Читать книгу King of Foxes - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 9

THE HORSE PAWED THE ground.

Tal brought his gelding’s head around slightly, forcing him to pay attention to something besides his own boredom. The morning was crisp at first light, with a breeze coming off the ocean, but Tal knew it would be very hot by midday in the hills to the northeast of the city. Even before Duke Kaspar appeared Tal knew they were after big game, lion or bear, perhaps even one of the more exotic creatures reputed to inhabit the higher mountains, the giant boars – whose tusks reputedly grew to three feet in length – or the valley sloth, twice the size of a horse and despite the name fast when it needed to be, and armed with claws the size of short swords. The array of weapons in the luggage told Tal what he needed to know about the coming hunt: there were boar-spears with cross-pieces fastened above the broad blade to prevent the animal from running up the haft and goring the spearman; there were giant nets with weights at the edges, and heavy crossbows that could punch a hole the size of a man’s fist through plate armour.

A dozen servants, another dozen guards, and livery boys to care for the horses also waited patiently upon the appearance of the Duke. Another six men had been leaving as Tal had arrived, trail-breakers and trackers wearing the King’s livery, who would mark the most likely game trails. Tal found it intriguing that the hunting grounds lay less than a day’s march away, for Roldem was an ancient land, and he would have expected wildlife to have been pushed far into the mountains by the encroachment of civilization. Having hunted for his entire boyhood, and on many occasions since, he knew that rarely was big game within a day’s ride of a city.

Tal let one of the servants oversee the disposition of his travel gear, which was modest compared to the rest of the baggage being stowed on the horses. Tal knew they’d be following trails that wagons couldn’t negotiate, but it looked as if they could use a pair. Two animals alone were being used to carry what could only be a pavilion. Tal had no problem with sleeping on the ground, but realized the gentry of Roldem might find that objectionable.

Besides Tal, two nobles of Roldem – Baron Eugivney Balakov, and Baron Mikhael Grav – waited patiently. Tal knew them by reputation. They were young, ambitious, and held modest but important positions in the King’s court. Balakov was assistant to the Royal Bursar and he could expedite or slow a request for funds. He was broad-shouldered, with a brooding look, his dark hair cut close as was his beard. Grav was also associated with the Bursar’s office, but was seconded to the office of the Royal Household Guard, being primarily responsible for seeing that the palace troops were armed, clothed, fed and paid. He was a thin man with blond hair and a slender moustache he obviously worked hard at keeping perfectly trimmed. Both wore extravagant clothing, a long way from the modest leather tunic and trousers Tal had selected to wear.

As the sun lit the sky behind those distant peaks, Duke Kaspar and a young woman emerged from the palace, quickly making their way to a pair of waiting horses. Tal glanced at the young woman, wondering absently if it might be the Lady Rowena of Talsin, who in reality was another of the Conclave’s agents, Alysandra.

Tal had been frustrated during the time he had spent on Sorcerer’s Isle in determining just what she had been doing in the Duke’s company, for either people didn’t know or they weren’t telling. All he could discover was that it had been Miranda, Pug’s wife, who had dispatched the girl to Olasko at about the same time Tal had been training in Salador.

This woman was unlike Rowena, but she had one trait in common: she was equally beautiful. But while Rowena had been fair with eyes the colour of cornflowers, this lady was dark, her skin touched by the sun to a warm tan, her eyes almost as dark as her black hair. The Duke said something and she smiled, and instantly Tal knew who she was, for there was a hint of resemblance to the Duke.

As if sensing Tal’s thoughts, Duke Kaspar said, ‘Ah, young Hawkins, may I have the pleasure of presenting you to my sister, the Lady Natalia.’

Tal bowed in his saddle. ‘My honour, m’lady.’

It was obvious that the other two nobles were already acquainted with the Duke’s younger sister, who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Both fell in behind the Duke and Natalia, leaving Tal either to follow or ride on the flank.

Duke Kaspar said, ‘We have a half-day’s ride before us to get near our quarry.’ He looked again at Tal. ‘That’s a serviceable-looking bow, Talwin. Do you know how to use it?’ His voice was light and playfully mocking.

Sensing the mood, Tal smiled. ‘I’m a better archer than I am a swordsman, Your Grace.’

