Talon slowly put his sword away, not taking his eyes from Creed. “He looks . . .”
“He looks like someone else, so you just go witless and forget everything you’ve been taught, is that it?’’
Talon studied the man, attempting to fit him into the images that still were vivid in his memory and gradually realized how foolish he had been. Creed was a brawny man with black hair that hung to his shoulders. His nose had obviously been broken more than once and was little more than a distorted lump in the center of his face. His mouth was topped by a drooping moustache. His face was unremarkable, except for his eyes, which were narrowed as he studied his erstwhile attacker. Talon recognized his eyes; they were like Caleb’s, dark and intense, and they didn’t miss a detail of what they saw. This man resembled one of the men who had destroyed his village, one of the men Talon had surprised before he was shot with the crossbow bolt, but he wasn’t the same man.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Caleb.
“Don’t tell me. Tell him.’’
Talon moved past Caleb and stood before John Creed. “I was wrong. I am sorry.” He looked the mercenary straight in the eyes.
Creed was silent for a moment. Then the left corner of his mouth moved upward, and with a crooked smile he said, “No harm done, lad. A hot temper is a sign of youth. You’ll outgrow it . . . if you’re lucky to live long enough.’’
Talon nodded. “I acted rashly.’’
Creed continued to appraise the boy. Finally, he said, “Raven’s men must have done you quite an injury for you to go flying off the handle like some loose ax head.’’
“They did,” was all Talon said.
“Well, if you’re looking for Raven and his bunch, word is he’s been working for the Duke of Olasko for the last few years. Young Kaspar has them involved in some difficulty down in the Disputed Lands, bumping heads with the Duke of Maladon and Simrik’s men. So you’re in the wrong end of the world if you’re trying to find Raven.’’
Caleb said, “Let us buy you a drink, to make amends.’’
“Thanks,” said Creed.
Caleb looked around the crowded inn, which was returning to a semblance of normalcy now that the potential confrontation was halted. Caleb instructed the innkeeper to provide Creed with a drink, then took Talon by the elbow and moved him through the crowd. At a corner table he half pushed the lad down into a chair. He looked at the boy for a long while. After a few minutes of silence between them, Caleb said, “For someone who is normally thoughtful and reflective before acting, you were as rash as a man can be.’’
Struggling with the frustration and rage that were bringing him to the edge of tears, Talon nodded. “I saw that man . . . and something inside just rose up and overwhelmed me. I was certain he was . . . one of the men I fought when my village was destroyed.”
Caleb signaled for a serving girl to bring them drink and food, then removed his gauntlets and threw them on the table. “You’re young. As Creed said, you’ll outgrow the rashness if you live long enough.’’
Talon remained silent. The drinks and food appeared, and they ate without discussion. Talon brooded upon what had occurred, and as they finished eating, he said, “Caleb, why didn’t you tell me?’’
Caleb said, “What?’’
“That you knew who it was that raided my village?’’
Caleb’s eyes flickered only for an instant, but Talon knew he had caught him out. “You told me about the raid, many times,” he replied.
“But you never told me their leader was called Raven. You knew who they were!’’
Caleb let out a long sigh. “Very well, Raven and his company are well enough known. I guess it never occurred to me that you needed his name.’’
“There’s something else. What is it?’’
“Nothing.” Caleb spoke softly, but his eyes warned Talon not to press the matter.
Calmly, Talon said, “You know. Tell me.’’
Caleb regarded the young man for a while, then he said, “Not today.’’
“When?”
“When you’re able to understand.”
“Among my people I have been a man for nearly two years, Caleb. If . . . my village still existed, I would almost certainly be a father. What is so difficult to understand here?’’
Caleb sipped at his ale. Finally, he said, “There are many more things involved in such a choice than I can reveal to you. I judge you able in many things, Talon. More able than most your age, and even than some twice your years, but the decision wasn’t mine alone.’’
“Whose, then? Robert’s?”
Caleb nodded. “He is responsible for your training.”
Talon turned his head slightly, one eye fixed upon Caleb. “Training for what?’’
“Many things, Talon,” said Caleb. “Many things.’’
“Such as?’’