Part 25 (1/2)

The two men left, and Pas...o...b..gan to gather up clothing for the evening.

The morning was overcast, which fit Tal's mood, as he made his way down the narrow streets to the Constable's office, which was located near the old market at the centre of the city. The night before had been uneventful, but he had spent the entire time on edge, antic.i.p.ating another attack, and found he had not much enjoyed the little things which usually pleased him. The dinner at Dawson's, a former inn now exclusively serving meals to the n.o.bility and the wealthy who did not wish to dine at home in upstairs rooms which had been converted into private dining salons, had provided its usual excellence, but while the meat was cooked to perfection-the glazes and sauces were equal to any Tal had ever known-and the sevice was flawless, he and Robert had dined in relative silence. Even the usually fine Kingdom wines imported from Ravensburgh scarcely warranted his comment.

Gambling at the Wheel of Fate club had provided little of note or interest. Tal played indifferently, his mind obviously elsewhere. Even Lady Thornhill remarked to Tal that he appeared distracted. He smiled and rea.s.sured her it had nothing to do with the unpleasantness at Remarga's the day before, and no he was not seriously injured, only looking that way because he was covered in the poor girl's blood and had struck his head hard upon the tile floor, and, yes, he was mainly lost in contemplation of the coming contest.

He excused himself from the game early, having suffered modest losses, and he and Robert returned to his apartment, where he went to bed early, while Robert and Pasko spoke quietly in the next room for hours.

Now he was seeking answers, to a number of difficult questions. He reached the office of the Constable, Dennis Drogan, nephew to a minor palace functionary, who had achieved his office through political connection, but who had nevertheless proven to be competent at it.

When he was ushered into Drogan's office, which consisted of little more than a desk and chair in the corner of the muster room with a wooden screen erected to give the Chief of Constables some privacy, he was greeted with a polite, but distant smile. ”Tal, I was going to visit you later today.” Drogan was a heavy-set man of middle years, with as round a head as Tal had ever seen, which was further emphasized by the way he kept his hair cropped close about his skull, and by shaving clean.

He had a blob of a nose which had been broken repeatedly over the years, and half of one ear had been bitten off in a brawl, but his eyes were always focused, never missing much.

”I a.s.sume you'd want to talk to me about the murder.”

The Constable's eyebrows lifted. ”Yes. Who'd want to kill you, Tal?”

”Me?” Tal said, feigning surprise. ”I a.s.sumed it was a jealous lover or someone who had it in for the girl, Salmina. She was the one he killed. I think he went after me to stop me from identifying him.”

Drogan reflected on this a moment, then said, ”Did you ever see the man before?”

”No. As a matter of fact, I was curious if he was someone known to you.”

”No, none of my lads has ever seen him before. We searched the body before we dumped it in the lime pit and found nothing that might tell us anything about him, save he must have been recently in from the Isles, since he had some Kingdom silver coins on him.”

Tal sat back as if pondering. ”Well, that's a puzzler, then, isn't it? Maybe it's a lover come back from a trip who was unhappy to find Salmina working at the baths?”

”She's been working there more than ten years, my friend. If it's a lover who finds that surprising news, he's a lad who's not been around for a bit.”

”Well, that was the first thought that sprang to my mind,” Tal replied.

”It's an obvious choice, and that usually proves to be the right choice. But I don't think so this time. If someone wanted to kill the girl, why not wait until she's on her way to her crib? No, it's more likely someone wanted to catch the best swordsman in Roldem on his stomach naked, a room away from his sword. That's my guess.”

”But who would want to send an a.s.sa.s.sin?”

”Who said the lad was an a.s.sa.s.sin?”

”I've never seen him before, Dennis. There may be one or two men who have a grievance against me, but certainly I'd know them by sight. If someone wants me dead, then it follows this man was hired to kill me. Although I don't think it likely.”

”Why not?” asked the Constable.

”Because there may be a father or two who would rather not have me see a daughter or two, or even a lady who might wish wish me dead, but there's no one I know who would seriously send someone to do the job.” me dead, but there's no one I know who would seriously send someone to do the job.”

”You know what's oddest about this?”

”What?”

”No one saw the man enter the bathhouse. To get to where you were attacked, you have to enter past half a dozen attendants and porters. From the moment the baths open in the morning to the minute the doors are locked at night, there's no concealed entrance into that part of the building.”

”Yes, very odd, isn't it?”

”You have any idea how he could have appeared there, as if by magic?”

