Talon of the Silver Hawk (20 page)

An irritated feeling rose up in him, a feeling Talon couldn't quite place, save that the giggling seemed somehow inappropriate given that he had just made a solemn vow placing his life in the service of an organization whose purpose he hardly understood.

Eventually they reached a door which gave access to a room slightly larger than the others. As in the other rooms, four beds had been placed in it. Nakor waved for Talon to sit on a bed farthest from the door on the left, while he sat on the bed opposite it. “Well, here's where your new life begins.''

Talon shrugged. “My new life began when Robert found me, I guess.''

Nakor shook his head. “No, your old life ended that day. What you've been living these last two years has been an existence. You were healing and learning, but you had no purpose.''

“Now I have a purpose?''

“A far greater purpose than you suppose,” said Nakor. “There is much to learn, but you have time. I remember the impatience of youth,” he added with a grin. “You appear to me to be more patient than most boys your age, yet I know you still want questions answered, positions made clear, and motives revealed. But all in good time.''

“Since coming under Robert's care I have felt as if I were moving in a direction unknown to me,” Talon said. “I have grown, I think—‘'

“Much, according to your teachers.”

“Are you now one of my teachers?”

Nakor shrugged and stood up. “We'll see. Now, I hear your new companions returning, so I'll leave you to get to know one another.''

As he reached the door, two young men of roughly Talon's age entered the room. Seeing Nakor, they stepped back to let him pass, bowing their heads slightly in respect. “You have a new boy to share your quarters with,” Nakor said as he passed.

“Yes, Master Nakor,” said one of the two boys, a fair-haired, broad-shouldered boy with green eyes and a dusting of freckles across his nose.

The other young man had dark hair but was fair-skinned, and Talon couldn't tell if he was attempting to grow a man's beard or if he had just done a poor job of shaving the day before. He had almost black eyes, which narrowed slightly at the sight of Talon. He threw himself
down on the bed against the same wall as Talon's, while the lighter-haired boy took the bed opposite.

“I'm Demetrius,” he said. He pointed to the dark lad and said, “That's Rondar. He doesn't talk much.” They spoke the King's Tongue, which seemed to be the preferred language on the island.

Rondar nodded, but kept silent.

“I'm Talon,” said Talon.

Demetrius returned the nod. “Heard of you. You managed to avoid being killed by three death-dancers. Impressive.”

Talon sat back on the bed, leaning against the wall. “I don't even know what a death-dancer is.''

Rondar said, “Bad.''

“Very bad,” agreed Demetrius. “Conjured beings, using the souls of the damned. One mission, to kill a specific person. Very hard to avoid one, but three . . .”

“Impressive,” said Rondar.

Talon said, “Have you been here a long time?''

“Five years,” Demetrius replied. “My father used to make potions and poultices in a village down in the south of Kesh, near a city called Anticostinas. Well, it was hardly a city—a big town, really. Some priests of Guis-Wa denounced him as a ‘heretic' because he was ‘using magic,' even though I didn't see much magic involved, just a lot of herbs, plants, and common sense. But one night some drunks from the city came out and burned the house to the ground, killing my family. I wandered around for a while until I ran across Nakor, who showed me some tricks.

“Turns out my father wasn't a magician, but maybe I am. So I'm here to learn.''

“I lost my family, too,” Talon said. He looked at Rondar, who looked at Demetrius and nodded once.

“His father is the chief of a band of Ashunta horsemen down in northern Kesh. Very good horsemen—”

“Best,” added Rondar.

“—good hunters—‘'

“Best,” repeated Rondar.

Talon grinned. “We'll see about that!''

“—and otherwise a bunch of opinionated, unwashed barbarians who treat women like cattle and cattle like pets.''

Rondar shrugged. “True.''

Talon's grin widened. “How does he get along with Miranda?''

Demetrius laughed. “She's educating him as to the proper respect to show to women.''

Rondar's expression darkened. With a sigh of resignation, he rested his chin on his arms, and said, “Painfully true.''

Talon said, “How'd you get here?''

Rondar rolled over. He was quiet for a moment, and then spoke as if talking at all was a trial to him. “My people are horsemen. If you can't ride and hunt, no women. No women, no children.” He put his arm across his eyes as if remembering was fatiguing. “Men who can't ride are . . . less. Less than men. They gather firewood, help with the cooking, raise the boys.''

Talon glanced at Demetrius. “What do the women do?''

Demetrius grimaced and said, “They're property.”

“They make babies. Men raise boys.''

Demetrius said, “It's a close thing as to what's worth more to an Ashunta horseman, a good horse or a woman.''

Rondar said, “Depends on if there are more horses or women around.” He rolled over again and leaned on his elbows. His dark eyes looked hard at Talon. “We have our ways,” he said. “I'm not a good rider, but the shaman says I have talent. So, I go live with the shaman.” He looked as if
he had reached the limit of his patience and said to Demetrius, “You tell him.''

