Talon of the Silver Hawk (39 page)

Tal levered himself upright, placing his weight on his uninjured left leg, and got ready to fight again. But instead of the expected attack, he saw Raven riding to the south.

The murderer had had enough, and was running away, his exhausted mount barely able to sustain a trot. Tal shouted for his mare; but she took no notice. She was too far away for him to get to with his injured leg. He needed to tend his injuries, or he would faint from blood loss. He was already dizzy from the blow to his head sustained falling from his horse.

Black frustration rose up and swept over him when he spied his bow and quiver only a few yards away. As fast as he could, he hobbled over to where they lay and picked up the bow. He drew one arrow from the quiver, nocked the string, and pulled back. He judged the wind and elevation, and let fly.

He knew he would have just this one shot.

Raven never heard the arrow. He rode along, slightly hunched over the animal's neck.

Then the arrow struck. It slammed into Raven's back, between the shoulder blades, punching through the leather armour he wore.

Tal saw him go limp and drop from the horse. It was such a boneless fall that Tal had no need to walk over to the body to know that Raven was, at last, dead.

Tal's leg collapsed. He felt as if all will and strength had been drained out of him. His horse was unconcernedly cropping the grass a hundred yards away. In a minute, he would try to get her. First, he must rest a little. Just sit and catch his breath. Then he'd deal with his leg and shoulder.

His last thought before he fainted was that was the best shot he'd ever made.

He awoke to the smell of food and coffee. He was lying under blankets next to a wagon. Someone had bound his shoulder and leg. It was night.

“Coffee?”

Tal turned his head to see John Creed sitting next to a fire, while half a dozen men from his company were gathered around a larger campfire a few yards away.

Tal used his uninjured arm to lever himself up. He leaned back against the wagon's wheel. “Thanks,” he said.

Creed handed him an earthenware cup, and while Tal sipped the bitter brew, said, “Good thing we happened along. You damn near bled to death.''

“How'd you find me?''

Creed laughed. “It wasn't hard.” He handed Tal a still-warm cut of meat wrapped in trail bread and Tal discovered
that he was ravenous. He bolted the food down while Creed continued. “You littered your trail with corpses.” He pointed north. “We left the village at daybreak, maybe seven hours after you took out after Raven.” He scratched his chin. “Fact is, I figured you for a corpse yourself, but you did well, Tal Hawkins. When I saw the first body, me and a couple of the lads hurried on ahead, to see if you needed a hand. You didn't.” He chuckled again. “You most certainly didn't.

“Too bad you couldn't see the expression on Raven's face when I rolled him over. He died very surprised.” Creed chuckled. “Your arrow was sticking through him, and he had his chin down like he was looking to see what just popped through his chest. Bastard never had enough of a sense of humor, if you ask me.” He stood up and pointed some distance away. “We found you over there, just about done in. I patched you up and the wagon and the rest of the boys got here two hours ago. You can ride in the wagon until we get to Coastal Watch. That leg is nasty, but if you can keep it from getting infected, you'll be fine.''

Tal chewed his last mouthful of food and asked, “Where's the other wagon?''

“I left it at the village. We didn't need two, and I didn't think you'd mind giving it to the Orodon.''

“No, I don't.''

“They're singing some songs about you around the fires, Tal. You're a damned hero to those folks.''

Tal didn't know what to say. He thought about his own people and wondered what his life would be like had a band of men like his mercenaries ridden to Village Kulaam ten days before Raven's band and the men of Olasko had turned up. He sat back and closed his eyes. “I'm no hero. I just had to take care of some business.”

“Well, that you did,” said Creed.

“Thanks for taking care of me, John.''

“You've the makings of a fine captain, Tal. If you need men, you'll have no trouble getting them. You're fair, take care of things, and you pay better than most.''

“If I ever need a strong right hand, John Creed, you'll be the first I call.” Tal put down the cup and settled back. Sleep was coming again, he knew: his body needed rest to heal.

“You call, and I'll come,” said the mercenary with a grin. Then, looking off into the night, he asked, “What next?''

Tal gazed at the stars above. “Some rest. Then more business.”

“Well,” said Creed. “Business can wait at least for a few days. Rest while you can, I always say.''

Tal settled back in the blankets and felt sleep rising up to claim him. He thought about his family and hoped they knew some peace now.

Then he thought about the Duke of Olasko and his captain, Quint Havrevulen. Those two must also join Raven in death before Talon's family could truly rest. And it was with those unpleasant thoughts that Talon of the Silver Hawk fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Tal sipped his wine.

Nakor said, “What you did was effective, but limited.''

“Not for the Orodon,” said Tal.

He was sitting in Pug's study on Sorcerer's Isle. Magnus, Caleb, and Robert sat around a table. A merry fire burned in the hearth. Pug and Miranda were absent, away on some mysterious errand, according to Nakor.

Tal had made his way to Coastal Watch, where he had purchased passage on a ship to Salador. There he had located some old acquaintances from his time there with Caleb, and had sent word to Magnus that he had finished his business in the north.

Magnus had appeared and taken Tal to the island, using his arts as he had the first time he had transported the young boy from Kendrick's to Pug's estates. Tal had wished
more than once for that knack: he was sick of horses, ships, and coaches.

