RAYMOND E. FEIST
King of Foxes
Conclave of Shadows Book Two
For Jessica
With all the love its possible for a father to give.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Maps of Midkemia
Part One: Agent
Chapter One: Return
Chapter Two: Reception
Chapter Three: Hunt
Chapter Four: Choice
Chapter Five: Service
Chapter Six: Rillanon
Chapter Seven: Oath
Chapter Eight: Task
Chapter Nine: Emissary
Chapter Ten: Discovery
Chapter Eleven: Salador
Chapter Twelve: Betrayal
Part Two: Soldier
Chapter Thirteen: Prison
Chapter Fourteen: Cook
Chapter Fifteen: Escape
Chapter Sixteen: Survival
Chapter Seventeen: Mercenaries
Chapter Eighteen: Deception
Chapter Nineteen: Assault
Chapter Twenty: Resolution
Epilogue: Retribution
Acknowledgements
About the Author
By The Same Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Maps of Midkemia
Part One Agent
In the service of Caesar, everything is legitimate
Pierre Corneille, La Mart de Pompée
Chapter One Return
A BIRD SOARED OVER THE city.
Its eyes sought out a figure in the throng on the docks, one man amidst the teeming surge of humanity occupying the harbour-side during the busiest part of the day. The Port of Roldem, harbour to the capital city of the island kingdom of the same name, was one of the most crowded in the Sea of Kingdoms. Trade goods and passengers from the Empire of Great Kesh, the Kingdom of the Isles, and half a dozen lesser nations nearby came and went daily.
The man under scrutiny wore the travel clothes of a noble, all sturdy weave and easily cleaned, with fastenings which allowed him to remain comfortable in all weathers. He sported a jacket designed to be worn off the left shoulder, leaving his sword arm unencumbered. Upon his head was a black beret adorned with a silver pin and a single grey feather, and upon his feet he wore sturdy boots. His luggage was being offloaded and would be conveyed to the address he had specified. He travelled without servant, which while unusual for a noble was not unheard of for not all nobles were wealthy.
He paused for a brief second to drink in the sights. Around him people scurried: porters, sailors, stevedores, and teamsters. Wagons loaded so high their wheels appeared on the verge of buckling rolled slowly by him, cargo heading into the city or out to the ferry barges which would load them onto outbound ships. Roldem was a busy port by any standard; not only were goods delivered here, but also transhipped, for Roldem was the trading capital of the Sea of Kingdoms.
Everywhere the young man looked he saw commerce. Men bargaining over the cost of goods to be sold in distant markets, others negotiating the price of offloading a cargo, or insuring one against pirates or loss at sea. Still others were agents of trading concerns eagerly watching for any sign that might prove an advantage to their sponsors, men who sat in coffee houses as far away as Krondor or as close as the Traders Exchange, just one street away from where the young man now stood. They would dispatch young boys with notes who would run to those men who awaited news on arriving cargo, men trying to sense a shift in a distant market before buying or selling.
The young man resumed his walk, and avoided a gang of urchins dashing past with determined boyish purpose. He forced himself not to pat his purse, for he knew it was still where it was supposed to be, but there was always the possibility the boys were sent by a gang of pickpockets on the look-out for a fat purse to rob. The young man kept his eyes moving, seeking out any potential threat. He saw only bakers and street vendors, travellers and a pair of guardsmen. It was exactly who he would have expected to see in the crowd on Roldems docks.
Looking down from above, the soaring bird saw in the press of the crowd that another man moved along a parallel course and at the same pace as the young noble.
The bird circled and observed the second man, a tall traveller with dark hair who moved like a predator, easily keeping his eye upon the other man, but using passers-by as cover, dodging effortlessly through the crowd, never falling behind, but never getting close enough to be discovered.
The young noble was fair-skinned, but sun-browned, his blue eyes squinting against the days glare. It was late summer in Roldem and the dawn mists and fog had fled, burned off by mid-morning to a brilliant sunny sky, made tolerable by a light wind off the sea. Trudging up the hill from the harbour, the noble whistled a nameless tune as he sought out his old quarters, a three-bedroomed flat above a moneylenders home. He knew he was being followed, for he was as adept a hunter as any man living.
Talon of the Silver Hawk, last of the Orosini, servant of the Conclave of Shadows, had returned to Roldem. Here he was Talwin Hawkins distant cousin to Lord Seljan Hawkins, Baron of the Princes Court in Krondor. His title was Squire of Morgan River and Bellcastle, Baronet of Silverlake estates producing almost no income and he was vassal to the Baron of Ylith; a former Bannerette Knight Lieutenant under the command of the Duke of Yabon, Tal Hawkins was a young man of some rank and little wealth.
For almost two years he had been absent from the scene of his most significant public triumph, winning the tournament at the Masters Court, thus earning the title of Worlds Greatest Swordsman. Cynical despite his youth, he tried to keep the illusion of superiority in perspective he had been the best of the several hundred entrants who had come to Roldem for the contest, but that hardly convinced him he was the best in the world. He had no doubt there was some soldier on a distant battlement, or mercenary riding guard-duty somewhere who could cut him up for fish-bait given the chance; but fortunately they hadnt entered the contest.
