"That was Regar, a C'ahlozian. You will find many people here who look nothing like you or me, Talon. Just remember they are still people. You would be as out of place in his homeland as you think him to be here."
Talon said, "Before I met you, Magnus, I would have thought him a thing of campfire tales, and when I saw him during my illness, I thought him part of a fever dream. Now, I begin to think little can surprise me."
"Oh, just wait a bit, my young friend. There are surprises aplenty waiting for you. But for now, just enjoy the warm afternoon and walk around these grounds for a while. You need to rebuild your strength."
As they walked slowly around the compound, Talon caught a glimpse of people scurrying here and there upon errands, most looking very normal, but one or two decidedly not. The walk caused him some shortness of breath, so he saved his questions for later, but he did manage to pause long enough to ask, "Magnus, who was trying to kill you?"
"That, my young friend," replied the magician, "is a very long story."
Talon smiled; it hurt too much to laugh. "I don't seem to be going anywhere for a long while."
From behind him, a voice said, "A sense of humour. That's good."
Talon turned and saw a small, frail looking man standing behind them. He was bald-headed and wore a simple tunic that closed over his left shoulder, leaving the right bare. Upon his feet were cross-gartered sandals, and he held a staff in his left hand. Across his shoulder hung a bag, and his face appeared ancient, yet possessed an almost childlike quality. Dark eyes studied Talon, eyes with a strange, almond-shaped cast to them.
Magnus said, "Talon, this is Nakor." With a slight change in tone that Talon didn't quite understand, Magnus added, "He's one of my . . . teachers."
Nakor nodded and said, "Some of the time. At other times I felt more like a cell guard. Magnus when young was quite a troublemaker."
Talon glanced at Magnus, who frowned, but didn't dispute the claim. Magnus appeared about to say something, but it was Nakor who spoke.
"As for your question, young fellow, it's quite a tale, and one that you'll need to hear, but not right now."
Talon looked from face to face, saw a silent exchange between the two men, and realized that somehow Nakor was telling Magnus not to speak any more on the subject of the attack.
Nakor said, "Magnus, I believe your father wanted to speak to you."
Lifting an eyebrow slightly, Magnus replied, "No doubt." Turning to Talon, he said, "I'll leave you to Nakor's tender mercies and advise you not to wear yourself out. You've been badly injured and need rest and food more than anything."
Nakor said, "I'll see him back to his room."
Talon bid Magnus good day and turned back towards his own quarters. His legs were trembling by the time he got back to his bed, and Nakor helped him get in.
There was something about the seemingly frail little man that intrigued Talon. He was certain there was a great deal of strength to him, and more. Yet Magnus's former teacher had said nothing as they walked back.
"Nakor?"
"Yes, Talon?"
"When will I know?"
Nakor studied the young man's face, and saw how he fought to keep his eyes open. When fatigue finally overwhelmed Talon, and his eyes closed, Nakor answered. "Soon, Talon, soon."
A week went by and Talon's strength returned. He watched with interest as his bandages finally came off and discovered a set of scars which would have done any senior member of his clan proud. Not yet twenty years of age, he looked like a veteran of many battles, a man twice his age. For a moment he felt a profound sadness, for he realized there was no one among his people to whom he could reveal these marks of a warrior. And as his hand strayed absently to his face, he realized that even if any such survivor existed, he had no tattoos upon his face to reveal that he was of the Orosini.
Miranda removed the last bandage and noticed the gesture. "Thinking of something?"
"My people," said Talon.
Miranda nodded. "Many of us come from hardship, Talon. The stories you might hear on this island alone would teach you that you are not alone." She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand in hers. "Some here are refugees, fleeing from murder and bloodshed, much as you have, and others are survivors, as you are, who have also lost everything of their homes."
"What is this place, Miranda? Magnus avoids my questions, and Nakor always turns the conversation to something . . ."
"Frivolous?"
Talon smiled. "He can be funny at times."
"Don't let that grin fool you, boy," Miranda said as she patted his hand. "He may be the most dangerous man I've met."
"Nakor?"
"Nakor," she echoed, standing up. "Now, wait here and rest a bit longer, and someone will be along shortly."
