Читать книгу The Complete Conclave of Shadows Trilogy: Talon of the Silver Hawk, King of Foxes, Exile’s Return - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 24

TALON GROANED.

He had lain on his bed for two days, getting up only to relieve himself and drink water. He felt weak and unfocused, as if suffering a fever. His thoughts wandered and he relived Alysandra’s last words to him over and over in his mind.

A hand shook him again.

‘What?’ he said, forcing himself out of his numb doze, to find Magnus standing above him.

‘It’s time for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.’

Talon sat up and his head swam. He tried to focus his eyes.

‘When did you last eat?’ Magnus asked.

‘Yesterday, I think.’

‘More like three days ago,’ said the magician. He rummaged around near the hearth and returned with an apple. ‘Here, eat this.’

Talon took a bite and felt the juices run down his chin. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he swallowed. His stomach seemed to flip at the introduction of food after his short fast.

Magnus sat down on the bed next to him. ‘You feel bad?’

Talon nodded, unable to find words.

‘She broke your heart?’

Talon said nothing but tears gathered in his eyes. He nodded again.

‘Good,’ said Magnus, striking him on the knee with his staff.

‘Ow!’ Talon exclaimed, rubbing at the knee.

Magnus stood up and rapped the boy lightly on the side of the head, hard enough to make Talon’s ears ring and his eyes water even more. Stepping away, Magnus shouted, ‘Defend yourself!’

This time he unleashed a vicious swipe at the other side of Talon’s head, and the young man barely avoided being brained. He fell to his knees and rolled away, gaining a moment as Magnus had to come around the foot of the bed to reach him. When he did, he found Talon standing beside the table, his sword drawn and ready. ‘Master Magnus!’ he shouted. ‘What is this?’

Magnus didn’t answer, but instead feigned a jab with the foot of the staff towards Talon’s head, then swept the rod around in an overhead arc. Talon caught the staff on the forte of his blade with just enough angle to force it past his shoulders, but not enough force to break the sword. Then he stepped inside and grabbed his teacher by the front of his robe, yanking him off-balance. Placing his sword at Magnus’s throat, he said, ‘Am I supposed to kill you now?’

‘No,’ said Magnus with a grin. He gripped Talon’s sword hand and Talon felt his fingers go numb. As the sword fell from his unresponsive grasp, Talon heard Magnus say, ‘That was very good.’

Talon stepped back, rubbing his hand. ‘What is all this?’

‘If your enemy comes upon you unexpectedly, do you think he’s going to stop and say, “Oh, poor Talon. He’s upset over his lost love. I think I will wait for another day to kill him”?’

Talon kept rubbing his sore fingers. ‘No.’

‘Precisely.’ He motioned for Talon to sit on the bed once more. ‘Our enemies will attack you in ways you have not even imagined, Talon. Caleb and others can teach you weapons and hone your natural talents. I can show you things about your mind and make it more difficult for your enemies to confuse you or beguile you. But the heart …’ He tapped his own chest. ‘That is where many men are the most vulnerable.’

‘So this was a lesson?’

‘Yes,’ said Magnus, with a grim expression. ‘As harsh a lesson as I’ve ever seen, but necessary.’

‘She didn’t love me?’

‘Never,’ said Magnus coldly. ‘She is our creature, Talon, and we use her, just as we will use you and every other student here.

‘Once this was a place for learning, education for its own sake. My father founded the Academy of Magicians down at Stardock. Did you know that?’

‘No.’

‘When politics overtook the Academy, he started another place of learning here, for students of special gifts. I was raised here.

‘But when the Serpentwar raged, and Krondor was destroyed, my father realized that our enemies were relentless and could never be counted on to give us respite. So, this school became a place of training. Some students from other worlds attend, but there are fewer of them each year; father brings in some teachers from other realms, as well, but mostly he, Mother, Nakor, myself, and others – like Robert – teach.’

‘I’ve not asked, for I assume I’ll be told in time, but who is this enemy?’