That brought a laugh from everyone, for Tal, as Champion of the Masters’ Court, was accounted the greatest swordsman in the world. Lady Natalia looked over her shoulder at him, giving him an excuse to ride forward a little. ‘Are you making a jest, sir?’ she asked.

Tal smiled. ‘In truth, no, m’lady. I have hunted since I was a child, while I only took up the sword after my fourteenth birthday.’

‘Then you must be the world’s greatest archer, sir,’ said Baron Eugivney wryly.

Keeping his smile in place, Tal replied, ‘Hardly, sir. Elven archers cannot be matched by any man.’

‘Elves!’ said Baron Mikhael. ‘Legends. My father used to tell me stories about a great war in my grandfather’s time, against invaders from another world. Elves and dwarves figured in it quite prominently.’

‘We’ll talk as we ride,’ said the Duke, urging his horse forward.

Tal found himself beside Baron Mikhael, as Baron Eugivney rode forward to flank Lady Natalia. ‘Not legends, my good sir,’ said Tal. ‘My home is near Ylith, and not too far to the west live those elves of legend. And to the north, in the city of LaMut, many descendants from that other world now live.’

Mikhael looked at Tal as if deciding whether or not the young man was jesting with him. ‘You’re serious?’

‘Yes, Baron,’ said Tal. ‘And those elves boast archers unmatched by any man living.’ Tal didn’t know this from his childhood, but rather from long conversations with Caleb, one of his teachers on Sorcerer’s Isle; Caleb had lived with the elves in Elvandar, their home, for a time. He spoke their language and claimed only one or two men had come close to matching their skill with a bow.

‘Well, then, if you say so,’ conceded Mikhael as if that put a close to the matter. To the Duke he said, ‘Your Grace, what are we hunting today?’

Over his shoulder the Duke said, ‘Something special if luck holds. A report has reached the King that a wyvern has flown up from Kesh and is nesting in the mountains. If that’s true, we have a rare opportunity before us.’

Baron Eugivney blinked in confusion. ‘A wyvern?’

Mikhael’s expression also revealed uncertainty. ‘I’m not sure …’

Tal said, ‘Small dragon. Very fast, very mean, and very dangerous … but small … for a dragon.’

Lady Natalia glanced from face to face, then smiled with Tal at the obvious discomfort exhibited by the other two men. ‘You’ve seen one, Squire?’

‘Once,’ said Tal. ‘In the mountains when I was a boy.’ He neglected to mention those mountains were close to Olasko.

The Duke looked over his shoulder as they rode out of the palace gate and turned up the high street that would lead them northward out of the city. ‘How would you go about hunting one, Squire?’

Tal smiled. ‘I wouldn’t, Your Grace, any more than I would go looking for a forest fire or tidal wave. But if I must, there are two ways.’

‘Really? Say on.’

‘Stake out a sheep or deer on a high plateau in plain sight. Have archers nearby and when it lands, keep shooting until it’s dead.’

‘Sounds like little sport,’ observed the Lady Natalia.

‘None, really,’ agreed Tal. ‘Most of the time, the objective is to kill a marauding predator, protecting nearby herds, not sport.’

‘What’s the other way?’ asked the Duke.

‘Find its lair. Wyverns like shallow caves or deep overhangs in the rocks. According to my grandfather –’ Tal halted himself. For the first time in ages he found himself on the verge of slipping out of character. He forced Talon of the Silver Hawk down in his mind and continued,’– who heard this from a Hatadi hillman up in the mountains of Yabon – wyverns don’t like to go deep underground the way dragons do.’

Baron Mikhael asked, ‘So you find its lair, then what?’

‘Flush it out. Lay nets over the mouth of the cave if you can, some heavy ropes, anything to slow it when it comes out. Then toss in some flaming brands and have long spears, ten-, twelve-foot stakes, ready. Impale it as it comes out and then wait for it to die.’

‘Has any man taken one with a bow?’ asked the Duke.

Tal laughed. ‘Only if he has a couple of dozen other bowmen along.’

‘No vital spot? No quick kill?’ asked Duke Kaspar.

‘None that I’ve ever heard of,’ said Tal. Realizing he was beginning to sound like an expert, he quickly added, ‘But that doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist, Your Grace. It’s just my grandfather was trying to impress on me how dangerous they were.’

