Tal's smile was gone. "No. It doesn't."
The King leaned back again, wearing Tal's stolen smile. "Then you know why you're here. I've always been a great admirer of your work, Harrenfel — the greatest, I imagine. But it's the achievements that few know of that have been your finest, have they not, Magebutcher?"
A wince crossed Tal's face, and Garin's mind began to race. Magebutcher? He'd never heard that name in any of the stories. From Aelyn's sour expression and Tal's paleness, the tale promised to be far from heroic. But how could this kindly, joking neighbor of his, who was renowned as a hero throughout the Westreach, do anything less than honorable?
"Yes," Tal said slowly. "I know what you want. But you have yet to hear what I require in return."
King Aldric' eyebrows, thin as they were, reached toward the thin golden circlet on his head, while his lip quivered like a child about to have a tantrum. "Are we merchants sitting down to squawk? I'm a king, Harrenfel! I. Don't. Fucking. Barter!"
Garin's heart hammered, and he thought he might collapse. Standing before a king had almost been enough to make him faint; standing before a furious king promised to finish the job.
But Tal didn't back down. "You made that clear when you called me back here, Aldric. We made a deal when I left this room nine years ago, a deal I've never violated. I was to have a quiet life on the frontier of your kingdom in exchange for what I gave you." His gaze shifted to Aelyn. "Then he showed up on my doorstep, and I knew that was as much a dream as it had always seemed."
Garin's head spun. What deal had he made? And why would a man like Tal give up anything to spend years in Hunt's Hollow, much less something valuable enough to interest a king?
Though he'd seemed in a right fury just a moment before, and his face was still flushed red, King Aldric smiled without even a tremble. "Nine years is a much longer promise than most a king makes."
Tal laughed, the sound hollow. "Those might be the truest words you've ever spoken."
The King still wore a smile as he reached over and grasped a goblet from a small table next to him and lifted it to his lips. A trickle of red dribbled down his chin as he drained the goblet and set it down with a rattle, wiping carelessly at the spill with the back of his hand.
"I'll tell you what, Harrenfel. I'll hear you out. You get one chance to ask for whatever you wish. And if it's reasonable, you have my word, I'll give it to you — once you've done my job."
Tal stared, motionless, at the King. Then he nodded. "It's as much as I could ask for. But as your task has at stake not just a kingdom, but the whole of civilization, I'll make my wish three in part."
The King's eyes narrowed, though his smile never slipped. "Careful," he said in a low, singsong voice. "You wouldn't want to overdraw on my generosity."
"Can't overdraw on a thing that doesn't exist."
While the King's mouth worked, Tal skipped ahead. "The first thing: I'll have words with my old friend Falcon. Considering you broke your end of our deal, I believe it's only fair that I break mine."
The smile finally fell from King Aldric's lips. "Fine," he growled, or as near as he could with his high-pitched voice. "And the other two requests?"
"Second — upon completing your task, I'll be free, truly free, to go wherever I please, and never be called upon again for one of your jobs."
The King snorted. "Done. You're getting too old for my jobs as it is. Like as not you'll be pushing up flowers next time it's necessary. And the last?"
Tal gestured at Garin, and as the King turned his gaze on him, he felt as if his heart would stop. "Lastly, that you'll provide for this boy in whatever manner I see fit, be that an apprenticeship, knighting, or duchy."
King Aldric narrowed his eyes at Garin. "Him? Who's this boy to you — your bastard?"
"No," Tal said quickly, a touch of his cool air lost. "Never mind that. Those are my terms. Tell me, Aldric — are they reasonable?"
The King looked a moment longer at him. Only when his gaze pulled from him did Garin dare breathe again.
"Deal," King Aldric said, not sounding pleased for it. "So long as you don't try and give the boy my crown."
"I wouldn't dream of cursing him with it."
Tal inclined his head in what looked like, even to Garin's untrained eye, an insincere bow. But he rushed to follow his lead all the same. Rising, he saw the King's amused eyes on him.
"A king's bargain!" King Aldric shouted, banging his fist on the arm of his throne and shrieking a laugh. "Words I never thought I'd string together! Now, find my traitor, Harrenfel, and do it quickly. Else, legend or no, I'll have your head — and the boy's — mounted on my wall."
"I'd expect nothing less of a king," Tal said, and he turned on his heels, Garin following uncertainly after him.
The Magebutcher and the Minstrel
As the chanting of the monks faded behind them, and the gazes of the councilors in the foyer were lost from sight, he glanced furtively at Garin.
The youth seemed remarkably calm for all the revelations he'd been privy to. He seemed more interested in their surroundings as a servant led them down the coral-colored halls toward, he hoped, their rooms.
Garin's eyes went everywhere but at the man walking next to him.
The man, he mused. Who was he to him now? Bran the Chicken Farmer, Bran his neighbor and friend?
Or Ringthief. Red Reaver. Magebutcher.
He sighed. He knew who he was, even if he'd told himself otherwise for five years. He was Tal Harrenfel and had been ever since he'd first left Hunt's Hollow all those decades ago, more a boy than Garin was now, and hungry for blood and glory.
"Well then," Tal started, then cleared his throat. Little made him feel awkward, and the unfamiliarity of the feeling made it all the more uncomfortable. "You've met your first king, eh?"
Garin glanced over at him, eyes crinkled. "That's the first thing you have to say?"
"Should I have said something else?"
"How about starting with you being Tal Harrenfel, a living legend, and never bothering to tell me?"
A living legend. He winced. "We could start there, I suppose."
"Yeah, I'll bet we could." The youth's eyes were fully on him now, and it was Tal who found himself unable to meet his gaze.
"What's there to tell? My name is as the King said." He looked at Garin, almost meeting his eyes. "But I'll say one thing in my defense. Not all the stories are true about me. The originator of them took certain artistic liberties with the truth."
The youth snorted a laugh. "You think I wouldn't know that? In my experience, most stories are more fantasy than fact."
Tal repressed a smile. The lad learns quickly.
"But that doesn't answer my questions," Garin continued. "What I mean is, how could you hide that from all of us in Hunt's Hollow? I came around your farm for five years! And you never let slip even a hint that you were a hero."
"Hero? I'm no hero." He said it more sharply than he intended, but found himself hard-pressed to regret it. "I've done some good things, true enough, but usually for the wrong reasons, and I've done plenty bad besides. But those deeds didn't make it into the songs."