Talon looked around, and his eyes grew wide as he saw a creature with blue skin and silver horns carrying a large basket of wet laundry around the corner and into a building. “What was that?” he asked.
“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 humor. 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 toward 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?”