‘I think he succeeded admirably,’ said Mikhael.

Talk continued on the topic of hunting as they rode through the city. In less than an hour, they were out of the city proper and into rolling foothills dotted with small estates and farms.

‘After noon,’ announced the Duke, ‘we’ll reach the edges of the Royal Hunting Preserve. The King has graciously permitted us to hunt there.’

That answered Tal’s question as to how large game could be situated this close to the city.

‘Your Grace,’ asked Baron Eugivney, ‘doesn’t the preserve extend for several hundred miles?’

‘We’re not going to hunt all of it,’ said Kaspar with a laugh. ‘Just the interesting bits.’

Their course followed the highway upward. It was the major trading route to the northern provinces, but when it turned westerly, they took a smaller road to the northeast. At midday they paused to take a meal and rest the horses. Tal was impressed at how quickly the servants erected a small pavilion, complete with clever folding chairs made of canvas and wood, so that the Duke and his guests could relax in comfort. They paused to dine in a large rolling meadow, with a few dairy cows grazing at the other end.

Talk turned to the gossip of the court, for the Duke had been away from Roldem almost as long as Tal, Natalia even longer. Both barons made it clear they saw a potentially beneficial match in the Duke’s younger sister, and kept their attentions focused on her. Not only was she clever and beautiful, she was also a stepping stone to power. Olasko might be a small duchy compared to the vast expanses found in the Isles or Kesh, but it was a very influential one, second in the region only to Roldem.

After the meal, Duke Kaspar said, ‘Walk with me a bit, young Hawkins.’

Tal nodded and rose from his seat while the Duke waved the two barons to keep theirs. ‘Sit, gentlemen. Keep my sister amused, if you will.’

When they were a few yards away from the pavilion, the Duke said, ‘So, young Hawkins, have you given any thought to the offer of employment I made to you after the Tournament of Champions?’

‘In truth, Your Grace, I have. I am very flattered, honoured even, but the fact of the matter is I prefer to be my own man.’

‘Interesting,’ said the Duke as they reached a stand of trees. ‘Excuse me a moment, while I relieve myself.’

The Duke unceremoniously undid the fastening on his breeches and stood with his back to the Squire. After he finished, he said, ‘Now, that is what I admire about you, Squire.’

‘What, Your Grace?’

‘Your independence.’

‘Sir?’

‘Look at those two,’ he said, pointing over to where the barons were talking with Natalia. ‘They hover over my sister as if she were a prize in a festival tournament. They wish to ingratiate themselves with me through my sister. I am surrounded by sycophants and those seeking favour and it is a rare day when I encounter someone who wishes nothing from me. Those are the men I value the most, because I know with certainty that should they serve me, they will do so to their last breath.’ Lowering his voice as they walked back towards the pavilion, he added, ‘Those and others like them may find better terms from other masters attractive at the most inopportune times.’

Tal laughed. ‘So I have heard. I must admit, while I have distant kin in the court in Krondor, my own experience with royal politics is limited. In fact, last night was only my second visit to the palace.’

‘You should come to Opardum. While not as grand an edifice as Roldem’s palace, my own citadel above the city is rife with enough politics to last a lifetime. Besides, it would do my sister some good to spend time with a young man who wasn’t trying to convince her of his undying devotion so as to gain a position in my service.’

Then they walked back to rejoin the others. As they approached the pavilion, the Duke raised his voice. ‘Let us again to the chase!’

The servants quickly bound up the pavilion and tied it to the packhorses, while others put the dishes and food in baskets. Within ten minutes they were mounted again and riding northeast, into deeper forests.

Tal signalled. He pointed up the trail. The Duke nodded. It was nearing sundown, with perhaps another hour and a half of usable light, and they were following a game trail.

Tal had been surprised to discover the entire royal game preserve was as its name suggested, preserved wilderness. No logging had been conducted in this area for generations, though there were heroic stands of old-growth trees that would yield timbers for ships and houses should they be harvested. As a hunter, he appreciated that the kings of Roldem had been willing to make shipbuilders forest many miles farther away and haul lumber down the mountains in order to keep this region pristine. He silently acknowledged the practice was most likely begun in ancient times to ensure that the royal family had game to eat in times of famine, but whatever the original motivation, it had left a stunning wilderness within a day’s ride from the largest city on the island kingdom.