"For what?" he asked, feeling very restless and wanting to get out of the room.
"To take you somewhere."
"Where?"
As she left his quarters, she said, "You'll see."
Talon lay back upon his bed. His body was stiff and aching, and he felt the need to be out doing something, if only for a little while, to stretch his muscles and force air deep into his lungs. He wanted to run, or climb, or stalk a deer in the woods. Even fishing would be welcome, for the hike down to the beach and back would work up a sweat.
Talon closed his eyes and drifted off into his memories-of the men sitting around telling stories before a bright fire in the long house. He thought of the cleansing rituals, for which special buildings were constructed as the snows receded from the slopes of the mountains, where billowing steam from heated rocks would engulf the gathered groups of ten or more men and women, boys and girls who would chant a welcome to the spring and then remove the winter's accumulated dirt and grime.
He thought of his father and mother and sadness rose up in him. The harsh bitterness he had felt for the first year after the destruction of his people had been replaced by a quiet wistfulness, a resignation to the fact that he was the last of the Orosini and that to him fell the burden of revenge, but beyond that point, his future was unknown to him.
He was drifting, half in a doze, when suddenly he felt someone enter the room.
His eyes snapped open and his heart raced, then he looked up into the face of a young woman he had never seen before. Her face was dominated by the most startling blue eyes he had ever seen, large and the colour of cornflowers. Her face was delicate, with a fine chin, full mouth, and almost perfectly straight nose. Her hair was the colour of pale honey, with lighter streaks from the sun. She wore a simple blue dress, with bare arms and a scooped neckline, one he had seen many of the women at this place wearing, but on her it looked magnificent, for she had a tall, slender body and moved like a hunter.
"You are Talon?"
"Yes," he said, having to force that single word through his teeth, for she took his breath away.
"Follow me," she said.
He rose and followed her as she left the room. Outside, he managed to catch up enough to walk next to her and asked, "What is your name?"
She turned and regarded him with a serious expression, dipping her chin slightly as if to see him better. Then she smiled and suddenly her face seemed alight. She spoke in soft tones, her voice almost musical, as she answered, "I am Alysandra."
He could not think of anything to say. She robbed him of words. Any memory he had of Lela or Meggie vanished before the beauty of this young woman and suddenly an ache sprung up in his stomach.
They crossed a large courtyard and moved towards part of the main house that Talon had never visited before.
All too quickly, she turned and said, "In there," pointing to a doorway. Then, without waiting, she departed, leaving him standing open-mouthed as he watched her retreat across the courtyard, everything about her tightening the knot in his stomach. He watched for what seemed only an instant and then she vanished through a doorway and he was left alone before the door.
After a moment he gathered himself and regarded the door. It was a simple thing of wood with a single handle. He gripped the handle and entered.
Three men stood in an empty room. Two of them Talon recognized: Nakor and Robert.
"Master!" Talon said in surprise.
Robert nodded and said, "Stand there, Talon." He pointed to a spot in the middle of the room.
The third man was short, with a beard and dark hair, and he regarded the young man with a gaze that caused Talon some discomfort. There was no mistaking that this man had power. His bearing alone showed that, but there was more to it than that. In the time spent with Magnus and Robert before him, Talon had come to sense something of the magic arts in a man, and this man fairly reeked of them.
He spoke. "My name is Pug. I am also called the Black Sorcerer."
Talon nodded, saying nothing.
Pug continued. "This is my island and all who dwell upon it are my friends and students."
Robert said, "Pug was my teacher, as was Nakor, Talon."
Talon remained silent.
Nakor said, "The attack of the death-dancers has changed things, boy. We had been evaluating your progress and were waiting to judge you."
Talon again remained silent, but his eyes spoke questions.
Robert went on, "You were being judged to see if you were going to stay in my service, until such time as I discharged you from your blood debt, Talon; or to see if you were perhaps gifted enough that you might be invited to join this company, here upon the island."
Finally Talon asked, "What company, Master?"
The three men exchanged glances, and Robert said, "We are called the Conclave of Shadows, Talon. Who we are you shall learn in time, if you are accepted into our ranks. What we do will also be made clear to you."
