“Now I have a purpose?’’
“A far greater purpose than you suppose,” said Nakor. “There is much to learn, but you have time. I remember the impatience of youth,” he added with a grin. “You appear to me to be more patient than most boys your age, yet I know you still want questions answered, positions made clear, and motives revealed. But all in good time.’’
“Since coming under Robert’s care I have felt as if I were moving in a direction unknown to me,” Talon said. “I have grown, I think—‘’
“Much, according to your teachers.”
“Are you now one of my teachers?”
Nakor shrugged and stood up. “We’ll see. Now, I hear your new companions returning, so I’ll leave you to get to know one another.’’
As he reached the door, two young men of roughly Talon’s age entered the room. Seeing Nakor, they stepped back to let him pass, bowing their heads slightly in respect. “You have a new boy to share your quarters with,” Nakor said as he passed.
“Yes, Master Nakor,” said one of the two boys, a fair-haired, broad-shouldered boy with green eyes and a dusting of freckles across his nose.
The other young man had dark hair but was fair-skinned, and Talon couldn’t tell if he was attempting to grow a man’s beard or if he had just done a poor job of shaving the day before. He had almost black eyes, which narrowed slightly at the sight of Talon. He threw himself down on the bed against the same wall as Talon’s, while the lighter-haired boy took the bed opposite.
“I’m Demetrius,” he said. He pointed to the dark lad and said, “That’s Rondar. He doesn’t talk much.” They spoke the King’s Tongue, which seemed to be the preferred language on the island.
Rondar nodded, but kept silent.
“I’m Talon,” said Talon.
Demetrius returned the nod. “Heard of you. You managed to avoid being killed by three death-dancers. Impressive.”
Talon sat back on the bed, leaning against the wall. “I don’t even know what a death-dancer is.’’
Rondar said, “Bad.’’
“Very bad,” agreed Demetrius. “Conjured beings, using the souls of the damned. One mission, to kill a specific person. Very hard to avoid one, but three . . .”
“Impressive,” said Rondar.
Talon said, “Have you been here a long time?’’
“Five years,” Demetrius replied. “My father used to make potions and poultices in a village down in the south of Kesh, near a city called Anticostinas. Well, it was hardly a city—a big town, really. Some priests of Guis-Wa denounced him as a ‘heretic’ because he was ‘using magic,’ even though I didn’t see much magic involved, just a lot of herbs, plants, and common sense. But one night some drunks from the city came out and burned the house to the ground, killing my family. I wandered around for a while until I ran across Nakor, who showed me some tricks.
“Turns out my father wasn’t a magician, but maybe I am. So I’m here to learn.’’
“I lost my family, too,” Talon said. He looked at Rondar, who looked at Demetrius and nodded once.
“His father is the chief of a band of Ashunta horsemen down in northern Kesh. Very good horsemen—”
“Best,” added Rondar.
“—good hunters—‘’
“Best,” repeated Rondar.
Talon grinned. “We’ll see about that!’’
“—and otherwise a bunch of opinionated, unwashed barbarians who treat women like cattle and cattle like pets.’’
Rondar shrugged. “True.’’
Talon’s grin widened. “How does he get along with Miranda?’’
Demetrius laughed. “She’s educating him as to the proper respect to show to women.’’
Rondar’s expression darkened. With a sigh of resignation, he rested his chin on his arms, and said, “Painfully true.’’
Talon said, “How’d you get here?’’
Rondar rolled over. He was quiet for a moment, and then spoke as if talking at all was a trial to him. “My people are horsemen. If you can’t ride and hunt, no women. No women, no children.” He put his arm across his eyes as if remembering was fatiguing. “Men who can’t ride are . . . less. Less than men. They gather firewood, help with the cooking, raise the boys.’’
Talon glanced at Demetrius. “What do the women do?’’
Demetrius grimaced and said, “They’re property.”
“They make babies. Men raise boys.’’
Demetrius said, “It’s a close thing as to what’s worth more to an Ashunta horseman, a good horse or a woman.’’