Flight of the Nighthawks (3 page)

Since then she had grown used to his ways—appearing without notice and then vanishing. He had made no promises and she had asked for none. Yet they had formed a bond and she was certain that no other woman waited for him. Why she felt so certain she couldn't say, but she was sure.

“Staying long?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” she asked.

“A number of things. I have a message to deliver to the ruling council, and they may take a while to consider their answer. So, a few days, perhaps a week.”

“Anything you can talk about?”

He smiled. “Not really. Let's just say it's another of my father's very important missives.”

“Yet you delay to come to the festival with me?” She wore a knowing smile on her lips.

“A day will make no difference.” He grinned at her. “Besides, I have my own business here.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “As you well know.”

As they approached the town square, several people greeted Marie. “Well,” she whispered after returning their greetings, “we can discuss that
business
later.”

Caleb looked at the unusually large gathering and asked, “More people have arrived?”

“Some,” she answered. “A shipping concern out of Shamata has put up a building on the edge of the south road, near the old stone bridge. They have three new families and some single men from town working for them. They're making Ellie's pa real nervous. I think that's half of the reason he's marrying her off to Miller Hodover's boy, Grame. He wants to make sure that he's secured the grain-shipment contracts up to Land's End and Krondor.”

“As good a reason for a marriage as any, I guess,” said Caleb, “if you ignore love.”

She glanced at him to see if he was being serious and found that once more she couldn't quite read his mood. Sometimes Caleb was as easy to read as a child. At other times she had no idea what he was thinking, and disappointingly this was one of those times.

They carried the kettle over to one of the large wooden tables borrowed from a nearby inn and placed it on the spot indicated by one of the women overseeing the feast. One of the other women looked up. “Marie, Caleb,” she said, smiling a thin welcome.

“Tessa,” returned Marie.

The woman, florid-faced with ale-bloom cheeks as if she were a heavy drinker, had a jowly face set in a painful smile. “Brought another kettle of your nice little soup,” she remarked, her tone condescending. Tessa was the miller's wife, and soon-to-be mother-in-law of Ellie. She was well attired and took Marie's hand disdainfully, patting it softly, and giving a slight nod. “We understand, dear.” Her tone couldn't have been more patronizing.

Caleb's smile didn't falter, but there was a slight tightening around his eyes. He said, “That's just the start.” He pointed to a fire pit burning at the opposite edge of the square. “We've also brought that oxen being roasted.” He winked sidewise at Marie so Tessa couldn't see. “And that wagon,” he added, indicating the wagon that was rolling into view. “It carries two barrels of dwarven ale from Dorgin, as well as six cases of Ravensburg wine.”

Tessa blinked like a barn owl caught in lantern light. “Really?” she said.

Caleb said nothing, merely inclining his head with a slight smile. The now-flustered miller's wife muttered something under her breath, gave a pained smile, and hurried off.

Marie turned to Caleb and said, “Why did you do that?”

Caleb shrugged. “I remember how she annoyed you at the last Banapis festival. Besides, last year all I contributed was a brace of partridges and some rabbits.”

“No, I meant why did you say ‘we' when
you
were the one who brought the oxen and the wagon?”

Caleb said, “Well, because I brought them for you.”

Marie was silent for a moment before a small smile crossed her lips, but her eyes showed no humor. “I thank you for the gesture, Caleb.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Now, shall I fetch bowls and a ladle?”

“No,” said Marie, her tone neutral. “I'll return to the house and fetch them myself. You find the boys and make sure that they're staying out of trouble, will you? I'm worried about them.”

He nodded, and moved away from the table. Making his way through the quickly gathering crowd, Caleb found himself both amused and surprised at the changes he had seen in the town since his childhood. Though his family had never lived in Stardock Town, they had visited it frequently.

