said Martin. ‘I’m riding, as I told the others. I must get word to Prince Edward of this invasion or attack or whatever it is in the Grey Towers. But as certain as bears sleep in the winter, whatever those elves are facing needs magic as well as arms to withstand it, and I’m remembering what Jim Dasher told us about on our last night in Rillanon.’
‘The Conclave?’
‘Yes, and you remember where he said we’d find them?’
Brendan’s expression turned sour. ‘Sorcerer’s Isle.’
‘If the Conclave is there, you can safely ignore all those tales of monsters and evil sorcerers. And if you can get to Sarth, it’s almost a straight sail south to the island. The stories have a castle on the east tip of the island, so that’s where I’d start looking.’
Brendan nodded. ‘I understand. If you can’t find that Ruffio, you’ll be riding hard from Krondor to the Fields of Albalyn.’
‘And that means weeks before I can find Prince Edward. And who knows if he’ll be willing to send anyone to the west?’
‘OK, I’ll leave at sunset and start for Sarth.’
Martin looked around. ‘It’s odd how normal this city looks at times like these.’
‘Enjoy, Brother,’ said Brendan. ‘I’m coming to believe normality as we once knew it will never return.’
‘As long as something normal returns, I’ll settle for it being different,’ said Martin.
The two brothers took one last look around the still-quiet street and headed in different directions, on different tasks, but sharing the same determination to do their best or die trying.
• CHAPTER SIX •
Assassins
HAL LUNGED.
Ty Hawkins beat aside the blade and riposted. Hal barely avoided the point of Ty’s sword with a frantic parry, but before he could get back on line, Ty was already back in place, ready for his attack.
‘Enough,’ said Tal Hawkins. To Hal he said, ‘You’re still over-reaching when you sense a weakness. Most times you’ll survive that mistake, because you’re as fast a blade as I’ve seen in my life. But Ty is not like most of the opponents you’ll face. And you must never assume the man facing you is not my son’s equal. Else you will find yourself losing the bout.’
‘Or face down on the ground bleeding,’ added Ty. He removed the basket helm he wore for practice and wiped away the perspiration. ‘But you came close.’
Hal removed his basket helm and also wiped his brow with the back of his gauntlet. He motioned to a servant who took his helm, then Ty’s.
Tal smiled at his son. ‘When you faced him in the Masters’ Court, I told you he was faster.’
Ty grinned back. ‘I’m going to have to practise faster, I guess.’
Hal laughed. ‘Thank you for the bout. I needed it.’
Tal put his hand on Hal’s shoulder. ‘I understand. Waiting for the other side to make the next move can be grinding on the nerves.’
Tal said, ‘I feel like a steam. You two need to clean up.’
Ty and Hal exchanged questioning looks, and Ty said, ‘He’s right. We both reek.’
Hal glanced around and decided he’d find out what this was about when they were alone. He motioned for the palace servant who had been assigned to him as he unbuttoned his heavily padded practice tunic. When it was off he handed it to the page and said, ‘Bring fresh clothes to the baths.’
Ty echoed the instruction to the lad who cared for his needs, and the two young nobles left the empty room Hal had commandeered for use as a practice hall. It was used primarily as an extra dining hall, hence it being long enough for good fencing practice. That meant it also had a back entrance that opened onto a long hall that led to stairs down to the next level, the main servants’ quarters and lesser guest quarters, a floor above the baths.
They moved quickly down the stairs into the very busy royal kitchens. A massive complex of rooms, it was centred around a core kitchen with two hearths for roasting meat or boiling soups, preparation space, and ovens. Even with no king in residence, there were hundreds of mouths to feed every day and with the current influx of eastern nobles attending the Congress when it ratified the next king – whenever that finally occurred – the demand for food and drink was constant.
Two auxiliary kitchens were also in operation, adding two more hearths and four working ovens, and a further two for back-up. The last two were used if a gala was underway or on Midsummer Day, the Festival of Banapis, when the gates of the palace were thrown open and the city feasted at the king’s table.
The two young nobles made their way through a busy press of cooks and helpers, with one particularly striking blonde helper catching Ty’s eye. He smiled and paused to speak with her, but Hal grabbed his arm. ‘Later.’
Ty threw Hal a dark look, but said nothing. They moved through the servants’ wing of the palace, heading back towards the main corridors that fed into the grand entryway, the hall that ran from the main doors of the palace – once the heart of an ancient keep – to the throne room. As Hal was reminded each time he needed to go from one side of the palace to the other, it was massive.
Originally a fortress above a village on one of several islands in what became known as the Sea of Kingdoms, the fortress had been replaced by several increasingly larger constructions, first of wood and mud, then stone, and finally the first castle had been erected on this site. Of the last castle, only vestigial walls remained, now part of the heart of the palace, surrounding on three sides the king’s reception area and throne room. The rear wall had been torn down to accommodate floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the bay.
Now the two young men cut across the entry hallway, which was as wide as most streets in the city, and reached the beginning of the labyrinth of apartments and offices that ended at the royal apartment complex on the opposite side from where they started. Rillanon might not have the tradition of opulence that was found in the older Kingdom of Roldem, but it seemed to be attempting to overtake it as best it could, Hal thought. He glanced through the massive doors that opened onto the reception courtyard and gave a view of the city beyond. In the afternoon sun, it was dazzling.
Rodric the Fourth, occasionally called the Mad King, though never in this palace, had been obsessed about turning Rillanon into the most splendid city in the world. To that end he had started a beautification project of unprecedented scale. Stone quarries in all corners of the Kingdom, and some in Queg and Kesh, were searched out for the finest marble and granite, which was shipped to the city in a steady stream to replace the ancient walls of the palaces, the royal complex, and the royal precinct. Over the years subsequent kings had continued the process, so that now merchants and commoners found stone-cutters and masons with royal commissions arriving one day to announce that old masonry, stone facing, and even ancient whitewashed daub, was being replaced by stone, courtesy of the king.
The result, centuries later, was that on a sunny day, when approached from the sea, Rillanon sparkled like a jewel, and as one came closer, the rainbow of colours playing
