Talon of the Silver Hawk (25 page)

“What are you trying to tell me?''

“Only that you are about to begin the next phase of your education, and you must be ready to accept many things that seem terrible and unwelcome. It is necessary.”

Talon nodded. “When does this next phase begin?''

“Tomorrow, for we leave for Krondor. But for now, let's hunt.” Caleb picked up his bow and ran down a game trail, not looking back to see if the boy was following.

Talon paused, then started after Caleb, knowing that, like all wounds, the one he felt deep inside would heal. But he also suspected that like some wounds, this one would leave a scar that would last throughout his lifetime.

The ship raced westward, driven by a near gale-force wind, slamming through the waves like a living creature. Talon stood as far forward as he could, behind the bowsprit, still amazed and exhilarated by the voyage even after a week at sea. Some time this afternoon or during the night they should be reaching their destination, Krondor, capital city of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles.

For reasons not clear to him, his masters had decided he would take ship to Krondor, and caravan to Salador, and from there to wherever else they wished him to go. He had expected Magnus to use his magic to take him to his next destination, but instead he was traveling by conventional means with Caleb.

Caleb was a calming presence and Talon was thankful for the choice. He could talk when Talon wished to discuss something, yet he was not bothered by silence. They shared a hunter's sense of things, and of all those he had met since the destruction of his village, Talon felt more kinship with Caleb than anyone else.

The sea was as alien to Talon as the coastline had been, yet he was drawn to it as he was to the mountains of his homeland. It was unending, ever-changing, enduring, and mysterious. The air was as fresh, though of a different character, and even in the constant foul weather, somehow glorious to him.

The ship was named
Western Lady
and flew the banner of the Empire of Great Kesh. He had heard enough chatter
among the crew to know it was a convenient registry, for the ship belonged to Pug. More than once Talon had wondered about Pug. He seemed to be a young man, or rather a man of early middle years, but he was still vigorous and in his prime. Miranda appeared to be roughly the same age, yet they were Magnus's parents, and Magnus looked to be around the same age as they.

Pug was a quiet man who spoke to the students on rare occasions, but when he did so he was affable and forthcoming. Yet there was something about him which made Talon uneasy. He had a power within him, that much was apparent even to a mountain boy from the east. Robert, Nakor, Magnus, and Miranda all had magical abilities, Talon knew; but in Pug he sensed something greater. It was something his grandfather would have called being “touched by the gods.''

Talon mused about what sort of childhood a man like Pug might have had. Who were his parents and what sort of education did a magician of great power undertake? Perhaps one day Talon might ask, but for the time being he was content to enjoy the voyage and let the questions lie waiting.

His bout of heartsickness had passed, and he could look back on his days with Alysandra and feel only a bittersweet irony. On that last day he was thinking of marriage, or spending his life with her, and now he felt she was nothing more than an object of pity or contempt. Or both. A thing without a heart; but despite this, Talon knew that in some sense he must learn to be like her, for everything he had been told since that day led him to believe she was far more dangerous than he could yet imagine.

Caleb came up on deck, wearing an oil-soaked canvas cloak similar to the one Talon had on. Chilled sea spray washed over the bow, but Caleb paid it no attention. He
came to stand beside Talon and said nothing, content to take in the view.

Roiling swells and spindrift vanished into the fading light of day, as dark grey clouds edged in black raced by above. In the distance they could see flashes of lightning. At last Caleb said, “We should reach Krondor ahead of the storm, but only just.''

Talon nodded. “I think I could be a sailor,” he said after a while.

“The sea calls many men,” Caleb observed.

They remained silent for the rest of the afternoon, until half an hour before darkness, when the lookout above called, “Land ho!''

The captain of the ship came forward to greet them. “Gentlemen, we shall reach Krondor after dark. We'll heave to in the lees of the breakwater and shelter against the storm, then at first light, I'll signal the harbormaster and we'll enter the sound. It should be a noisy, but safe night.''

Talon nodded. He felt a strange anticipation at seeing this city. He had read about it in the history of Rupert Avery, and in other books.

Caleb put his hand on Talon's shoulder and signaled that they should go below. Talon turned and led the way.

Reaching their cabin—which was barely big enough for the two bunks, one above the other—they doffed their wet cloaks and sat down, Talon on the upper bunk, Caleb on the lower.

“We have some time before supper,” said Caleb. “I know you have rehearsed your story.''

“Yes,” Talon replied. He was to tell anyone who asked that he was a hunter from the woodlands near Crydee, which might explain his slight accent. As there was limited travel between Krondor and the Far Coast city, it was
unlikely they'd encounter anyone who was familiar with that distant town. And if they did, Caleb would take the lead, since he knew that area.

“Caleb?”

“Yes, Talon?''

“Why are we traveling this way?” He had wanted to ask since they had left the island.

