Talon of the Silver Hawk (4 page)

“Gently, my lad,” said Pasko, hurrying to give Talon a helping hand. “You're weaker than a day-old kitten. You'll need more rest, and food, before you're close to being fit, but right now you need to move around a bit.''

Pasko helped Talon to the door of the barn, and they went outside. It was a crisp morning, and Talon could tell they were in a lowland valley. The air smelled and felt different from the air in his highland meadows. Talon's legs were shaky, and he was forced to take small steps. Pasko stopped and let the boy take in his surroundings.

They were in a large stabling yard, surrounded by a high wall of fitted stones. The boy instantly recognized the
construction as a fortification by its design, for stone steps flush with the walls rose up at several locations a short distance from the large building, which he took to be the inn. The top of the wall had crenels and merlons, and a walkway broad enough for two men to pass one another as they defended the grounds.

The inn was as large a building as Talon had ever seen, dwarfing the round house and long house of his village. It rose three stories into the air, and the roof was covered with stone tiles rather than thatch or wood. It was painted white, with wooden trim around the doors and windows, the shutters and doors having been painted a cheery green. Several chimneys belched grey smoke into the sky.

A wagon had been pushed to the side of the barn, and Talon assumed it was the one that had carried him here. He could see the tops of trees some distance off, so he assumed the forest around the inn had been cleared.

“What do you see?” asked Pasko unexpectedly.

Talon glanced at the man, who was studying him closely. He started to speak, then remembered his grandfather telling him to look beyond the obvious, so he didn't answer, but instead motioned to Pasko to help him to the nearest steps. He climbed them slowly until he was on top of the wall and able to look over.

The inn sat in the center of a natural clearing, but the stumps of a fair number of trees revealed that it had been enlarged years before. The stumps were covered with grasses and brambles, but the road into the woods had been kept clear.

“What do you see?” Pasko repeated.

Talon still didn't answer, but began walking toward the inn. As he did so, the layout of the inn called Kendrick's unfolded in his mind's eye. He hesitated. He had as much fluency with the Common Tongue as any boy in the village,
but he rarely spoke it, save when traders came to . . . He thought of his village and the cold hopelessness returned. He pushed down the ache and considered the words he wanted. Finally, he said, “This is a fortress, not an inn.''

Pasko grinned. “Both, actually. Kendrick has no fondness for some of his neighbors.”

Talon nodded. The walls were stout, and the forest on all sides had been cleared sufficiently to give archers on the wall a clear field of fire. The road from the woods turned abruptly halfway to the inn and circled around to gates he assumed were on the other side of the inn. No ram or burning wagon could easily be run along to destroy the gates and gain entrance.

He glanced at the placement of the building. Archers in the upper windows would provide a second rank of defenders to support anyone on the wall. He returned his gaze to the doors and saw they were also heavy with iron bands. He imagined they could be barred from the inside. It would take stout men with heavy axes to break those down. He glanced up, and saw the murder-holes above each door. Hot oil or water, or arrows could be directed down at anyone in front of the door.

At last he said, “They must be difficult neighbors.”

Pasko chuckled. “Indeed.”

While they stood upon the parapet looking at the inn, a door opened and a young girl appeared, carrying a large bucket. She glanced up and saw them and waved. “Hello, Pasko!''

“Hello, Lela!''

“Who's your friend?” she asked playfully. She appeared to be a few years older than Talon, but unlike the girls he had known among his people, she was dark. Her skin was dark, with a touch of olive color, and her hair was as black as night. Her large brown eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“A lad we picked up along the way. Leave him alone. You've enough admirers already.''

“Never enough!” she shouted playfully, swinging the bucket around as she twirled a step, then continued on her path. “I could do with some help fetching water,” she said with a flirtatious grin.

“You're a healthy enough lass, and the boy's injured.” Pasko paused, then asked, “Where are Lars and Gibbs?''

“Kendrick's got them out,” Lela said, disappearing behind the other side of the barn.

Talon stood silent for a moment after she vanished from view, then asked, “What am I to do?” Inside he felt a profound hopelessness, a lack of volition and will he had never known in his young life. Without his family . . . Memories of his village made tears gather in his eyes. The Orosini could be an emotional people, given to loud celebration in times of joy and tears in times of sorrow. But they tended to be reserved in the presence of strangers. All that seemed without purpose now, and Talon let the tears run down his face.

Ignoring them, Pasko said, “You'll have to ask Robert about that when he returns. I just do as I'm bid. You do owe him your life, so that debt must be settled. Now, let's walk you around a little more, then get you back inside to rest.''

Talon felt a desire to explore, to go inside the inn and investigate its wonders, for a building this large must contain many, he judged. But Pasko took him back to the barn, and by the time they reached his pallet Talon was glad to be there, for he felt exhausted deep into his bones. The wounds on his body ached and stung, and he knew that even that little bit of exercise had torn some new scar tissue and he would need time to heal. He remembered when Bear Who Stands had been gored by a boar. He had limped for almost a half year before regaining full mobility in his leg.

Talon lay back on his pallet and closed his eyes while Pasko puttered around in the barn with some items he had brought in from the wagon. Despite having felt alert when he had awoken just a scant half hour before, the boy drifted back off to sleep.

Patient by nature, Talon let the days go by without pestering Pasko with questions. It was obvious to him that the servant was by nature taciturn, and by instruction not very forthcoming. Whatever he discovered would be through his own powers of observation.