"But before you can be told these and many other things," said Pug, "you must choose to join us. Your debt to Robert will be considered discharged, and you will be a free man, free to do as your conscience bids you-though you will also have obligations to the Conclave.
"But with those obligations come benefits. We have wealth, enough to provide you with whatever you need for the rest of your life. We have powerful allies, so that you may move easily among nobles and men of power should there be a need."
Nakor continued, "But we also have powerful enemies. The death-dancers represented a single attempt among many to remove one of our more important members. Had they succeeded in killing Magnus, our cause would have suffered for years to come."
"What am I being asked to do?"
Robert said, "You are being asked to swear an oath of loyalty, not to me, but to the Conclave, Talon. You will leave this room as a member of our society, and with that oath will come benefits and responsibilities we have as yet only hinted at."
Talon said, "It sounds as if I am being given a choice in the matter."
Nakor said, "You are."
"What is my other option?"
Pug glanced at Robert and Nakor, then replied, "Death."
CHAPTER TEN - Decision.
Talon stood in silence.
His eyes moved from face to face as he studied the three men and sought to glean some clue from their expressions as to what was expected of him.
All three of them waited motionlessly, their faces revealing nothing of their thoughts. Pug seemed to be watching him as if trying to read his mind. Robert appeared simply to be waiting to see what he would say. Nakor was clearly attempting to interpret something from Talon's posture, his expression, or any other physical sign of a reaction to the choice just put before him.
After a long silence, Talon said, "There is apparently no choice."
Robert said, "No, there is always a choice. What we have come to, however, is a very difficult choice." He paused, then said, "Pug here is my teacher, and the leader of our community."
Pug studied Talon for a moment, then smiled. When his features relaxed, he suddenly looked years younger than Robert, his student. "You were never meant to come here, Talon. My son brought you to the north shore of the island to isolate you and concentrate on your studies, and to evaluate you more." The magician waved his hand and candles set in a metal ring suspended from the ceiling sprang to life so that the room was fully illuminated. Robert and Nakor moved to the corners of the room and returned with four stools. Robert placed one behind Talon and then the other next to Pug and the three interrogators sat down. Pug indicated that Talon should do likewise.
Talon did so and then said, "You'd really kill me if I say no?"
"No," said Pug, "but you would 'die' in a sense. We would be forced to remove your memories. We would not be unkind in the process. You would simply fall asleep and when you awoke, you'd be someone else. A young man who suffered an injury in a war, perhaps, or from falling off the roof of his home.
"People who would claim to have known you all your life would welcome your return to lucidity and would quickly remind you of the knowledge you lack. We can arrange for it to be very persuasive and in time, you would come to believe that is who you are."
Talon said, "But in a way you are right: Talon of the Silver Hawk would be dead."
Robert nodded.
Nakor said, "The last of the Orosini would be lost."
Talon remained silent for a long while, pondering this. At last he said, "Tell me more, so that I can choose wisely. I have no desire to lose my knowledge of who I am-though forgetting the death of my people might seem a blessing at times-but I have debts I must repay, and I can not ignore those."
Robert spoke. "Should you choose to serve, your debt to me would be considered discharged."
"There is another," said Talon.
Pug nodded. "You have a blood-debt."
"To my people. Had it been only one member of my family or clan, I would still have hunted them down until each had been repaid in kind for his deeds. But these men destroyed my race, for unless anyone has managed to elude death without my knowing of it, I am the last of the Orosini." He nodded in Nakor's direction. "I cannot die, in either sense of the word-in body or memory-until they are avenged."
Nakor said, "We are not necessarily at cross-purposes here." He glanced at Pug and said, "May I?"
Pug nodded.
Nakor sat back on his stool, reached into a pack he carried on his hip and pulled out an orange. Then he dug a thick thumbnail into it. He glanced at the other two men and raised an eyebrow. Both of them shook their heads, just a little, and Nakor returned his attention to Talon.
"You see before you the leaders of a group of people," Nakor began. "This place, this island home, was once the refuge of a nation fleeing a war, or so the story goes. Later it was home to the first Black Sorcerer, a man named Macros. Miranda is his daughter. Pug is Miranda's husband. They are mistress and master of this island, Talon. You've met both their sons.