distraction in several locations around the great hall. Deft jugglers, acrobats, and sleight-of-hand magicians. A particularly gifted poet spun verse to order, flattering the ladies and gently mocking the men. His wit was dry and his rhyming clever. On the other side of the room a jongleur from Bas-Tyra sang love songs and ballads of heroic sacrifice. Tal could hear enough of his song to know he was excellent.
As was the meal and every other aspect of the gala. And why not? Tal thought. Roldem was considered to be the seat of all things cultural and refined in the world, or at least this part of it. Fashion, literature, music, all flowed from the court of Roldem. Given his travels, Tal reflected that much of that influence was lost as you moved away from the island nation; those in the west of the Kingdom seemed completely indifferent
