Free Shadow's Witness by Paul Kemp Page A

day to day, but never took the time to master anything. He needed to learn discipline. Gale would have been willing to teach hiiri—very willing—but he suspected that Tamlin would not enjoy the lessons. Everything had been handed to the young man since boyhood. He had never had to work for anything. If Tamlin was ever forced to fend for himself, he was as likely to survive as an ore in a dwarf hold. Unless something changed, Gale
    knew, the preeminence of House Uskevren would last only through Thamalon’s lifetime.
    At that moment, Tamlin looked across the hall ‘and met Gale’s eyes, caught Cale’s disapproving frown, and momentarily lost his own ready smile. Gale looked away quickly, toying to keep the disdain in his expression hidden. As he did so, he caught a dark stare from Vox. The big man was apparently displeased that Gale had so discomfited Tamlin with only a look.
    Gale returned that dull-eyed stare unflinchingly and didn’t bother to hide his contempt. He knew Vox to be a professional mercenary and no doubt a skilled combatant, but Tymora would take him before he gave ground in his own house. Any time, big man, he thought, any time.
    Vox looked away after a final glare, his thick-lipped mouth moving as though muttering to himself, though Gale knew him to be a mute.
    Without thinking, Gale began to search the crowd for Talbot, but then remembered that the youngest Uskevren had begged off the celebration and remained at his tallhouse on Alasper Lane. He bit his lip thoughtfully, worried for the boy. He’s been begging off a lot of things lately, Gale realized. All since that hunting accident.
    Boyhood pranks gone awry were the previous extent of Talbot’s troubles—Gale had typically resolved those without even informing Thamalon and Shamur—but the boy was getting old enough now that he might be attracting grown-up sized troubles. Gale knew that if he was in some kind of scrape, he would be afraid to tell anyone—especially his parents.
    Ill have to look into that, he resolved. He made a mental scribe to contact Jak and ask the little man to quietly monitor the boy for a lew days.
    Satisfied at last that all was in order with the family, he returned his mind to his butler’s duties and made one final inspection of the floor staff. Everything seemed in good order, though he tensed when he spotted Larajin wobbling under a tray of empty wine bottles and dishes. His eyes bored nervous holes into her back as she walked unsteadily toward the forehall, but she managed to make it through the doors without incident. Gale followed her across the feasthall and stuck his head into the forehall to assure himself that she had made it to the kitchen without breaking something. She had.
    The silence coming from down the hall—rather than the rattle of pans and Brilla the kitchen mistress’s shouts—indicated to him that the exhausted cooking staff must have finally settled in to take their own dinner. Cale’s growling stomach reminded him that the floor staff, himself included, would eat only after all the guests had gone.
    Spotting a nearby wine valet, he walked over and replaced his near empty bottle of Storm Ruby with a fresh bottle of Usk Fine Old—a light, pear wine suitable for late evening—and prepared for what often proved to be bis most interesting work during celebrations— information gathering.
    Eavesdropping, he chided with a smile. At least call it what it is.
    Surveying the hall, he noted the locations of the Old Chauncel patriarchs and planned a route from one to the other. In his time at Stormweather, he had learned that Lord Uskevren’s food and drink tended to loosen otherwise tightly reined noble tongues. Especially in tiie presence of a mere servant. With his keen hearing, Gale had overheard innumerable incriminating facts while casually refilling after-dinner drinks. Over the years, he had been able to keep the Righteous Man
    satisfied with such information—information embarrassing to this or that