The pain caused by his people's destruction was never far from his thoughts. He had shed tears nightly for a week, but as the days passed, he turned away from his grief and began to court anger. He knew that somewhere out there were the men responsible for his people's obliteration. Eventually he would hunt them down and take retribution; such was the Orosini way. But he was also enough of a realist to understand that one young man on his own had little chance of extracting full vengeance. He would need to gain strength, power, knowledge of weapons, many things. He knew that his ancestors would guide him. Silver Hawk was his totem: the boy once known as Kielianapuna would be a talon for his people.

The days became routine. Each morning he would awake and eat. Pasko and he would walk, at first just around the compound surrounding the huge inn, then later into the nearby woods. His strength returned, and he started helping Pasko with chores, hauling water, chopping wood, and mending reins, halters, and traces for the horses. He was a clever lad and had to be shown a thing only once or twice to grasp it. He had a fierce passion for excellence.

Occasionally, Talon would catch a glimpse of Robert as he hurried about the inn, often in the company of any of three men. Talon didn't ask Pasko to name them, but he marked them. The first Talon guessed to be Kendrick. A tall man with grey hair and a full beard, he moved around the property as if he owned it. He wore a fine tunic and a single ring of some dark stone set in gold, but otherwise serviceable trousers and boots. He often paused to give instructions to the servants—the girl Lela, and the two younger men, Lars and Gibbs. Lars and Gibbs had also been regular visitors to the barn when travelers called at the inn, for they cared for the horses.

The second man Talon saw he thought of as Snowcap, for his hair was as white as snow, yet he looked to be no more than thirty or so years of age. He was not quite as tall as Kendrick or Robert, but somehow seemed to look down at them. He carried himself like a chieftain or shaman, thought Talon, and there was an aura of power about him. His eyes were pale blue, and his face was colored by the sun. He wore a robe of dark grey, with an intricate pattern woven at the sleeves and hem, which was just high enough for Talon to glimpse beneath it very finely crafted boots. He carried a wooden staff upon occasion, while at other times he affected a slouch hat that matched his robes in color.

The last man bore a faint resemblance to the second, as if they were kin, but his hair was dark brown, almost the same color as Talon's. His eyes were a deep brown as well, and his manner and movement suggested a warrior or hunter. Talon called him the Blade in his mind, for his left hand never seemed to venture far from the hilt of a sword, a slender blade unlike any Talon had seen. He wore blue breeches tucked into knee-high boots and a dark grey shirt over which he wore a tied vest. He also wore a hat all the time, a twin to Snowcap's slouch hat, though this one was
black. Once Talon had seen him leave the inn at sunrise carrying a longbow, and that night he had returned carrying a gutted deer across his shoulders. Instantly the young man had felt a stab of admiration; hunting was considered a great skill among the Orosini.

Robert, Pasko, and Talon were treated much as if they were part of the surroundings. Only Lela took a moment now and again to call out a greeting to Pasko and Talon, or to nod or wave. Lars, a stocky redheaded lad, and Gibbs, a slender older man, would occasionally speak to them, asking for a piece of tack or assistance in holding a horse that was being tended. But both avoided any causal conversation. Most of the time, Talon felt as if he and Pasko didn't exist in the minds of those inside the inn.

After a full month had passed, Talon awoke one morning to find Robert deep in conversation with Pasko. The young man arose quietly, and dressed, then made his presence known.

“Ah, young Talon,” said Robert, smiling at him. “Pasko tells me you're recovering nicely.''

Talon nodded. “My wounds are healed, and most of the stiffness is gone.''

“Are you fit enough to hunt?''

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Good; come with me.''

He left the barn, and Talon fell into step beside him. As they walked to the inn, Talon said, “Sir, I am in your debt, am I not?''

“Agreed,” replied Robert.

“How shall I discharge my debt?''

Robert stopped. “I have saved your life, true?''

“Yes,” replied the boy.

“If I understand the ways of your people, you have a life-debt to me, correct?''

“Yes,” Talon said calmly. A life-debt was a complex concept, one that involved years of service, directly or indirectly. When a man of the Orosini saved the life of another, the man who was saved was considered to be at the call of the other. It was as if he became a member of that family, but without the privileges of that membership. He was honor-bound to ensure that his savior's family ate, even should his own go hungry. He was obliged to help bring in his savior's crops before his own. In every way, the rescued man was in debt to the other. What Robert was telling Talon was that he must now consider Robert his master until such time as Robert released him from service.

“This is a heavy debt, is it not?''

“Yes,” Talon replied evenly.

The wind blew slightly, rustling the leaves in the distant trees and Robert was silent, as if thinking. Then he said, “I shall test you, young Talon. I will judge your mettle and see if you will do.''

“Do for what, sir?''

“For many things. And I shall not tell you half of them for years to come. Should you prove lacking, I will bind you over to Kendrick's service for a number of years so that you may learn to care for yourself in a world other than the highlands of the Orosini, for that life is now denied you forever.''

Talon heard those words and felt as if he had been struck a blow, but he kept his expression blank. What Robert said was true. Unless others had somehow survived the attack and crept away into the mountains, he was now the last of the Orosini, and no man could live alone in those mountains.

Finally, Talon said, “And if I am not lacking?''

“Then you shall see things and learn things no Orosini could imagine, my young friend.” He turned as another
man approached. It was the Blade, and he had a longbow across his back, and carried another in his hand, with a hip-quiver of shafts. “Ah, here he is.” To Talon, Robert said, “This man you have seen, I am sure, for you do well in observing things; that I have already noticed. Talon, this is Caleb. He and his brother Magnus are associates of mine.''