“What do you mean?”
“If you trusted him, why didn’t you ever talk to him about the harp? Why didn’t you discuss your plans with him?”
“What makes you think—”
“I heard some of his talks with Talerith. He was worried about you, Emereck.”
Emereck stared. “Worried about me? But he was the one—”
“How do you know?”
“The way he was acting…”
“Was it so different from the way you were acting?”
“He never said anything.”
“Neither did you. That’s what I mean.” Liana shook her head. “You don’t trust anyone when it comes to that Demon-cursed harp.”
Emereck blinked, surprised and hurt by the bitterness in her voice. “I-I trust you, Liana.”
“Do you?” Liana said evenly.
“You’re the only person I know doesn’t want the harp.”
“Do you?” she said again. “You haven’t been acting like it.”
“I don’t under—” Emereck stopped, then went on in an altered tone, “I couldn’t tell you I had it with me. Surely you see that! It was too dangerous.”
“Was it any less dangerous for me to come with you, not knowing about it?”
“I tried to make you stay in Minathlan!” Emereck responded, stung. “But would you listen? No, you insisted on following me whether I wanted you to or not! You’re stubborner than Flindaran ever was.”
“Probably,” Liana said calmly. “But I wasn’t complaining about the risk. I was simply asking whether this trip would have been any more dangerous for me if you’d told me about the harp that first morning, when I caught up with you.”
“I suppose not,” Emereck said after a moment’s hesitation. “But the harp isn’t…”
Liana made a small, exasperated noise. “If the Harp of Imach Thyssel is too powerful to even talk about with anyone else, then it’s too powerful for you to handle alone.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? All I want is to get back to the Guild-Hall in Ciaron and let the Masters have it!”
“And in the meantime you’re going to curl up in a shell, like a garden-snail?”
“The Harp of Imach Thyssel is too important to take chances with.”
“So you trust me as long as it isn’t too important.” Liana stopped and her expression changed. She shook her head in apology. “I’m sorry, Emereck. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“I deserve it,” Emereck said. “I wanted to tell you about the harp, but we were still so close to Minathlan… I should have trusted you, but I wouldn’t let myself. I couldn’t take the chance.”
“The way you want to trust Kensal now, and won’t let yourself?” Liana said softly.
“I—” Emereck paused. “I don’t know.” He looked at Liana through the growing gloom. “Do you think I should give the harp to Kensal, then?”
“No. But I think you ought to think about it a little more, instead of just rejecting it out of hand.”
Silence fell. Slowly, Emereck finished his meal. Liana made no move to leave; she sat gazing into the deepening twilight with a look of abstraction. Emereck sighed. How could one small woman, hardly more than a girl, make him feel so confused and uncertain? He wanted to shake her; he wanted to shout at her; he wanted to tell her… tell her… he didn’t know what he wanted to tell her.
His eye fell on his harp. Almost without thinking he picked it up and began to play, an old country song from somewhere in the north.
“Oh, where are you going this warm summer day?
How long will you travel alone on your way?
What wish set you walking on what private quest
That keeps you from dancing at home with the rest?
What goal do you look for, that drives you so fast?
And what will you do when you find it at last?
I go where my love goes, I follow her song.
I’ll walk ’til I find her, no matter how long.
I wish for her laughter, the smile she can’t hide
I lost it because of my anger and pride.
My love is my goal, and that we’ll never part
I’ll ask her forgiveness, and offer my heart.”
The last notes of the plaintive melody lingered in the air. Emereck looked up to find Liana watching him with a slight smile. He set the harp carefully aside, as though it was the harp and not the mood that he feared would break. There was a long silence. Finally he took a deep breath. “Liana, I— Well, I’m sorry. About everything—the harp, and Flindaran, and…”
There was a rustle in the darkness as Liana leaned forward. “Hush,” she said, and kissed him.
For a long moment Emereck forgot about Flindaran, the Harp of Imach Thyssel, the Syaski, and everything else. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away. “Liana, I wish— If it weren’t for that blasted harp…”
Liana looked at him. “I don’t see what the harp has to do with it.”
“It has everything to do with it.” Emereck swallowed hard. “I can’t make any promises until this business with the harp is settled, one way or another.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might have to break them, or worse. I’m already responsible for Flindaran’s death—”
“That’s the silliest statement I’ve ever heard. In the first place, it was an accident, and in the second place he was trying to steal your precious harp. If anyone was responsible for his death it was Flindaran himself! And I don’t see what it has to do with kissing me.”
“Will you listen? I’m stuck with the harp. With all the wizards and Syaski and who knows what else looking for it, there’s a good chance I’ll be killed before we get to Ciaron. And even if I make it…”
“Yes?”
Emereck sighed. “I’m a minstrel; music and stories are all I know. After the way I’ve bungled this whole business, I’ll be surprised if the Guild-Masters don’t throw me out.”
“You’ve done the best you could. They’ll know that.”
“Maybe. And maybe not. But either way, I can’t make promises, or ask for them, until… until I know whether I have anything to offer.”
Liana looked at him until he was forced to meet her eyes. “I don’t need promises, Emereck,” she said softly.
