The Complete Conclave of Shadows Trilogy: Talon of the Silver Hawk, King of Foxes, Exile’s Return. Raymond E. FeistЧитать онлайн книгу.
long enough to have puzzled out a few things about the odd relationships between those who worked at the inn and those who stayed there. Kendrick owned and ran the inn, of that there was no doubt. Robert held some position of authority, relative to Kendrick, but Talon wasn’t quite sure what it was. Robert and Pasko would leave the inn, for weeks at a time – once for two months – then return and reside there for a while. They were currently leaving on another journey and would be gone from the inn by the time Talon returned.
Talon had tried to understand the relationships at the inn in terms of his own people for quite a while, until he decided that trying to do this was proving to be an impediment to understanding. He knew Kendrick had a son somewhere, who was rarely mentioned. He knew Leo and Martha were man and wife, but without children of their own. He also knew that Lars and Meggie were occasionally lovers, though they seemed to be going through one of their many periods of barely talking to one another. And he knew that although everyone else considered him Lela’s man, he was still unsure what Lela thought about it. He had puzzled out other relationships among the servants at the inn – those who resided either at the inn itself or on one of the nearby farms Kendrick owned in order to supply the inn with vegetables. But much of it still seemed alien to him; despite feeling some kinship with the kitchen staff at Kendrick’s, he felt isolated, deprived of the traditional ties of family and clan.
He turned his mind away from that; dwelling on his lost past only led to despair and he knew he must make the best out of what life offered him. He watched the lake grow in size as they approached; then, as they crested another rise, he saw the city of Latagore.
The midday sun threw the city into sharp contrast: edges and lines, shapes and contours. Talon’s eye almost refused to define the chaos of it; then order began to emerge. Kendrick’s had been the largest man-made structure he had seen so far, and the sheer scope of the city nearly overwhelmed his senses. The city rested upon the shore of an inlet, miles across, which gave it the appearance of having been set down by some giant hand in a crook of the shoreline.
Caleb glanced over and saw Talon agape. ‘What do you see?’
Talon knew that question. Robert asked it all the time, as did Marcus when he was tutoring Talon. It wasn’t about his impressions or feelings, but rather the detail of what he observed: facts as Robert put it.
Talon instantly became analytical. ‘The city has a wall around it, extending into the water … I’d judge a hundred yards or more into the water.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘There’s a large building in the middle of the city that rises high enough to overlook everything for miles. I don’t know what it’s called.’
‘It’s called a citadel. It was once a castle erected to defend this lake shore. The city grew up around it.’
‘There are five large … things that stick out into the water.’
‘Docks.’
Talon’s eyes wandered for a moment and then he was struck by the size of the lake. Surely this couldn’t be just a lake. It must be a sea.
Caleb’s voice jerked him out of his reverie. ‘What else?’
Talon began to list the details that appeared to his almost supernatural sight. Each time he encountered something alien he would struggle to describe it, Caleb would supply the word and he would move on.
As they passed down the road, heading towards the plain upon which the city rested, Talon lost his vantage point and was forced to rely upon memory. When they reached a stand of trees which cut off all sight of the city, Caleb said, ‘You did well. You missed things, but you’re new to this business of paying attention.’
‘Paying attention to what?’ asked Talon.
Caleb smiled – a rare occurrence – and he said, ‘Why to everything. You pay attention to everything.’
‘Why?’
They worked their way along the road, through the woods and past a meadow as Talon waited for his answer. At last Caleb said, ‘When you hunt, to what do you pay attention to?’
‘To everything,’ answered Talon. ‘The direction of the wind, the scents upon the air, the sounds of the woods, to anything that has left tracks.’
Caleb nodded. ‘Always think of yourself as being on the hunt.’
‘Always?’ asked Talon.
‘Always.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’ll keep you alive,’ said Caleb.
They rode in silence for another hour before reaching a crossroads and an inn. It was an hour after midday and Caleb said, ‘We’ll rest the horses and eat here. Then we’ll be in the city by supper.’
Talon had no argument. They had spent two days on the road, and while sleeping under the wagon had been no burden, he welcomed the idea of a hot meal.
The inn was a tiny place, a way-stop for those few people who either found themselves just a little too late in the day to reach Latagore or who, like Caleb and Talon, were stopping for a midday meal. The sign above the door showed a man holding a pitchfork in one hand and a large mug in the other. The paint on the sign was faded, but Talon could see that the man’s expression was one of sublime happiness.
‘What is this place?’ he asked Caleb quietly as the wagon ground to a halt.
‘It is called the Happy Farmer Inn.’
Hearing the wagon, a boy appeared from out the back and listened as Caleb instructed him on how to take care of the two horses. As the wagon was empty, the horses were still fit and required only water and some hay. They would need more rest and grain on the long climb back up into the hills with the wagon loaded.
Caleb led Talon into the inn and crossed to an empty table in the corner. He removed his black slouch hat and adjusted the sword at his side so that he could sit comfortably at the table, and then motioned for Talon to sit down opposite him.
A middle-aged woman with an agreeable manner approached and asked their pleasure. Caleb ordered a meal and ale for both of them and then sat back to observe the other customers.
The common room was quiet, with only four other men taking their midday ease. Two were obviously traders of some fashion, portly men in sturdy but finely-fashioned travel clothing. The other two sat at the next table, heads together, speaking quietly. They appeared to be fighting men of some stripe; both wore simple clothing – tunics, trousers and over-jackets – but no jewellery was evident to Talon. However, their boots and weapons were well cared for, which Talon took to mean they spent a lot of time walking and fighting.
Food was brought and Talon and Caleb ate in silence. The meal wasn’t as good as what was served at Kendrick’s, but it was filling and the young man found the ale satisfactory.
Before they had finished, Talon saw all four other men rise and leave together. After they had gone, Caleb asked, ‘Who do you judge them to be?’
‘Two merchants on their way to Latagore, with two guards to accompany them.’
‘A fair assumption. Though I wager something more was in the wind.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean it’s not unusual for guards to eat near their employers, at a separate table, as those two did, but they seemed intent upon a topic they wished their employers not to overhear. They spent the entire meal in deep conversation.’
Talon shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what this means,’ he said.
‘It means nothing, except that it was not “business as usual” for the guards. One didn’t touch his meal.’ He indicated the table where the two guards had sat, and Talon saw that one plate was indeed untouched.
Talon had served enough guards and mercenaries during the year at Kendrick’s to know that most of them ate whatever was in front of them as if it might be their last meal. ‘All right, Caleb. What do you