Caleb's father's relationship with the ruling council of the Academy was strained, at best. Caleb had heard Pug complain about them frequently enough to fully understand the reasons behind the estrangement, but they were his father's reasons, not his own. Magnus, his older brother, was a magician like their parents, but Caleb had been the odd child out—the one who possessed no magical ability at all.

The rest of his family viewed Stardock through a haze of political strife, but Caleb saw it simply as the place where he used to have fun as a child. In Stardock he had found children like himself—ordinary boys and girls who were concerned with ordinary things like growing up, learning to love, to hate, and to forgive, trying to avoid work
and finding playmates. All the day-in, day-out things that Caleb had never encountered before.

Caleb had benefited from his unusual upbringing in many ways. Much of his childhood had been spent attending tedious classes designed for students with magical ability. Only now could he see the wisdom in this, for unlike most people without ability, he could at least sense the presence of magic. And, as the most powerful enemies facing the Conclave of Shadows were magicians, Caleb counted this ability as a good thing.

The children of Sorcerer's Isle, and even those he lived with on the island in the Great Star Lake, were caught up in magic—even their play involved it, often to the annoyance of their teachers. For most of his childhood, Caleb had been a solitary child. While he was a good runner and as adept with a ball as any boy his age, he often stood alone, watching others play the games of illusion in which he could never partake, except as the object of a cruel child's joke. His possessions often moved away when he reached for them, or items suddenly appeared to trip him up without warning.

The wounds of childhood were, at times, the deepest. As he grew, Caleb became less isolated from the other children, as their interests shifted from one thing to another. But even when he was at the heart of the mischief, he still felt different.

There had been only two places where Caleb had felt free and at peace as a child. In his tenth summer, he had been taken to Elvandar, where he lived with the elves for five years.

Caleb had learned of elven ways, and had been tutored in the sword by the Queen's consort, Lord Tomas, Warleader of Elvandar, and was taught the use of the bow by Prince Calin and his half brother Prince Calis. Although Caleb lacked the natural skill of Talwin Hawkins with the sword, he excelled as an archer. Both Tomas and Prince Calin had often remarked that Caleb was the equal of a man named Martin Longbow, who they claimed had been the finest human archer ever known to the elves.

Caleb knew the elves were not prone to flattery, so he took the compliment as a mark of his achievement for long, hard hours
of practice. It had taught him that even an impossible goal could be reached if enough effort and sacrifice were made. He also realized ruefully that the elves had never seen Talwin Hawkins shoot; he was undoubtedly Caleb's equal, if not his better. Though being the second finest human archer was still no mean feat.

Caleb held deep affection for the elves and their magical home in Elvandar, and he could speak their language well. But it was in Stardock that he had learned his first lessons about ordinary life.

He made his way through the bustling town square. If previous festivals were any indication, the boys would now be with the other youngsters near the fountain.

He acknowledged greetings from many of those he passed, for they were the same children he had played with thirty years earlier. Some of the men had grown stout and others had gray in their hair—if they still had hair. The women whom he had known as girls had matured, and those who hadn't got fat had the gaunt, lean look of too much hard work and not enough rest. A few, like Marie, had kept their looks despite the rigors of parenthood and farming.

But today they all looked reasonably happy, for it was the harvest festival, and if what adorned the table was any indication, it had been a bountiful year. Grain wagons would creak up the roads toward the Bitter Sea and barges would make their way from the Great Star Lake downriver to the Sea of Dreams and the trading docks at Shamata or Landreth. Cattle in the field were fat for the winter and the sheep looked healthy as their new wool grew in for the colder season. Everywhere he looked, Caleb saw signs of bounty: barrels of freshly picked apples, baskets of berries, cherries, and figs, all manner of vegetable, and at every farm he had passed, he had seen more chickens and pigs than he could imagine.

