The other hunters drew their breek lances and Tak drew his own; a slender weapon about six feet long designed for stabbing at the ground. It was clearly an elderly weapon. The leather grip was worn and faded and the blade had specks of rust along its length, but its point was sharp and sound. Even so, though, he found himself eying the King's lance enviously. It gleamed with regular devoted polishing and had silver lettering in the flat of the blade that shone in the light of the yellow sun. You didn't need any more evidence that the King was a keen hunter. A hobby he'd practised since his earliest childhood.
His attention was jerked back to the breek as he heard one of the other hunters give a cry of delight and saw that the reptile had emerged about fifty yards from him. The King blew another note on the hunting horn and the rider, Viscount Nonymar, a middle aged man with the biggest, bushiest moustache Tak had ever seen, turned his horse to chase after it, the lance raised so as not to accidentally injure his mount. The breek was fast, he was surprised to see. Amazingly fast for an animal of its proportions, and as horse and rider set off in pursuit, followed by the rest of the hunt, he found himself wondering whether he could acquire a couple of live specimens for his experiments. If he could grow them bigger, they might make fine mounts for the city's cavalry.
The King blew the hunting horn with enthusiasm as they chased the breek, the lizard tearing back and forth between them, darting between the legs of the horses, lances jabbing at the ground all around. For a moment it looked as though the Count of Halk, the grey haired monocled man, had it cornered between himself and a fat, bald man whose name Tak had forgotten for the moment and both lances came jabbing down at the same time, but the fat man's lance knocked Halk's aside and the breek was granted a temporary reprieve, darting away towards the marshes where the hounds had formed a line to bar its escape.
The lizard skidded to a halt, staring at the madly barking dogs, then turned and sped along the edge of the swamp, searching for an opening. The hounds followed it, determined to thwart its escape, and Tak found himself impressed by their training. The master of the hounds had issued no commands that he was aware of, and yet the dogs knew exactly what to do and had enough self control not to come chasing after the lizard themselves. It was the best display of control and obedience the wizard had ever seen.
"Come on Halbon!" cried Barl eagerly, and it took Tak a moment to recognise his assumed name. "Don't just sit there!"
Tak realised he was the only one not joining in the chase, being too engrossed in watching the spectacle, and with a grin he tugged on the reins and took his horse into the hunt. He stayed on the edge of the melee, though, not confident enough in his control of the horse to take it into the middle of the action, but despite this he did get one go at the breek when it broke out of the circle of hunters and raced in his direction.
He jabbed with his lance, spearing the ground just to the side of its scaly flank, and then it was gone, speeding back towards the marsh where the dogs again turned it back. The other hunters thundered past him, someone shouting a commiseration on his near miss, and then they were away and he was on his own again. He turned his horse to chase after them, marveling at the tireless energy of the breek which seemed capable of going on forever.
In the end it was the Duke of Arl who got it. A lucky jab with the lance that speared it right through the middle of its back. He jumped from his horse with a cry of triumph, unslung his breek hammer from its horn on his saddle, and dispatched the wildly thrashing lizard with a single blow to the head.
"Well done, old man," cried the Count of Halk in delight. "First kill to Arl! Whose'll be next? Yours, Tayla?"
The fat, bald man glowered back at him and pointedly walked his horse away, watched with interest by several of the other huntsmen. It made Tak aware that there was politics going on even now, right in the middle of the sport. He glanced at Barl to see what he was making of it, but his fellow Gem Lord was watching the Duke of Arl as he slung the breek across his saddle and carried it back to the master of the hounds, who lifted it off and placed it carefully on the ground at his feet. The corpse would be taken back to the castle at the end of the day, Tak knew, where the meat would be cooked and served up for supper and the head stuffed and mounted as a trophy.
They caught two more breeks that morning, the second caught by a tall, thin man called Leonard of Mirgue and the third by the King himself, although Tak was pretty sure that Viscount Nonymar could have gotten it at one point but let it go so that their host could make the kill. He saw the Viscount and the King talking a little after that, after having moved a little way apart from the others, and he smiled to himself, thinking that Lord Tallow wasn't the only creep amongst the hunting party.
They moved a short distance away from the swamp to have their lunch, at a spot where their entourage had spent the last couple of hours erecting marquees and laying out food on tables. The talk was all of the morning's hunting, of how close one or other of them had come to making a kill. Of how these breeks were the fastest and most agile they'd ever seen, and the best spot on which to continue the hunt in the afternoon.
"The biggest breek I ever saw was caught just a couple of miles from this very spot," said Lord Tallow around a mouthful of spiced ham while holding his wine glass out for a refill. "Must have been nearly thirty pounds. His Majesty'll tell you. Do you remember, your Majesty? It was on the occasion of your fortieth birthday, just after your brilliant victory against the Poppolians. That breek might have been sent by the Gods Themselves as a reward for your courage and valour! Do you remember, your Majesty? You caught three breeks yourself that day, and the rest of us only two between us! What a hunt! What a hunt that was!"
