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"-contained. I
must be the leading power in Rorn. The old duke lives like a hermit, shunning
his rightful position as leader. Someone has to fill the void, and it suits me
for the moment to let the Old Man and the first minister both think they have.
While those two are busy at each other's throats, I have Rorn to myself."
The archbishop dabbed at the comer of his mouth with his silk napkin, removing
the dribble of plum juice that had escaped his ravenous lips. "Our spy in
Castle Harvell-I would have you communicate to him."
"Certainly, Your Eminence. What would you have me say?"
"I would know who Baralis' enemies are. That man is trying to wed Kylock to
Catherine of Bren, and I
need not tell you how little I like the thought of that alliance. Bren is
already too powerful. With the kingdoms at its side, the duke would be set to
dominate the north. Who knows where the alliance might lead? The two powers
could conquer all the territories between. Halcus, Annis, Highwall-before we
know it the good duke could be ruling virtually half the Known Lands."
Tavalisk was feeling quite agitated; he poured himself a cup of fortified
wine. He winced as the liquor
met his palate: not a good mix with plums. "Not to mention trade. The duke of
Bren is up to something with those damned knights. They are looking to steal
trade from under our feet. They seek to make Rorn look greedy by charging
lower prices. The tactics of charlatans!"
"It is indeed an insidious evil, Your Eminence, to charge a fair price."
Tavalisk gave Gamil a shrewd look. He took a second sip of wine; it tasted no
better than the first. "This situation is very serious indeed. I need to
monitor events carefully, and I must have players in place.
Baralis will have powerful enemies whom I can contact. Why do something
yourself when you can get someone else to do it for you?" Tavalisk took a
third sip; the wine, though still bitter, found acceptance on his tongue.
"I will discover who has reason to hate Lord Baralis, Your Eminence."
"Knowing Baralis as I do, I'm sure there will be more than a few people in
Castle Harvell who would wish him ill."
Tavalisk took another gulp of wine. How could he have ever considered this
nectar bitter?
"Is there anything more, Your Eminence?"
Tavalisk picked up his dog and handed it to his aide. "Take Comi for a walk in
the gardens, Gamil. He hasn't been out all day and needs to relieve himself."
Gamil flashed Tavalisk a look filled with malice.
Tavalisk pretended not to notice.
Once Gamil had left, Tavalisk fetched the platter of nuts and, with a sly
smile on his face, proceeded to crack them open.
Today was the day that Jack was going to leave Falk's den and head east. Jack
would be sorry to leave, but he had his own life, and now, thanks to Falk, it
appeared more hopeful than before. Life wasn't as simple as he'd thought, but
it was rich with possibilities. His mind had been opened up to other points of
view. He was beginning to see that there was more than one way of looking at
things, and that beliefs he'd held for years demanded questioning. Falk had
given him much to think about, and now he needed time alone to reach his own
conclusions.
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"Why did you help me that day when I was sick?" asked Jack. They were sitting
by the fire, and ale had made them pensive. Falk sipped his drink and remained
silent. Jack thought that he had overstepped the boundaries of their peculiar
friendship by questioning his motives. He was about to apologize for asking
when Falk finally spoke up.
"I cannot lie to you, Jack. I helped you because there was more to you than
sight alone."
"You saw the thing in me that changed the loaves?" Jack was surprised by
Falk's answer. "No, I am no magician. Only they can spot the potential for
sorcery in each other. I am a woodsman-I know the earth not the heavens." Jack
felt the hair on his neck bristle. He was afraid. "What did you see, then?"
"You are persistent," said Falk, "I'll give you that. I helped you the day you
fell sick in the rain, because I
felt a pulling in my blood. I saw the potential for..." Falk looked at the
floor, flattening the leaves with his shoe ". . . I cannot say. Destiny
escorts you, and given the opportunity, she would lead you to the dance."
Falk stood up quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the subject of conversation.
"Seems you are on your
way. I have gifts I would give you."
Destiny?
It seemed to Jack his life had never been more confusing: sorcery, choices to
make, and now some shadowy destiny accompanying him. He was a baker's boy,
nothing more. Life had been a lot easier when his only concerns were baking,
scribing, and courting.
He ran his hands through his hair, longer than ever now. Master Frallit would
have wielded his knife at the sight of it. The kitchen girls had liked it
long, though. Not that he was interested in them anymore; a man could hardly
be expected to think of women when he had just recovered from a wet fever and
was about to set out on a new life. Still, the image of one woman kept playing
on his mind: the girl Melli. Even now he could see her perfect skin, almost
feel the contours of her body.
He felt a little ashamed of the progress of his thoughts. Women, no matter how
much he tried and how pressing his problems were, had a way of insinuating
themselves into his thoughts. Why, only minutes ago
Falk had told him something important-true, it was a little vague, but
important no less-and here he was imaging how Melli would have looked in a
low-cut dress!
He laughed out loud and Falk laughed with him. He wasn't about to ask why Falk
laughed along-he feared being told the woodsman could read his thoughts. Which
only made him laugh more. It was good to laugh; it was hard to believe there
was anything bad in the world that wouldn't retreat at the sound of laughter.
Falk walked to a comer of the den and knelt down, then lifted a bed of moss to
reveal a small pit. He sorted through the contents, found what he wanted, and
replaced the moss. Falk came and sat beside
Jack once more and started to unwrap several items from their linen swaths. ,
"You came with nothing, and I cannot let you part that way. I did not save
your life for it to be forfeit as soon as you leave." He handed Jack a small
but heavy dagger. "You will need a knife." Falk unwrapped another item. "You
will need a water flask." The final item was a thick and luxuriant cloak. "You
will need warmth."
Jack was sobered by such generosity. "Falk, I don't know how to thank you." He
was saved from saying more by Falk, who grunted in a dismissive manner.
" 'Tis nothing. Though I ask one thing in return."
"What?"
"Don't be bitter, Jack. You are young and life has set you a difficult path.
Don't make it worse by blaming others for its course." The woodsman gave him a
look filled with understanding. It was Jack who looked away first.
Satisfied, Falk busied himself with placing food onto a cloth. He then drew
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the cloth into a sling and tied the cord tightly. A few moments looking
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