The sun rose as they sped along the empty road, brightening the snow to a blinding whiteness without offering much warmth. Bannock remained silent until they passed over the bridge spanning the Little Lannae. “Are you any good?”
The question caught Cricket off guard. “Pretty good,” he answered. “Duncan says I’ll be a master crossain, but I don’t know if I have enough talent to be a bard.”
“Master crossain,” Bannock snorted. “Might as well say expert fool. No offense?”
“None,” Cricket laughed.
“Good,” Bannock grunted. “Any road, the bards aren’t much better anymore. Don’t know why all you musicians have gotten so sloppy, but I know if I started getting as careless in the brewery, I wouldn’t last very long.”
Cricket sat in silence for a while, listening to the jingle of the bridle and the swish of the snow. “Some still know the old rules,” he said quietly. “Some of us intend to follow them even if we don’t have to.”
“You don’t have to prove yourself to me,” Bannock said. “I’m just a stubborn old goat who has a severe problem keeping my opinions to myself. Now, are you going to sing us a tune to make the time go by?”
“I’m not much of a singer,” Cricket said. “I’m a harpist at heart.”
“Music is music,” Bannock said. “If you can tune your harp, then you can tune your voice. You either make music or you don’t.”
Cricket wondered how much free advice he was going to get during the ride, but the brewer made sense. He listened to the rhythm of the horses’ hooves and began to sing “The Sleighs of Caer Innis”.
“Louder!” Bannock shouted. “You’re competing with all of Glencairck, you know!”
The young musician rolled his eyes, but worked on breathing from his stomach as Duncan had shown him, making the notes ring out in the cold air. Bannock nodded along, looking at Cricket reprovingly when the song ended. “I thought you said you couldn’t sing.”
“I said I don’t sing well,” Cricket replied.
“Then you must be one hell of a harpist. Now, give us another one, something with a little energy to make the horses step lively.”
Cricket grinned and began “The Wolf Outside the Gate”.
Six hours later, they arrived in Salwick. Bannock dropped Cricket off in the small town below the castle, where he found an innkeeper willing to give him a spot in the hayloft for ten pennies a night. As Bannock predicted, the majority of the patrons carried harps or other instruments, and there was great competition to see who would play and when. Cricket simply sat back and soaked up the wide variety of music as the best bards and crossains in the land attempted to attract the attention of the Queen.
Hot mulled wine filled the air with the scent of cinnamon and cloves, and many of the leading noblemen came down to listen, giving brooches and rings to their favorites. At night, sitting in the quiet hayloft, Cricket played Anlynna softly or piped on his mother’s flute, distilling the best from what he had heard and tucking it away in his mind.
The last day of the festival, the Queen came down from the castle to make her traditional rounds through the taverns. She knew which musician and which song she wanted to hear, awarding each with a small but heavy purse.
Cricket heard of her approach before she appeared, and scrambled up the tavern stairs for a better view. He sat with his legs dangling over the landing, his face pressed between the rails of the banister along with fifteen other people, looking at the packed crowd below.
Elhonna made her entrance, dressed in a sable cape over a blue silk gown, striding through the crowd to the hearth with a fian on each side. A gold circlet sat atop the coils of her red hair and a jeweled gold torc circled her pale neck.
She listened to two bards and a young crossain who was so nervous that his voice cracked. She stopped him and gently told him to take his time. His eyes shone with love and awe, and he began to play again, stronger and surer than before. Elhonna praised his skill and passed him his reward.
When she stood to leave, everyone begged her to stay, and Cricket held his breath waiting for her answer. “There is always next year,” the Queen of Glencairck said. “Think on this evening throughout the year as inspiration.” She swept the room with her eyes, and Cricket felt a jolt as they met his for a fraction of a second, deep and powerfully green. The moment passed and she was gone, but that night, as Cricket lay in the fragrant hay, he saw her over and over again.