The King beamed as he agreed that it had indeed been a memorable day, but Tak thought Lord Tallow was laying it on a bit thick. That kind of toadying could easily backfire on you. It tended to make you unpopular with your competitors, and Tak suspected that their goodwill was just as much to be valued as that of the King himself. Indeed, he noticed that the Count of Halk was watching the interplay with pleasure and amusement, as if Tallow's making himself unpopular with the other hunters fitted in very well with his own plans.
They took a couple of hours to digest their huge meal, and it wasn't until the middle of the afternoon that they set off to continue the hunt. They caught two more breeks, which was apparently more or less run of the mill for an occasion of this kind, although Lord Tallow told everyone who would listen of a day a couple of years past when one of the King's hunts had bagged fully a dozen of the reptilian creatures.
Tak came close to getting one himself when his lance grazed the hide of a breek dashing under his horse, but the kill was claimed by Baron Krelldicon. A giant of a man who made the others nervous by silently observing all their manoeuvrings while making none of his own. Tak, watching him out of the corner of his eye, thought that if any of the hunters were Yinnfarsian agents, he would be the one and he was careful not to bring himself to the big man's attention. Fortunately, the day's hunting seemed to be drawing to a close, which was a relief because his bottom was beginning to get uncomfortably sore.
The thought was stricken from his head, though, when he saw the King talking with Barl, the two of them glancing warily at the others while they carried on their conversation. Good, thought Tak gratefully. They're discussing the proposed alliance with the Gem Lords. About time! In fact, he later learned, they were only discussing pleasantries and confirming their mutual continued interest in the deal. The negotiations wouldn't begin in earnest until the next day, when the King would contrive a reason for him and the two Gem Lords to meet in private so that they could talk for as long as it took without fear of interruption. Finding something to occupy the other guests would be the problem, but Barl had already suggested a few ideas to Tak. They couldn't let such a trivial problem get in the way of Domandropolian expansion.
"You almost got him!" said a female voice, and Tak looked around in surprise to see one of the Count of Halk's followers. A pretty woman with sandy yellow hair and radiant blue eyes. She was smiling at him and Tak found himself returning the smile with genuine pleasure, instantly attracted to her.
"I think I need a bit more practice before I'm any good at this," he said, while his eyes searched her hands and ears for any sign that she was married, promised or oathbound. There was nothing, though. No marriage ring, no engagement ribbon. Nothing to suggest she wasn't completely free and single, and his spirit rose as pleasant possibilities rose in his mind. He laughed at himself. She's only in her twenties, he told himself. I'm old enough to be her grandfather! Not that that would be a problem for a political arranged marriage, but to think she'd be romantically interested in him was sheerest fantasy. Wasn't it? A small and defiant part of him dared to hope.
"This was your first time?" she said in surprise. "I wouldn't have guessed. You must have a natural grasp of it. You came that close to bagging one just now, and it's not many manage to bag a breek on their first day."
Tak's heart sank with disappointment. She was flattering him, trying to milk him for information. She wasn't really attracted to him at all. Still, she was pleasant company, and she'd be likely to stay with him as long as she thought she had a chance of wheedling something out of him. He pretended to be fooled by her flattery, therefore, and wondered whether she'd be prepared to sleep with him in her attempts to learn his real identity and reason for being here. Maybe if he hinted at some great and terrible secret that only the most intensive measures would pry loose...
"My first and probably my last time," he said therefore. "As soon as our business here is concluded..." He broke off abruptly, as if suddenly realising he'd said more than he should, and watched her face carefully, delighted to see the look of interest that she tried to hide by looking out over the swamp. When she looked back his way her face was composed once more and they spent the next few minutes discussing harmless subjects, neither of them wanting to give away their true interest in the other.
"Forgive me if I'm prying," said Tak, "but you're a wizard, aren't you? I can sense the magic stored in your body."
He cursed himself for a fool. He'd given away the fact that he himself was a wizard! After all their carefully laid plans to appear to be nothing more than a couple of minor nobles. He consoled himself with the knowledge that she must have known he was a wizard anyway. If he could sense the magic in her body, she'd be able to sense the magic in his.
"I'm surprised there's enough for you to sense," the woman replied. "I'm just beginning, under the tutelage of Hilfiler the Twelve Fingered. You've heard of him?"
Tak shook his head, pretty sure that the reason he'd never heard of him was that she'd probably just made the name up. Giving the true name of her master would give away her own identity, and that of the Count of Halk, who, he was almost certain, was not a wizard.
"Does he treat you well?" he asked, remembering his own apprenticeship. The idea of this pretty woman suffering as he had filled him with concern and a strange feeling of protectiveness that surprised him with its strength. Could she be working some kind of charm on him? An ordinary enchantment would never be able to penetrate his defences, of course, and he didn't think she was anything like powerful enough to cast the more advanced spells that might, but she might have been given an amulet or artifact of some kind by her master. He resolved to keep a firm eye on his feelings and remain alert for any kind of malign influences.
She asked him about his own apprenticeship, and he made up a story about having been taken in as an orphan by a kindly old man who'd taught him the Art. She knew he was lying, of course, to protect his own identity, but she nevertheless followed the tale intently, trying to catch him out in an inconsistency. Whenever she found one and called it to his attention with a triumphant smile on her lips he would think fast and make up a story to cover it up.
