"I helped my mother stitch hides . . ." he let the words trail away. Any discussion of his family brought back his deep despair.
"Good enough," said Pasko, handing him a length of leather with the holes already punched. "Take this buckle-" he indicated a large iron buckle used to harness the horses into the traces of the wagon "-and sew it on the end of that strap."
Talon studied the strap for a moment and saw that it had been fashioned from two pieces of leather sewn together for extra strength. He noticed there was a flatter side. He picked up the buckle and slid it over the long strap, the metal roller opposite the tongue he placed against the flat side. He glanced up.
Pasko nodded and smiled faintly. Talon picked up the heavy leatherworker's needle and started sewing the buckle in place. When he had finished, Pasko said, "Fair enough, lad, but you made a mistake."
Talon's eyes widened slightly.
"Look at that one over there," Pasko said, pointing to another finished strap. Talon did as Pasko instructed and saw that he had made the loop where he had sewn the end together too short; this belt had triple stitching below the buckle for added strength.
Talon nodded, picked up a heavy knife and began to cut the stitches. He pulled them loose, careful not to damage the leather and then adjusted the strap so that the holes on one side would be where the first line would be stitched and the holes on the other piece would match up with the third. He carefully stitched those two lines, then added a third halfway between.
"That's right," said Pasko when Talon was done. "If you need to do something for the first time and there's an example of the work close to hand, take a moment and study what you're attempting. It makes for less mistakes, and mistakes can cost a man his life."
Talon nodded, though he thought the remark odd. After a while he said, "Pasko, may I talk with you."
"About what?"
"About my life."
"That's something you need to take up with Robert," said the servant. "He'll let you know what it is he expects as things move along, I'm certain."
"Among my people, when a youth becomes a man, another man is always ready to guide him, to help him make wise choices." Talon stopped and stared into the imagined distance for a moment, as if seeing something through the walls of the barn. "I have . . ."
Pasko said nothing, merely watching him closely.
Talon remained quiet for a long time, then he went back to working on the harness leathers. After more time passed, he said, "I was to be wed. I was to have joined the men in the long house, and I was to have joined in the hunt, planted crops, fathered children. I know what it was I was born to be, Pasko." He stopped and looked at the servant. "A man was to guide me in those things. But none of those things matter now. I'm here, in this barn, with you, and I do not know my lot in life. What is to become of me?"
Pasko sighed and put down the leather he was working on. He looked Talon in the eyes and put a hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Things change in an instant, lad. Nothing is forever. Remember that. For some reason the gods spared you among all those of your race. You were given the gift of life for a reason. I do not presume to know that reason." He paused as if thinking about what to say next, then he added, "It may be that your first task is to learn that reason. I think you should speak with Robert tonight." He put down the harness and started to walk out of the barn. Over his shoulder he said, "I'll have a word with him and see if he's of a mind to speak with you."
Talon was left alone in the barn. He regarded the work before him and remembered something his grandfather had once said to him: tend to the work at hand and set aside worrying about the work to come. So he turned his mind to the leather in his hand and concentrated on making the stitches as tight and even as he possibly could.
Weeks passed and summer became autumn. Talon sensed the change in the air as might any wild creature who had lived his entire life in the mountains. The lowland meadows around Kendrick's were different in many ways from the highlands of his home, but there were enough similarities that he felt one with the rhythm of the seasons' changes.
When he hunted with Caleb he noticed the coats on rabbits and other creatures was thickening, anticipating winter's approach. Many of the trees were losing leaves. Soon a cold snap would turn them red, gold, and pale yellow.
Birds were migrating south and those beasts that spawned in the autumn were in rut. One afternoon he heard the roar of a male wyvern, bellowing a challenge to any other male that might trespass on his range. With the shortening days a melancholy came upon Talon. Autumn meant the harvest, and putting up salted meats and fish for the winter, gathering nuts and mending cloaks, blankets, and getting ready for the harsh weather to follow.
Winter would bring a greater sense of loss, for while the harsh mountain snows could isolate a village until the first thaw, it was that time when the villagers drew close, huddling in the long house or round house telling stories. Families would often crowd together, two, three or even four to a house, comforted by closeness and conversations, old stories being retold and listened to with delight no matter how familiar they had become.
He recalled the songs of the women as they combed their daughters' hair or prepared a meal, the scent of cooking, the sound of the men telling jokes in low voices. Talon knew this winter would be the harshest so far.
