Flight of the Nighthawks (16 page)

“But this is the only home I've known,” said Marie.

“We'll make another home, the four of us.”

“What are you asking, Caleb?”

“Let us wed, and I will name the boys as my adopted sons. If all of you will have me.”

The boys grinned at one another, and Tad said, “Does this mean we get to call you ‘papa'?”

“Only if you wish to be beaten,” said Caleb with a smile. But his eyes were fixed on Marie.

She leaned into him and said softly, “Yes, Caleb. I will go with you.”

He kissed her, then said, “Zane, go to the inn and tell Jakesh to break out his best ale and wine. Tell him to prepare roast oxen, and trot out his best foods, for tonight we shall treat the town to a feast.

“Tad, find Father DeMonte and tell him that he has a wedding to perform at sundown.”

“Today?” asked Marie.

“Why wait?” asked Caleb. “I love you and want to know that no matter what happens in the future, you and the boys will be cared for. I want to know you are waiting for me.”

With a wry smile she said, “I'm always waiting for you, Caleb. You know that.”

“As my wife?” he said. “That's what I want.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him tightly. Then she said, “Yes, I'll marry you.”

The boys whooped and ran off on their errands. After a moment, Marie said, “Are you certain?”

“Never been so certain about anything in my life.” He kissed her. “I nearly died out there, and the thought of never seeing you again…” His eyes shone with moisture and emotion as his voice wavered. “Then those boys, those two wonderful boys that you raised, Marie—” He stopped, then said, “I didn't know whether to throttle them for disobeying me…but had they not, they would now be somewhere in northern Kesh, seeking a man whom they only knew by name, without means, while I would be rotting by some roadside. It's as if the gods had planned this, my love, and I'll not wait another day.”

“When will we move to your home, Caleb?”

“Tonight, after the festival, for that's what it will be—a festival!”

“I have so much to do—” she began.

“All you must do is be beautiful, and that is already done.”

“Still, if we are to travel this night, I must pack.”

“Pack what? What do you need to bring with you? You have the boys, and nothing in the hut is necessary where we are going. You'll see. What else is there? A few keepsakes?”

“Some.”

“Then gather those and spend the rest of this day preparing for your wedding. Find the dressmaker and spare no expense, and find the women you wish to stand with you.”

She nodded, tears forming. She put her hands over her nose and mouth and said, “Here I am crying like a foolish girl.”

He kissed her and said, “Nothing foolish about you, Marie. Nothing foolish at all.”

She kissed him again, then said, “I need to go to the dressmaker now. If I know Bethel Roachman she will kick up a real fuss about having to make something for me between now and sundown.”

“Let her. Just see that it's done to your liking.”

She smiled, nodded, and hurried off, holding her hem above the mud, and Caleb watched her go.

Standing alone, he wondered at his sudden need to formalize what had been unspoken between them. He felt a moment of worry, then pushed it aside. He knew his reason: he wanted the world to know that he loved this woman, and cared for her boys as if they were his own. He wanted a priest of a temple to bless their union and he wanted to go to his father with this ready-made family certain in his own mind that he could take no other course of action.

After a moment, he muttered under his breath, “Sun's hardly up and I need a drink already.” With doubt gnawing at his stomach, he forced himself to turn and walk back to the warehouse. He had to send a message to his parents and brother, and he needed to do it now.

 

Pug and Miranda stood to one side, and watched their youngest son and the woman he loved exchange their vows before Father DeMonte,
the local priest of Killian whose tiny church served the Stardock region.

Magnus stood a few feet behind his parents, studying his young brother with a mixture of pleasure and envy. That Caleb could find a little joy in the dark world they inhabited pleased Magnus enormously.

Pug was impressed by how much had been done in so short a time. Garlands of blooms hung from a lattice of grape stakes constructed by some local boys under Tad's direction. Zane had organized the food and drink, and the tables around the town square were loaded. Once word of the wedding had passed through the town, the local women had pitched in with freshly baked goods and preserves, and by sundown it was—as Caleb had predicted—a full-blown festival.

Tad and Zane stood on Marie's side of the square, behind the three women who were standing with her. They glanced at Ellie and Grame Hodover who stood watching silently. Ellie smiled back at the boys, who noted her swelling stomach and silently agreed that fate had put them on a better path than they had anticipated.

Spending a few minutes with Ellie during the course of the afternoon had restored the balance of their lives, and she was once again like their sister. Grame, as always, was a self-important bore, and neither Tad nor Zane could understand what Ellie saw in him, but as she loved him, they decided that was a good enough reason to put up with the pompous fool.