Demetrius made a wry expression and said, “The home of the Ashunta is in the west of the Empire, rolling grasslands no one else wants, but a good way for slavers and renegades to move around without running afoul of the Imperial army. Our friend and his master were off gathering herbs for some sort of ritual when a band of slavers happened on them. The shaman was too old to be worth anything, but our strapping young friend here was a prize for the auction blocks.''

“Nakor bought me,” Rondar offered. “He talks too much.''

Talon smiled. “Who, Nakor or Demetrius?”

Rondar said, “Yes.''

Demetrius reached over and gave Rondar a playful slap to the back of the head. “Our taciturn friend here is actually a very good fellow, despite his pretense of being a man of few words—he's glib enough when one of the girls is in the mood to listen to his nonsense.”

Rondar lifted his head and grinned. “True.''

Talon said, “About the girls . . .”

Rondar and Demetrius exchanged glances, then with one voice said, “Alysandra!” and burst into laughter.

Talon felt himself flush, but kept his smile fixed on his face. “What about her?''

Demetrius said, “I heard she'd been in to tend you from time to time.''

Rondar said, “Every boy wants her.''

“You two as well?” asked Talon.

Demetrius said, “Everyone has a try when they meet her. She's different. But she has a way of making you a friend and making you feel like an idiot for trying to get her off alone somewhere.”

Rondar signed. “She's worth a lot of horses.''

Talon laughed. “You sound like you're in love.''

Rondar said, “True. Everyone's in love with her.''

“Who is she?''

“No one knows,” said Demetrius. “Or at least, no one who knows is talking. She's been here longer than either of us, and she's obviously someone special. I've heard her talking to a lot of outlanders in their languages, and she spends a lot of time alone with Miranda.''

“Why is that special?” asked Talon.

Demetrius rose as a bell sounded. “Supper,” he announced. “We'll talk on the way.''

They left through the door, with Rondar a step behind. Talon moved carefully, but could keep up as long as Demetrius kept to a casual walk.

“You know Miranda is Pug's wife?” asked Demetrius.

Talon nodded. “I know their sons.''

“Pug is the . . . ‘ruler,' for lack of a better word, of this place. But Miranda is his equal in just about every way. And some say she's a more powerful magician. All I know is she spends a little time with every student here, but a lot of time with Alysandra.”

Talon said, “So, that's why she's special.''

Rondar said, “Took a lot of words for you to get it, Talon.''

Talon laughed. “I know.''

“So, if you want to take your chance with Alysandra, no one is going to blame you.''

“True,” said Rondar.

“But don't expect to get anywhere.”

Talon caught sight of Alysandra ahead, talking to two other girls. To his two new friends, he said, “One thing my father taught me: there is no reward without risk, and you can only fail if you don't try.''

“Hug,” said Rondar.

“What?” asked Talon.

Demetrius shook his head. “No, kiss on the cheek.''

“What are you talking about?''

“Alysandra will let you court her, my friend,” supplied Demetrius. “I think she's secretly amused by the attention. And she's very sweet. I don't think she has a mean thought in her, but by the end of the first evening you court her, she'll have you swearing that you'll be just like a brother to her, and you'll know that you're never going to get your arms around that slender waist, and just before she turns you around and points you back to your own quarters, you'll either get a tiny hug, one so brief you'll barely feel her next to you, or a fluttering kiss on the cheek, with her lips hardly touching your face. A kiss on the cheek is considered a badge of achievement among the lads here.''

As if sensing she was the object of this conversation, Alysandra looked back over her shoulder. When she saw Talon and the others, she smiled.

Talon glanced at his friends, both of whom were avoiding eye contact with the young woman. So he returned his gaze to her and gave her the broadest smile he could. She held his gaze for a step longer, then dropped her eyes and turned back to her companions.

Rondar said, “I'll wager a copper it's a hug.''

Demetrius said, “Done. I wager a kiss on the cheek.''

Talon lowered his voice. “I'll take both those wagers, for I'll have more than a kiss on the cheek from her.''

“Determination,” said Demetrius. “I like it!''

“Humph,” was Rondar's inarticulate comment.

Talon watched the slender girl as she entered the common building where the students ate their meals. “I'll have much more,” he said quietly to no one but himself.

The horses raced across
the meadow.

Nakor and Magnus watched as Talon kept low against the neck of his mare, pushing her as much with will as with any skill as a rider. Rondar's gelding pulled slowly away as he stayed fluidly poised on two stirrups, his back straight and his hands light upon the reins.

Nakor said, “For someone who was counted a bad rider by his people, Rondar seems to know his way around a horse.''