Cricket climbed into Bannock’s empty sleigh the next morning for the ride back to Taris. “Did you have a good time, boy?” the brewer asked.
“I saw the queen,” Cricket sighed.
“So did I,” Bannock laughed. “Sat at the high table with her, too.”
“Did you talk to her? What’s she like?”
Bannock scratched his beard. “Friendly, but cold, like a fur over stone. It’s like she’s trying to impress people, but can’t quite hide how she’s analyzing the situation.”
“She’s beautiful,” Cricket said.
“She is that.” Bannock pulled a flask from under the seat. “I saved us some for the ride home. Go ahead, try it.”
Cricket sipped cautiously; the brandy slid down his throat like molten gold, only to explode in his stomach. He coughed and hacked while Bannock pounded his back.
“Are you alright?” the brewer asked.
“Don’t drink spirits much,” Cricket explained. “Good though.”
“I didn’t ruin your voice, did I?”
Cricket took another small pull at the flask. This time the apple brandy spread a delicious warmth throughout his body. “I’ll be fine. Do you have any requests?”
Bannock grinned. “Do you know ‘The Drunken Bard’?”
The hall echoed silently when Cricket arrived. “Probably sleeping off the effects of the festival,” he muttered to himself. He climbed the stairs slowly, feeling none too steady himself; the solid stone stairs did not feel quite stable, like he could still feel the rocking of the sleigh. In the familiar loft, he peeked around Leann’s curtain, but she wasn’t there. Feeling vaguely disappointed, he crawled into bed.
The laughter of two familiar people woke him. “Hey, the dead has risen!” Asael’s voice sounded cheerfully.
“What did you do?” Leann asked. “Drink a whole barrel of beer by yourself?”
Cricket squinted against a sudden, pounding headache. “Apple brandy,” he said thickly. “Bannock’s special brew.”
Asael said, “You didn’t go to Salwick, did you?”
Nodding made his skull feel like it was coming loose. Cricket pulled the covers over his head. “Go away.”
“Why would he go to Salwick?” Leann asked.
“Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s in love with her majesty,” Asael confided.
“Shut up,” Cricket groaned. Pushing aside his blanket, he stumbled over to the water bucket, drinking three dippers full in rapid succession.
“Feel better?” Asael asked brightly.
“Not at all,” Cricket grumbled. “Stop looking so smug and tell me how your festival was. All four of you.”
“We just wandered from tavern to tavern,” Asael said. “I listened to all the different players, some of whom were pretty pathetic.”
Leann said, “He kept ignoring me, too.” She looked at the fiddler reprovingly.
“I’m sorry,” he said meekly. “I—I just got caught up in the music.”
“Well, I was miserably lonely without the two of you,” Cricket said, “but now I’m just miserable. So go away and let me sleep.”
Three days later, Cricket sat before Duncan with Anlynna on his knee. With his mind clear, and his fingers sure, he coaxed the notes into revealing more than just sound. He wove it together with his voice into a song he called “The Lily and the Oak”.
Duncan sighed when the tune ended. “Exceptional. Truly your best, Cricket.” He coughed and said, “In fact, I don’t think there’s much more you can learn here. May I be the first to co
ngratulate you, crossain Cricket.”
He came out from behind his desk, holding a cloak with broad stripes of green, gold, red, and brown, which he slung around Cricket’s shoulders. As he fastened it with a pin in the shape of a crane, Cricket asked, “But what about Asael?”
“He’s having some problems, I’m afraid. I told him to work on it tonight and try again tomorrow.”
Cricket looked for his friend for the rest of the afternoon, but wherever the fiddler had hidden was beyond his powers to ken. He stopped at the White Owl and talked to Byrn for awhile, and then trudged back to the loft. Sitting on his cot, he pulled out his mother’s flute and played “My Missing Heart”.
The sounds of soft sobs stopped him. “Leann?” he called.