When the priest had finished and the crowd had cheered, Pug motioned for the boys to come over and join them. He whispered something to his wife and she nodded. Miranda turned her attention to Marie, and as Pug led the boys off to the side of the crowd, Pug felt a faint pang. Marie looked older than Miranda. She would grow to be an old woman while Pug, Miranda, and probably Magnus would remain unchanged. What would become of Caleb wasn't clear. There were aspects to his son's nature that no one else understood, or even suspected, save perhaps Nakor. Pug had realized years ago that it was futile to try and keep anything the Isalani found interesting a secret.

Reaching a quiet corner of the town square, Pug said, “Boys, I
suppose it's a good thing that I decided not to have you drowned when you first came to my island.”

Both boys looked startled for a moment, then grinned.

“From this moment you are grandsons to me, and with that comes privilege and responsibility. We'll talk more in the morning, but for the moment, go to the festival and share your mother's joy.”

They hesitated, then with a spontaneity that surprised Pug, hugged him fiercely. “Thank you, Pug,” said Zane. “We'll make you proud of us.”

Pug suddenly found himself flushed with emotion. “I know you will,” he whispered hoarsely.

They hurried off to the party while Magnus and his mother moved to where Pug stood. Miranda said, “You look nonplussed.”

“Just taken by surprise, that's all.”

“What were you surprised by, Father?”

“That two boys I hardly know could suddenly become important to me.”

Miranda smiled. “You have always allowed people to become important to you, Pug.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “It's one of the things I love about you, yet which causes me no end of annoyance.”

Softly, Pug said, “They remind me of William.”

Neither Miranda nor Magnus said anything for a moment. William, Pug's firstborn child, had died years before, but his father still grieved. Magnus rested his hand on his father's shoulder and the three stood motionless for a long time before they moved back to rejoin Caleb and his wife in the festival.

 

As the festival came to a close, Pug joined his younger son for a short walk. When they were out of earshot, Pug said, “I've just gotten word from home.”

“And?”

“There has been another murder in Kesh.”

Caleb didn't need to hear any more. He knew that since Nakor had returned from his visit to Knight-Marshal Erik von Darkmoor,
Pug had alerted every agent the Conclave had in Kesh to be on the lookout for evidence of a Nighthawk resurgence. For this murder to have come to their attention so swiftly, the victim had to have been someone significant. “Who was it?”

“Just a minor noble, but one linked directly to an important faction in the Gallery of Lords and Masters. I don't have a completely clear picture of what's taking place down there, but I think we could be seeing the beginning of a major power shift in the Empire.”

“A little murder has always been part of politics in Kesh, Father.”

Pug nodded and said, “Yes, but many murders remind me too well of the last time someone tried to seize power down there.” He grinned. “Although that odd set of events also led Nakor to me.”

“I've heard the story,” said Caleb, following his father's news with a sigh. “I had hoped that Marie and I could spend a little more time together to celebrate our nuptials.”

“I'm sorry to say you only have a few days, as I need you down in Great Kesh within a week. Marie and the boys will have to get used to the idea that although you often travel by common means—horse or wagon—you're just as likely to be whisked from here to there by magic.” Pug glanced over his shoulder and, seeing no need to be cautious, continued, “I've already sent Tal, Kaspar, and Amafi to the capital. Kaspar looks so different we hope no one will recognize the newly named Comte du Bassillon from the court of Bas-Tyra until he reaches the palace.”

“With all the correct papers, no doubt.”

Pug nodded. “Tal is a well-known former Champion of the Masters' Court, and his notoriety will help him gain invitations to various functions and places where we need eyes and ears. But there are also places a teamster and his two apprentices can go—”

“Wait a minute, Father! I want you to take the boys back home with you.”

Pug turned on Caleb and seized his arm. “I have treated you like a man since you first showed me that you could accept a man's responsibilities. Do you remember how old you were?”

“Seventeen,” said Caleb. “I remember asking you to send me on
a mission.” He hung his head, knowing where this conversation was headed.

“How old are Tad and Zane?”

“Seventeen this Midsummer Day.”

Pug was silent for a minute, then said, “You had no choice but to bring the boys back to our island. But that decision made them a concern of the Conclave, even though there were limits to their obligation and what we might ask of them once we were certain that they could be trusted. You asked for neither my nor your mother's counsel when you chose to wed Marie and bring the boys into our family.”

Caleb nodded. “I realize as much.”