‘It is very hard to tell someone as young as you. I’ll leave it for Father and Nakor to tell you when you’re ready to understand.

‘But you will be tried by the enemy’s agents, and as you saw on the night the death-dancers came for me, they can strike in the most unexpected fashion in places you think quite safe.’

‘So I must …?’

‘Learn, be wary and trust only a few people.’ He paused, considering what to say next. ‘If I were to tell Rondar or Demetrius to kill you, they would. They would assume my reasons were valid and that you were a threat to us here. If I were to tell Alysandra to kill you, she would. The difference is that Rondar and Demetrius would feel remorse. Alysandra would feel nothing.’

‘You made her this way?’ said Talon, his anger rising and his sense of order outraged.

‘No,’ Magnus answered. ‘We found her that way. Alysandra is … flawed. Tragically and terribly. She doesn’t think about people as you and I might. She thinks of them as we might a stick of wood or a …’ he pointed to a chair ‘… a piece of furniture. Useful, to be cared for, perhaps, so it can continue to be useful, but with no intrinsic value beyond its use to her.

‘We found this terribly damaged person and brought her here. Nakor can tell you about that; I know only that one day this lovely young girl was among us and Nakor was explaining what we needed to do with her.’

‘But why? Why bring her here?’

‘To train her to work for us. To use that remorseless nature to our own ends. Otherwise she might have ended up on the gallows in Krondor. At least this way we can channel her and control who gets hurt.’

Talon sat silently, staring out of the open door. ‘But it felt so …’

‘Real?’

‘Yes. I thought she was falling in love with me.’

‘One of her talents is to be what she needs to be, Talon. It was a cruel lesson, but necessary. And I can’t stress this enough: she would have cut your throat while you slept had Nakor ordered it. And then she would have got dressed, and whistled a happy tune as she walked back to the estate afterwards.’

‘Why do this to me?’

‘So that you can look hard inside yourself and understand how weak the human heart can be. So that you can steel yourself against anything of this sort ever happening again.’

‘Does this mean I can never love another?’

Now it was Magnus’s turn to fall silent, and he also stared out of the door for a moment. Then he said, ‘Perhaps not. But certainly not with some young woman who simply happens to command your attention because of a shapely leg and a winning smile, and because she’s in your bed. You can bed women who are willing to your heart’s content, time and circumstances allowing. Just don’t think you’re in love with them, Talon.’

‘I know so little.’

‘Then you’ve taken the first step toward wisdom,’ Magnus said, standing up. He moved to the door. ‘Think about this for a while: remember the quiet times when your father and mother were caring for you and your family. That’s love. Not the passion of the moment in the arms of a willing woman.’

Talon leaned back against the wall. ‘I have much to think about.’

‘Tomorrow we return to your training. Eat something and sleep, for we have a lot to do.’

Magnus left and Talon lay back on the bed, his arm behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he thought about what the magician had said. It was as if Magnus had thrown icy water over him. He felt cold and discomforted. The image of Alysandra’s face hung in the air above him, yet it was now a mocking, cruel visage. And he wondered if he could ever look at a woman again in the same way.

Talon spent a restless night, even though he was as tired as he could remember. It was even more profound a fatigue than those occasions when he had recovered from his wounds after almost dying. It was a weariness of the soul, a lethargy that came from a wounded heart.

Yet there was a fey energy within; a strange flashing of images, memories and imagination; phantasms and fantasies. He rejected Magnus’s judgment of Alysandra. Talon knew he could not have imagined his feelings, but at the same time he knew he had. He was angry and his pain sought an outlet, yet there was no place to focus it. He blamed his teachers, yet he knew they had taught him a vital lesson that might some day save his life. He raged at Alysandra, yet from what Magnus had told him, she could no more be blamed for her nature than a viper could be blamed for being venomous.

The dawn rose and the sky turned rose and golden, a crisp and clear autumn morning. A knock roused Talon from his dark introspection and he opened the door.

