Talon of the Silver Hawk by Raymond E. Feist
“Or to arrange for transport somewhere else, but they are not selling wares in the city.’’
“Which means they are carrying gold.’’
“Perhaps, but the two mercenaries they hired are likely to assume as much.’’
Talon hurried to finish his meal.
“What are you doing?” asked Caleb.
“We’re going to hurry after them and help, aren’t we?’’
“We are not,” said Caleb. “You’ll find enough trouble on the road without volunteering to take up someone else’s.’’
“But those two guards will kill those men for sure,” said Talon, draining his mug and standing up. “We can stop black murder.’’
Caleb shook his head. “Most likely they will take whatever gold the merchants have, and the horses, and leave them to walk to Latagore. By the time they reach the city, the two mercenaries will already have left on a boat for the far shore and be on their way to High Reaches or Coastal Watch.’’
“Or they could simply slit their throats and linger in Latagore. The nervous one might get panicked and act rashly.’
Caleb stood up and signaled to the woman who had served them. “Tell the boy to ready our wagon.” Looking at Talon, he said, “We will have to whip the horses to a froth to overtake them.’’
“Not necessarily,” said Talon. “The mercenaries do not look like the type to ride in haste. They will attempt to keep the merchants deceived until they attack them. You’ve 9261.01 3/13/03 12:53 PM Page 96
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traveled this road before; where would you judge the most likely place for the murders to take place?’’
“There’s a deep ravine five miles along from here, and it abuts the road. If I were to carry out an attack, that is where I would do it, for it would be easy enough work to drag the bodies up into the ravine for half a mile or so, then quickly return to the road without anyone noticing. It might take months for anyone to stumble on the bodies should that be the case.’’
Talon said, “Then we need to hurry. They must already be a mile or more down the road.’’
Caleb fixed Talon with a curious look for a moment, then said, “Let us go, then.’’
They had to wait a few minutes for the wagon to be fetched around from the back. The boy had brushed the horses while they had rested, and Caleb gave him a copper piece for doing the extra work.
Caleb set the horses to a fast walk, causing them to snort in protest at the faster than average pace. “If you’re right, we’ll overtake the merchant and guards just as they reach the ravine cutoff.” He glanced over and saw that Talon’s face was set in a mask of determination. “Why are you so anxious to intervene, my young friend?’’
Talon’s expression turned dark. “I don’t approve of murder.’’
Caleb nodded. After a moment he said, “If you’re going to act the hero, it would be well for you to go armed.’’
Talon nodded. He turned and fetched out a sword and belt-knife from behind the wagon’s seat. He had seen no reason to don them prior to that moment.
Caleb kept the horses moving, and after a few minutes of silence, asked, “How are the two mercenaries armed?’’
Without hesitation, Talon answered, “The taller one, the calm one, wore a long sword on his right hip—he’s left-
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handed. He wore a long dagger on his left hip, and I glimpsed the hilt of a throwing knife inside the top of his right boot.
“The nervous fellow wore a short sword on his left hip and had two daggers in the right side of his belt. He had several knives inside that black sleeveless overjacket he wore and another small blade in the sweatband inside his slouch hat, on the side with the black crow’s feather.’’
Caleb laughed, an even more rare occurrence than his smiling. “I missed that last one.’’
“It deformed the hat slightly.”
“You’ve taken to your lessons at Kendrick’s well. All you missed was the blade behind the buckle of the nervous man’s belt. I noticed it only because he took care standing up and put his thumb behind it for a moment, as if preventing getting cut by it.’’
“Sounds like a bad place to keep a blade.’’
Caleb said, “If done right, it’s a good place, really. If done poorly . . .” He shrugged.
They rode along at a good clip as the sun traveled across the sky. As they crested a hill, Caleb said, “There.’’
In the distance, Talon could see the road rise up on the left and fall away on the right. The city was clearly in view in the distance: they would easily have reached it before nightfall if things had gone as planned.
At the far end of the road, Talon saw movement. “Four riders.’’
Caleb snapped the reins and set the horses to a faster trot.
“They’re going to reach the ravine sooner than I thought!’’
The wagon picked up speed, and Talon hung on to the seat with both hands as the heavy axles sent every bump from the wheel straight up into his back. This wagon was built to haul heavy loads, not provide comfort for those riding it.
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The sound of the wagon flying down the road should have alerted the riders, but by the time Talon and Caleb drew near they could see the four men had squared off, the two merchants arguing with the two guards. The mercenary Talon thought of as “the nervous one” drew his sword, just as his companion turned to see the wagon approaching. He yelled, and the first man turned to see what the problem was.
The two merchants turned their horses and attempted to ride away, causing the nervous mercenary to swing his sword at the nearest merchant, cutting him on the left shoulder. The man shrieked and fell from his mount.
Caleb steered the now-galloping horses to the left of the three who were milling around. The merchant who had fallen scuttled like a crab, scrambling backward away from the two riders. The other merchant was charging down the road, arms flapping as if he were attempting to fly off the back of his horse.