He remembered other years when the harvest had been poor, or the times after the troll raids, and he acknowledged silently to himself that these people were entitled to a little celebration of their good fortune. Winters were mild in the Vale of Dreams, snow having fallen only once in fifty years, and already farmers were planting winter crops that would grow nowhere else. By the time the autumn traders returned from the Kingdom and Great Kesh, with wagons of tools
and other necessary items, the second crop would be ready to feed the demand for fresh food in the frozen north. Compared to most farming communities, Stardock was wealthy, but even here a farmer's lot was not an easy one. Caleb pushed his musings aside as he turned the corner and spotted the boys. He had taken only one step before he realized trouble was about to erupt.

 

Ellie stood up and said, “If you two don't stop this right now, I'm leaving.”

The two to whom she referred were Tad and Zane, who stood confronting one another, ready to resume the brawling. The lithe girl positioned herself between them and started pushing them apart with surprising determination. This caused both boys to hesitate and gave Caleb just enough time to reach them and ask, “What is the problem?”

Both boys glanced at Caleb, then locked gazes again. Ellie gave them a final shove. She said, “These idiots have decided that it's important which one of them has the first dance with me.”

“You promised me!” shouted Tad, only a half second before Zane echoed the claim.

Caleb lost his smile. The musicians had gathered near the ale casks and were tuning their instruments. In a moment they'd start playing, and the boys would start fighting. “Your mother asked me to keep an eye on you.” Both boys regarded him, Zane's expression only slightly more belligerent than Tad's.

“It seems there was good cause,” Caleb added. He reached into his belt purse, fished out a large copper coin, and showed it to the two boys. “This is the head and this is the tail. Heads is Tad, tails is Zane.” Tossing the coin into the air, he let it fall to the ground. The boys followed its descent closely.

It landed on tails and Zane shouted triumphantly, “I get the first dance!” just as the musicians struck the first notes of the dance.

Tad started to complain, but thought better of it as he noticed the dark expression on Zane's face. Caleb had led Ellie out among the dancers and shouted back at them, “Winner gets the second dance!”

Ellie laughed as Caleb escorted her through the steps of a traditional farmer's reel. Even those not dancing were clapping their hands. When it came time for him to take Ellie's hands and lead her in a series of turns, she said, “That was quick thinking, Caleb.”

“They're getting as bad as two young bucks with green horns. What are you going to do?”

She lowered her voice a little and said, “I'm going to marry Grame.”

“That'll start a dustup,” said Caleb with a laugh. “Still, you can't very well marry both of them.”

“I wouldn't marry either,” said Ellie. “They're like brothers to me.”

As he moved behind her, placing his hands on her waist and then following her steps, he said, “They obviously don't think of you as a sister.”

“Oh, they would if there were more girls around,” she said, turning to face him before standing still as he bowed before her, ending the dance. She slipped her arm through his and said, “It's just not fair, the other girls are already spoken for, or too young.”

Caleb knew what she was thinking. Many children their age had been killed during the last troll raid. There was still ill feeling from the parents of those lost children toward the magicians for not acting sooner. Caleb had been up in the Eastern Kingdoms, working on behalf of the Conclave at the time of the raid. It had occurred nine years ago, when Ellie, Zane, and Tad had been little more than babies.

Caleb walked Ellie back to the boys slowly, reaching them just as the second song commenced. He planted a strong hand in the middle of Tad's chest as the blond boy began to protest again, and said, “Son, don't spoil a perfectly fine festival. You'll get your turn.”

Tad seemed ready to argue, but seeing Caleb's serious expression, he simply let out a slight sigh and nodded. “Yes, Caleb.”

Caleb was glad it was Zane who had won, for he was the more hot-tempered of the two and would possibly have ignored Caleb and forced him to do something the older man didn't want to do: stop him physically.

He studied Tad while Ellie and Zane danced, and watched the boy seethe. Ellie was right; they were acting contrary to their nature.

When the song was over, Ellie returned and it was Tad's turn to dance. As he had before, Caleb watched the boy not dancing with Ellie. Zane could barely contain his jealousy.

When the third song had ended, Caleb said, “I'm in the mood for something to drink, why don't you three come along?”