For a brief instant, Tal wondered if fate would allow him to return to Roldem in three years time to defend that championship. He was but twenty-three years of age, so it would only be circumstance that would prevent him from returning to Roldem. Should he do so, he hoped the contest would be less eventful than the last. Two men had died by his sword during the matches a very rare and usually regrettable outcome. Nevertheless Tal had felt no regret, since one of the men had been among those responsible for the destruction of his nation, and the other had been an assassin sent to kill him. Memories of assassins turned his mind to the man following him. The other man had also boarded at Salador, yet had managed to avoid direct contact with him aboard the small ship for the duration of the voyage, despite their being nearly two weeks at sea.
The bird wheeled overhead, then pulled up, wings flapping as it hovered, legs extended downward and tail fanned, as if watching prey. With its telltale cry, the predator announced its presence.
Hearing the familiar screech, Tal looked up, then hesitated for a moment, for the bird above the throng was a silver hawk. It was his spirit guide and had given him his naming vision. For an instant Tal imagined he could see the creatures eyes and hear a greeting. Then the bird wheeled and flew away.
Did you see that? asked a porter nearby. Never seen a bird do that.
Tal said, Just a hawk.
Never seen a hawk that colour, leastways not around here, answered the porter who took one look at where the bird had hovered then returned to lugging his bundle. Tal nodded, then moved back into the throng. The silver hawk was native to his homeland far to the north, across the vast Sea of Kingdoms, and as far as he knew, none inhabited the island kingdom of Roldem. He felt troubled, and now by more than the presence of the man who had followed him from Salador. He had been subsumed so long in the role of Tal Hawkins that he had forgotten his true identity. Perhaps the bird had been a warning.
With a mental shrug he considered that the birds appearance might have been nothing more than a coincidence. While still an Orosini at heart, in all ways he had been forced to abandon the practices and beliefs of his people. He still owned a core being Talon of the Silver Hawk a boy forged in the crucible of a nations history and culture; but he had been shaped and alloyed by fate and the teachings of outlanders so that at times the Orosini boy was no more than a distant memory.
He wended his way through the press of the city. Shops displayed colourful fashions as he entered a more prosperous part of the city. He lived at just the right level to convince everyone he was a noble of modest means. He was charming enough and successful enough as Champion of the Masters Court to warrant invitations to the very best Roldemish society had to offer, but had as yet to host his own gala.
Reaching the door to the moneylenders home, he reflected wryly that he might crowd half a dozen close friends into his modest apartment, but he could hardly entertain those to whom he owed a social debt. He knocked lightly upon the door and then entered.
The office of Kostas Zenvanose consisted of little more than a tiny counter and there was barely enough room to stand before it. A clever hinge allowed the counter to be raised at night and put out of the way. Three feet behind the counter a curtain divided the room. Tal knew that behind the curtain lay the Zenvanose family living-room. Beyond that lay the kitchen, bedrooms, and exit to the back courtyard.
A pretty girl appeared and her face brightened with a smile. Squire! Its wonderful to see you again.
Sveta Zenvanose had been a charming girl of seventeen when Tal had last seen her. The passing two years had done nothing but turn a pretty lass into a burgeoning beauty. She had lilywhite skin with a hint of rose on her high cheekbones and eyes the colour of cornflowers, all topped off with hair so black it shone with blue and violet highlights when struck by the sun. Her previously slender figure had also ripened, Tal noted as he quickly returned her smile.
My lady, he said with a slight bow. She began to flush, as she always had when confronted by the notorious Tal Hawkins. Tal kept the flirtation to a minimum, just enough to amuse the girl, but not enough to pose any serious issues between himself and the girls father. While the father posed no threat to him directly, he had money, and money could buy a lot of threats. The father appeared a moment later, and as always Tal wondered how he could have sired a girl as pretty as Sveta. Kostas was gaunt to the point of looking unhealthy, which Tal knew was misleading, for he was lively and moved quickly. He also had a keen eye and a canny knack for business.
He moved swiftly between his daughter and his tenant, and smiled. Greetings, Squire. Your rooms have been readied, as you requested, and I believe everything is in order.
Thank you. Tal smiled. Has my man put in an appearance?
I believe he has, otherwise you have an intruder above who has been banging around all day yesterday and this morning. I assume its Pasko moving the furniture to dust and clean, and not a thief.
Tal nodded. Am I current with our accounts?
As if by magic, the moneylender produced an account ledger and consulted it, with one bony finger running down the page. With a nod and an ah he said, You are most certainly current. Your rent is paid for another three months.
Tal had left the island nation almost two years previously, and had deposited a sum of gold with the moneylender to keep the apartment against his return. He had judged that if he didnt return within two years, hed be dead, and Kostas would be free to rent out the rooms to someone else.
Good, said Tal. Then I will leave you to your business and retire. I expect to be here for a while, so at the end of the three months, remind me and Ill advance more funds against the rent.