Free King of Foxes by Raymond E. Feist Page B

he grabbed his sword. “Now, find something to do until Pasko gets back, and I’ll see the two of you at noon.”
    “Yes, Magnificence,” Amafi repeated.
    Tal left the apartment and hurried down the stairs. He fastened his sword around his waist and kept the jacket over his shoulder. It was a warm day and he had elected to forgo a hat. As he worked his way along the streets to the Masters’ Court, he pondered just how much damage he could do to a royal without getting himself into too much trouble.
    The morning sun, a warm breeze off the ocean, the memory of the Lady Natalia’s enthusiastic lovemaking—all combined to put Tal into a wonderful frame of mind.
    By the time he reached the Masters’ Court he had a plan as to how to humiliate a royal without getting hanged, and had convinced himself it might even turn out to be fun.
    __
    A week later, the gallery was full as Tal walked onto the floor of the Masters’ Court. With the return of the Greatest Swordsman in the World, observing practices and bouts had become the favored pastime of a large number of young women in the capital. Many noble daughters and a significant number of young wives found reason to take pause during their day’s shopping to indulge their new-found interest in the sword.
    He had been practicing every day for a week since re-

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    KING OF FOXES
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    turning from the hunt, and waiting for his opportunity to confront Prince Matthew. He had finally realized the Prince was waiting until he departed to appear at Masters’
    Court every second day. Tal judged that the vain prince didn’t wish to share the attention of those at the Masters’
    Court with the Champion. So this day, Tal began his practice sessions in the late afternoon, rather than the morning, as was his habit.
    Tal was saluted by every member on the floor, including the instructors, in recognition of his achievement.
    Today Vassily Turkov was acting as Master of the Floor, head instructor, and arbiter of any dispute. Other instructors worked with students in all corners of the massive hall, but the Master of the Floor supervised the bouts at the center.
    The floor of the court was of inlaid wood, arranged in a complex pattern that after a brief study revealed itself to be a clever series of boundaries between various practice areas. The floor was surrounded by massive columns of hand-polished wood supporting the ornate high ceiling.
    Tal glanced up and saw that the ceiling had been re-painted, white with gold leaf over embossed garlands and wreaths that surrounded large skylights. Galleries ran along one wall between the columns, while the other wall boasted floor-to-ceiling windows, keeping the entire hall brilliantly lit.
    Vassily came and took Tal’s hand. “When you didn’t appear this morning, thought perhaps you’d given yourself a day of rest, Squire.” He glanced at the crowded gallery and said, “If this continues, we may have to put up those temporary seats again.” During the Masters’ Champion Tournament, temporary seating had been erected in front of the windows, to accommodate as many onlookers as possible.

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    70
    RAYMOND E. FEIST
    Tal smiled. “I just came to practice, Master.”
    The older man smiled and nodded. “Then I shall find you an opponent.” He saw several young men lingering nearby, eager to cross swords with the Champion of the Masters’ Court. He beckoned one of them: “Anatoli, you are first!”
    Tal had no idea who the young man was, but the youth approached without hesitation. He bowed to the Master, then bowed to Tal. Master Vassily cried out,
    “Rapiers! Three points to the victor!”
    Both men wore heavily padded jackets that covered them from neck to groin, over leggings and leather-soled slippers. Each donned a basket mesh helmet that allowed air and vision, but protected the entire head from injury.
    They advanced and faced each other.
    The Master came to stand between them, holding out his sword. Each