Talon of the Silver Hawk. Raymond E. Feist

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      ‘Yes,’ answered the man named Robert. ‘What do you recall after the battle?’

      ‘A wagon …’ Kieli, who now had to think of himself as ‘Talon’, closed his eyes for a while, then said, ‘You carried me away.’

      ‘Yes,’ agreed Robert. ‘We couldn’t very well leave you to die from your wounds.’ Softly he added, ‘Besides, there are some things we would know of you and the battle.’

      ‘What?’ asked Talon.

      ‘That can wait until later.’

      ‘Where am I?’ Talon repeated.

      ‘You are in the barn at Kendrick’s Steading.’

      Talon tried to remember. He had heard of this place, but could not recall any details. ‘Why am I here?’

      The man with the droopy moustache laughed. ‘Because we rescued your sorry carcass and this is where we were bound.’

      ‘And,’ continued Robert, ‘this is a very good place to rest and heal.’ He stood and moved away, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. ‘This is a forester’s hut, not used for years. Kendrick is allowing us to use his barn without charge. His inn has warmer rooms, cleaner bedding, and better food –’

      ‘But it also has too many eyes and ears,’ offered the first man.

      Robert threw him a glance and shook his head slightly.

      The first man said, ‘You bear a man’s name, yet I see no tattoos upon your face.’

      ‘The battle was on my naming day,’ Talon answered weakly.

      The second man, the one called Robert, looked back at his companion, then returned his attention to the boy. ‘That was over two weeks ago, lad. You’ve been travelling with us since Pasko found you in your village.’

      ‘Did anyone else survive?’ Talon asked, his voice choking with emotion.

      Robert returned to the boy’s side, knelt and put his hand gently on his shoulders and said, ‘Gone. All of them.’

      Pasko said, ‘The bastards were thorough, I’ll give them that.’

      ‘Who?’ asked Talon.

      Robert’s hand gently pushed the boy back onto the pallet. ‘Rest. Pasko will have some hot soup for you soon. You’ve been at death’s door. We didn’t think you’d survive for a long while. We’ve seen you through with sips of water and cold broth. It’s time to put some strength back in you.’ He paused. ‘There are many things to talk about, but we have time. We have a great deal of time, Talon of the Silver Hawk.’

      Talon did not want to rest: he wanted answers, but his weakened body betrayed him and he lay back and found sleep welcoming him again.

      The song of birds greeted him as he awoke ravenous. Pasko brought over a large earthen mug of hot broth and urged him to drink slowly. The other man, Robert, was nowhere to be seen.

      After stinging his mouth with the hot liquid, Talon asked, ‘What is this place?’

      ‘Kendrick’s? It’s an … inn, buried somewhere in the forests of Latagore.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Why what? Why are we here, or why are you alive?’

      ‘Both, I suppose,’ said Talon.

      ‘The second, first,’ answered Pasko, as he sat down on the little stool and hefted his own mug of broth. ‘We found you amidst carnage unlike any I’ve seen since my youth – when I was a soldier in the service of the Duke of Dungarren, down in Far Loren. We’d have left you for crow bait with the others, save I heard you moan … well, wasn’t even a proper moan, more like a loud sigh. It was only by the hand of fate you survived. You had so much blood on you and such a jagged wound across your chest, we both took you for dead to start with. Anyway, you were breathing, so my master said to fetch you along. He’s a soft-hearted sort, I can tell you.’

      ‘I should thank him,’ said Talon, though he felt so miserable for being alive while the rest of his family had perished that he didn’t feel remotely thankful.

      ‘I suspect he’ll find a way for you to repay him,’ said Pasko. He stood up. ‘Feel like stretching your legs?’

      Talon nodded. He started to rise and found that his head swam and his body ached. He had no strength.

      ‘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 storeys 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 up them slowly until he was on top of the wall and able to look over.

      The inn sat in the centre 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 СКАЧАТЬ