He had been back on the island for a day and already the events of the previous month seemed a distant memory. His wounds had healed, though there was stiffness in his shoulder and leg, but the healers on the island assured him there would be no permanent damage, just two impressive scars to add to his collection.

Nakor said, “You acquitted yourself well, Talon.''

“Tal, please,” he replied. “I've grown used to thinking of myself as Tal Hawkins.''

“Tal, then,” said Nakor.

“Your defense of the Orodon village was pretty effective, for someone with no formal military training,” said Magnus. “You made do with the best at hand, though I admit I wasn't entirely certain why you burned those catapults.”

Tal sat up. “I never mentioned that.''

Magnus smiled slightly. “No, you didn't. I watched you.''

“Where?”

“At Village Queala, from a nearby hillside.”

“You were there!” Tal leaned forward in his chair. “You were there and did nothing to help?” His tone was accusatory.

Caleb said, “He couldn't, Tal.''

“There is much you still do not know,” Nakor added. “But this much you should be able to understand. The magician we spoke of—Leso Varen—must remain ignorant of our part in the things you are doing. If a magician of Magnus's power had appeared and destroyed Raven, it would come to his attention immediately. You would never have been free of that connection in Leso Varen's mind.''

Tal nodded. “I don't like it, but I understand.”

“Which brings us back to the question, now, what next?” Nakor said.

“Unless you have something else you require of me, I must decide what to do about Kaspar of Olasko.''

“There is no decision to be made,” Nakor declared. “You must take service with him.''

Tal's eyes opened wide. “I cannot!''

“Why not?” asked Caleb. “Mother already has her ‘Lady Rowena' in his service. More than one agent is good.''

“I cannot be false to an oath, so I cannot take any oath I will be unable to embrace.''

Nakor said, “That is as it must be.''

“I cannot serve a man like Kaspar, even if you have some plan you think would keep me from being detected by his magician when I lie. For I will not lie and make false oath,” Tal continued angrily.

“No,” said Nakor. “You misunderstand me. When I said it is as it must be, I mean you must not make a false oath. You must make an oath with all your heart, and serve Kaspar as needed, even at the risk of your life. If you are ordered to hunt one of us down and kill us, you must endeavor to do so with all your heart and if needs be, to kill one of us.''

Tal frowned. “You want me to take wholehearted service with our enemies?” He was utterly bemused.

“Yes,” said Nakor, “for only that way can you get close enough to Kaspar to kill him when the time is right.''

Tal sat back. “I don't understand. How can I serve him without foreswearing my oath and still plan to kill him?''

“Your oath holds just so long as Kaspar holds his oath sacred,” Nakor said.

“Ah,” said Tal, smiling a little now. “ ‘It is the responsibility of the master to honor his part in fealty as much as it is the servant's.' “

Nakor said, “Have you heard the parable of the scorpion?”

“No.”

“Once a scorpion sat upon the bank of a river which was too deep and swift for him to traverse. A frog swam by and the scorpion called out, ‘Frog, carry me upon your back to the other shore!'

“The frog replied, ‘I will not, for you will sting me, and I will die.'

“The scorpion said to the frog, ‘But why would I do that? For if I were to do that, I would drown.'

“The frog considered this argument, and at last said, ‘Very well. I shall carry you across the river.'

“So the frog came to the shore and took the scorpion upon his back, and halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog.

“With his dying breath, the frog cried out, ‘Why have you done this? For now we will both die!'

“And with his dying breath, the scorpion said, ‘Because it is my nature.' “

Nakor looked at Talon. “Eventually, should you live long enough, Kaspar of Olasko will betray you, Tal. It is his nature. And when he does, you will be free of your oath, and then you may kill him.''

Tal sat back, uncertain of what to say. For a long, long time he reflected on what Nakor had said. Then he took a deep breath and nodded.

“I will go to Opardum. I will serve the Duke of Olasko.''

For many years I've
started out my acknowledgment with the Mothers and Fathers of Midkemia, and this one is no different. Each time I get to play in the world you built, I'm blessed.

Again, to all of those who have helped me survive a major change in my life over the last two years by making it better for their company, Andy, Rich, Ray and Kim, Jim and Karen, Rick and Audrey, Jim and Jenny, Mira, Leyla, Roseanna, and Rebecca, all of you, thank you. Your friendship has kept me sane, made my life richer, and returned fun to the equation.

I'd like to thank my collaborators, Janny Wurts, William R. Forstchen, Joel Rosenberg, and S. M. Stirling, for playing so nicely in my sandbox and leaving it in far better shape than
they found it. It's been a learning experience every time, and I'm a better writer for having you teach me.

And a special thank-you to my two editors, Jane Johnson and Jennifer Brehl, who for reasons well-known had to watch me burn the candle at both ends to get this one done and who kept me upright and moving forward.

Raymond E. Feist's novels include
Magician; Silverthorn; Faerie Tale; Prince of the Blood
; and
The King's Buccaneer
; as well as his
New York Times
-bestselling Serpentwar Saga:
Shadow of a Dark Queen; Rise of a Merchant Prince; Rage of a Demon King
; and
Shards of a Broken Crown
; and The Riftwar Legacy:
Krondor: The Betrayal; Krondor: The Assassins; Krondor: Tear of the Gods
. He is the creator of the immensely popular computer games “Betrayal at Krondor” and “Return to Krondor.” Mr. Feist lives in Southern California.

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