Master and Fool by J. V. Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

breaking his milk teeth, Tavalisk knew that
self-preservation and selfpromotion were the only things that counted. And the
pig, like his mother, had been sorely lacking in both.
    Once the pig died,
they had no choice but to eat the tainted flesh. He and his mother were the
lowest amongst the low, the poorest amongst the poor. The only things they
owned were the clothes on their backs, a sackful of turnips, and two tin
spoons. They had no knife, so his mother was forced to drag the pig's carcass
to the meat market to be butchered. The butcher had taken everything but the
head in payment. Tavalisk could still remember the butcher now, rubbing pig
blood into his mustache to make it stiffen whilst offering to take less
pork if his mother agreed to bed him. Tavalisk would never forgive her for
turning the man down: it would have meant cutlets, not tongue.
    Such
self-indulgent sacrifice had haunted his early childhood. His mother had taken
a position as a church cleaner for no other reason than she didn't like to live
off charity. Tavalisk quickly learned that priests were more miserly than
moneylenders. Generous gifts of food were kept under lock and key, the level of
blessed wine was marked against the bottle each night, and every holy sweetmeat
was counted after mass.
    Oh, but the
ceremony was breathtaking, though. Priests were part magician, part actor, part
king. They performed miracles, granted forgiveness, and held congregations of
thousands in their thrall. They wielded power in this world and the next.
Tavalisk watched them from his hideout behind the choir stall. He saw the
glamour of it all: the gold and crimson tapestries, the snowy-white wax
candles, the jewel-encrusted reliquaries, and the silver-robed choirboys who
sang with angels' voices. It was a world of gaudy enchantments, and Tavalisk
vowed he would be part of it.
    One year later his
mother died and he was thrown out on the street, penniless. His love for the
Church, quite understandably, diminished, and it was many years and half a
continent later before he felt its lure again. When the call finally came,
however, it didn't take Tavalisk long to realize that in the politically
sensitive hierarchy of the Church, there was more than one way to reach the
top.
    Smiling gently,
the archbishop moved across his study to his desk, where a splendid meal
awaited him. His remembrances had acted like a fine white wine, honing an edge
to his appetite, wetting his tongue for more. But, as with wine, Tavalisk was
careful never to overindulge his memorieshe wasn't about to end up a quivering,
sentimental fool.
    He brought the
duck thigh to his lips, and all thoughts of the past vanished as the oil-rich
flesh met his tongue. By the time he'd swallowed the meat his mind was firmly
in the present.
    Gamil chose this
moment to knock upon the door. "Enter, Gamil. Enter," called
Tavalisk, rather pleased that his aide had arrived. There were matters he
needed to discuss.
    "How is Your
Eminence this day?" asked Gamil entering the room.
    "Never
better, Gamil. The duck is crispy, the wine is tart, and war draws nearer by
the hour."
    "It is the
war that brings me here, Your Eminence."
    "Aah, a
meeting of the minds." Tavalisk was genial. "How very fortuitous.
Tell me your news." He grabbed another thigh from the platter, dipped it
into the pepper dish, and set about tearing flesh from the bone.
    "Well, Your
Eminence, nine Annis generals are set to meet with their Highwall equivalents
in three days time."
    "And like a
romantic couple they hope to set a date, eh, Gamil?"
    "Yes, Your
Eminence. They mean to discuss invasion plans."
    "Hmm . . .
" Tavalisk toyed with the remains of the duck. "When do you think
they'll head for Bren?"
    "It's hard to
say, Your Eminence. I think it's wise to assume they won't do anything until
the wedding has taken place. After all, their grievances are with Kylock, not
Bren."
    "That will
take us into high summer, then. If they have any sense they will make