The Complete Conclave of Shadows Trilogy: Talon of the Silver Hawk, King of Foxes, Exile’s Return

Robert said, ‘Talon, you’re to go with Magnus. Do as he bids as if he was speaking for me. I will see you again, but not for a while.’

‘Where am I going?’ Talon asked as all vestiges of sleep fell away from him.

‘Everything will be explained to you after you arrive.’ Robert’s manner precluded any more questions.

Magnus moved towards the kitchen saying, ‘Follow me.’

Talon did so, passing through the kitchen where Leo and Martha were preparing the day’s food. He followed Magnus into the courtyard, where the magic-user said, ‘Stand next to me and hold onto my staff.’

Talon stood next to Magnus, shifting his pouch and clean clothing into the crook of his left arm so that he could grip the staff with his right hand.

Without a word, the magician withdrew a device from the folds of his robe, a sphere made from a metal that had a sheen of bronze or, perhaps, even gold. Talon saw Magnus depress a lever in the side with his thumb and the sound of a hive of angry bees engulfed them.

Talon felt as if the world had dropped away from his feet. His heart leapt into his throat. For a moment he thought he had gone blind, but rather than blackness, he found he could see a profound grey, a void of absolute nothingness. Then the ground was back below his feet, but felt as if it was shifting. He gripped Magnus’s staff hard to keep himself from falling. Suddenly he had the distinct feeling that he was far from the inn. It was still night. And he could smell a strange tang in the air, a pungency he had never encountered before, and in the distance there was an odd sound, like thunder, but low and rolling, repeating itself regularly as he listened.

The magician watched him for a moment then said, ‘You’re hearing the breakers.’

Talon looked at him in the darkness. Magnus’s features were hidden in the shadow of the brim of his slouch hat and the only light upon him was from the small moon which was setting. ‘Breakers?’

‘Waves breaking upon the rocks.’

‘We are near the sea?’ Talon asked, realizing as he spoke that it was a stupid question.

But Magnus did not chide him for his disorientation. ‘Come,’ he said.

They walked down a path and up a rise, and found themselves before a small hut. For some reason the sound of waves upon the rocks here was louder. ‘At sunrise, you’ll be able to see the north shore of the island from here,’ Magnus said and entered the hut.

Talon followed and found himself in a small room inside a daub and wattle building, a thatched roof above his head. The floor was earth, but it had been hard packed. As he moved forward, he saw a faint shimmer of light reflected from the low fire in the stone hearth. He knelt and touched it.

Magnus put his staff in the corner, removed his hat, and took off his travel pack. Glancing back at Talon, he smiled. ‘Noticed the floor,’ he observed.

‘What is it?’

‘Rock. It was mud, but a very clever spell turned it to rock. I was trying for something a little closer to marble, but somewhere in the cantrip I neglected a phrase.’ He shrugged. ‘It is a bit of vanity on my part, really.’ He motioned with his hand towards the walls and roof. ‘The walls will never need to be reworked or the thatch replaced.’

In the room were four items: a huge chest, a table with two chairs, and a pallet on the floor. ‘That is my pallet,’ said Magnus. ‘You will sleep in front of the hearth.’

Talon nodded. He held out his belongings and asked, ‘Where shall I put these?’

The magician raised an eyebrow as he inspected the young man’s scant possessions. ‘Use the clothing as a pillow. Put the belt-purse anywhere out of the way.’

Talon nodded and looked around. One corner next to the hearth housed tongs, a kettle and a broom, but the other was empty. He placed his little bundle of clothing in a pile in this empty corner.

‘Come outside,’ said Magnus.

When they were standing under the night sky, he said, ‘You are not a stupid boy. Look at the stars and tell me where you think we are.’

Talon gazed up and compared the sky to the one he had known as a child in his homeland mountains. He took in the small retreating moon and glanced to the east, where a glow heralded the rising large moon. ‘It is four hours until dawn,’ he observed. ‘It was dawn at Kendrick’s when you woke me.’ He knew the barest geography, having seen only a few maps at Kendrick’s as Robert studied them. But using what little knowledge he had, he said at last, ‘We are upon an island in the Bitter Sea.’

‘Good. How did you deduce this?’

‘We are west of Kendrick’s, or else it would have been daylight, or if we were far to the east, it would be late in the day, or early in the night and Little Moon would be low in the eastern sky, rather than setting in the west. But we are not far enough west to be beyond the Straits of Darkness and in the Endless Sea. We are … south of Kendrick’s.’

‘Good,’ repeated Magnus.

‘May I know why I’m here?’ asked Talon.

Magnus said, ‘Grip the staff again, and do not let go for any reason.’

Talon gripped the staff, and suddenly felt himself shoot into the air, as if carried aloft by a giant’s hand. The ground fell away with dizzying swiftness and they soared up through the clouds.

Then they stopped and Talon knew without looking that his knuckles were white, for he was holding onto the staff with all his strength.

‘Behold the world, Talon of the Silver Hawk.’

In the east, the rising Large Moon bathed the distant landscape in silvery relief. The air blew briskly, but Talon shivered for other reasons. He was terrified.

Yet he maintained his poise and glanced around him. The island below was hidden in clouds and darkness, yet he had a sense of size as they had shot upward. The hut was on the north shore of the island, and the land had dropped away to the south, perhaps into a valley. Talon knew little of oceans and islands, save what he had glimpsed on Robert’s maps, but he judged it to be a fair-sized place – more land than the woodlands around Kendrick’s if he could judge such things.

After a moment, his fear abated and he looked in all directions. The rising moonlight played upon the clouds below them, and the sparkling of the sea to the north showed him the curve of the planet.

‘So big,’ he said at last.

‘Good,’ said Magnus as they started to descend. ‘You’re learning perspective.’ When they were safely on the ground again, he went on, ‘The reason you’re here, Talon of the Silver Hawk, is to learn.’

Talon said, ‘Learn what, Magnus?’

The magician put a hand on Talon’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘As much as I can possibly teach you.’ Then, without another word, he turned and entered the hut, and after hesitating for a moment, Talon followed him into what was obviously going to be his new home for a while.

Talon read the passage aloud for the fifth time, with Magnus listening closely. When Talon had finished the magician said, ‘That is satisfactory.’

For the first month since arriving on the island, Talon had been forced to read aloud, with Magnus correcting his grammar and his pronunciation, his inflection and tone. Talon knew from having heard Count Ramon of Roldem speaking that Magnus was attempting to make him sound as much like a noble of Roldem as possible.

‘This is something new,’ said Magnus, holding out a book.

It was written in a script unknown to Talon. ‘What is it?’

‘It is a rather dull book on the life of a minor king of the Isles, Henry the Third. But it is simply written and shall be your introduction into reading and writing the King’s Tongue.’

‘Magnus, can I take a break from this?’

‘Break?’

‘My mind is swimming and the words on the page are just a blur. I have been inside this hut for a week. My last venture outside was a walk to the beach for an afternoon while you were gone.’

There was a peevish quality to Talon’s voice that was unusual for him. The magician smiled thinly. ‘Restless, are you?’

‘Very. Perhaps I could go hunting?’ He paused. ‘If you had a bow …’