One day upon returning from hunting, the coach of Count Ramon DeBarges was again visible in the courtyard. Caleb took the brace of fat rabbits they had trapped while Talon deposited the carcass of a fresh-killed deer on the back porch of the kitchen.
Caleb paused for a moment, then said, "Good hunting, Talon."
Talon nodded. As usual they had hardly spoken throughout the day, depending on hand gestures and a shared sense of the environment. Caleb was as good a hunter as Talon had seen among his own people, though there were a dozen or so in the village who could . . . who had matched his skill.
Caleb said, "Take the deer into the kitchen."
Talon hesitated. He had never set foot inside the inn, and wasn't sure if he should. But Caleb would not ask him to do something forbidden, so he reshouldered the deer and mounted the broad steps to the rear door. The door was of solid oak with iron bands, more the sort of door one might expect on a fortification than a residence. Talon was certain that Kendrick's had been designed as much for defence as it had for comfort.
He lifted the heavy iron handle and pushed inwards, and the door swung open. He followed its arc into the kitchen and discovered a world unlike anything he had seen before.
Orosini cooking was done over open fires or in large communal ovens, but never in a central location. Talon's first sense was one of chaos, and as he paused a moment, surveying the scene before him order emerged.
Lela looked up and saw him, greeting him with a quick flash of a smile before returning her attention to a large pot hanging before one of three huge hearths. A stout woman saw Lela's glance and followed it to the rawboned boy holding the carcass.
"Is it dressed?" she demanded.
Talon nodded. Then he thought to add, "But not skinned."
She pointed to a large meat hook in the corner, above a large metal pan he assumed was used to catch blood and offal. He took the deer over and hung it by the strap holding together its hind legs. Once it was in place, he turned and waited.
After a few minutes, the older woman looked over and saw that he was motionless. "Do you know how to skin a deer, boy?" she demanded.
He nodded.
"Then get to it!"
Talon didn't hesitate, but set to skinning the deer in an efficient, practised fashion. He also didn't think for a moment about who this woman was and why she should order him about; among his people, women were in charge of all food preparation and men did as they were told around the hearth, fire pits, and ovens.
He was finished quickly, and as he turned around to find a rag upon which to clean his belt knife, someone threw him one. He caught it in mid-air. A grinning Gibbs was standing before a large block upon which rested a heap of vegetables, which he was cutting with a large knife.
Behind Gibbs, Talon could see other servants cooking meats at one hearth, while others saw to the baking of fresh bread in the ovens. Suddenly Talon was at once overwhelmed by the aroma of the kitchen and by a fierce hunger which stabbed through his chest. For a moment the warm smells shocked him back into memories of his mother and the other women preparing meals.
As his eyes threatened to well up with tears, Talon saw a large door swing aside, through which strode a man. He was of middle years, heavy set with a large belly protruding over his belt-which looked more a horse's girth than a belt to Talon-breeches tucked into mid-calf boots, and a voluminous white shirt, covered with spatters of food and wine. His face was almost perfectly round, his hair black but shot through with grey and was tied back in a horse's tail. His long sideburns almost met at the point of his chin. He glanced around with a critical eye and found nothing lacking until his gaze fell upon Talon.
"You, there, boy," he said pointing an accusatory finger at Talon, though his eyes were merry and he had a slight smile on his lips. "What is it that you're doing?"
"I've skinned this deer, sir," Talon said, haltingly, for the man was speaking Roldemish. The question snapped him out of his sadness.
The man walked purposely towards the boy. "That is something which you have done," he said in an overly loud voice. "What is it you are currently doing?"
Talon paused, then said, "Waiting for someone to tell me what to do next."
The man's face split into a grin. "Well said, lad. You're the boy from the barn-Talon-is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"I am Leo, and this is my kingdom," said the man, spreading his arms in an expansive gesture. "I've served as cook to nobility and commoners alike, from Roldem to Krondor, and no man living has a complaint of my cooking."
Someone in the busy kitchen muttered, "Because they died before they had the chance." This brought a moments laughter before the workers stifled the outburst. Leo turned with unexpected swiftness, a black look crossing his visage. "You, there, Gibbs! I recognize that smart mouth. See to the slops."
Gibbs stood very stiff and said, "But the new boy should do that, Leo. I'm for the serving table."
"Not tonight, my glib Gibbs. The boy will stand at the table, and you can see to the pigs!"
