"Feist, Raymond E - Conclave of Shadows 02 - King of Foxes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

Looking down from above, the soaring bird saw in the press of the crowd that
another man moved along a parallel course and at the same pace as the young
noble.
The bird circled and observed the second man, a tall traveller with dark hair
who moved like a predator, easily keeping his eye upon the other man, but using
passers-by as cover, dodging effortlessly through the crowd, never falling
behind, but never getting close enough to be discovered.
The young noble was fair-skinned, but sun-browned, his blue eyes squinting
against the day's glare. It was late summer in Roldem and the dawn mists and fog
had fled, burned off by mid-morning to a brilliant sunny sky, made tolerable by
a light wind off the sea. Trudging up the hill from the harbour, the noble
whistled a nameless tune as he sought out his old quarters, a three-bedroomed
flat above a moneylender's home. He knew he was being followed, for he was as
adept a hunter as any man living.
Talon of the Silver Hawk, last of the Orosini, servant of the Conclave of
Shadows, had returned to Roldem. Here he was Talwin HawkinsЧdistant cousin to
Lord Seljan Hawkins, Baron of the Prince's Court in Krondor. His title was
Squire of Morgan River and Bellcastle, Baronet of SilverlakeЧestates producing
almost no incomeЧand he was vassal to the Baron of Ylith; a former Bannerette
Knight Lieutenant under the command of the Duke of Yabon, Tal Hawkins was a
young man of some rank and little wealth.
For almost two years he had been absent from the scene of his most significant
public triumph, winning the tournament at the Masters' Court, thus earning the
title of World's Greatest Swordsman. Cynical despite his youth, he tried to keep
the illusion of superiority in perspectiveЧhe had been the best of the several
hundred entrants who had come to Roldem for the contest, but that hardly
convinced him he was the best in the world. He had no doubt there was some
soldier on a distant battlement, or mercenary riding guard-duty somewhere who
could cut him up for fish-bait given the chance; but fortunately they hadn't
entered the contest.
For a brief instant, Tal wondered if fate would allow him to return to Roldem in
three years' time to defend that championship. He was but twenty-three years of
age, so it would only be circumstance that would prevent him from returning to
Roldem. Should he do so, he hoped the contest would be less eventful than the
last. Two men had died by his sword during the matchesЧa very rare and usually
regrettable outcome. Nevertheless Tal had felt no regret, since one of the men
had been among those responsible for the destruction of his nation, and the
other had been an assassin sent to kill him. Memories of assassins turned his
mind to the man following him. The other man had also boarded at Salador, yet
had managed to avoid direct contact with him aboard the small ship for the
duration of the voyage, despite their being nearly two weeks at sea.
The bird wheeled overhead, then pulled up, wings flapping as it hovered, legs
extended downward and tail fanned, as if watching prey. With its telltale cry,
the predator announced its presence.
Hearing the familiar screech, Tal looked up, then hesitated for a moment, for
the bird above the throng was a silver hawk. It was his spirit guide and had
given him his naming vision. For an instant Tal imagined he could see the
creature's eyes and hear a greeting. Then the bird wheeled and flew away.
"Did you see that?" asked a porter nearby. "Never seen a bird do that."
Tal said, "Just a hawk."