The crying stopped, and she came out, her dark hair tousled and her eyes red. Cricket took her by the hand, leading her to the cot and sitting beside her. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxed.
“You and Asael... so good to me,” she stammered. “So devoted to your music, to each other... But now it’s all going to change isn’t it? Hoyle told me about this morning. You’re a crossain, and who knows about Asael? He disappeared without a word, and I’m worried about him.”
“He’s working on his song. Duncan told him he wanted to hear it again tomorrow.”
“But what happens next? Will you stay together, or go off on your own?” She hid her face, but Cricket could hear the tears. “What will happen to me? I love both of you so much.”
“We’re going to take care of you,” Cricket said. “Didn’t we promise? No matter what happens.”
She suddenly wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly while she shook with sobs. “Shh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s okay, really.”
“I just feel very alone,” she said. “Please, just hold me for awhile.”
“For awhile,” Cricket said. He hummed the lullaby that he had played for her that first night, trying to soothe her. Her sobbing stopped, but she didn’t let him go. After a few minutes, his back began to hurt. “I’m uncomfortable,” he said.
They shifted around, laughing at themselves, and ended up falling on the floor, side by side, looking at each other. Leann had not let him go, and suddenly Cricket’s laughter faded and his stomach folded over on itself. “What are we doing?” he whispered.
“Your body seems to know,” she replied, sliding her leg over his and pulling him close. “It’s okay,” she said, nuzzling his throat. “I belong to both of you.”
Cricket couldn’t breathe; his instincts and desires wanted to follow through, but he knew the look in Asael’s eyes when he spoke of this woman. “I—” he gasped. Swallowing his heart, he said, “You may belong to both of us, but only Asael belongs to you.”
She shifted so that space existed between them again, and Cricket felt his heart beating hard. Leann turned her back to him, and he heard her start crying softly again. “Will you always love Asael this much?” she asked.
“Always,” he promised, hugging her tightly again. He wondered if he had made a mistake, wondered if he were a fool to refuse such a beautiful and talented woman, one of his best friends.
Leann relaxed into his embrace, sighing into sleep. Cricket meant to get up, but he didn’t want to disturb her, so he waited until she was deeply in her dreams. Unfortunately, by the time that happened, he had fallen asleep as well.
The next morning, Cricket woke up on the floor alone. He felt stiff and sore as he staggered to his feet. Stretching helped, as did splashing his face with water. He trudged downstairs to breakfast, where he found Leann and Asael with an icy chill between them. The rest of the students snickered into their bowls, but did not look directly at the trio. Cricket looked at their faces, both upset, and gave a tentative, “Good morning?”
Asael jumped up and stormed out of the room. Leann grabbed Cricket’s arm. “Stop him,” she pleaded quietly. “He thinks that you and I—” Looking at the other students, she stopped.
Cricket hesitated for just a moment while the unsaid percolated through his brain. Then he sprinted after his friend.
He caught up with him in the stable yard. “Asael! Stop!”
The fiddler kept his even pace until Cricket caught up with him. Turning suddenly, he swung at Cricket, knocking the smaller boy to the ground. “How could you?” he demanded. “You know how I feel about her. So I go up there last night to talk to her, and I find you... and her...”
“It’s not what you think!” Cricket said.
“And what am I supposed to think?” Asael cried. “She loves you, any fool can see that.”
“And any fool can see that she loves you too!” Cricket sat up, rubbing his jaw. “The whole reason that last night happened like it did is because she’s confused about us. She thinks that she has to belong to us equally, no matter what. But nothing happened, I swear!”
Asael squatted down on his haunches. “I love her,” he said quietly. “I have from the first. And it just keeps growing so that I can barely speak when she’s around.”
“Well, I love her too... but like a brother. Like I love you, you big clod.” He poked Asael in the chest, knocking him off-balance. “You are just going to have to force the words out, no matter how hard it may be. Sing her your song.”
“I—what—how did you know what my song was about?”