“I could never tell you where to find your happiness, Caleb. No man can. I realize that your life has been harder in many ways than Magnus's. You were always the odd boy out, the one who couldn't do magic. I do understand that. But your choice has put those two boys in a situation they hardly understand. It is your duty as their stepfather to teach them what it means to be part of this family.”

Pug looked into the darkness for a moment. “I had been a prisoner in a Tsurani work camp for two years and Tomas fought alongside the dwarves in Grey Towers when we were Tad and Zane's age.

“Maybe it's fate,” said Pug, as he looked into his son's eyes. “But be it fate, chance, or whim, they are now part of this and you must teach them what that means.”

“Marie will not be happy.”

“I know, but we will do everything we can to bring her into our family.” Pug then smiled. “Do you think she's ready for what she'll find on Sorcerer's Isle?”

Caleb said, “She's pretty levelheaded; I think she'll manage.” Then as they turned back to the festival, he added, “But it might be wise to prevent her becoming too friendly with the Pithirendar sisters until she's had a chance to adjust. There are some things a mother doesn't need to discover about her sons.”

Pug nodded. “You mean like that time your mother popped into that brothel in Salador because she was looking for you?”

Caleb laughed. “That's exactly what I mean. I don't know who was more upset, me, Mother, or the whore.”

Pug patted his son's shoulder. “My money would be on your mother.”

Caleb said, “You're probably right.”

They returned to the festival and Caleb sought out his bride. A heavy sadness descended upon him as he considered just how he would tell her that he and
their
sons would be leaving without her at first light.

T
al feigned patience.

Petro Amafi stood at his master's right arm, once again playing the role of dutiful manservant to Tal's bored Kingdom noble. Far in the distance he could make out Kaspar, now using the name André, Comte du Bassillon, from the duke's court in Bas-Tyra.

Like all visiting nobility, he was honor bound to present himself to the imperial court upon arrival in Great Kesh. Emperor Diigai was too busy, of course, to see them: Kaspar, now a low-level functionary, despite carrying marques from the King of the Isles naming him trade envoy plenipotentiary, and Talwin Hawkins, minor noble and Champion of the Masters' Court in Roldem, were simply not of sufficient rank to warrant taking up any part of the old Emperor's time.

They would be greeted in turn by a minor functionary of the court, one of sufficient rank to not slight visitors, but not of high enough rank to give them too high an opinion of their status. As Kaspar had explained to Talwin before they had left Roldem together, while Roldem considered itself the cultural center of the Sea of Kingdoms, Kesh viewed itself as the virtual center of the known world, with some justification.

It was historically the most powerful nation on the entire world of Midkemia, and only the constant issue of keeping the southern vassal states, the so-called Keshian Confederacy, under control prevented the Empire from extending its borders further. Two hundred years earlier a revolt in the south had allowed the northern province of Bosania, now split into the Duchy of Crydee and the Free Cities of Natal, and the island province of Queg to break free of the Empire.

Currently Roldem's navy was combined with the Kingdom of the Isles' great Eastern Fleet, supported by a loose agreement among the small eastern Kingdoms to come to one another's aid against any Keshian incursion that kept the Empire contained in the east.

In the west, it was the Kingdom's Western Fleet and the navy of the Empire of Queg, plus the economic strength of the Free Cities of Natal, that had kept Kesh in check. So for the time being the political landscape over the entire continent of Triagia was stable for the first time in centuries. Which meant that the fighting now ran along economic and political lines, a great deal less overt, but no less nasty and dangerous than a military confrontation.

Talwin was doing his part to ensure that the stability presently being enjoyed by the citizens of all nations continued: it was clearly to their enemy's advantage to see chaos descend in the region.

Tal noticed Kaspar trying to catch his eye and whispered to Amafi, “Go and see what Lord André needs.”

Petro Amafi, one-time assassin and betrayer of both men, quickly moved forward past the others who were waiting quietly in the anteroom to the presentation hall.

There was a rough pattern to where people chose to stand, for everyone coming to be presented to the Emperor's court had some sense of where they were likely to be in the order of those called.
Near the door waited those of sufficient rank to be almost worthy enough to be presented directly to the Emperor: minor princes from distant lands, nobles who were related by blood to royalty, and envoys of lower than the rank of ambassador.

