Raymond Feist - Talon of the Silver Hawk

‘Yes, Master Cook.’

‘Make certain you pour ale into those goblets containing ale, and wine only into those containing wine. I have heard that some barbarous people down in Kesh actually mix them, but I find that difficult to believe. In any event, mix them and I will ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you.’

‘Yes, Master Cook.’

He gave the back of Talon’s head a slight slap. ‘I may ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you just because you are a boy, and boys are annoying. Stay here.’

With that, the Master Cook departed, leaving Talon alone in the room.

Talon let his eyes wander. There were tapestries above the sideboard behind him, and in the right corner of the room as he faced the table was one small hearth. Another lay at the far lefthand corner opposite him. Between the two they would provide ample heat for the long dining hall on any but the coldest nights.

Against the far wall another sidetable waited, and a moment later, Lars entered carrying a huge platter with dressed mutton heaped upon it. In what appeared to be controlled frenzy Meggie and Lela, along with several others he had seen in the kitchen whose names were unknown to him, came hurrying into the room bearing platters of steaming vegetables, hot breads, pots of condiments and honey, tubs of freshly churned butter and trays bearing roasted duck, rabbit and chicken. They ran back and forth bringing new platters until the sideboard was filled with food, including many items unlike anything Talon had seen before. Fruits of strange colours and textures were placed alongside familiar apples, pears, and plums.

Then the ale and wine was fetched in, and Lars remained standing opposite Talon on the other side of the table as Meggie went to the left end of the far table, and Lela went to the right end of the sideboard behind Talon.

There seemed to be but the merest pause, a moment in which to catch one’s breath, to compose oneself, then the doors opened and a parade of well-dressed men and women filed in, each taking a place at the table, based upon some system of rank, Talon assumed, for a man and a woman stood behind the chairs at the end of the table and those who came in after them each took their appointed place. It seemed to Talon that this was much like the seating in the men’s long house in his village. The senior chieftain would sit upon the high seat, the most prominent in the building, with the second most senior chieftain on his right, the third on his left, and so forth until every man in the village was in his place. A change in the order only occurred when someone died, so any man in the village might expect to sit in the same place for years.

Last through the door was Kendrick, dressed much as he had been the first time Talon had seen him. His hair and beard looked freshly washed and combed, but his tunic was much the same colour, and his trousers and boots were still workaday. He stepped to the chair before the man at the head of the table and pulled it out.

Talon saw Lars moving to the chair closest to the head of the table and begin to pull it out. Talon hesitated only for a moment, then moved to his right to the chair closest to the head of the table and mimicked the others, pulling out the chair with a slight turn and allowing the dinner guest – a striking woman of middle years with a lavish necklace of emeralds around her neck – to move in and be seated, then pushing the chair in slightly as the guest sat. Talon was only a beat behind the others, but he managed the task without a flaw.

He anticipated the need to move down to the next chair and repeat the action, and quickly all the guests were seated. As Talon returned to his station, he saw Kendrick watching him and Lars move back to stand by the sideboard.

The girls began serving food, and then Lars took up a pitcher of ale and a decanter of wine and moved to the head of the table. Talon hesitated and looked across at Kendrick. Kendrick glanced first from Talon to the sideboard, then back to the young man.

Talon duplicated what Lars was doing. He moved to the side of the man at the head of the table and offered him a choice of wine or ale. The man spoke in a heavily accented speech, but the words were Roldemish, and it was clear that amidst the flurry of witticism and observations he was instructing Talon to pour the wine. Talon did so, attempting not to drip upon the table or the guest.

He then moved down the row of other guests quickly filling goblets as they instructed him.

Once that had been accomplished, the rest of the evening passed without event. Throughout the course of the meal he refilled goblet after goblet and when his own pitchers and decanters were nearly empty, one of the girls took them to the kitchen for a refill.

From Talon’s inexperienced point of view things seemed to be progressing smoothly. Near the end of the meal he sought to refill the goblet of the man at the head of the table, but the man indicated he wished no more by putting his hand briefly over the goblet before him. Talon had no idea what to say, so he bowed slightly and backed away.

Kendrick stood discreetly behind the head of the table, watching his staff’s every move, looking for any need that was going unmet.

When the meal was over, the guests indicated they were ready to leave. Talon hurried to a place behind the first guest he had seated as he saw Kendrick and Lars do, and was only half a beat behind them in gently pulling out the chair so the guest could rise gracefully.

When the last guest had left, Kendrick followed. As the door into the common room swung shut, the door from the serving room swung open and Leo strode through, shouting, ‘All right then! What are you about! Get this mess cleaned up!’

Suddenly Meggie, Lela, and Lars were grabbing platters and dishes off the tables, and Talon did likewise. They hurried back and forth between the dining room and kitchen and the task of cleaning began.

Talon quickly sensed a rhythm in this business, a matching of task to person, and he found it easy to anticipate what to do next. By the end of the night’s work, he felt comfortable in the tasks asked of him, and knew that he would be even better able to execute them the next time he was asked.

As the kitchen staff prepared for the morning meal, several staying to prepare the morning’s bread, Lela came to him and said, ‘Before you sleep, Kendrick wants to see you.’

He looked around. ‘Where?’

‘In the Common Room,’ she replied.

He found Kendrick sitting at one of the long tables before the bar with Robert de Lyis, both of them enjoying a mug of ale.

Kendrick said, ‘Boy, you are called Talon?’

‘Sir,’ said Talon in agreement.

‘Talon of the Silver Hawk,’ supplied Robert.

‘That is an Orosini name,’ said Kendrick.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘We have seen a few of your people here from time to time over the years, but usually you tend to stay up in your mountains.’

Talon nodded, uncertain whether an answer was required.

Kendrick studied him a moment in silence, then said, ‘You hold your tongue. That is a good quality.’ He rose and came to stand before Talon as if seeking to see something in his face up close that he could not see from a distance. After a brief inspection, he asked, ‘What did Leo say you were to do?’

‘I was to pour wine into wine goblets and ale into ale goblets.’

‘That was all?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Kendrick smiled. ‘Leo thinks it amusing to toss a boy into service without much preparation. I shall have to have words with him again. You did well enough, and none of the guests realized you were not experienced.’ He turned to Robert. ‘I will leave him to you. Good night.’

Robert rose and nodded in farewell, then motioned for Talon to come sit.