The Baker's Boy (27 page)

"Ah, yes. The
second one is this: Larn is a treacherous isle, be wary of the price."

The Old Man took
the cup of nettle from Tawl. "Moth will see to your needs. Unfortunately,
he and Clem are out doing a little business at the moment. My boy Noad will
escort you. Moth will contact you when it's all arranged." The Old Man
spoke Noad's name softly, and a young boy came into the room. The boy led Tawl
out, and the Old Man turned back to his fire.

Tawl underwent the
same blindfolded, foul-smelling journey, this time without the benefit of sea
breezes. The boy led him back to the small dark room, and from the top of a
high shelf took Tawl's long-knife and the curved blade. These he handed to
Tawl. "Old Man don't want you knocked out again." The boy replaced
Tawl's blindfold and led him up some steps and outside. They walked for a short
while and then the boy removed the blindfold.

"Here you go.
Turn left at the top of the street and you'll find yourself in the whoring
quarter in no time." The boy was off, quickly slipping down a thin
alleyway.

Tawl followed the
boy's directions and soon found himself in an area he was familiar with. Deep
in thought, he made his way back to Megan's.

Tavalisk was eating
plums. He had a bowl full of the deep, purple fruit. He popped one between his
pink lips, and as he chewed, its juice dribbled down his chin. He dabbed at it
fastidiously with a silk napkin and then spat out the stone onto the floor.

"Enter."
Gamil entered carrying a bowl of hazelnuts. "Your Eminence's nuts,"
he said, placing them on his desk.

"So, Gamil,
what news have you for me today?" Tavalisk selected a fat and shiny plum
and placed it between his sharp teeth.

"Our knight
has emerged from the Old Man's clutches."

"And what
state is he in? Was he beaten?" Tavalisk spat out the plum stone in the
direction of his sleeping dog.

"I don't
think he was, Your Eminence."

"Oh, how very
disappointing. I wonder what they're up to?" Tavalisk, having missed the
dog with the stone, now shook the little dog awake.

"Well, I
can't say for certain, Your Eminence. Not even you can tell what the Old Man is
up to." Tavalisk was about to bite on another plum, but put it down
untouched as he heard Gamil's words.

"It is not your
place to tell me my limitations, Gamil. You would be a fool to think that you
are my only source of intelligence."

Gamil, suitably
contrite, bowed his head low. Tavalisk continued. "The Old Man only has
power as long as I choose to let him. For the time being his activities
undermine Gavelna's leadership. And it is in my interest to keep the first
minister's authority suitably-" Tavalisk chose the plumpest plum
"-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.

"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 the cloth into a
sling and tied the cord tightly. A few moments looking through a chest, and he
pulled out a pair of boots. He looked at Jack's feet critically, shaking his
head in disbelief. When Falk handed the boots over to him, Jack didn't know
whether to smile or be ashamed. Lastly, Falk gave him a leather purse. "It's
not much," he said, "a few golds, but it will help you once you clear
the forest."

Jack tried to
thank him again, but his words seemed stiff and formal. "I owe you much,
Falk. I thank you for your kindness and promise to repay you."

"I want no
thanks and I will have no man beholden to me. I absolve you of any debt or
obligation." Jack tried to think of a suitable reply. Not finding one, he
decided silence was his best course.

The two companions
left the den, and stood side by side. Although Jack had seen the den from the
outside several times before, he could not help but admire it once again.

It appeared to be
nothing more than a mass of dense bushes. Falk caught Jack looking at it.
"I have few things to be proud of, my home is one of them."

They stood in
silence for a few minutes, taking in the beauty of the forest.

Falk surprised
Jack by coming forward and placing a light kiss upon his cheek. "I envy
you, Jack. You are young and your life is ahead of you make an adventure of
it!" For the last time, Jack could find no words. The two men's eyes met,
and Jack turned and walked away.

He did not look
back. He headed into the deep forest, checking the position of the sun to
ensure he was walking east. All the great cities lay to the east. It didn't
matter where he ended up, what counted was the experience. Now that Falk had
set his mind ablaze, he needed fuel to feed the flame. Jack broke into a run.
He enjoyed the sensation of cool air on his face, and when it began to rain, he
counted it a blessing. Many leagues he traveled, his thoughts too joyful for
contemplation. His life would be an adventure, and that was enough to sustain
him through the day.

When night began
to make its presence felt with cool breezes and a darkening sky, Jack slowed
and looked for a place to sleep. He found a flat area of ground by a narrow
stream and unpacked his bag. He was overwhelmed with the contents; there was a
side of cured ham, a round of yellow cheese, salted venison, apples, nuts,
dried fruits, and dried meats. Besides food there was a light woolen blanket
and a flask. Jack drank from the flask and found it was filled with cider.
Smiling, he cut himself a large wedge of cheese to complement the brew.

Jack opened the
leather purse and found five gold pieces. To a boy who'd not owned a penny his
entire life, five golds was a fortune.

He tucked in to a
hearty meal, testing the blade of his dagger on the side of ham. As he ate,
Jack wished he could have thanked Falk more eloquently for all he had done. He
considered the strange character of his benefactor and realized the best thing
he could do was simply to enjoy the bounty he had given. Jack raised his flask
and made a toast: "To Falk, a man alone but at peace." Jack downed
the remaining cider and belched appreciatively. It was a good brew.

Baralis was not
pleased. His dove had died; the wretched bird had finally succumbed to
starvation and cold. Now he had no way of ensuring his mercenaries would pick
up the girl. He would have to send out another bird. He would do it tomorrow-he
had a meeting with the queen later this day and he needed his wits about him.
To add to his displeasure, he had just received a letter by courier from the
chubby, scheming Tavalisk, asking for his library back. The corrupt and
corpulent archbishop was up to no good, he could feel it in his blood. The man
lived for intrigue, and he wouldn't let something as juicy as the marriage of
Kylock go unquestioned. The map of the Known Lands would soon be changing,
power would shift from the bloated south to the ravenous north. There was no
place for a glutton in a world dominated by a lean and hungry empire.

Tavalisk would
bear watching; he would not have his plans foiled by the archbishop's pudgy
hand.