They had reached their campsite two hours earlier and a large pavilion had been established, with several smaller tents for the guests. The Duke had insisted on starting the hunt at once, rather than waiting for morning. Tal had agreed that game often was plentiful near sunset when both predators and prey sought water. From the lie of the hills Tal judged as many as half a dozen good-sized streams were likely to be in the area. Certainly there were game signs everywhere. He had already seen the tracks from a heart of forest boars, a sow and her young. Half an hour earlier he had spotted cat prints, most likely a leopard or catamount from the size of the prints, rather than the much larger, black-maned cave lions.

Of their intended prey, the wyvern, there was no evidence. As far as Tal was concerned, if they never saw a hint of the creature, so much the better. There were other ways to die he found preferable to being devoured while trying to demonstrate his hunting prowess to a bunch of idle nobles.

Duke Kaspar led the hunt, with Tal on his right flank. Between them was the Lady Natalia, who held a small bow as if she knew exactly how to use it. The two barons were on the left. A full company of guards, servants and trailbreakers were waiting back at camp. A half-dozen mounted crossbowmen were ready to answer any call for help, though Tal’s experience told him that with a wild beast, the matter would usually be resolved before help could arrive. He just hoped there would be no trouble. Lingering closer were two servants holding a variety of weapons, including a heavy crossbow and a pair of boar-spears.

Tal was surprised how quiet the Duke was at the point, and how noisy the two barons were. Both were very uncomfortable at being on foot, apparently, though they claimed to be serious hunters. The Duke stopped, and signalled for Tal and the others to join him.

He was looking at the ground as they approached. ‘Now, look at that,’ he said very softly.

Tal went to one knee and examined the print. He put his finger in the soil and judged the imprint to be no more than a few minutes old.

He stood up and said, ‘Bear.’

Baron Mikhael whistled. ‘But look at the size of it.’

‘That’s the grandfather of all bears,’ said the Duke.

Tal had heard tales of such bears, but they had been hunted to extinction in his grandfather’s grandfather’s day. They were the Ja-haro Milaka, or Grey-Muzzled Bears, of his people’s legends. Perhaps limited hunting here in Roldem had kept them alive. To the Duke he said, ‘I know this breed by reputation. They are aggressive at the best of times. It’s spring, and it’s almost certain one this big is a male, so he will be looking to mate and will not look kindly on anything encroaching his territory.’ Tal glanced around. ‘He’s close. There’s still moisture in the depression. The air would have dried it out in less than an hour.’

‘How big do you judge him?’ asked the Duke.

‘Twelve feet if he’s an inch,’ said Tal. He motioned towards the servants. ‘Arrows will only irritate him. We need heavier weapons.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Did you bring a catapult?’

The Duke smiled. ‘I’ve hunted bear before.’

Ignoring protocol, Tal said, ‘As have I, Your Grace, but the largest brown bear you’ve seen is nothing compared to the Grey-Muzzled Bear. You can’t stop it even with a heavy bolt to the shoulder if it’s charging. With other bears you can drop and play dead and perhaps they’ll get bored after mauling you a bit and wander off.

‘These creatures will shred you. They can bite a man’s head off if they are in the mood.’

‘Sounds like it’s best to retreat at first sight,’ said Baron Eugivney.

‘You can’t outrun it,’ said Tal as he started to move towards the servants. ‘In a short burst, it can run down a horse from behind and cripple it with a blow to the spine.’

The Duke didn’t move, while the others started to follow Tal. ‘You’re not suggesting I don’t hunt this creature, Squire?’

‘No, Your Grace, but I am suggesting a better choice of weapons.’

The Duke nodded. ‘What, then?’

‘I would rather have heavy lances from horseback, or heavy spears, but these boar-spears should suffice,’ called Tal over his shoulder.

Duke Olasko took a single step towards the others when from behind him there came a roar to shake the trees. It was a low howl with a strident note, coupled with the grating sound of a piece of wood being torn in half. Tal swore nothing living could make such a noise.

He turned for a second while the others froze and saw a massive brown shape explode from the trees less than ten yards from the Duke. Kaspar spun as if ready to meet a human attacker, in a crouch, his bow held in his left hand, his dagger seeming to fly to his right.