As a dejected-looking Gibbs departed the kitchen, Leo winked at Talon. "That'll sort him out." He glanced over the boy's rough appearance. "Come with me."
Without waiting to see if he was being followed, Leo turned and pushed aside the large door through which he had entered. Talon was a step behind.
The room was obviously some sort of servant's area, with another door in the opposite wall. Large side tables ran along the left and right walls. Upon one table sat a variety of dishes, bowls, goblets, and other table service. "This is where we keep our dishes," said Leo, pointing out the obvious. "If we have a reason, we'll show you how to set the table for guests." He pointed to the other table, which now sat empty. "That is where the hot dishes will be at supper time. Lela and Meggie will serve."
He pushed through the second door and Talon followed him into the centre of a long hallway. The wall facing them was ranged with shelves upon which a variety of items rested: lamps, candles, mugs, goblets, an entire inventory of supplies for a busy inn. "Here's where Kendrick keeps the knick-knacks we need," said Leo. Pointing to the door at the lefthand end of the hall. "That's the common room. If we have a caravan stopping by, or a patrol from one of the local castles, it'll be full of loud, drunken fools." He pointed to the door at the right end of the hall and said, "That is the dining room, where the nobles and guests of stature eat. Tonight you'll serve in there." He paused and rummaged through the shelves until he came away with a long, white tunic. "Put this on," he said to Talon.
Talon did so and found the tunic came to the midpoint between his hip and knee. There were drawstrings at the cuff of the puffy sleeves and he tied them.
"Let me see your hands, boy," Leo demanded.
Talon held out his hands.
"I'm not the fanatic for washing up some are, but you can't be serving nobility with blood from a skinning under your nails," Leo said. He pointed back into the kitchen. "Go back and wash. Use the brush to get the blood out."
Talon moved back through the serving room into the kitchen and found a large bucket of soapy water used to clean the pots and dishes. He saw Lela standing before the wooden table Gibbs had vacated, finishing up the vegetables. He started to wash his hands and she glanced over and smiled. "Serving tonight?"
"I suppose so," Talon answered. "I haven't been told."
"You're wearing a server's tunic," she informed him. "So you're serving."
"What do I do?" asked Talon, trying to suppress a sudden nervousness in his stomach.
"Leo will tell you," Lela said with a bright smile. "It's easy."
Talon inspected his hands and saw the blood was gone from his nails. He returned to the hall where Leo waited.
"Took you long enough," said the cook, raising an eyebrow. Talon was beginning to think that this cook was a lot like his grandfather had been, playful with his scolding, never truly meaning a word of it.
"Come along," Leo said.
Talon followed him into the dining room. It was a long room with a huge table, the biggest the Orosini boy had ever seen. At each end was placed a pair of high-backed chairs, and eight ran along each side. The wood was oak and ancient, polished by years of wear and oil and rags, and it shone with a dark gold, and the stain of a thousand spilled wine goblets and ale mugs mottled the hue from one end to the other. Noting the boy's expression, Leo said, "Kendrick's table. It's legendary. Cut from the bole of an ancient oak in a single piece. Took a score of men and two mules to haul it here." He glanced up and waved his hand. "Kendrick built this room around it." He smiled. "Don't know what he'd ever do if he had to replace it. We could cut this one up with axes for firewood, but how'd we ever get another in?"
Talon ran his hand over the surface and found it extraordinarily smooth.
"A thousand rags in the hands of hundreds of boys like yourself have given it this finish. You'll have your turn at it." Leo turned and surveyed the room. "Now, here's what you'll be doing." He pointed to a long side-table. "In a few minutes some pitchers of ale will be fetched in here as well as some decanters of wine, and then you'll have your work to do. See those goblets?" He pointed to those already upon the table.
Talon nodded.
"Some of them will be filled with ale. Others will be filled with wine. Do you know the difference?"
Talon suddenly found himself wanting to smile. He kept his face straight as he said, "I've tasted both."
Leo feigned a frown. "In front of the guests you will call me 'Master Cook', is that clear?"
"Yes, Master Cook."
"Well, then, where was I?" He looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh, yes, your task is to stand upon this side of the table. This side only, is that clear?"
Talon nodded.
"Observe the guests before you. There will be six on this side, seven upon the other, and two guests will be seated over there." He pointed to the pair of chairs at the end of the table on Talon's right. "No one will sit at the other end."
"Six on this side, Master Cook," Talon repeated.