"Yes, I know I said he had no living relatives. He just called her his sister because, er, because they'd grown so close over the years." If it was a particularly clever or amusing explanation she would laugh her delight, and the sound of her laughter would send a thrill of pleasure through the Gem Lord.
After about an hour of this, during which the hunt went on without them, the other huntsmen whispering amused speculation about whether they were 'getting it off', they swapped sides and the woman, who'd given her name as Essca, would do the storytelling.
"I was the pampered daughter of a rich merchant and travelled with him all across the land, visiting one city after another. Mighty Kor-Thell. Golden Yinnfarsia. Cruel Domandropolis. Borovia of the ivory tower..."
She watched his face closely to see if he reacted to any of the named cities and Tak, seeing this, feigned a start when she came to Forn, home of the tall ships, which he was pleased to see her pick up on, smiling secretly. Tak hid his own smile with an effort, wondering whether it would really be that easy to lead her off on a false track.
"We came to Falme one day," the girl continued, "and we were invited to lodge with the great wizard Hilfiler, who'd heard of the goods traded by my father, of their quality and great worth. He wanted to see them for himself. He'd been wanting to restock his wine cellar for some years and none of the local merchants had anything that could satisfy his highly refined palate."
"Wizards are like that," agreed Tak, nodding seriously. "Very cultured and refined. Accustomed to the very best the world has to offer."
"Like you?" asked Essca, raising one perfect eyebrow at him.
"Of course," the Gem Lord replied, grinning broadly, transfixed by those eyes that never left his for a moment. Eyes that he thought he could quite easily drown in. He realised that she was giving him her complete, undivided attention, unlike most conversations where both parties have half their minds on other things most of the time, and he found that depth of attention intensely arousing. His breeches were suddenly uncomfortably tight around his waist and he shifted in his saddle in a discreet attempt to find relief.
"You should see my mansion," he added. "The best Dalfalian furniture made by the master carpenter's own hand. The finest works of art. The best horses. The largest, most glorious gardens. We receive visitors from all across the land to admire it. Even Lords and Princes."
Essca's glossy, painted lips curled in a faint smile. "I must surely have heard of such a marvel. What was its name?"
Tak's mind raced. "The, er, the mansion of, er," He'd struck a complete mental block, however, and in mounting panic he seized upon the first word that came to mind. "Breeks!" he cried in triumph, only realising when it was out of his mouth what he'd said. "The mansion of, er, breeks."
Essca threw back her head in wild, helpless laughter. "The mansion of breeks?" she said when she had herself back under control. "Are you sure that's what it's called?"
"Renowned across the land," confirmed Tak, cursing himself for the failure of his imagination while at the same time exulting at the sound of her laughter. It had been worth making a fool of himself to hear that laugh. "But you were telling me your story."
"Yes," agreed Essca, wiping a tear from her eye. "Well, Hilfiler saw the potential in me immediately and bought me from my father for ten thousand gold marks."
"Ten thousand marks!" cried Tak in surprise. "He must have valued you very highly!" Ten thousand marks would buy half a city.
"Of course he did!" cried Essca indignantly. "Don't you?"
"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect," apologised the Gem Lord. "Ten thousand marks! Your father would have been able to set himself up as a Lord in his own right. What did you say his name was? I might have heard of him."
Now it was Essca's turn to think fast. "He, he lost it all at the gaming tables," she said. "It was his only vice. He'd lost his soul to the dice years before. He could never hold on to money for very long."
"And yet he still managed to become the richest merchant of the region," queried Tak, raising one of his own eyebrows.
"Sometimes he was lucky at the tables," said Essca.
Their eyes met again and suddenly they were both laughing in their saddles, tears streaming from their eyes. It was several minutes before they were able to continue with their game, the most fun Tak had had since his childhood, and after the terrible things he had suffered during his apprenticeship it was a blessed relief to discover he was still capable of having fun.
It was with real regret that they saw the hunters returning to the marquee for another quick bite to eat and a glass or two of wine before returning to the castle. Essca (he wondered what her real name was) returned to the Count's side, but before she did she gave Tak a smile that told him without words that she intended to see a lot more of him before they all returned to their homelands. The Gem Lord found himself wondering hopefully whether that next meeting would be in one of their bedchambers.
It seemed the other huntsmen had observed the exchange as well, as the King made a point of leading his horse close to Tak's so he could lean across and whisper an amused comment. "Looks like you've caught yourself a prize greater than any breek, eh?" Then he laughed and gave the Gem Lord a broad wink before moving away again.
Tak sighed, knowing that he would be the talk of the castle within minutes of their return, but he found he didn't care. All he could think of was the sound of Essca's laughter. The glow of her eyes. The way her light, flyaway hair waved in the light breeze, a few strands blowing across her face making him want to reach out to gently brush them away. Perhaps feeling the softness of her cheek at the same time. As the servants laid out his meal in front of him he found himself wondering whether he was falling in love.