“I do,” Emereck whispered.
Liana was silent. Then she said slowly, “I think I understand. I don’t know whether you’re right or not, but I think I understand.” She lifted her head and smiled at him, then leaned forward and kissed him again. “I’ll wait.”
Before Emereck could think of an adequate reply, she rose to her feet, picked up the bowl, and went down the hill toward the camp. Emereck sat looking after her for a long time.
Chapter 21
NEXT MORNING, EMERECK HAD more difficulty in facing Liana than Kensal. The need to keep her at a distance angered and frustrated him. He took refuge in irritability, but Liana did not seem to notice. Eventually, their casual conversation coaxed him out of his dark mood, and by the time they reached the outskirts of the forest he had pushed the problem to the back of his mind.
Once they were past the bushy growth at the forest’s edge, Emereck relaxed at last. He had not realized how nervous the wide openness of the plains had made him until he left it behind. His troubles were far from over, he knew, but at least there would not be a repeat of the hopeless flight from Lanyk, with nowhere to run or hide.
Kensal took the lead for the afternoon’s ride, and for once Emereck was pleased to let him. His own skills as a woodsman were adequate to the needs of a wandering minstrel, but no more. The Cilhar’s expertise was obvious, and the small group of almost-fugitives might need every advantage they could get.
Next morning, they continued west. The trees were large, and their heavy canopy of leaves hid the sun almost completely. At first Emereck enjoyed the shade, but after a while he became uneasy. He felt eyes on his back, watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. He tried to dismiss
the feeling, but it would not go away.
“Is something wrong?” Liana asked, after he had looked over his shoulder for the fourth time in as many minutes.
“I don’t think so,” Emereck said apologetically. “These woods just make me nervous.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was the plains that bothered you.”
“This is different. There, I was worried about being found by Syaski. Right now, I feel as if the trees themselves are watching me.”
Liana looked thoughtfully at the woods. “Maybe they are, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”
“You feel it, too?”
“In a way. I thought at first it was just because there aren’t many trees around Minathlan, but it’s more than that. This place is… alive somehow.”
“Most forests are,” Kensal put in.
“I don’t mean just growing! I mean—well, awake and aware.”
“I don’t like it,” Emereck said.
“It isn’t threatening or evil or anything,” Liana said, surprised. “It’s just there.”
“I still don’t like it. Maybe we should head farther south and try to go around it.”
“I don’t think we can,” Liana said.
“And I don’t think we should try,” Kensal added. “We don’t know anything about this whatever-it-is you’re feeling. Turn south and we could be heading further into it, instead of out.”
“I suppose so,” Emereck said reluctantly. “But it makes me—”
“Shhh!” Liana said suddenly. She pulled her horse to a stop and motioned Emereck and Kensal to do likewise.
“What—”
“Quiet, please! I thought I heard something.”
All three of them sat motionless, listening. Emereck heard nothing but the small noises of a forest: leaves whispering quietly in the breeze, birds twittering at each other, the rustle of some small animal’s passing. “I don’t hear anything,” he said at last.
“Nor I,” Kensal said.
Liana frowned. “It’s that way,” she said with certainty, pointing slightly north of their westward path.
“Um.” Kensal looked at her. “What was it you heard?”
“I’m not sure. Pipes, I think, or—”
“Pipes?” Emereck’s stomach felt suddenly hollow. “You mean, music?”
“Well, yes, but not like anything I’ve ever heard before.”
Kensal looked at Emereck. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”
“It can’t be!” Emereck said with a vehemence that surprised him. “We aren’t anywhere near that castle!”
Liana’s eyes widened. “You mean the place where you found the harp? That’s what I heard?”
“That’s what he means,” Kensal said. “Castle Windsong.”
“But how can I be hearing it? And why couldn’t you?”
“You are of the blood of the Dukes of Minathlan,” Kensal said with a shrug. “According to Ryl, that’s all it takes.”
“I don’t believe it,” Emereck protested. “That castle was at least four days’ ride from the edge of the forest, maybe more. We haven’t come anywhere near that far.”
Kensal smiled wryly. “Castle Windsong has a mind of its own.”
“It isn’t possible! Castles don’t jump around from place to place like frogs!”
“Perhaps this one does. There’s only one way to find out.” Kensal turned his horse in the direction Liana had indicated.
“No!” Emereck said firmly.
“Emereck, what’s the difference?” Liana asked. “It’s not far out of our way.”
“This isn’t a pleasure outing! There are Syaski hunting us, remember?”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Liana replied mildly.
“And if there are, Castle Windsong may well be the safest place for us,” Kensal said. “Only the family of the Dukes of Minathlan can find it.”
“And if it isn’t Windsong? It could be a trap,” Emereck said.
“I doubt it. I don’t think even the Shadow-born could imitate Windsong well enough to fool one of the Duke’s kin.”
“It doesn’t feel dangerous,” Liana put in. “And if it is Windsong, I’m curious about it.”
“Then go by yourself. I’m not going back there.” With a jerk that made his horse toss its head in protest, Emereck pulled the animal around and started off, heading almost due south. After a few moments, he heard the sounds of the other horses behind him, but he did not turn. He was ashamed of himself, and appalled by his loss of temper.