Magnus nodded as he said, “You know more about the Ashunta than I do, but aren't they counted as the finest horsemen in the world?''

“Best light cavalry, certainly. The Empire had to bring fifteen legions into their lands to subdue them in the end. They were key to Kesh's conquest of the western Empire two centuries ago, but a revolt by Ashunta chieftains ended
that.” Nakor studied the riders, while Demetrius stood whooping and cheering a short distance away. “Talon will be a very good horseman soon.''

“This I understand, Nakor”—Magnus waved his hand slightly in the direction of the two riders—“Talon learning languages, riding, swordsmanship, the rest—but why are you including him in the classes on magic with the others?''

Nakor grinned at his former student. “Magic? There is no magic.''

Magnus tried not to laugh, and failed. “You can debate that with Father until the universe ends, but we both know your ‘stuff' is just another way of looking at the process of using magic.''

“It's more than that, and you know it,” said Nakor. “It's a way to free the mind of preconceived notions. Besides,” he added with a chuckle, “it was your father who first said ‘there is no magic.' “

“Are you or Father ever going to tell me how he knew to send that message to you with James on his first trip to Kesh? You two hadn't even met.''

“He's never told me how he knew,” Nakor replied. “There are things your father trusts to no one, not even to your mother.''

“The Black Sorcerer,” said Magnus with a sigh. “It's too easy to forget it's not just a role to terrorize sailors who get too close to this island.''

“No, it's far more than that, as your grandfather knew.''

Magnus's grandfather, Macros, had been the first magic-user to employ a Black Sorcerer to secure the island's privacy. He also had been an agent for Sarig, the lost god of magic, and had given Sorcerer's Isle to Pug and Miranda.

Nakor and Magnus were as highly placed as one could be within the Conclave of Shadows, yet neither fully
understood the deepest mysteries of the organization. Magnus had once asked his father who should take control if anything happened to him, and Pug had replied cryptically that everyone would know what to do if that should happen.

Magnus turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Still, magic or stuff, you've not told me why Talon is studying the mystic arts.''

“True, I haven't.''

“Nakor, are you planning to irritate me all day?''

Nakor laughed. “No, I just forget sometimes you have a problem with the concept of humor.” He pointed toward the other end of the meadow, where the race had ended and the three boys were standing, awaiting instruction. “Talon needs to know as much as he can about any potential enemy. Our enemies have relied on the black arts for years, and Talon's ability to survive the attack of those three death-dancers gave me an idea.''

Magnus was silent. He knew that had he been alone in the hut, those death-dancers most likely would have killed him. He had speculated late into the night with his father why the enemy had taken such a bold step and why he had been selected as the target, but in the end all they were left with was speculation.

Magnus said, “You want him able to recognize magic?''

“If possible. Years ago, Lord James, Duke of Krondor, told me he could always feel the hair on the back of his neck rise when someone was using magic. He also talked about his ‘bump of trouble,' his ability to sense something was about to happen that was bad. It was a special intuition that saved James on several occasions.”

“You think Talon might have that ability?''

“I don't know yet, but it might prove useful to have someone who is not obviously a magic-user, but who has
some sense of it, who can enter places that will have wards set against magicians, and yet be able to act with some knowledge.”

“Seems a vague enough motive for subjecting the boy to extra hours of study, especially since it will only be in the abstract and he will never be able to put that knowledge into practice.”

“You never know,” said Nakor. “In any event, it will make him a far more educated person than he is, and that is to everyone's benefit.” He watched as the boys switched roles, so that Demetrius and Talon were to ride the next race, while Rondar observed.

“I'm thinking we must also see to another phase of Talon's education. I read with interest your notes on his encounters with those two girls at Kendrick's. I think we need to further those lessons.''

“Alysandra?”

“Yes. I think it's time for her to start using the skills we've taught her.''

“Why?”

“Because Talon will face things far more dangerous than steel and spell.''

Magnus turned to look back at the large buildings of his father's estate. “How did we become such men, Nakor? How did we become capable of doing such evil things?''

“The irony of the gods,” Nakor replied. “We do evil in the name of good, and our enemies have at times done good in the name of evil.''

“Do you think the gods are laughing at us?''

Nakor chuckled. “Constantly.”

“You didn't . . .”

“What?”

“When I was your student. You didn't . . . Helena . . . she wasn't one of yours, was she?''

“No,” said Nakor, his features softening. He put his hand on Magnus's arm, and added, “That harsh lesson was of your own devising. Life is like that sometimes.” Then he turned his attention back to the three boys as the new race began, with Demetrius and Talon riding with all the skill they could muster, while Rondar shouted insults at both of them.

When Nakor looked back at Magnus, he found the magician lost in thought. Having some idea of where those thoughts led, Nakor said, “You should have found another, Magnus.''

