King of Foxes. Raymond E. Feist

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