King of Foxes. Raymond E. Feist

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 to matters of fashion, while only in Salador and Rillanon was there some of the same concern that one saw here.

      But gazing around the room he realized that whatever others might think – that it was vainglorious and pointless – it was also sumptuous and regal. The women were beautiful in their finery and the men cut handsome figures, or at least as handsome as nature permitted.

      When the meal ended, the court turned its attention to the centre of the royal table. No one was permitted to leave until the King and his family left the table. Those who had finished their meal early sat sipping wine or ale, watching those around them, or engaging in idle conversation with their neighbours.

      Suddenly, Tal heard Kaspar say, ‘So, Squire, you’re back with us again?’

      Tal turned in as relaxed a manner as he could, and trying to show deference to the Baron on his right, spoke past him to the Duke. ‘For a time, m’lord.’

      Kaspar took a sip from a wine cup and asked, ‘Have you completed that “family business” you spoke of when last we met?’

      ‘Indeed, Your Grace. It took longer than I had anticipated, but it is now a matter in the past.’

      ‘So, you are now free to seek your fortune?’ The Duke’s eyes were narrow and appraising even as he kept his tone light.

      Tal feigned a laugh. ‘Given my luck at cards lately, I am in need of a fortune, m’lord.’

      The King rose, and a half-second later, Kaspar did as well. As he turned to follow his cousin, Kaspar looked over his shoulder and said, ‘I am hunting at first light. Join me at the southern gate. I’ll have a horse ready. Do you have a bow?’

      ‘Yes, m’lord,’ said Tal, to Kaspar’s retreating back.

      The court baron turned. ‘Quite the coup, young Hawkins.’

      ‘Sir?’

      ‘The Dukes of Olasko have been hunters for generations. They say this duke’s grandfather once hunted dragons in the west of the Kingdom of the Isles. To be invited to hunt with him is a mark of distinction.’

      Tal smiled and nodded, attempting to look suitably flattered. The Baron and his wife departed.

      Tal felt it necessary to make one circuit of the hall, then determined to stay close to the exit and wait until someone else departed. He had no wish to mark himself by being the first to leave, but he wished to be out of the palace as soon as possible.

      As he made his way through the throng, he was occasionally stopped by this acquaintance or that and several times by strangers who wished simply to introduce themselves to the current Champion of the Masters’ Court. As he came near the King’s cortege he was struck by how many people were being kept at bay by the servants, who were acting as guardians of the royal privacy as much as providing titbits and drink – though who could eat or drink after such a meal? Tal wondered.

      Without intending to, Tal caught the King’s eye, who waved him approach. Tal instantly turned and as he moved towards the King, the servants parted enough to let him pass. Tal bowed, ‘Majesty.’

      King Carol smiled. ‘Hawkins, it is good to have you with us again. Would it be possible to arrange a demonstration of your skills here in the palace?’

      ‘I am at Your Majesty’s disposal,’ replied Tal. ‘Whatever time you require.’

      ‘Oh, good, young sir. Prince Constantine is of an age and needs to learn his weapons. His instructors say the boy has promise, but still, I think watching experts in such matters tends to give a lad something to emulate. Don’t you?’

      Tal couldn’t disagree, and besides it would be impolitic to do so. ‘Most learning begins with mimicry, Majesty.’

      ‘Quite. What say you, a week from today?’

      ‘At any time you wish, Majesty.’

      ‘Say mid-morning. I find the wits are keener in the morning than the afternoon.’ Turning to his wife, he said, ‘Assuming my wits are keen at any time of the day, what, my dear?’

      The Queen smiled and patted her husband’s arm. ‘You are a man of very keen wit, m’lord … sometimes.’

      The King laughed aloud, and Tal couldn’t help but smile. King Carol of Roldem was the only monarch Tal had encountered in his travels, but Tal doubted most were as self-deprecating as this one.

      ‘Shall I bring an opponent, Majesty?’ Tal knew that any student from the Masters’ Court, and most of the instructors, would welcome an opportunity to come to the court. Royal favours had been curried with less than a sword match in the past, Tal knew.

      ‘We