Magnus looked down at his former teacher. “Some wounds never heal. You just bind them up and go on with life.''

Nakor nodded. “I know, Magnus.''

Magnus smiled. He knew that Nakor understood, for he had once been wed to Magnus's grandmother and had loved her up to the very moment he had been forced to kill her.

Magnus took a deep breath. “Very well. When shall we start?''

“Might as well be tonight,” said Nakor.

Magnus started walking. “Then I had better go and tell the girl.''

Nakor called after him: “Just tell her what to do. She'll know exactly how to do it.''

When he turned back, it was in time to see Talon finish slightly ahead of Demetrius, both boys exulting loudly as they reined in before Rondar. Nakor reflected that youth often understood without having to be taught about seizing the joy of the moment, about not thinking too much of tomorrow and the worries and concerns it would bring, or too much about yesterday, with all its regrets and guilt. Softly, Nakor said, “Enjoy this moment, Talon. Savor it.''

Then with a sigh of regret, he turned his back upon the three students and started walking toward Pug's quarters. They had a lot to discuss, and much of that would be unpleasant.

Talon dried his hair with a coarse towel. He enjoyed bathing, though it had not been a regular part of his childhood. The Orosini had to heat water in which to bathe, since all the rivers ran with snowmelt year-round and only in the hot months of summer could one swim in the lakes and rivers of the mountains. In winter they sweated in the lodges and scraped off dirt with a stick.

He had been introduced to bathing at Kendrick's, but there he had to use a tub, often after others had used it, so it seemed that all he was doing was trading his own dirt for someone else's. But the Villa Beata had a wonderful set of rooms in which to bathe. It had three connecting baths with cold, warm, and hot water which were enjoyed by many folk in the community on a daily basis. And smaller tubs were available in each wing of the estate buildings.

After working or riding, he was glad to get the grime off and don fresh clothing. And every day there was fresh apparel in his clothes chest. He knew that other students were assigned work in the laundry, but it still seemed like magic to him. He would leave his dirty clothing in a hamper outside the door to the room, and when he returned from his studies or exercises, clean garments awaited him.

As he wiped his face dry, he felt the stubble along his jaw. He had started shaving the year before, in the same manner as Magnus, although the method preferred by the
Orosini was to pluck each hair out of the chin one by one. Talon decided he much preferred a sharp razor.

Talon stropped the razor while Rondar and Demetrius came in from their baths. “What are you doing after supper?” he asked, lathering his face.

Rondar threw himself upon his bed, a coarse towel his only garment, and grunted something noncommittal. Demetrius said, “I've got kitchen duty tonight, so I'll be serving and cleaning up. You?''

“I'm free,” said Talon as he started shaving. “I thought we might build a fire in the pit down by the lake and see who turns up.''

“It helps if you spread the word during supper that you're doing so.''

Rondar said, “Girls.''

“An impromptu gathering is often the best.''

“Well, tomorrow's Sixthday, so no matter how tired you are in the morning, by midday you can rest.''

“I can,” said Demetrius. “And he can”—he pointed to Rondar—“but you can't. Didn't you check the roster?''

“No.”

“You've got kitchen duty all day, sunrise until after last meal.''

Talon sighed. “So much for a revel tonight.''

“Well, it's a good idea, even if you're not going to be there,” said Demetrius.

“Yes,” Rondar agreed.

“Thanks. I think of it, and I can't go.''

“You can go,” said Demetrius. “Just don't stay up too late.''

“Wine,” said Rondar as he sat up and began dressing.

“Yes, we'll need wine.''

Demetrius looked at Talon, who grinned at him. “You're the one in the kitchen tonight.''

“If Besalamo catches me in the cellar again, he'll cook and eat me.''

“Taldaren,” observed Rondar with a nod.

Talon laughed. Besalamo was a magician from another world—a fact that had taken Talon some time to fully assimilate—and looked almost human, save for two fins of white bone that ran fore and aft along his skull in place of hair. And he had bright red eyes. “I think he started that rumor about Taldaren eating boys to keep us in line.''

“You want to find out?” asked Demetrius.

“No, but I'm not the one who needs to get us some wine. Without the wine the girls won't come down to the lake.''

“They might, if you asked them,” suggested Demetrius.

Talon flushed at the suggestion. It was becoming clear that as the new boy he was the object of much curiosity among the girls on the island.

In total, there seemed to be about fifty students on the island, and after taking away those who weren't human, there were sixteen young men, from Talon's age up to their midtwenties, and fourteen girls, aged fourteen to twenty-two.

“Alysandra,” said Rondar.

“Yes,” Demetrius agreed. “Invite her. If she says yes, all the boys will come, and if all the boys are down by the lake, then all the girls will come as well.''

Talon's face and neck turned deep crimson.

“Blushing,” said Rondar with a laugh as he pulled on his trousers.