But how could he explain? He had found the harp at Castle Windsong. The chain of events that ended with Flindaran’s death had begun at Castle Windsong. He was afraid of the place: afraid of falling victim to its magic and its music, afraid of finding Ryl there to demand the return of the harp. Afraid of losing Liana as he had Flindaran.
The thought froze him. He hunched his shoulders, trying to relax muscles that had gone taut as harpstrings stretched to breaking. He told himself firmly that it couldn’t be the same castle. The place they had found the harp was miles away, farther north and much farther west. Liana was safe from—He jerked in the saddle as the wind brought him an echo of unmistakable music.
“There it is again!” Liana said.
“It’s definitely Windsong,” Kensal commented. “And we’re getting closer.”
“I heard it,” Emereck said grimly, and pulled his horse to a stop. At the same moment he realized that the sound had come from directly in front of him. He looked angrily at Liana. “I thought you said it was coming from back there!”
“It was, then.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me it moved.”
Liana looked at him. “No. I’m not going to tell you anything at all.”
Savagely, Emereck turned his horse west. “Keep this up much longer and we’ll be going in circles,” Kensal commented. Emereck ignored him. The breeze died, taking the music with it, but only for a brief time. When the wind and music resumed, both were coming from the west. And the music was louder. Emereck reined in once more.
“I think you might as well give up,” Kensal said.
“Are you doing this?” Emereck demanded.
“Of course not. I’m a soldier, not a magician.”
“Then how—”
“None of us can answer that unless we stop trying to avoid it,” Liana said.
Emereck looked at her. “I suppose I really don’t have much choice,” he said at last.
“Then let’s go,” Kensal said, and lifted his reins. His mare started forward. Liana followed; Emereck, still fuming inwardly, brought up the rear. He still did not understand how they could be heading for the place where he and Flindaran had found the harp, but he did not doubt that it was so. He feared the castle and mistrusted it in the same way he feared and mistrusted the harp. Yet there seemed no way to avoid it now.
He heard Liana gasp, and urged his horse forward. The others had stopped at the top of a low rise. He pulled his horse to a halt beside them and looked down. Below was the field of halaiba flowers and the high, white wall surrounding the castle and its gardens. He noted absently that this time the gate was facing them. They would have only a short ride through the flowers to reach it. Emereck frowned suddenly. How long had it been since he and Flindaran were here? Nearly three weeks, and the halaiba were still blooming. He gave a mental shrug and added it to the list of strange things in and around the castle.
“It’s beautiful,” Liana said softly.
Emereck glanced at her uneasily, wondering what she saw that he did not. A white wall rising from a sloping sea of blue flowers certainly made a striking picture, but beautiful? He remembered Flindaran’s reactions to the forest and the castle, and his uneasiness grew. “Liana, maybe we shouldn’t go on.”
“I don’t think we can stop now,” Liana replied, giving him an odd look. “Besides, we haven’t found out anything yet.” She urged her horse forward without waiting for Eme
reck to answer, and the sweet scent of crushed halaiba rose strong and heavy in her wake. Kensal glanced at Emereck and followed her, leaving Emereck little choice but to join them. All the way down the hill, Emereck felt the eyes of the forest on his back.
The gates opened at Liana’s touch. They rode inside and dismounted. The garden was as green and cool as Emereck remembered, but he did not find its sameness comforting. Liana, however, was delighted. “I’ve never seen such lush plants!” she said. “And are those the sculptures you told me about? Will it hurt anything if I look at them?”
“I doubt it,” Emereck said. “I did it last time.” He watched her for a while as she went from one of the statues to another. Then he turned to Kensal. “Well, what do we do now?”
“I suggest we make camp. This is the safest place I can think of, and I suspect Ryl will be here soon. We may as well wait.”
“Ryl. Of course.”
“You’ll have to face her some time, you know.”
Emereck looked away. The Cilhar had read his thoughts, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Furthermore, the man was right, and admitting that, even to himself, was not pleasant, either. What was he going to do with the Harp of Imach Thyssel when Ryl asked for it? Would he have any choice? He scowled. “Go ahead and make camp,” he said.
While Kensal unloaded his mare, Emereck went over to his own horse. He unstrapped the harp and stood looking at it for a long time, as if by doing so he could somehow determine what he ought to do. Finally, he shook himself. He started to set the harp down beside the rest of his belongings, then paused. The habit of concealment was still strong; he did not feel comfortable leaving the harp in plain view, even if Kensal and Liana were the only ones around to see it.
With a sigh, he picked up the harp and carried it to one side of the low stairs leading into the castle. He opened his saddlebag and piled clothes and bedding over the harp until it was thoroughly hidden. Feeling a little foolish, he went to get his own instrument. Perhaps a few hours of practicing would help him think.
As soon as they were well within the forest, the Duke pulled his horse up next to Ryl’s. “Have you some idea how far ahead of us they are?”
“A day’s ride, at least, though we have gained some time thanks to your horses.”
The Harp of Imach Thyssel Page 21