The Lady Natalia remained motionless but cried, ‘Do something!’

Tal threw aside his bow and with two quick steps yanked the boar-spear from the hands of an open-mouthed servant who looked to be on the verge of fleeing. To the other servant, Tal called, ‘Follow me!’

As he ran uphill past the two barons, he shouted, ‘Distract it!’

The Duke didn’t move until the animal was almost upon him, and at the last instant threw himself to the left. The bear swatted at him with his left paw, propelling him in the direction he was already heading. Had it gone the other way, Tal knew, the Duke would be dead with a broken spine. And, for all Tal knew, he was already.

Kaspar had taken a punishing blow and he wasn’t moving, either unconscious or playing dead. The bear’s momentum took it on for a few yards farther, then it wheeled and turned, ready to charge. The two barons and Natalia let fly a volley of arrows and two of the three struck the animal. It turned and howled, giving Tal the time he needed to reach the Duke. Tal came to stand above him.

Seeing an opponent that wouldn’t flee the bear slowed its charge and continued forward at a quick walk. Tal raised the boar-spear high above his head with both hands and shouted as loud as he could, an inarticulate approximation of an animal’s howl.

The bear pulled up just a few feet away and reared on its hind legs. It roared a challenge, and Tal ducked low, thrusting the boar-spear under the animal’s breastbone. The bear howled, stepping back. Once more Tal ducked under and thrust. The broad-headed blade cut deep into the muscle and blood flowed, streaking the beast’s brown fur. Howling in pain, the bear retreated once again, but Tal followed, continuing to duck and thrust into the same spot below the breastbone.

Soon blood gushed like a river down the animal’s torso, pooling in the ground at its feet. The huge creature waved its paws, and again Tal thrust home with the boar-spear.

Tal lost count, but after close to a dozen cuts, the animal staggered backwards, and fell on his left side. Tal didn’t wait, but reached down and grabbed the Duke, gripping his right upper arm and dragging him downhill. Kaspar said, weakly, ‘I can get up, Squire.’

Tal helped Kaspar to his feet. The Duke seemed slightly dazed, but otherwise unhurt, though he was moving slowly. ‘I’ll be feeling that blow to the ribs for a week with each breath I take.’

‘Are you all right?’ Natalia cried, arriving at a run.

The two barons approached, bows in hand, and Mikhael said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Kaspar said, ‘How did you do that, Squire?’

‘My grandfather,’ said Tal. ‘He told me once of a boyhood hunt. The great bear rears up to challenge. It is the only way to kill one, he said. If you run, he’ll take you down from behind, but if you stand and threaten him, the bear will rise on his hind legs. Then, said my grandfather, you must strike upward, just below the breastbone, hard and fast, for there is a great artery under his heart and if you can nick that with a deep thrust of a spear he will quickly lose consciousness and bleed to death inside.’ He looked over to where the now-comatose bear lay bleeding out, and said, ‘Apparently, Grandfather was right.’

‘Your grandfather must have been an amazing hunter,’ observed Baron Mikhael quietly.

For an instant emotions threatened to overwhelm Tal as the image of his grandfather, Laughter In His Eyes, came to him, smiling as he always did. Tal forced that memory aside, using every mental discipline he had been taught at Sorcerer’s Isle to keep composed. He said softly, ‘He was that.’

‘Well, Squire,’ said the Duke, wobbly enough to allow Baron Eugivney to help him down the hill, ‘I owe you my life. What can I do to repay that?’

Tal suddenly realized that without thought, he had just saved the life of the man he had sworn to kill, but Kaspar read his confusion as modesty. ‘Come. Let’s go back to camp and rest, and we’ll talk about it.’

‘Very well, Your Grace,’ said Tal. For a moment the irony of the situation came down on him in full force and he was caught halfway between wanting to laugh aloud and wanting to curse.

He took a glance back at the dying bear, then shouldered the spear and followed the Duke.

That evening, the Duke lounged in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on cushions, nursing his injured ribs. Tal was amazed at how much strength the man possessed. In his prime, Kaspar was a powerful man with the shoulders of a wrestler or dock worker, and arms knotted thick with muscle. When the servants had removed his shirt, revealing the huge blackening area from the deep bruise dealt him by the bear, Tal saw there was very little fat on the man. In open-handed combat, he would be extremely dangerous.

