Talon of the Silver Hawk (11 page)

“Well, then thanks to the gods you both came along.''

“Let's get on to Latagore,” said Caleb. “You ride up front with me.''

“I'm Dustin Webanks, merchant from Olasko. I was traveling to Latagore with my partner to purchase lumber.''

“And those two you hired sought to rob you of your gold.''

“Foolishly, yes. We carry no gold. We have letters of credit from the Royal Bursar in Opardum to make purchase on account.''

“So, you represent the Duke, then?''

Climbing gingerly up to the wagon, he said, “Yes. Duke Kaspar is building a new hunting lodge, and he likes some wood carvings he's seen somewhere or another. Must have a particular wood for them, a wood that appears to be harvested only from the forests up here in Latagore. Hence, the journey.''

Caleb shrugged, as if it was of no matter to him. “Your friend will send back the city guard for you, I expect.''

“Most likely,” said Dustin.

“Then they can escort us to the city, friend merchant.”

They all fell silent, each considering the events of the last few minutes. Talon looked at the prisoner, who appeared to be lost in some dark reflection on his plan going bad, and wondered what had possessed the man to attempt to rob the merchant. Then he decided it might better serve him to discover what had caused him to act in such a rash fashion to aid a stranger.

Talon gawked.

He had remained silent as they had approached the city, reaching one of the western gates an hour before nightfall. He had been astonished at the size of Latagore as they had drawn near, but as they reached the outer boundaries of the city, he was dumbfounded.

Nothing in his experience had prepared him for the sight of so many people living so close to one another. The bustle and noise threatened to overwhelm him at first, then he began to drink in the sights and sounds.

Peddlers hovered near the gates of the city, hawking a variety of wares to any within the sound of their voices—trinkets, good-luck tokens, items whose natures were unknown to Talon. Many who approached were ragged beggars, offering blessings to those who would aid them and curses to those who ignored them.

Caleb glanced over at the speechless lad and said, “Better close your mouth before a bird builds a nest in it.''

“So many people,” Talon gasped.

Dustin Webanks looked over his shoulder at the boy. “Never been to a city before?''

“No, sir.''

The prisoner, who'd been content to ride along in sullen silence, except for an occasional grunt of pain when the wagon bounced especially hard, said, “This is nothing, boy. If you ever get down to Opardum or Kalesh'kaar, then you'd be seeing something. Latagore here is hardly big enough to rightly be called a city. More like an oversize town.''

Caleb grunted. “Big enough city to have a guard and plenty of rope.” To Talon he said, “This gate's the one you want when coming into the city. Most of the locals use it, because the other gates are used by travelers and caravans, so getting through takes time. That's why it's called the Locals' Gate.''

“How many gates are there?” asked Talon, thinking of the simple stockade around his village with its single gate.

“I believe this city has twenty . . . four? Yes, twenty-four gates.''

They pulled into a queue of people waiting to be admitted to the city before night fell and the gates were closed. Only two wagons and a band of men on horseback were in front of them, so they quickly reached the portal.

“Ho, Roderick!” shouted Caleb as he reined in.

“Caleb!” cried a soldier in the deep forest green uniform of the city. “You here to sell or buy?''

“Buying,” said Caleb. “We're empty coming in.''

The soldier motioned him through.

Caleb said, “Can we drop off a bandit?''

A quick discussion with the soldier resulted in their
prisoner being taken away. Dustin Webanks left them as well, to press charges with the magistrate, promising them a reward should they seek him out the next day at the Sign of the Running Footman.

Caleb drove the wagon through the city, heading to an inn where those from Kendrick's stayed when they were in the city. As darkness fell, they reached a cheery-looking building with a large stabling yard on the right. The sign hung outside it showed a man throwing balls into the air while blindfolded. A young man of roughly the same age as Talon appeared at the sound of the wagon's arrival.

“Ho, Caleb!” he shouted, upon seeing who was driving the wagon.

“Jacob!” Caleb returned.

The young man had sandy hair and a rawboned, rangy look. He wore a simple cotton shirt and leather trousers, with heavy work boots. He took the horses in hand, and said, “Who's your friend?''