"You will be responsible for keeping goblets filled. Should a guest have to ask for more ale or wine, Kendrick's honour will be besmirched and I will view that as a personal affront. I will most likely ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you."
"Yes, Master Cook."
"Make certain you pour ale into those goblets containing ale, and wine only into those containing wine. I have heard that some barbarous people down in Kesh actually mix them, but I find that difficult to believe. In any event, mix them and I will ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you."
"Yes, Master Cook."
He gave the back of Talon's head a slight slap. "I may ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you just because you are a boy, and boys are annoying. Stay here."
With that, the Master Cook departed, leaving Talon alone in the room.
Talon let his eyes wander. There were tapestries above the sideboard behind him, and in the right corner of the room as he faced the table was one small hearth. Another lay at the far lefthand corner opposite him. Between the two they would provide ample heat for the long dining hall on any but the coldest nights.
Against the far wall another sidetable waited, and a moment later, Lars entered carrying a huge platter with dressed mutton heaped upon it. In what appeared to be controlled frenzy Meggie and Lela, along with several others he had seen in the kitchen whose names were unknown to him, came hurrying into the room bearing platters of steaming vegetables, hot breads, pots of condiments and honey, tubs of freshly churned butter and trays bearing roasted duck, rabbit and chicken. They ran back and forth bringing new platters until the sideboard was filled with food, including many items unlike anything Talon had seen before. Fruits of strange colours and textures were placed alongside familiar apples, pears, and plums.
Then the ale and wine was fetched in, and Lars remained standing opposite Talon on the other side of the table as Meggie went to the left end of the far table, and Lela went to the right end of the sideboard behind Talon.
There seemed to be but the merest pause, a moment in which to catch one's breath, to compose oneself, then the doors opened and a parade of well-dressed men and women filed in, each taking a place at the table, based upon some system of rank, Talon assumed, for a man and a woman stood behind the chairs at the end of the table and those who came in after them each took their appointed place. It seemed to Talon that this was much like the seating in the men's long house in his village. The senior chieftain would sit upon the high seat, the most prominent in the building, with the second most senior chieftain on his right, the third on his left, and so forth until every man in the village was in his place. A change in the order only occurred when someone died, so any man in the village might expect to sit in the same place for years.
Last through the door was Kendrick, dressed much as he had been the first time Talon had seen him. His hair and beard looked freshly washed and combed, but his tunic was much the same colour, and his trousers and boots were still workaday. He stepped to the chair before the man at the head of the table and pulled it out.
Talon saw Lars moving to the chair closest to the head of the table and begin to pull it out. Talon hesitated only for a moment, then moved to his right to the chair closest to the head of the table and mimicked the others, pulling out the chair with a slight turn and allowing the dinner guest-a striking woman of middle years with a lavish necklace of emeralds around her neck-to move in and be seated, then pushing the chair in slightly as the guest sat. Talon was only a beat behind the others, but he managed the task without a flaw.
He anticipated the need to move down to the next chair and repeat the action, and quickly all the guests were seated. As Talon returned to his station, he saw Kendrick watching him and Lars move back to stand by the sideboard.
The girls began serving food, and then Lars took up a pitcher of ale and a decanter of wine and moved to the head of the table. Talon hesitated and looked across at Kendrick. Kendrick glanced first from Talon to the sideboard, then back to the young man.
Talon duplicated what Lars was doing. He moved to the side of the man at the head of the table and offered him a choice of wine or ale. The man spoke in a heavily accented speech, but the words were Roldemish, and it was clear that amidst the flurry of witticism and observations he was instructing Talon to pour the wine. Talon did so, attempting not to drip upon the table or the guest.
He then moved down the row of other guests quickly filling goblets as they instructed him.
Once that had been accomplished, the rest of the evening passed without event. Throughout the course of the meal he refilled goblet after goblet and when his own pitchers and decanters were nearly empty, one of the girls took them to the kitchen for a refill.
From Talon's inexperienced point of view things seemed to be progressing smoothly. Near the end of the meal he sought to refill the goblet of the man at the head of the table, but the man indicated he wished no more by putting his hand briefly over the goblet before him. Talon had no idea what to say, so he bowed slightly and backed away.
Kendrick stood discreetly behind the head of the table, watching his staffs every move, looking for any need that was going unmet.
When the meal was over, the guests indicated they were ready to leave. Talon hurried to a place behind the first guest he had seated as he saw Kendrick and Lars do, and was only half a beat behind them in gentry pulling out the chair so the guest could rise gracefully.