The Complete Conclave of Shadows Trilogy: Talon of the Silver Hawk, King of Foxes, Exile’s Return. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ of the Kingdom of the Isles was known), spoke almost flawless Roldemish, and was starting to learn dialects from the Empire of Great Kesh – geography, history and he had studied music.

      Music was what he enjoyed the most. Magnus had a spell he used to conjure up performances by musicians whom he had encountered over the years. Some of the simpler music sounded almost familiar to Talon; but more sophisticated music, played for nobles by accomplished musicians, was just as compelling. To aid in his understanding of music, Magnus had told Talon he would learn to play instruments, and had started him off with a simple pipe, which now lay on the table – a long wooden tube, with six holes cut in it. It was very much like one his father had played and Talon had quickly mastered playing some simple melodies on it.

      Talon rubbed his face with one hand. His eyes felt gritty and his back hurt. He stood up and glanced out of the window. The afternoon sun was setting. Talon realized he had been studying the book all afternoon.

      He glanced at the hearth where a large cauldron sat half-filled with a stew he had prepared two days before. It was still edible, but he had tired of the same fare. He judged that he had maybe an hour in which to hunt or hurry to the shore and fish.

      Sundown was a good time for either activity. The island had a large pond a short distance away from the hut where game would gather to drink at sunrise and sunset, and the fish beyond the breakers seemed to be more active at sundown.

      He wrestled with the choice for just a moment, then decided that fishing was more to his liking. The stalking of game required too much concentration and right now he was in the mood to stand upon the sand, with the wind in his face and his eyes focused on something farther away than the end of his arms.

      Talon grabbed his pole and creel and headed out of the door.

      

      The sun had set by the time Talon started back up the hill. In a few short minutes he had managed to catch two large jack smelts, more than enough for his supper. He would cook them over the wood fire in the hearth, upon a metal grill, and add some spices Magnus kept in a small chest. He wished he had some rice to cook with it, and realized how much luxury he had been exposed to by Leo in the kitchen at Kendrick’s. His mother often prepared fish, and served it with whatever roots or berries the women had gathered. Sometimes a corncake, hand-rolled and cooked by the fire, made with honey, berries or nuts, would be served along with the game. But Talon now appreciated food far more than his mother would ever have imagined. It was amusing to think he was probably the best cook in the history of his people.

      As he rounded a small bend in the trail near the summit of the bluff, he stopped. The sky was still light with the just-set sun, but darkness was quickly descending. He sensed something.

      He listened. The woods near the hut were silent. There should have been noises, the scurrying of the day animals seeking out their lairs as the night predators made their presence known. Night birds should have been flitting about, seeking insects.

      Instead, there was a stillness that could only mean one thing: men were nearby.

      For an instant Talon wondered if Magnus had returned, but somehow he knew this wasn’t the case. It just felt wrong.

      Talon suspected there might be others on this island, people living south of the ridge whom Magnus didn’t want him to meet, at least not right now, but Talon didn’t think it likely they’d come calling unexpectedly. He put down the fishing rod and creel, then realized he had left his weapons in the hut.

      He pulled a scaling knife out of the creel, a poor weapon, but better than nothing, and advanced slowly towards the hut, his every sense extended. He listened, he looked, he sniffed the air.

      There seemed to be a presence near the hut, something unfamiliar, outside his experience. He had thought it might be someone at or in the hut, but now he considered it to be some thing.

      A figure stepped out of the door, almost too quickly for his eye to have caught the motion, but in that instant he recognized a human-like form, but one devoid of features. Detailless black from head to toe it was a silhouette that flickered past his consciousness into the darkness of night.

      He halted, keeping his breath as shallow as possible, using every sense to determine where the creature had gone. A slight shift in the air behind him alerted him to someone moving rapidly and silently at his back, and he dropped to his knees. Without hesitation, he struck backwards with the scaling knife, a slash that would have taken any man somewhere between knee and groin.

      An inhuman warbling cry erupted through the night as the blade struck something, and Talon was knocked over by a tremendous blow to the right shoulder, as if a large body had fallen into him.

      Talon used the momentum of his fall to tuck and roll back up to his feet, and as a gust of air went past him, he knew he had somehow dodged a blow from another unseen assailant. By instinct alone, he sensed that two attackers were behind him, and he leapt forward, towards the hut. If he had any hope of surviving this attack, he had to reach his sword.

      The hair on the back of his neck rose up as he neared the door of the hut, and without looking back he dived through the door, landing hard upon the floor as something invisible cut through the air where his chest should have been.

      He slid on his stomach under the table and turned, coming up quickly with his sword. He cast aside the scabbard and kicked the table towards the door, to slow whoever might be coming through.

      The table struck something just inside the door and Talon saw the darkness in the doorway move. A figure appeared framed in the door, one he could see only because of what it blocked out behind, for light from the early evening sky still illuminated the branches and leaves, but the silhouetted form blotted out all detail.

      Then the thing was in the hut. Talon saw only a man-shape of featureless black as if light was not reflected off its surface. He knew there was another, still outside, so he retreated to the hearth and impulsively grabbed a burning brand from out of the fire, holding it aloft in his left hand.

      The creature’s hand lashed towards him and Talon ducked to his right. Pain erupted across his left shoulder. The creature’s hand retracted and for a brief instant Talon thought he saw a faint movement in the air, as if a lash was being drawn back. Talon didn’t have to look to know he had been cut by some invisible weapon. He could feel burning on his shoulder and feel dampness spreading as blood seeped from the wound.

      There came a flicker near the door and Talon knew that another of his unseen assassins had entered the room. Another flicker out of the corner of his eye warned him and he fell to the right. More pain shot down his arm, but he knew that had he not moved, it would have been his throat bleeding instead of his arm.

      He fell hard against the wing-arm holding the kettle as he hit the floor, rolling away from where he assumed the assassin to be. The kettle swung back hard into the fireplace and overturned, dumping the remaining stew upon the blazing fire, and the room erupted in steam and soot.

      Suddenly Talon could see a leg before him, outlined in the air. Without hesitation, he lashed out with his sword at the creature’s leg, and the same warble of pain he had heard outside was repeated inside, at greater volume.

      The hut filled with smoke and now Talon could see three figures clearly outlined. They were man-shaped, and they seemed unarmed, yet he knew that to be a false impression. Talon scooted back against the wall.

      The others seemed to be casting about, as if unable to see him. Talon gripped his sword, ignoring the fire in his left shoulder, and pushed himself upright, his СКАЧАТЬ