“Talon, this is Jacob.''

Talon nodded and jumped down from the wagon.

“Father will be glad to see you,” said Jacob. “He's got some more hunting stories for you.''

“He found time to go hunting?” asked Caleb.

With a grin, Jacob answered, “No, but he's got some new stories.''

Caleb smiled. “ ‘Tis ever thus.''

They left the wagon to Jacob's care and entered the inn. A plump woman brightened as she saw Caleb. She hurried around from behind the long bar and threw her arms around him. “Caleb, you rascal! It's been too long between visits! We haven't seen you since last summer!''

If the usually taciturn hunter was discomfited by the overwhelming embrace, he bore up with good grace, and when at last she released him, he said, “Hello, Angelica.”
Then he indicated his companion. “Talon here is helping me on this trip.''

Suddenly, the boy found himself engulfed in a fragrant bear hug.

“Welcome to the Blind Juggler, Talon.” To Caleb she said with a wink, “Ella's in the kitchen.''

Caleb said nothing, just smiled slightly. “We'll need a room for two, perhaps three, days.''

“You have it,” said the woman. “Now, get yourselves a good table by the fireplace. The porters and teamsters will be filling the place up as soon as it's dark, and then it'll be every man for himself.''

Caleb pointed to a small table in the corner near the fireplace, and Talon went over and sat down. “We'll wash one at a time,” Caleb said. “She's right. In a few minutes there'll hardly be room to turn around in here.''

Angelica appeared a moment later with two large mugs of ale. Handing a key to Caleb, she said, “First room, top of the stairs. It's the best.''

“Thanks,” said Caleb.

Talon sipped at the brew and found it strong and flavorful.

“Watch how you drink that, Talon. It'll sneak up on you if you're not careful.” Leaning forward, he continued, “Learn to sip and look as if you're drinking more than you are.''

“How do I do that?''

Caleb demonstrated. He picked up the mug and appeared to take a hearty draught, but when he put the mug under Talon's chin for inspection, the boy saw only a drop of the ale was gone. “You spill some on the floor or let it drip down your chin if you're with rough company. If you're dining with quality folk, you motion for the server to bring you a fresh goblet from time to time. No one
except the servant will notice he's carrying away a half-filled cup, and he'll not speak to anyone—most likely he'll drink it himself before he reaches the pantry.''

“Why?”

“Why will he drink it?''

Talon shook his head and grinned. “No, I get that part of it. No, why do I want to appear to be drinking more than I am?''

“Make it a habit. Men in their cups are fools, more often than not. And it can be wise to look the fool at times.” Caleb stood. “I'm going to have a wash.''

Talon nodded and sat back. Caleb headed out through a door next to the bar, which Talon assumed led to the kitchen. Like most of his people, Talon had swum in the rivers and lakes in the mountains in all but the coldest months. He had cleaned his skin in the sweat lodge of his village; sitting with the men and women as they scraped the day's dirt off their skins with gracefully curved sticks, then rinsed off with a bucket of tepid water kept next to the stones to make steam. Using soap and water—cold most of the time—had seemed a strange ritual, but Talon had learned to make it a habit. Most people, he noticed, including the nobility, seemed to bathe or wash their hands and faces at whim, yet those at Kendrick's spent a significant amount of time bathing and washing. Talon had asked Lela about that, and she had said that it had been the habit there when she arrived, and she didn't mind too much.

Talon thought of Lela now and his stomach tightened. He missed her, despite the excitement of the journey. He had never known a woman before her; as was the custom of his people, he would have remained untouched by a woman until the night of his wedding. The practice was not always observed, especially among those who had no mate chosen during the year they reached manhood or
womanhood, but it was a tradition, and most Orosini followed tradition. Talon's thoughts occasionally wandered to Eye of the Blue-Winged Teal and the other girls of his village; he wondered if they would have been as joyous in their lovemaking as Lela, who laughed and was playful as often as she was ardent. He pushed aside thoughts of his village and the girls he had grown up with, for it was still a painful subject for him if he dwelt upon it. Robert had taught him to keep his thoughts in the present or near future, for as Robert had told him, “To dwell in the past is to live in regret.''