Tal leaned back, with a rueful smile. ”Magic? That would make things far more . . . odd, wouldn't it?”

”It would mean that if someone wanted you dead, they were willing to pay a great deal to have the deed done. Not only paying someone to wheel the blade, but also paying someone else with the magical ability to get him into the building unseen.”

”An invisibility spell?”

”Something like that. My uncle has a friend who knows a magician. I asked that fellow some questions and he says that's the most likely spell to have been used. To send the man into the room from another place . . . that's very difficult and only a few magicians could manage it.”

Tal thought it best not to mention he knew at least three or four who could achieve that result. Leave it for the Constable to discover such facts for himself.

”So, no one knows anything about this man?”

”No, sorry to say.”

”So, you can't even be certain which of us was the intended victim?”

”No, we can't. I just have a problem with all this bother over a woman who's little more than a common wh.o.r.e.”

Tal stiffened. ”Salmina was never common.”

”So I've heard,” said Dennis.

Tal stood. ”Well, I'll not keep you from your duties. If you find out anything else, please let me know.”

”Rest a.s.sured, I will.”

They shook hands and Tal left the office and headed back towards his quarters. He was frustrated that no information about the a.s.sa.s.sin was forthcoming, even though he had not really expected it to be.

Still, he had to turn his mind away from the imponderables of life, and turn his attention full on the tournament. It was less than two weeks away and if he was to win, he could not be distracted further.

The contest drew nearer, and Tal found his anxiety increasing. No matter how much he employed the mind-calming exercises Magnus, Nakor, and Robert had taught him, no matter how much he attempted to divert himself from thinking about the tournament with dice, cards, or lovely company, he found himself constantly haunted by thoughts of the coming contest. Not even an invitation to the palace, two nights before the tournament was to commence, eased his fixation. He killed hours at a tailor, having the latest in court fas.h.i.+ons cut and sewn to fit. It was a gaudy bit of foppery, consisting of a pair of tight trousers, tucked into polished black boots that were absolutely useless for anything practical. They were too low at the calf for riding-the top of the boot would grind the calf to blisters in an hour-and too tall to wear on the march. But they had lovely silver buckles and a red stripe of dyed leather down the side.The trousers were tight to the point of being constricting, but the tailor a.s.sured him this was the current fas.h.i.+on at court. He forwent the codpiece that was also said to be the rage. There were things he found too silly to bear, even for the sake of court fas.h.i.+on. The s.h.i.+rt was a work of frippery, being open at the neck, and gathered below the breastbone by a series of pearl b.u.t.tons, with a lace collar and more lace at the sleeves. The jacket was completely decorative - a gold-thread-on-red-brocade monstrosity, designed to be worn on the left arm only, hanging by a golden cord across the right with pearls sewn at the collar and cuffs. The crowning glory was a hat, a broad-brimmed thing of snow-white felted fur, with a hand-crafted silver-wire band, in which a dyed plume had been placed. Tal's plume was black, so the contrast was dramatic. The tailor a.s.sured him the outfit was as fine as any that would be worn in court, but Tal could not help but feel someone had put the man up to this, so that his arrival for his first appearance at court would be greeted with laughter and derision.

But, as his carriage arrived at the palace gate on the night of the gala, he could see other young men of the city dressed in equally absurd rigs. He remembered with nostalgia, the simple skins and fur jackets his family had worn in the mountains in the winter, and going almost naked during the summer heat. As he mounted the steps to the palace, Tal decided that fas.h.i.+on was a conspiracy created by tailors to bilk the n.o.bility out of excess gold. He knew from what he had heard at various social gatherings he had attended, in Salador and Roldem that by this time next year everything he wore would be counted out of style, and new fas.h.i.+ons would be all the rage.

Tal handed his invitation to the squire responsible for ensuring no uninvited guests appeared in the King's court. The squire was backed up by a squad of palace guardsmen, who despite being garbed in gaudy red-and-yellow livery, looked quite capable of repelling an invasion, let alone removing an unwanted guest. Then a page was a.s.signed to escort him to the main hall. As they walked, the page said, ”Sir, tonight the King has decreed there to be no formal seating. Everyone will avail themselves of a buffet.”

Talon didn't know the word and had to search his memory for it. ”Boo-fay,” he said softly. The boy motioned to the long tables at the side of the hall, heavily burdened with food and servants moving rapidly through the hall with pitchers of ale and wine, filling cups at request. Everywhere he looked he saw people in colours of riotous hue engaged in conversation, some holding a plate with one hand and eating with the other.