but who is going to use that chance?’ asked Kendrick. ‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’
Magnus said, ‘We’re all used, in one fashion or another. Do you think for a moment my life could be any different?’
‘No, you were fated by nothing more basic than who your parents were. Your brother, however, had choices.’
‘Not that many, really,’ said Magnus. ‘Caleb had no gift for magic, but he could have been something more than a soldier.’
Kendrick said, ‘Your brother is more than a soldier. Elven-trained as a hunter, master of more languages than I know of, and as skilled a student of men as lived. I wish I’d had him with me back when we put down the rebellion in Bardac’s Holdfast; trying to get information out of the prisoners at Traitors’ Cove was no spring fair, I can tell you. Caleb can tell when a man is lying just by looking at him.’ Kendrick shook his head, ‘No, there is nothing about any member of your family that I’d count as begging. And I think it’s much the same with the boy. I think he could be many things.’ He slapped Magnus lightly upon the shoulder. ‘Just don’t ruin him by trying to make him too many things, my friend.’
Magnus said nothing. He stopped to let Kendrick move ahead of him, then turned and looked into the sky as if trying to read something in the air. He listened to the sound of the woodlands, and then cast his senses outwards. Everything was as it should be. He turned and looked back. What had briefly troubled him? Perhaps it was Kendrick’s warning about the boy. Still, a sword was not forged until the metal was heated, and if a flaw existed in the steel, that was when you found it, in the crucible. And every blade would be needed for the war to come if his father’s plan wasn’t successful.
Talon heaved the last of the flour sacks onto the pile he had been constructing. A wagon-load of provisions had arrived from Latagore and he had spent the afternoon unloading it, hauling them down the steps into the basement below the kitchen. Besides enough flour for the winter, there were baskets of vegetables and fruits imported from other lands, preserved by some fey art that Talon didn’t understand, though he had overheard enough in the kitchen to know that such magic preservation was costly beyond the means of any but the noble and wealthy.
Leo and Martha had taken command of a variety of small boxes, containing spices, herbs and condiments that the cook counted more valuable than their weight in gold. All their provisions for the winter, with what they could grow in the garden and harvest in the autumn, and what Talon and Caleb could hunt, meant a winter of good food, far beyond what the boy was used to.
‘Talon!’ came Lela’s voice from above. He hurried up the broad wooden steps, and saw her standing next to the wagon, a rapt expression on her face. ‘Look!’ She pointed skyward.
Snow was falling, tiny flakes blown about by a gentle but persistent breeze, most of them melting upon reaching the ground. ‘It’s just snow,’ Talon said.
Lela threw him a pout, one of her many expressions which caused his stomach to go hollow. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think it’s beautiful?’
Talon watched the flakes falling for a moment, then said, ‘I never thought of it. In my village, snow means months inside our houses or hunting in drifts as high as your chest.’ For some reason, just mentioning the word ‘chest’ caused his eyes to drift to Lela’s ample bosom, though after an instant he averted his eyes. ‘My toes always hurt after a hunt.’
‘Oh,’ she said in mock disapproval. ‘You have no sense of beauty. I come from a land that never sees snow. It’s wonderful!’
Talon smiled. ‘If you say so.’ He looked into the rear of the wagon and saw that it was empty. ‘I need to go tell the driver I’ve finished.’ He closed the large wooden doors down into the cellar, then moved around to the kitchen door. Once inside, he realized how cold the air outside had become, for the kitchen seemed hot and close to him.
The wagon driver and an apprentice teamster sat at a small table in the corner of the kitchen, eating the meal Martha had prepared for them. They looked up as Talon approached. ‘Wagon’s unloaded,’ he said.
The teamster, a gaunt man whose nose looked like a buzzard’s beak grinned, showing that he was missing two front teeth. ‘Be a good lad and unhitch the horses, will you? We’re not done quite yet and it wouldn’t do to leave them shivering out in the cold. We’ll be staying the night and heading back north first thing in the morning.’
Talon nodded, and turned back towards the door. Lars intercepted him. ‘You shouldn’t have to see to his team. That’s his job.’
Talon shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. No guests to worry about and it’s either see to horses or scrub pots in here. Not much to choose from.’
Lars said, ‘Suit yourself,’ and returned to his duties.
Talon went back outside. The few moments in the kitchen had turned the air outside from brisk to uncomfortable. He hurried to the wagon and led the horses to the mouth of the barn. He had developed a fair hand in dealing with the fractious animals, and while his few attempts at riding had been less than pleasant, he found stable-work easy and mostly enjoyable. The heavy wagon had been drawn by a team of four, and it took a bit of convincing to get the animals to back up enough to put the wagon neatly out of the way. He quickly unhitched each animal, took it inside and got it into a stall. Then he set to brushing each of them. Even after having stood motionless for nearly a half-hour while he unloaded, the horses were still damp from their long pull to the inn that afternoon. Steam rose from their backs as he brushed, as the air turned bitterly cold.
By the time water and fodder had been placed in the stalls, Talon knew that the weather was turning serious. He went out into the stabling yard and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting, but he could see that the clouds were growing darker and thicker and the snow more insistent. He thought the teamster and his apprentice needed to be quick on the road to Latagore or else they would find themselves in snow up to their hubs in the next few days. If they were lucky. If a big storm was heading their way, they could find themselves snowed in for the winter at Kendrick’s.
Supper passed uneventfully. After the kitchen had been cleaned and the bread readied for baking in the morning, Talon was about to retire to the room he shared with Lars and Gibbs, when Lela approached him. ‘Don’t go to your room, yet,’ she said in a whisper. She put her hand upon his arm and led him to the pantry between the common room and the dining room. She pushed the door to the common room slightly ajar.
Gibbs was sitting quietly before the hearth, staring into the dying embers as he nursed a mug of ale. Lela closed the door, a mischievous smile in place. ‘Lars needs the room for a while.’
‘For what?’ asked Talon.
Her eyes widened and she giggled. ‘For what? You don’t know?’
He frowned. ‘If I knew, would I ask?’
She playfully put her hand on his stomach and gave him a gentle push. ‘He and Meggie are there.’
Talon said, ‘Why?’ Then before she could answer, he realized. ‘They need to be alone?’ he asked.
‘Of course, you fool!’ she said playfully.
‘With my people it is different,’ he explained. ‘We live in community buildings during the winter, and often a man and woman will lie together under bearskins. Everyone else pretends not to notice.’
‘Around here we notice,’ she said. Looking at him with a glimmer in her eye, she said, ‘You look troubled. What is it?’
Talon’s mind returned to Meggie’s quirky smile and upturned nose, and the way her thin frame swayed slightly when she walked. At last he said, ‘I don’t know.’
Suddenly, Lela’s eyes widened. ‘You’re jealous!’
Talon said, ‘I don’t know that word.’
‘You want Meggie for yourself!’ she said with a merry laugh.
Suddenly