Talon of the Silver Hawk (6 page)

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 when he returned 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 a moment, then said, “Good hunting, Talon.''

Talon nodded in response. 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 a brief second. 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 solid oak with iron bands, something more expected on a fortification than a residence, but Talon didn't pause much to think on it; he was certain that Kendrick's had been designed as much for defense as for comfort.

He lifted the heavy iron handle and pushed inward, the door swinging aside. 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, order emerged.

Lela glanced 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, seeing 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 over in the corner,
above a large metal pan he assumed was 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 glanced his way and saw him 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, practiced 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 quickly done, and as he turned around to find a rag upon which to clean his belt knife, someone threw him one. He caught it in midair and saw a grinning Gibbs 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 before one hearth, while others saw to fresh loaves of bread baking in the ovens. Suddenly Talon was overwhelmed with the aroma of the kitchen and simultaneously struck by a fierce hunger and a stab of pain through his chest, as 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, and through the doorway strode a man. He was of middle years, heavyset, with a large belly protruding over his belt—which looked more a horse's girth than a belt to Talon—breeches tucked into midcalf boots, and a voluminous white shirt, covered with spatters of food and wine. His face was almost perfectly round, his
hair black with grey shot through, tied back in a horse's tail, with long sideburns that 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, as the man was speaking Roldemish. The question snapped him out of his sadness.

The man walked purposely toward 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 me 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 laughter for a moment before the workers stifled the outburst, causing Leo to turn with unexpected swiftness, a black look crossing his visage. “You, there, Gibbs! I recognize that smart mouth. See to the slops.''

Gibbs stood erect, 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 servants' area, with another door in the wall opposite. Large side tables ran along the left and right walls. Upon one table sat a variety of dishes, bowls, goblets, and other table service. “There 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. “There will be hot dishes at suppertime. Lela and Meggie will serve.''

He pushed through the second door, and Talon followed into the center of a long hallway. The opposite wall was composed of 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 knickknacks we need,” said Leo. Pointing to the door at the left end of the hall, he said, “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 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, and Leo said, “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.” He pointed back into the kitchen, and said, “Go back and wash up. 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 guess,” 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 with a playful tone. 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 sat a pair of high-backed chairs, with eight along the length on each side. The wood was oak, but ancient, polished by years of wear and oil and rags, and it shone with a dark golden color stained by thousands of spilled wine goblets and ale mugs, giving it a varied hue from one end to the other. Leo saw the boy's expression, and 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 as he cupped his chin with his right hand in thought. “Don't know what he'd ever do had he 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 smooth.

“A thousand rags in the hands of hundreds of boys like yourself. You'll have your turn at it.” He turned and put his hands on his hips. “Now, here's what you'll be doing.” He pointed to a long side table. “In a few minutes, some large pitchers of ale will be fetched in here as well as some large decanters of wine, then you'll have your work to do. See those goblets?” he asked, pointing 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 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 to keep the goblets filled.
Should a guest have to ask for more ale or wine, Kendrick's honor 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 with ale, and wine only into those with wine in them. I have heard 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.''

With a playful slap to the back of Talon's head, he said, “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, a small hearth with another at the far left 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 side table waited, and in a moment, Lars entered carrying a huge platter with dressed-out mutton heaped upon it. In what appeared to be controlled frenzy, Meggie and Lela, with several others he had seen in the kitchen whose names were unknown to him, hurried into the room, bearing platters of steaming vegetables, hot breads, pots of condiments and honey, tubs of freshly churned butter, plates with roasted duck, rabbit, and chicken. They would move to the sideboards and place each item, hurry past one another without disturbing anything upon the tables or interfering with what was being carried, and return a moment later with another
platter. There were many items of food unlike anything Talon had seen before. Some fruits of strange color and texture were placed alongside familiar apples, pears, and plums.

Then the ale and wine were 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 door on the right across from Talon opened and a parade of well-dressed men and women entered.

They filed in, each taking a place at the table, based upon some system of rank, Talon assumed, for a man and woman stood behind the chairs at the end of the table and those who filed in after each took a place, in order. Talon saw 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 one most prominent in the building, with the second most senior chieftain on his right, the third on his left, thus and so forth until every man in the village was in his place. A change in order occurred only when a man above 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 color, and the trousers and boots were still serviceable. He stepped to the chair before the man at the head of the table and pulled it out.