As was becoming his habit, Talon studied his environment. The room hosted a dozen tables, so perhaps as many as fifty guests could comfortably fit; more, if they didn't mind standing at the bar. Talon recalled the exterior of the building, compared it to Kendrick's, and decided there must be six or eight rooms upstairs. Like most inns of the region, some guests would sleep here in the common room, under the tables for a few copper coins. While the floor might seem unwelcoming, with a heavy cloak to lay upon it, it was definitely better than trying to sleep in the open. The banked fire in the hearth would provide warmth throughout the night, and there would be a hot meal available upon waking.

After a minute of quiet reflection, Talon saw the front door open and half a dozen burly men enter. They were all dusty and wore rough homespun. From their heavy boots with double-reinforced toes and uniformly massive builds, Talon assumed them to be porters, those who unloaded the trading wagons and carried crates to shops and warehouses throughout the city. They all walked quickly to the bar, and one shouted, “Angelica! Ella! Someone! We perish from thirst!''

A couple of the men chuckled, but they all waited
quietly for a moment, until Angelica appeared through the kitchen door. She greeted the porters by name and drew their drinks without asking their pleasure; obviously they were regular customers.

Over the next few minutes another dozen or so men entered the inn, all of them workers, either porters like the first group or wagon drivers and teamsters.

Caleb returned and sat down. “What have you learned?''

Talon glanced at his companion. For a moment he didn't understand the question, as he had been sitting alone. Then he realized that Caleb was asking him what he had deduced from his observations. He told him about his guess as to the size of the inn, then added, “The stabling yard to the rear must be spacious, because it took our wagon with ease, and we will use only one of the rooms. I assume it can house as many as a dozen horses, perhaps more.''

“More,” said Caleb as a pretty girl entered from the kitchen and brought over a tray of food. “Talon, this is Ella.''

Talon glanced at the girl, who was slender as a reed, yet he instantly saw the resemblance to Angelica. She was perhaps a few years older than Talon, with blue eyes and very dark hair, made dramatic by a very pale complexion and pinkly rosy cheeks. She wore a plain dress of blue linen and a white apron, but the belt around her waist revealed a pleasing proportion and ample curves despite her being so slender.

“Hello,” he said.

She smiled, and instantly Talon was struck by how pretty she was. She put down the tray and glanced at Caleb with an open warmth, then said, “I'll be back if you need anything.”

As she hurried back to the kitchen, more workers entered the inn. When she reached the bar, one of the arriving porters called out, “Ella!''

She paused for a moment and her expression darkened. “Hello, Forney,” she said, then without another word walked quickly into the kitchen.

Talon studied the newcomer. He was a young man, perhaps Caleb's age, sturdily built with a thick thatch of black hair. His clothing was rough, but relatively clean. He moved to the bar with his companions.

Jacob came into the bar from the kitchen, greeted a few of the regular patrons of the inn, and came over to the table. Caleb pushed out a chair for him, and the young man sat down. “Your horses are bedded and fed. The bay mare was favoring her left front hoof, so I had a look at it. Picked up a small stone. Could be forming an abscess.''

Talon had picked out the hooves every night and when resting at noon, so the animal must have picked up the stone along the last leg of the journey.

Jacob continued: “I'll keep an eye on it.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. With an evil grin, he said, “So, has Forney seen Ella talking to you yet?” Caleb didn't look amused. Jacob turned to Talon. “My sister has set her cap at our friend here, but young Forney over there is determined to marry her.''

Talon was still vague as to the marriage customs of these people, but he was beginning to sense things were nowhere near as formal among the city people—as he thought of everyone who wasn't Orosini—as they had been at home. Not quite knowing what to say, Talon said nothing.

Caleb glanced over at Forney, then said to Jacob, “I've told your sister I like her, but you know as well as I do I'm a long way from marriage.” He got a distant look, then
added softly, “If I ever do wed.” He gave them a slight smile. “Besides, if I read things right, Forney would have his work cut out for him even if I'd never set foot in Latagore.”

Jacob laughed. “He does get on Ella's bad side more than most, for some reason. But then it's all of a piece, isn't it? You want what you can't have.''