Caleb stood there before him. ‘Let’s go hunting,’ he said.

Talon nodded, not even wondering how Caleb had so suddenly appeared on the island. Magic was a foregone conclusion on Sorcerer’s Isle.

Talon fetched his bow from inside the wardrobe, where he had lodged it in the corner and forgotten it. He had spent hours dressing and undressing in the fine robes there when he and Alysandra had spent the summer contriving games. He had thought them games of love, but now he thought of them as exercises in lust.

He held the bow, and it was solid and real in his grip and he knew that he had lost something in his days with the girl. He pulled out a quiver of arrows then turned to the older man. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

Caleb set a punishing pace, leading and not looking back, expecting Talon at all times to be a step behind him or at his side.

They ranged north, far away from the estate. Half the time they ran. At noon, Caleb stopped and pointed. They were standing on top of a ridge which offered a clear view of most of the island to the north. In the distance Talon could see the small hut where he had lived with Magnus when he had first come to the island. He said nothing.

Eventually Caleb said, ‘I thought myself in love once.’

‘Does everyone know about it?’

‘Only those who need to know. It was a lesson.’

‘So everyone keeps saying. I can’t help but feel it was a cruel jest.’

‘Cruel, no doubt. Jest, no. I doubt anyone has told you yet what is in store for you, and I do not know, though I have some sense of it. You are going to be sent places and see things no boy of the Orosini could ever have dreamed of, Talon. And in those places the wiles of a pretty woman may be as deadly as a poisoned blade.’ He leaned on his bow. ‘Alysandra is not the only girl with a deadly side to her. Our enemies have many such women in their ranks. Just as they will have agents like you.’

‘Agents?’

‘You are working on behalf of the Conclave; this you know.’ He glanced over at the boy and Talon nodded. ‘Nakor and my father will some day tell you more, but I can tell you this much, even if they don’t think you’re ready to know: we are agents of good. It is ironic that sometimes we must do things that appear evil so that eventually good can triumph.’

Talon said, ‘I am not a learned man. I have read a certain amount, enough to know I know very little. But I have read enough to have some sense that all men think of themselves as heroes, at least heroes of their own lives, and that no man who did evil thought he was doing such.’

‘In one sense, you are right.’ Caleb stopped for a moment, as if to savour the brisk autumnal breeze. ‘In another sense you must know you are wrong. There are men who knowingly serve evil, who embrace it and who seek to gain by its triumph. Some seek power. Others seek riches. Others still seek darker ends. But it’s all the same. They bring suffering and agony to innocents.’

‘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 and 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. Sometime 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 travelling 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 his parents.

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 lay waiting.

His bout of heartsickness had passed, and now 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 harbourmaster 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 signalled 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 travelling 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, travelling; 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 to 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 towards the centre of the city. When Talon craned his neck, he could see a castle to the south of the harbour. ‘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 travellers, 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 which they wore across their shoulders.

The innkeeper tossed a heavy iron key to Caleb, who caught it neatly. ‘Sit,’ he said, ‘and 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 and then nodded curtly. ‘Yes, I must be mistaken.’

They ate in silence.

They spent three days in Krondor, making arrangments to travel with a caravan. Caleb and Talon would serve as guards, in exchange for transportation and food. The caravan master was pleased not to have to pay the mercenary bonus, and counted himself fortunate.

The mystery of why Lela was working at the inn under the name of Roxanne was not discussed, and Talon assumed it was yet another of those things which might never be explained to him. Yet it was oddly reassuring to discover a familiar face in such strange surroundings, even if under circumstances that could only be called bizarre.

Krondor was a revelation to Talon, for while Latagore had seemed fabulous to his untutored eyes when he had visited it for the first time, it seemed a provincial village compared to the capital of the Western Realm of the Kingdom. The city was teeming with people, from distant lands as far away as the Keshian Confederacy, the captive nations in the Empire’s southern reaches. Dialects and languages strange to the ear could be heard in every market and inn.

