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

He had spent the first night with her in a state of euphoria. He had never imagined he could feel for any woman the way he did for Alysandra. She was sweet, warm, passionate and giving, as well as insistent and demanding in a playful and arousing manner.

They had hardly slept, save for brief naps between bouts of lovemaking. Finally, she had announced that hunger was making it impossible to sleep and he cooked while she bathed in the lake. He took a quick swim while she ate, then returned and wolfed down bread and cheese, a gulp or two of wine, and then dragged her back to bed.

Somehow between lovemaking, eating and sleeping, he had contrived to dig the cellar in the rear of the property next to the abandoned shed. He had been delighted to discover that someone had started the same project years before, and most of the hole was already dug, so that he only had to clear away years of accumulated detritus and brush, and then trim the sides, dig out steps, and measure a door.

He finished the task on the second day. The meat, ale, wine and cheese, along with a basket of fruit now rested in the cool cellar. Since then, he had devoted himself to one thing only, Alysandra.

He stepped back from the painting and made a considering noise. ‘Hmmm …’

She dropped her pose and came over to look. ‘That’s me?’

‘Yes,’ he said in mock seriousness. ‘It’ll start looking more like you as I refine the details.’

‘If you say so.’ She came around behind him and hugged him. Then she let her hands drop down along his stomach and with mock surprise said, ‘My, what’s that?’

He turned in the circle of her arms, kissed her, and said, ‘Let me show you.’

For the entire summer, they lived an idyllic life. Occasionally Master Maceus would come to review Talon’s work and would find ways to improve it; yet he never criticized. As autumn drew on, Talon was finishing his twelfth portrait, this one of Alysandra reclining on the bed.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, applying further details he had just noticed. Now he was starting to seek perfection in the work.

‘About what?’ she asked with a smile.

‘About what is to come next.’

‘Another painting?’ she said with a grin.

‘No, I mean about us.’

Suddenly her smile vanished. She stood up and quickly moved to stand in front of him. Without the slightest hint of warmth she raised her right hand and put her index finger over his mouth. ‘Shush,’ she admonished. ‘There is nothing to think about. We just are here, now, and that’s all that matters.’

‘But—’

She pressed her finger hard and there was a flash in her eyes he had never seen before. ‘I said shush.’ Then her smile returned, but there was a hardness to it that was new to Talon. She reached down and stroked him, saying, ‘I know how to make you stop thinking about things best left ignored.’

He felt a twinge of concern, for he glimpsed something in her that was alien to him, and a little frightening. Yet as always, her touch inflamed him, and moments later all concerns had fled before his passion.

The next day the rain came. They awoke to the sound of it tattooing the roof of the cottage, and Talon soon found there were half a dozen leaks to plug. He made do with wadding cloth; the roof was daubed thatch, and he would have to wait until it dried before he could patch it properly.

After eating, Alysandra rose and began to dress. He said, ‘Going somewhere?’

‘Back to the estate,’ she said in flat tones.

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘No, I’m just doing as I was told.’

‘By whom?’

‘Master Maceus. He said I would stay through the summer until you finished a dozen different portraits of me, then I was to return to the estate for other duties.’

‘What about me?’ Talon asked.

‘He said nothing about what you would do after I leave. I’ll tell him you’ve finished the paintings and I’m certain he’ll come and view the last two, then tell you what is next.’

Talon positioned himself by the door. ‘Wait until the rain is over.’

‘I can’t,’ she said, starting to move by him.

‘Wait!’ He seized her upper arm. ‘A moment.’

She looked up at him with eyes devoid of any warmth. ‘What?’

‘What about us?’

‘What about us?’ she repeated.

‘I mean, I love you.’

With a tone that could only be called impatient, Alysandra replied, ‘Talon, you’re a sweet boy and I had fun this summer, but love had nothing to do with what passed between us. I like men and enjoy the games of men and women. I think I’ve improved your education in that area quite a bit, but if you think it’s because I love you, you’re mistaken. Sadly mistaken.’

A tingling flush rose in Talon’s cheeks and his eyes felt as if they were filling with tears, but no moisture gathered. It was as if someone had struck him a blow to his belly with a mace. He felt short of breath. His mind raced, and he fought to make sense of what he had just been told, but he could not find the words. ‘Wait,’ he repeated softly.

‘For what?’ she asked, opening the door and stepping into the rain. ‘For you to grow up? I hardly think so, boy. You’ve a stallion’s constitution, and you’ve learned to pleasure me, but when I wed it will be with someone of importance, a powerful man who will shower me with riches and protect me and my children.

‘And love will never be even a remote consideration.’

With that she turned and disappeared down the path past the lake, while Talon stood gripping the door jamb so hard that finally he heard a crack of wood. He stared down at his palm and saw that there were splinters embedded in it, and then he gazed out into the deepening storm.

Not since awakening in Robert’s wagon had he felt so bereft of anything joyful. For the second time in his life he felt as if every good thing he had cherished had been taken from him.

T ALON 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?’