He was also tough; every breath had to be a trial, for Tal suspected the Duke had cracked ribs, yet he lay back comfortably, chuckling at one or another remark during the evening meal, one arm draped over the back of the chair for support, the other holding a cup of wine.

He ate little, but he consumed a prodigious amount of wine. Tal’s opinion was that the wine would help the Duke sleep soundly. At the end of the evening, he directed a question at Tal: ‘So, Squire, have you given any thought to what reward I can offer to set right my debt to you?’

Tal lowered his head a little as if embarrassed and said, ‘Truth to tell, Your Grace, I acted without a lot of thought. I was attempting to save my own life as much as yours.’ He tried to look modest.

‘Come now. That may be, but the effect is the same. You saved my life. What can I do to repay this?’

Tal smiled. ‘I am currently in need of little, sir. But I assume at some point in the future things may not be as sanguine for me as they are today. Should I fall upon hard times, then perhaps I might redeem your favour?’

‘Fair enough. Though I suspect a man of your resources should make his way through life without too much difficulty.’ He stood up slowly. ‘Each of you has a tent prepared and a servant to provide for your comfort. Now, I must bid you good night and come morning I’ll see how I feel. I would hate to shorten our hunt, but I fear I am in no manner of form able to confront a dragon, even a small one.’ The others laughed. ‘So, I suspect we shall be back at the palace this time tomorrow. Sleep well.’

He departed and after a moment, Tal excused himself, leaving the two barons alone to contest for the Lady Natalia’s attentions. He found the ‘tent’ put aside for him was another small pavilion, large enough for Tal to stand in and disrobe with the help of a servant. The serving man took Tal’s clothing and said, ‘These will be cleaned and ready for you in the morning, Squire.’

Tal sat in the middle of a pile of cushions, upon which a pair of thick quilts had been placed. On top of that lay a satin comforter, far more than he needed.

Breathing deep the mountain air, he ignored the hints of conversation that carried from the main pavilion as Eugivney and Mikhael tried to amuse Natalia and turned his mind to the odd events of the day. The bear had come so quickly he had reacted like a hunter, without thought, grabbing the best weapon at hand, and charging straight at the beast. He could have just as easily taken a bow and peppered the animal with useless arrows until it had finished mauling Kaspar to death. Then he would have only one man – Captain Quint Havrevulen – to kill, and his people would have been avenged.

Tal had endured enough mental exercises with the magicians at Sorcerer’s Isle to know the futility of agonizing over why things had transpired as they had. What could have happened … did, as Nakor used to say. Obviously, there was to be no simple solution to the problem that lay before Tal. But one thing now felt clear; watching Kaspar die would have afforded him no joy. He found he didn’t hate the man. He was wary of him, as he would be of any wild and dangerous creature. But he somehow couldn’t reconcile the charming host with whom he enjoyed a goblet of wine with the calculating murderer who ordered the death of an entire nation. Something here didn’t jibe and Tal wondered what it could be.

Another hand was in the mix, he suspected. The magician Leso Varen was said to have great influence over Kaspar, and Tal wondered if he might not have been the architect of the Orosini’s destruction.

When Tal emerged from his reverie, he realized the camp had grown quiet. The Lady Natalia must have bid her suitors good night. He also realized he was still very much awake and that sleep would come hard for him if he didn’t relax. He was sitting nude upon the comforter, so he crossed his legs and put his palms down on his knees. He closed his eyes and began a meditation to calm the mind.

Time stilled and he felt his heart rate slow and his breathing deepen. He was nearly asleep when he felt the tent flap open.

Before he could move a shadowy figure took one quick step from the opening and grabbed him by the throat. As he came fully alert he smelled soft perfume and heard a whisper in his ear. ‘How sweet. You waited up for me.’ Then he felt Natalia’s lips press hard on his as she pushed him over on his back, and pressed him down upon the pillows. He blinked and in the gloom saw her beautiful face inches from his as she quickly unfastened her sleeping robe and cast it aside. Playfully slipping one hand down to his stomach, she said, ‘My brother may not be able to think of a way to thank you for saving his life. But I have several ideas.’

Then she lowered her head and kissed him again.