Kaspar had once enjoyed higher status, since he had been the ruler of the Duchy of Olasko. It was more than five years since he had last visited Kesh on a state visit, and he doubted many would recognize him—though he was occasionally given a second glance by one functionary or another who seemed to think that Kaspar was someone whom they should know but didn't quite remember. He was by his own estimate at least thirty pounds lighter than he had been when ruler of Olasko. A year of hard living and less than bountiful food, followed by a strict regimen of strenuous training and light eating had kept him slim. Instead of the closely cut beard he had once sported, he was now clean shaven, and he had let his hair grow to his shoulders. With clothing bought from the most fashionable tailor in Bas-Tyra, he looked entirely like a gentleman of that court.

“Master Talwin asks what it is you need, Magnificence?” said Amafi when he reached Kaspar's side.

With a slight nod of his head, Kaspar said, “Tell the squire I may be indisposed. I believe I may have been recognized.”

Amafi turned around inconspicuously, as if to talk to Pasko, the old agent who had served as one of Talon's early teachers. Speaking of nothing of note, Amafi let his eyes sweep the room, not lingering long enough to establish eye contact with anyone, but still managing to identify every potential threat. Smiling, he turned back to Kaspar and said, “I assume my lord is referring to the minor functionary standing near that small door on the right?”

“Actually, it was the man who spoke to him a moment ago before disappearing through that door,” said Kaspar. “The other fellow is merely keeping an eye on me, I suspect.”

“I will convey to my master your concerns,” said Amafi. “If we do not see you at the rendezvous this evening, we shall assume the worst.”

With a bland expression and a forced smile, Kaspar said, “You do that, Amafi.”

Pasko said, “Convey word to those who might care about such things.”

Amafi nodded. Pasko, a dour man of middle years, had been dispatched by the Conclave to keep a close watch on Kaspar. The former Duke of Olasko had earned a great deal of good will by carrying word to the Conclave of the threat from the Dasati the year before, but he was still not entirely trusted. So, Pasko kept an eye on Kaspar, while Talwin watched Amafi.

The plan was straightforward: the Conclave had sent three groups of agents—Kaspar and Pasko, Tal and Amafi, and Caleb and the boys—to the City of Kesh. Kaspar, as a minor envoy, would have access to many key government ministers and functionaries; Tal would be able to move easily through the social circles of the minor Keshian nobility: as a past Champion of the Masters' Court and with his reputation as a womanizer and gambler, he would have no shortage of social invitations. Caleb and the boys would be able to negotiate their way through the common citizenry of the Empire, from honest laborers to criminals. It was hoped that by using three different sets of agents, some clue could be uncovered as to the whereabouts of the leader of the Nighthawks. And Pug hoped that through one of these channels he would learn the whereabouts of his old enemy, Leso Varen.

Amafi relayed Kaspar's message to Tal, who said, “If we are separated and questioned, you know what to say.”

“Yes, Magnificence,” replied the gray-haired assassin. “You have met the Comte on a number of occasions in Bas-Tyra and elsewhere. You have even played cards with him, and you were pleased to discover yourselves traveling on the same boat from Caralién to Kesh. We traveled by land from Pointer's Head to Ishlana, then by riverboat. The Comte said he had come from Rillanon, so I assume he came by land from Deep Taunton to Jonril then by boat to Caralién. It was a most fortuitous happenstance as the Comte is convivial company.” With an evil smile, he added, “And an indifferent card player.”

“Don't overdo it,” said Tal. “But if they assume I'm staying close to him to cheat him at cards, they will perhaps not suspect that we are plotting together.”

“A small bad intention is often far more easily believed than a big one, Magnificence,” whispered Amafi. “Once I avoided the gallows by merely claiming to have entered a certain house to have a dalliance with the man's wife instead of attempting to kill him. The woman vigorously denied it, but the odd thing was, the louder she claimed it wasn't so, the more the authorities believed it was. I was put in a cell, from which I escaped a few days later; the man beat his wife, causing her brother to kill him in a duel, and I collected my fee for the man's death, despite the fact I had not placed one finger upon him. I did, however, revisit the wife to console her, and found her behavior clearly demonstrated why the constables were inclined to believe me and not her.” With a half-wistful look, he added, “Grief made her ardent.”

Tal chuckled. There had been several times in their relationship when he would have happily murdered Amafi, and he was certain there had been more than one occasion when the former assassin would have killed him for the right price, but at some odd point along the way he had become fond of the rogue.

His feelings for Kaspar were a great deal more complex. The man had been responsible for the wholesale destruction of his entire people, and but for a freak act of fate Tal Hawkins, once Talon of the Silver Hawk, would have been dead along with the majority of the Orosini.