“Oh, come on,” Cricket said. “How hard do you think it was to figure out that you wrote a love song for Leann?” He stood up and held out a hand to Asael, who looked at it suspiciously.
“And you swear nothing happened?”
Very softly, Cricket said, “I swear by my true name, nothing happened.”
Asael took the hand. “And you don’t mind if Leann and I—”
“Absolutely not,” Cricket said, hauling him to his feet and dusting him off. “If that’s been part of your problem... Well, the thing is, now you need to go in there and—”
“Asael!” Brista called from the kitchen door. “Master Duncan is expecting you, lad! What are you doing?”
“My song,” Asael gasped. “Would you tell Leann everything’s okay?”
“Of course, and Asael—when you play for Duncan, just close your eyes and imagine her face. And know that she truly does love you.”
Asael squeezed his friend’s shoulder and hurried off.
That afternoon, the two newest crossains in Taris took Leann to the White Owl, where Byrn feasted them and refused any payment but a song. Wylla praised them and pulled her husband into a dance, and then took a turn with each of the boys while Byrn danced with Leann. As the evening wore on, the tavern filled with people who contributed to the party with loud laughter and singing. Asael and Leann disappeared in the confusion, and the celebration continued unabated without them.
Several hours later, the crowd dwindled as the patrons stumbled home or upstairs to their warm beds. Cricket and Byrn talked quietly at the bar while Wylla swept the floor. She took one last look around with satisfaction and then kissed her husband on the cheek. “Don’t stay up too late,” she said.
“I’ll be up shortly,” he promised. He watched her fondly as she disappeared up the stairs.
“Well, I should be going,” Cricket said.
“I have a room available,” Byrn said. “There’s no need to go back to Duncan’s hall.”
“I’m not really ready to settle down for the evening,” Cricket replied. “I think the walk will do me good. But thank you.”
Byrn clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Everything will be fine, crossain.”
Cricket gave him a shallow smile. “I know.”
Walking through the cold, empty streets, Cricket whistled softly to himself. Stopping on the broad expanse of the Grand Avenue, he looked towards the silent bulk of the royal palace. Lights burned at the gates and in a few upper windows, but the stars overhead shone brighter.
He let the future spread out before him for a moment, but his options seemed as vast as the heavens and just as distant. He
shook his head; tomorrow would take care of itself somehow. Besides, Duncan had promised them quarters until the spring when they could travel. Another two months or so. Perhaps he would have a better idea what to do by then. But when he returned to the hall, the loft felt cavernous and empty.
Asael and Leann now shared a bond that would exclude the young harpist, no matter how hard they tried not to let it. Three notes of equal strength made a chord; when one became unequal, it was either too soft to hear or loud enough to become the melody. Either way, the song changed.
A week later, the only decision that had been made was to seal Asael and Leann together. The ceremony took place at the White Owl under Wylla’s stern eye, while Byrn cooked the wedding feast. Cricket and Anlynna provided the music, and then he presented his gift to the couple: his mother’s flute.
“I can’t take this,” Asael protested. “You should save it for your children.”
“I want you to have it,” Cricket said, unable to express his feelings any better. “Please, take it.”
“I’m giving it back when you get married.”
Leann closed the velvet lined box, and kissed her husband. “No fighting today, please,” she said. Giving Cricket a kiss on the cheek, she said, “Thank you. We will count it among our treasures.”
As the celebration increased in volume, Cricket made his way to the door. Several of Duncan’s other students played with varying degrees of success, providing him enough cover to slip into the night. The cold air braced him, and he breathed a deep sigh.
Not ready to go back to the increasingly alien loft, he strolled down the street aimlessly. The music coming out of the Golden Chalice tugged at him, and he entered just as the crossain finished the song. Tucking his own harp under his seat, Cricket ordered a drink and leaned back to listen to someone else for awhile.
Cricket's Song Page 8