Talon stood and launched himself off the wagon as it sped past, knocking the nervous rider from his horse, sending his sword flying. Caleb did his best to keep the wagon from overturning as it slowed down. The other mercenary quickly evaluated the situation and spurred his own mount to a gallop up the road, back the way they had come.
Talon landed on top of the nervous one, who grunted as the breath was knocked out of him, then thrashed as Talon rolled off him. Talon came to his feet, sword in hand, expecting the man to be rising.
Instead the man lay on the ground clutching at his stomach. Blood fountained through his fingers and he looked at Talon. “Look what you’ve done to me! You’ve killed me!’’
Talon kept his sword in his hand as he went and knelt next to the man. “That blade behind the buckle?” he asked.
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“Damn thing never worked,” said the injured man.
“Now I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.’’
Caleb had turned the wagon around and driven back to where Talon and the other two men waited. Talon pushed aside the wounded man’s hands and disengaged the buckle.
He pulled out the blade, a three-inch-long piece of sharp steel with a T cross handle; it was designed to slip out of the buckle and sit between the two middle fingers of the hand, the handle resting on the palm. It would be a dangerous jabbing weapon.
Caleb said to the merchant, “Are you hurt?’’
The man held his hand over his bleeding shoulder. “I’ll live, no thanks to that blackheart.” He was a stocky man with a balding pate, a fringe of grey hair circling the back of his head. His ey
Caleb got down from the wagon and came to stand beside Talon. He looked down at the mercenary on the ground, at the knife and the wound, and said, “You’ll live to hang. That little blade didn’t cut too deep.’’
He took the palm-knife from Talon, cut off some cloth from the mercenary’s shirt, and wadded it up. “Press it hard against the wound with both your hands.” To Talon he said, “Help me get him in the back of the wagon.’’
Between them they got the wounded would-be robber in the back of the wagon. Then Caleb took a look at the merchant’s shoulder. After a moment he said,
“You’ll be fine.’’
“Why are you helping?” he asked. “I mean, thank you for saving me, but why?’’
Caleb nodded toward Talon, who had taken up a position in the back of the wagon next to the wounded man.
“My young friend there has a streak of decency in him, I fear. He objects to murder, it seems.’’
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“Well, then thanks to the gods you both came along.’’
“Let’s get on to Latagore,” said Caleb. “You ride up front with me.’’
“I’m Dustin Webanks, merchant from Olasko. I was traveling to Latagore with my partner to purchase lumber.’’
“And those two you hired sought to rob you of your gold.’’
“Foolishly, yes. We carry no gold. We have letters of credit from the Royal Bursar in Opardum to make purchase on account.’’
“So, you represent the Duke, then?’’
Climbing gingerly up to the wagon, he said, “Yes. Duke Kaspar is building a new hunting lodge, and he likes some wood carvings he’s seen somewhere or another. Must have a particular wood for them, a wood that appears to be harvested only from the forests up here in Latagore.
Hence, the journey.’’
Caleb shrugged, as if it was of no matter to him. “Your friend will send back the city guard for you, I expect.’’
“Most likely,” said Dustin.
“Then they can escort us to the city, friend merchant.”
They all fell silent, each considering the events of the last few minutes. Talon looked at the prisoner, who appeared to be lost in some dark reflection on his plan going bad, and wondered what had possessed the man to attempt to rob the merchant. Then he decided it might better serve him to discover what had caused him to act in such a rash fashion to aid a stranger.
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SIX
L ATAGORE
Talon gawked.
He had remained silent as they had approached the city, reaching one of the western gates an hour before nightfall. He had been astonished at the size of Latagore as they had drawn near, but as they reached the outer bound-aries of the city, he was dumbfounded.
Nothing in his experience had prepared him for the sight of so many people living so close to one another. The bustle and noise threatened to overwhelm him at first, then he began to drink in the sights and sounds.
Peddlers hovered near the gates of the city, hawking a variety of wares to any within the sound of their voices—trinkets, good-luck tokens, items whose natures were unknown to Talon. Many who approached were ragged beggars, offering blessings to those who would aid them and curses to those who ignored them.
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Caleb glanced over at the speechless lad and said,
“Better close your mouth before a bird builds a nest in it.’’
“So many people,” Talon gasped.
Dustin Webanks looked over his shoulder at the boy.
“Never been to a city before?’’
“No, sir.’’
The prisoner, who’d been content to ride along in sullen silence, except for an occasional grunt of pain when the wagon bounced especially hard, said, “This is nothing, boy. If you ever get down to Opardum or Kalesh’kaar, then you’d be seeing something. Latagore here is hardly big enough to rightly be called a city. More like an oversize town.’’
Caleb grunted. “Big enough city to have a guard and plenty of rope.” To Talon he said, “This gate’s the one you want when coming into the city. Most of the locals use it, because the other gates are used by travelers and caravans, so getting through takes time. That’s why it’s called the Locals’ Gate.’’
