gain strength, power, knowledge of weapons, many things. He knew that his ancestors would guide him. Silver Hawk was his totem: the boy once known as Kielianapuna would be a talon for his people.
The days became routine. Each morning he would awake and eat. Pasko and he would walk, at first just around the compound surrounding the huge inn, then later into the nearby woods. His strength returned and he started helping Pasko with chores, hauling water, chopping wood, and mending reins, halters and traces for the horses. He was a clever lad and had to be shown a thing only once or twice to grasp it. He had a fierce passion for excellence.
Occasionally, Talon would catch a glimpse of Robert as he hurried about the inn, often in the company of any of three men. Talon didn’t ask Pasko to name them, but he marked them. The first Talon guessed to be Kendrick. A tall man with grey hair and a full beard, he moved around the property as if he owned it. He wore a fine tunic and a single ring of some dark stone set in gold, but otherwise serviceable trousers and boots. He often paused to give instructions to the servants – the girl Lela, and the two younger men, Lars and Gibbs. Lars and Gibbs had also been regular visitors to the barn when travellers called at the inn, for they cared for the horses.
The second man Talon saw he thought of as Snowcap, for his hair was as white as snow, yet he looked to be no more than thirty or so years of age. He was not quite as tall as Kendrick or Robert, but somehow seemed to look down at them. He carried himself like a chieftain or shaman, thought Talon, and there was an aura of power about him. His eyes were pale blue, and his face was coloured by the sun. He wore a robe of dark grey, with an intricate pattern woven at the sleeves and hem, which was just high enough for Talon to glimpse beneath it very finely crafted boots. He carried a wooden staff upon occasion, while at other times he affected a slouch hat that matched his robes in colour.
The last man bore a faint resemblance to the second, as if they were kin, but his hair was dark brown, almost the same colour as Talon’s. His eyes were a deep brown as well, and his manner and movement suggested a warrior or hunter. Talon called him the Blade in his mind, for his left hand never seemed to venture far from the hilt of a sword, a slender blade unlike any Talon had seen. He wore blue breeches tucked into kneehigh boots and a dark grey shirt over which he wore a tied vest. He also wore a hat all the time, a twin to Snowcap’s slouch hat, though this one was black. Once Talon had seen him leave the inn at sunrise carrying a longbow and that night he had returned carrying a gutted deer across his shoulders. Instantly the young man had felt a stab of admiration; hunting was considered a great skill among the Orosini.
Robert, Pasko and Talon were treated much as if they were part of the surroundings. Only Lela took a moment now and again to call out a greeting to Pasko and Talon, or to nod or wave. Lars, a stocky red-headed lad, and Gibbs, a slender older man, would occasionally speak to them, asking for a piece of tack, or assistance in holding a horse that was being tended. But both avoided any casual conversation. Most of the time, Talon felt as if he and Pasko didn’t exist in the minds of those inside the inn.
After a full month had passed, Talon awoke one morning to find Robert deep in conversation with Pasko. The young man arose quietly, and dressed, then made his presence known.
‘Ah, young Talon,’ said Robert, smiling at him. ‘Pasko tells me you’re recovering nicely.’
Talon nodded, ‘My wounds are healed, and most of the stiffness is gone.’
‘Are you fit enough to hunt?’
‘Yes,’ he answered without hesitation.
‘Good; come with me.’
He left the barn and Talon fell into step beside him. As they walked to the inn, Talon said, ‘Sir, I am in your debt, am I not?’
‘Agreed,’ replied Robert.
‘How shall I discharge my debt?’
Robert stopped. ‘I have saved your life, true?’
‘Yes,’ replied the boy.
‘If I understand the ways of your people, you have a life-debt to me, correct?’
‘Yes,’ Talon said calmly. A life-debt was a complex concept, one that involved years of service, directly or indirectly. When a man of the Orosini saved the life of another, the man who was saved was considered to be at the call of the other. It was as if he became a member of that family, but without the privileges of that membership. He was honour bound to ensure that his saviour’s family ate, even should his own go hungry. He was obliged to help bring in his saviour’s crops before his own. In every way, the rescued man was in debt to the other. What Robert was telling Talon was that he must now consider Robert his master until such time as Robert released him from service.
‘This is a heavy debt, is it not?’
‘Yes,’ Talon replied evenly.
The wind blew slightly, rustling the leaves in the distant trees and Robert was silent, as if thinking. Then he said, ‘I shall test you, young Talon. I will judge your mettle and see if you will do.’
‘Do for what, sir?’
‘For many things. And I shall not tell you half of them for years to come. Should you prove lacking, I will bind you over to Kendrick’s service for a number of years so that you may learn to care for yourself in a world other than the highlands of the Orosini, for that life is now denied you forever.’
Talon heard those words and felt as if he had been struck a blow, but he kept his expression blank. What Robert said was true. Unless others had somehow survived the attack and crept away into the mountains, he was now the last of the Orosini and no man could live alone in those mountains.
Finally Talon said, ‘And if I am not lacking?’
‘Then you shall see things and learn things no Orosini could imagine, my young friend.’ He turned as another man approached. It was the Blade, and he had a longbow across his back, and carried another in his hand, with a hip-quiver of shafts. ‘Ah, here he is.’ To Talon, Robert said, ‘This man you have seen, I am sure, for you do well in observing things; that I have already noticed. Talon, this is Caleb. He and his brother Magnus are associates of mine.’
Talon nodded at the man, who remained silent, studying him. Up close, Talon decided that Caleb was younger than he had at first thought – perhaps no more than ten years his senior, but he stood with the confidence of a proven warrior.
Caleb handed the bow and hip-quiver to Talon, who tied the quiver-belt around his waist, and inspected the bow. It was longer than the one he had learned with, and as he tested the draw, he felt Caleb’s eyes observing his every move. There was wear at one end of the string, but he didn’t judge it frayed enough to be a problem yet. Even so, he asked, ‘Extra bowstring?’
Caleb nodded.
Talon set the bow across his back and said, ‘Let us hunt.’
Caleb turned and led the way, and soon they were trotting down the path into the woods.
They moved silently through the trees. Caleb had not spoken a word to Talon yet. Half an hour into the hunt, Caleb led Talon off the path and down a game trail. The younger man looked around, marking signs in his mind to guide him back to the road should there be a need.
Caleb had led the way at a steady trot, a pace that would have been no problem for Talon when he was fit. But his injuries had weakened him and he found the pace difficult after the first hour. He was considering asking for a rest, when Caleb slowed. He had a water skin on his left hip, where his sword usually rested, and he unslung it and handed it to Talon. Talon nodded and drank sparingly, just enough to wet his throat and mouth. Feeling revived, he passed the skin back to Caleb. The silent man motioned as if asking if Talon wished to have another drink, and Talon shook his head. Looking at the rich woodlands around him, Talon reckoned he could not be far from any number of sources of water – streams, pools and brooks – but being from the high mountains where water was far more difficult to find, drinking sparingly while on a hunt was an inborn habit.
They resumed their hunt, but now Caleb led them at a walk