The Scepters glanced back at Tal, then turned back to Chaney, frowning their disapproval. One took Chaney by the arm. 'Let's find you a nice pallet down-'
'Wait,' called Tal, climbing down from the cart. The Scepters looked at him dubiously, while Chaney continued to stare in disbelief. 'I'll make sure he gets home safely.'
The Scepter holding Chaney's arm looked Tal up and down in obvious disapproval of his makeshift attire. One of his companions nudged the Scepter impatiently, and he relented.
Chaney continued to stare at Tal even after the scepters walked away. Tal grinned back at him. 'Is it Tal?' Chaney asked, peering dubiously up at Tal's new beard. It had grown in thick, black, and curly.
'More or less.'
'They didn't get you!' slurred Chaney. He reached carefully to touch Tal's rude imitation of a tabard, then clutched it to keep his balance. 'They just stole your clothes.'
Chaney seemed tiny beside his big friend. Where Tal was broad, Chaney was slight and narrow. His intelligent eyes sparkled even through the fog of ale, and his fine nose and pointed chin gave him a look of perpetual mischief. Softening his impish appearance were his smooth cheeks, preserving an illusion of youth that made him seem the younger of the two, though he was in fact a year older at twenty.
'How much money do you have with you?' asked Tal.
Chaney fumbled for his purse before Tal took it from him. Peering inside, he frowned at the contents before tossing the entire thing to the farmer.
'If you stay at the Outlook tonight,' he said, 'I'll have something more sent over to you.'
'That's all my money!' complained Chaney, reaching after it long after the farmer had caught it. The farmer's bushy eyebrows rose in surprise at the heft of the purse.
'This is more than enough for what I done,' said the farmer.
'All the same,' said Tal. He had it in mind to reward the kind farmer with more money than the man had seen in a decade, and even that wouldn't put a dent in Tal's monthly stipend.
'I won't say no,' conceded the farmer with a friendly nod. He snapped the reins and continued across the bridge.
Tal got an arm under Chaney's shoulders and turned him back toward the Klaroun Gate. 'Let's get you wrung out.'
Chaney needed sleep before he could sober up, so Tal delivered him into the care of a frowning housekeeper in Chaney's flat. Soon after, Tal stood before his tallhouse.
It was a narrow building of equal parts gray stone and brown vines, which in spring would smother the building in vibrant green. It stood amid five similar buildings, each divided from its neighbors by a narrow alley.
Tal ascended the short flight of steps and pounded cheerfully on the door. He couldn't wait to see the expression on Eckart's face when the fastidious valet saw Tal wearing a pair of old blankets and a twine belt.
After a few moments, Tal banged on the door again, to no avail. Of course, realized Tal, Eckart must be back at Stormweather Towers. He slipped around to the side alley, where stairs descended to the side entrance. Tal had hidden a key behind a loose stone there, despite Eckart's protests about burglars. He was pleased to see that it was still there.
As he turned to open the side door, Tal heard a sudden hiss. He looked up to see the neighbor's fat orange tabby perched on the ledge above. It was one of a dozen cats who haunted this street, and Tal often saw it near the steps, where Eckart often placed leftovers or a saucer of milk in the morning.
'Well again, kitty,' said Tal. He reached up to let the little beast smell him, but the cat spat furiously and vanished.
Tal sniffed at himself and frowned at the sour odor. 'Can't blame you,' he muttered. 'I do need a bath.'
Inside, Tal was surprised to find the wine cellar illuminated by two bright lamps. More alarming was the sight of the empty wine racks and a stack of crates. One was still open and overflowing with packing straw.
'Don't tell me they've sold the house,' muttered Tal wearily. He knew he'd been missing for a long time, but surely his family wouldn't have given up hope already. He reached into the open box and removed a bottle of Thamalon's Own, the precious pear wine his father gave him for his birthday earlier in the year.
'I must warn you,' called a prim and tremulous voice from the stairs, 'that I am armed and have no compunctions about shooting a burglar.'
Tal put away his smile before turning around and adopting his father's own voice. 'Put that toy away, and tell me where in the nine hells you've taken the rest of my wine!'
'Master Talbot!' squeaked Eckart, lowering his hand crossbow so quickly that he shot a bolt into the stairs. Glancing down, he paled at the bolt quivering neatly between his feet. Looking back at Tal, he whitened even more. 'Bu-Bu-but we thought you were-'
'Still waiting for an answer about my wine!' roared Tal. He struggled to keep a straight face. He rarely used his father's voice to fluster Eckart, but it worked every time. Chaney insisted it was because Eckart received exactly such rebukes each time he reported on Thamalon Uskevren's wastrel son.
'It's at Stormweather, sir, along with the rest of your belongings.' Eckart gulped as he saw Tal's brow's furrow in another perfect imitation of the elder Uskevren. 'Lord Uskevren thought it best to remove everything to your rooms at home.'
Eckart's earlier words finally sank in, and Tal said quietly in his own voice, 'Because he thought I was dead.'
'Oh, no, sir,' replied Eckart in a tone of genuine distress. 'Your father-all of us-never gave up hope. Your father merely felt that, upon your return, you'd prefer the safety of-'
'You mean the confinement,' interrupted Tal, now genuinely angry. His sudden flare of temper surprised him, for as much as he resented his parents' continued coddling, he also appreciated their concern-especially after his recent ordeal.
Tal noticed Eckart's pale lips working soundlessly, looking for all the world like the gasping of a fish out of water. 'It's all right, Eckart,' said Tal more gently. 'I realize I've been missing for an awfully long time.'
Eckart swallowed his distress as best he could, but Tal realized he had to make sure the servant wouldn't have time to report his return before he himself could go to Stormweather.
'Just see that everything's back in order here by tomorrow morning,' said Tal with an impish gleam in his eye.
'Tomorrow!' sputtered Eckart. 'But-'
'But first, draw me a hot bath. Is the tub still here?'
'Yes, but-'
'And summon a barber.' He scratched under his chin. 'I don't like this beard.'
'Yes, but-'
'And fetch me some clean clothes-not from Stormweather, mind you. Buy new ones.'
'Yes, but-'
'And have you any funds on hand?'
'Yes, but-'
'Good. Once you've drawn the bath, summoned the barber, and fetched me some clothes, take one hundred fivestars to the Outlook Inn, and give them to a farmer named Mott.'
'A farmer! But sir-'
'Thank you, Eckart. That will be all.'
With a look of genuine pain, Eckart nodded his assent. Tal felt briefly guilty for harrying him so.
'Oh, and Eckart?'
'Yes, Master Talbot?'
'It's good to see you again.'
Before approaching Stormweather Towers, Tal stopped to observe his reflection in the frozen waters of a public fountain.
His gray eyes glittered beneath his black hair, now trimmed neatly above his short collar. Eckart had found him some warm woolen hose whose dove gray hue matched the shirtsleeves that showed through the slashes in his blue doublet. The ensemble was completed by Tal's favorite longboots, into which he'd tucked a fine but simple