Caleb took him to see famous sights: the remaining portion of the sea wall, which had been destroyed during the Serpentwar when, according to legend, the armies of the Emerald Queen had invaded from across the sea and the entire city was virtually destroyed. Talon had to pause when Caleb told the story to remind himself that Caleb was speaking of his own grandmother, who had been enslaved by a demon. Talon judged that many of the tales told around the campfire in his boyhood might need to be re-evaluated, rather than merely dismissed as folk tales.

He visited Barrett’s Coffee House, where finance, as complex and mysterious as magic, was conducted. He had a vague sense of what the place meant to the economy of the Kingdom from his reading of the life of Rupert Avery, who had been a businessman of some fame at Barrett’s. They went to see the palace, though they observed it from a respectful distance, for while Caleb hinted at some past relationship between his family and the crown, there seemed no plausible reason to gain entrance. Nor any motive, for that matter, apart from curiosity. Talon felt a mild interest in these things, as he did with anything that was alien to his experience. Now when he reflected upon his childhood, he realized how little of the world he had known as a boy; but even so he remembered with clarity how much he thought he understood of it. Such had been the heritage of his people, who were content to live out their lives in the mountains as their ancestors had done before them. Generations passed with little change among the Orosini, and it seemed a good life. Talon looked around the city, taking in the crowds clogging the streets and wondered if perhaps that was one thing his people had correctly apprehended – the quality of a good life. Certainly, most of the people he viewed as they passed were evidencing little by way of joy. Most were intent upon the business at hand, or making their way somewhere in a great hurry. A few children played in the streets, but only the very young; the older children seemed to be banded together in groups of ten or more and often could be seen running with a constable of the law in pursuit.

They travelled with the caravan through the Western Realm, through rolling hills and into low mountains not unlike those of his homeland. But where those mountains had been populated by folk living in villages of wooden huts and stockades, these mountains boasted towns and castles. In Ravensburgh they had the finest wine Talon had tasted, and he asked many questions of the innkeeper. He stole an hour to seek out a winemaker and plied him with questions, too.

Demetrius had said at some point that their masters would be teaching Talon about wine, and he now thought this would be a good thing.

The journey continued to the town of Malac’s Cross, and there they bade goodbye to the caravan master. After a night spent sleeping in a relatively clean room, Caleb secured two fine horses and they set off to the east.

As they rode towards the rising sun, Talon said, ‘Caleb, am I to ever discover what it is we are doing?’

Caleb laughed. ‘I suppose it matters little if I tell you now or tell you when we reach Salador.’

‘Then tell me now, for I am afire with curiosity.’

Caleb said, ‘In Salador we shall finish with your education in manners and breeding. For a year or more you will learn at least two musical instruments – the lute and another, perhaps a horn or pipe. You will learn even more about the culinary arts, though you are well on your way, having tutored under Leo. And you will learn more about manners of the court, costumes appropriate for all occasions, and how to comport yourself with persons of any rank. You will learn to judge wine and you will learn to sing, though I suspect this last matter may be a lost cause.’

Talon laughed. ‘I can sing.’

‘I’ve heard you, and I’d hardly call it singing.’

‘But to what ends does all this training in the art of being a man gentle born lead?’

Caleb switched from the King’s Tongue, which they had been speaking since arriving in Krondor, to Roldemish. ‘Because in a year’s time, my young friend, you shall journey to the island kingdom of Roldem, and there you shall enroll in the Masters’ Court. And if the fates are kind, we shall establish you there as a minor noble, a distant cousin of a noteworthy family, rich in heritage but poor in resources, and as such employable.’

‘The Masters’ Court? Kendrick told me a little about it. He said the finest swordsmen in the world trained there.’

‘And that, my friend, is your task. For when you leave Roldem, you must be counted as the best of them all. You must be counted as the greatest swordsman in the world.’

Talon stared at his friend in stunned silence and rode on.