“To broaden your knowledge,” said Caleb. “It is much like any other thing, traveling; being told this or that about a place is one thing, but doing it is another. You will see a thousand sights, and many will be different from what I see.''

“Where are we going?''

“From Krondor we find a caravan and travel to Malac's Cross, the border between the Western and Eastern Realms of this Kingdom. From there we shall secure horses and travel to Salador. Both cities will offer you many opportunities for learning.”

“Fair enough, but what are we to do when we reach Salador?''

“Study,” said Caleb, lying down upon his bunk. “Now, be still so I can take a nap until they call for supper.''

“Study,” Talon muttered. “It seems to be my life.''

“And as such, it's a fair one. Now be quiet.''

The boat nestled alongside the quay as a dockhand fended it off the stonework, then tied off the bowlines. Talon stepped ashore, followed by Caleb. A man wearing an armband bearing a crest depicting an eagle flying over a mountain peak approached, looked them up and down, and spoke in a bored manner. “Where are you from?''

“Crydee,” said Caleb.

“You arrived on a Keshian ship.''

“It was the first one leaving the Far Coast when we decided to come this way,” Caleb replied in an affable manner.

“Well, if you're Kingdom citizens, that's fair enough.” The man walked on, leaving Caleb and Talon alone.

“That's it?” said Talon.

“It's an era of peace, so they say.” Caleb motioned for Talon to follow him. “At least here in the west. King Ryan has pledged his daughter in marriage to the nephew of the Empress of Great Kesh, and the Emperor of Queg has a cousin who is wed to King Ryan's younger son. Trading with the Free Cities is brisk, and the Governor of Durbin is keeping his ‘privateers' on a short leash. Hasn't been a major conflict in seven years.''

As they climbed the stone steps from the quayside to the road above, Caleb added, “It's in the east where things are balanced on a razor's edge, and that's where you'll find yourself subject to far more intense scrutiny than here.''

They walked down a street toward the center of the city. When Talon craned his neck, he could see a castle to the south of the harbor. “That's where the Prince lives?''

“Prince Matthew, son of King Ryan. King Patrick's been dead for less than two years and Matthew is still a youngster, less than fourteen years of age.” Caleb said, “But he's not the power in the city, anyway.''

“Who is?''

“Two brothers, the Jamisons. James is Duke of Krondor, as his grandfather was before him, and they say he's nearly as wily as his legendary grandpa. His younger brother Dashel is a rich businessman. It's said whatever James doesn't control, Dashel does. They're dangerous men, by any measure.''

“I'll remember that,” said Talon.

“Well, it's unlikely that you'll ever make either man's acquaintance, but stranger things have been known to happen. Here we are.''

Talon looked up and saw that they were standing before an inn, a sign above it bearing the faded image of a grinning face, a man with a dark beard wearing a plumed hat. Below it was written, “Admiral Trask.''

Caleb pushed open the door, and they stepped into a smoky room, the air thick with the smell of roasting meat, tobacco smoke, spilled ale, and wine. Talon's eyes began to water.

Caleb pushed his way past several dock men, sailors and travelers, until he reached the counter. The innkeeper looked up and grinned. “Caleb! It's been too long, old friend!''

“Randolph,” answered Caleb, taking his hand. “This is Talon. Do you have a room?''

“Yes,” said the innkeeper. “You can have your pick. The one in the back?''

“Yes,” said Caleb, understanding the question.

“Are you hungry?''

Caleb smiled. “Always.”

“Then sit down, and I'll have the girl fetch you your supper. Any baggage?''

“You know I travel light.” Talon and Caleb both carried all their gear in light packs they wore across their shoulders.

The innkeeper tossed a heavy iron key to Caleb, who caught it neatly. “Sit,” he said, “then retire when you're of a mind to.''

They took their seats, and in a moment a girl appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray on which rested an abundant heap of steaming food: hot chicken, roasted duck, a slab of lamb, and steamed vegetables.

When she placed the tray on the table, Talon glanced up and his mouth fell open. He started to rise, but a firm hand from Caleb pushed him back into his chair. Lela looked down at him with a friendly smile, but there was no hint of recognition in her eyes. “Can I bring you drinks, fellows?''

“Ale,” Caleb said, and she hurried off.

“What—?”

Caleb spoke in a low voice, “She's not who you think she is.''

In less than a minute, the girl returned with two large pewter jacks filled with foaming ale. “What's your name, girl?” asked Caleb.

“Roxanne,” she replied, “sir. Is there anything else?''

“No,” said Caleb, and the girl left them.

Softly, Talon said, “That was Lela.''

“No,” said Caleb. “You're mistaken.”

Talon looked at his friend, then nodded curtly. “Yes, I must be mistaken.”

They ate in silence.