“How many gates are there?” asked Talon, thinking of the simple stockade around his village with its single gate.
“I believe this city has twenty . . . four? Yes, twenty-four gates.’’
They pulled into a queue of people waiting to be admitted to the city before night fell and the gates were closed. Only two wagons and a band of men on horseback were in front of them, so they quickly reached the portal.
“Ho, Roderick!” shouted Caleb as he reined in.
“Caleb!” cried a soldier in the deep forest green uniform of the city. “You here to sell or buy?’’
“Buying,” said Caleb. “We’re empty coming in.’’
The soldier motioned him through.
Caleb said, “Can we drop off a bandit?’’
A quick discussion with the soldier resulted in their 9261.01 3/13/03 12:53 PM Page 103
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prisoner being taken away. Dustin Webanks left them as well, to press charges with the magistrate, promising them a reward should they seek him out the next day at the Sign of the Running Footman.
Caleb drove the wagon through the city, heading to an inn where those from Kendrick’s stayed when they were in the city. As darkness fell, they reached a cheery-looking building with a large stabling yard on the right. The sign hung outside it showed a man throwing balls into the air while blindfolded. A young man of roughly the same age as Talon appeared at the sound of the wagon’s arrival.
“Ho, Caleb!” he shouted, upon seeing who was driving the wagon.
“Jacob!” Caleb returned.
The young man had sandy hair and a rawboned, rangy look. He wore a simple cotton shirt and leather trousers, with heavy work boots. He took the horses in hand, and said, “Who’s your friend?’’
“Talon, this is Jacob.’’
Talon nodded and jumped down from the wagon.
“Father will be glad to see you,” said Jacob. “He’s got some more hunting stories for you.’’
“He found time to go hunting?” asked Caleb.
With a grin, Jacob answered, “No, but he’s got some new stories.’’
Caleb smiled. “ ’Tis ever thus.’’
They left the wagon to Jacob’s care and entered the inn.
A plump woman brightened as she saw Caleb. She hurried around from behind the long bar and threw her arms around him. “Caleb, you rascal! It’s been too long between visits! We haven’t seen you since last summer!’’
If the usually taciturn hunter was discomfited by the overwhelming embrace, he bore up with good grace, and when at last she released him, he said, “Hello, Angelica.”
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Then he indicated his companion. “Talon here is helping me on this trip.’’
Suddenly, the boy found himself engulfed in a fragrant bear hug.
“Welcome to the Blind Juggler, Talon.” To Caleb she said with a wink, “Ella’s in the kitchen.’’
Caleb said nothing, just smiled slightly. “We’ll need a room for two, perhaps three, days.’’
“You have it,” said the woman. “Now, get yourselves a good table by the fireplace. The porters and teamsters will be filling the place up as soon as it’s dark, and then it’ll be every man for himself.’’
&nbs
Angelica appeared a moment later with two large mugs of ale. Handing a key to Caleb, she said, “First room, top of the stairs. It’s the best.’’
“Thanks,” said Caleb.
Talon sipped at the brew and found it strong and flavorful.
“Watch how you drink that, Talon. It’ll sneak up on you if you’re not careful.” Leaning forward, he continued, “Learn to sip and look as if you’re drinking more than you are.’’
“How do I do that?’’
Caleb demonstrated. He picked up the mug and appeared to take a hearty draught, but when he put the mug under Talon’s chin for inspection, the boy saw only a drop of the ale was gone. “You spill some on the floor or let it drip down your chin if you’re with rough company. If you’re dining with quality folk, you motion for the server to bring you a fresh goblet from time to time. No one 9261.01 3/13/03 12:53 PM Page 105
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except the servant will notice he’s carrying away a half-filled cup, and he’ll not speak to anyone—most likely he’ll drink it himself before he reaches the pantry.’’
“Why?”
“Why will he drink it?’’
Talon shook his head and grinned. “No, I get that part of it. No, why do I want to appear to be drinking more than I am?’’
“Make it a habit. Men in their cups are fools, more often than not. And it can be wise to look the fool at times.”
Caleb stood. “I’m going to have a wash.’’
Talon nodded and sat back. Caleb headed out through a door next to the bar, which Talon assumed led to the kitchen. Like most of his people, Talon had swum in the rivers and lakes in the mountains in all but the coldest months. He had cleaned his skin in the sweat lodge of his village; sitting with the men and women as they scraped the day’s dirt off their skins with gracefully curved sticks, then rinsed off with a bucket of tepid water kept next to the stones to make steam. Using soap and water—cold most of the time—had seemed a strange ritual, but Talon had learned to make it a habit. Most people, he noticed, including the nobility, seemed to bathe or wash their hands and faces at whim, yet those at Kendrick’s spent a significant amount of time bathing and washing. Talon had asked Lela about that, and she had said that it had been the habit there when she arrived, and she didn’t mind too much.