Talon of the Silver Hawk
The whole of the magnificent Riftwar Cycle by bestselling author Raymond E. Feist, master of magic and adventure, now available in ebookFor four days and nights Kieli has waited upon the remote mountain peak of Shatana Higo, for the gods to grant him his manhood name.Exhausted and despairing, he is woken by the sharp claws of a rare silver hawk piercing his arm, though later he is not sure if it ever happened.Devastation greets Kieli on his return home. His village is being burned, his people slaughtered. Although it means certain death, Kieli throws himself into the battle… and survives.A distant voice echoes in his mind: Rise Up and be a talon for your people…Now he is Talon of the Silver Hawk, and he must avenge the murder of his people, at whatever cost…Talon of the Silver Hawk is the first book in the Conclave of Shadows trilogy. The second book in the trilogy is King of Foxes.
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RAYMOND E. FEIST
Talon of The Silver Hawk
Book One of Conclave of Shadows
HarperVoyager
An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 77â85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
First published by HarperVoyager 2002
Copyright © Raymond E. Feist 2002
Cover Illustration © Nik Keevil
Raymond E. Feist asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780002246811
EBook Edition © AUGUST 2012 ISBN: 9780007373802
Version: 2014â09â05
For Jamie AnnFor teaching me things I didnât know I needed to learn
Table of Contents
âDeath stands above me, whispering lowI know not what into in my ear â¦â
Walter Savage Landor
HE WAITED.
Shivering, the boy huddled close to the dying embers of his meagre fire, his pale blue eyes sunken and dark from lack of sleep. His mouth moved slowly as he repeated the chant he had learned from his father, his dry lips cracking painfully and his throat sore from intoning the holy words. His nearly black hair was matted with dust from sleeping in the dirt; despite his resolve to remain alert while awaiting his vision, exhaustion had overcome him on three occasions. His normally slender frame and high cheekbones were accentuated by his rapid weight loss, rendering him gaunt and pale. He wore only a vision seekerâs loin cloth. After the first night he had sorely missed his leather tunic and trousers, his sturdy boots and his dark green cloak.
Above, the night sky surrendered to a pre-dawn grey and the stars began to fade from view. The very air seemed to pause, as if waiting for a first intake of breath, the first stirring of a new day. The stillness was uncommon, both unnerving and fascinating, and the boy held his breath for a moment in concert with the world around him. Then a tiny gust, the softest breath of night sighing, touched him, and he let his own breathing resume.
As the sky to the east lightened, he reached over and picked up a gourd. He sipped at the water within, savouring it as much as possible, for it was all he was permitted until he experienced his vision and reached the creek which intersected with the trail a mile below as he made his way home.
For two days he had sat below the peak of Shatana Higo, in the place of manhood, waiting for his vision. Prior to that he had fasted, drinking only herb teas and water; then he had eaten the traditional meal of the warrior, dried meat, hard bread and water with bitter herbs, before spending half a day climbing the dusty path up the eastern face of the holy mountain to the tiny depression a dozen yards below the summit. The clearing would scarcely accommodate half a dozen men, but it seemed vast and empty to the boy as he entered the third day of the ceremony. A childhood spent in a large house with many relatives had ill prepared him for such isolation, for this was the first time in his existence he had been without companionship for more than a few hours.
As was customary among the Orosini, the boy had started the manhood ritual on the third day before the Midsummer celebration, which the lowlanders call Banapis. The boy would greet the new year, the end of his life as a child, in contemplating the lore of his family and clan, his tribe and nation, and seeking the wisdom of his ancestors. It was a time of deep introspection and meditation, as the boy sought to understand his place in the order of the universe, the role laid before him by the gods. And on this day he was expected to gain his manhood name. If events went as they should, he would rejoin his family and clan in time for the evening Midsummer festival.