Yet Kaspar was now an ally, another agent working for the Conclave of Shadows. And Tal understood how many of Kaspar's murderous decisions had been made under the influence of the Conclave's most dangerous enemy, the magician named Leso Varen. Yet even without Varen's influence, Kaspar could be a coldhearted, unforgiving bastard. Yet even when he had served Kaspar with the intent of betraying him to revenge his people, there was something about Kaspar Tal admired. He found himself in the confusing situation of knowing he would give his life to save Kaspar against their common enemies, but that in other circumstances, he would happily kill the man.

“You look lost in thought, Magnificence. Is something troubling you?”

“Nothing more than the usual, Amafi. I find the gods have an evil sense of humor, sometimes.”

“That is true, Magnificence. My father, an occasionally wise man, once said that we were blessed only when the gods remained ignorant of us.”

Tal's gaze returned to Kaspar. “Something's happening.”

Amafi turned to see a minor court official speaking to Kaspar, and after a moment, Kaspar and Pasko followed him through the small side door Kaspar had mentioned to Amafi. Tal sighed. “Well, now we shall see if our plans fall apart before they begin.”

“Let us hope the gods are ignoring us today, Magnificence.”

 

Kaspar was led by a very polite functionary through a long series of corridors. He was taken by side passages around the smaller reception hall used for greeting visiting dignitaries toward the suite of offices reserved for the higher-ranking government officials.

The palace of the Emperor occupied the entire upper half of a great plateau that overlooked the Overn Deep and the lower city at the foot of the tableland. Ages before, Keshian rulers had constructed a massive fortress on top of this prominence, a highly defensible position from which to protect their small city below. Over the centuries the original fortress had been added to, reconstructed and expanded, until the entire top of the plateau was covered. Tunnels extended down into the soil, some leading into the lower city. It was like nothing so much as a hive, Kaspar thought. And as a result he rarely knew where he was. Of course, before this particular journey he never had to worry about getting lost, because as a visiting ruler, he had always had an attentive Keshian noble or bureaucrat to see to his needs.

Kaspar understood the organization of the Keshian government as well as any foreigner could, and he knew that this nation, more than any other on Midkemia, was controlled by bureaucracy, a system that had endured longer than any ruling dynasty. Kings might give edicts and princes command armies, but if the edicts were not handed down to the populace no one obeyed them, and if orders to
move food and supplies around weren't forthcoming, the prince's army quickly starved to death in the field, or mutinied.

On more than one occasion, Kaspar had been thankful his duchy was relatively small and tidy by comparison. He could name every functionary in the citadel that had served as his home for most of his life. Here he doubted the Emperor could name even those servants who worked in his personal apartment.

They reached a large office, and Pasko was instructed to wait on a stone bench outside. Kaspar was motioned through a door into an even larger room, one that was an odd mix of opulence and functionality. In the middle of the room sat a large table, behind which rested a man on a chair. Once powerful, he had gone to fat, though there was still ample muscle under that fat. Kaspar knew that there was a shrewd and dangerous mind in that old man's head. He wore the traditional garb of a Trueblood: a linen kilt around his hips bound by a woven silk belt, cross-gartered sandals on his feet, and a bare chest. He also wore an impressive array of jewelery, mostly gold and gems, though there were some interesting polished stones among the dozen or so chains he had around his neck. These stood in stark contrast against his night-black skin. He regarded Kaspar with eyes so dark brown they looked sable, and then he smiled, his white teeth dramatic in contrast to his face.

“Kaspar,” he said in a friendly tone. “You look different, my friend. I'd say better, if you think that not overstepping the mark.” He waved the escort outside, then with a motion of his hand ordered the two guards by the door to go, as well, leaving Kaspar alone with him.

Kaspar nodded slightly. “Turgan Bey, Lord of the Keep, why am I not surprised?”

“You seriously didn't think the former Duke of Olasko could sneak into the Empire without our notice, did you?”

“One can hope,” said Kaspar.

Lord Turgan indicated that Kaspar should take a seat. “Comte André?” He looked at something written on a piece of parchment. “I must confess it took a great deal of self-control not to have you picked up at the border, but I was interested in seeing just what you
were up to. Had you sneaked into the city or met with known insurgents or smugglers this would all make sense. But instead you submit a petition to present yourself as a trade envoy plenipotentiary from the Duke of Bas-Tyra's court? And then you walk in here and stand around like…like I don't know what.”

The still-powerful-looking old man drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment, then added, “So, if you have a reason why I shouldn't throw you and that servant of yours into the Overn to feed the crocodiles, I'd love to hear it. Maybe I'll toss in your friend Hawkins, as well.”