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

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.