by Tanya Huff
According to Annice's Recall, he was no longer capable of doing that.
Which brought her around to Kovar's belief that she could be objective where Annice – the Princess Bard who had a long and complicated story of her own as well as at least three really, really bad ballads written about her – and Stasya couldn't. The captain's faith in her was an incredible compliment. And a huge responsibility. She hadn't known Kovar thought that highly of her. Or thought much about her at all, actually. At least no more than he needed to for them both to do their jobs.
Bouncing back and forth now, heel to toe, she considered how she felt.
She was a little surprised. Pleased. Flattered, if she was honest.
"What are you worried about?" When he frowned, she grinned. "You have to be worried about something, Captain, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."
The blue beads threaded onto the ends of his mustache trembled as he sighed. "Gyhard i'Stevana is a multiple murderer who was pardoned against my advice. He controls an Imperial Assassin. A blade of Jirr. One of the Empire's most deadly weapons. Her brother Albannon, the only person who might have any chance of stopping her given that he is – or was – also an Imperial Assassin, is currently out of the country. I believe that if Gyhard is going to try something – and I believe that he is – these first few years of a new reign would be the time."
Evicka blinked, trying to absorb these new details. "He's living on a timber-holding in Bicaz. What do you think he's going to try?"
"I don't know." Kovar spread his hands. "But a man who can live several lifetimes by moving his kigh from body to body could try anything."
She couldn't argue with that.
"I need you to be my eyes and ears," Kovar continued. "No, more than that; the Bards of Shkoder weave the pattern that keeps the country safe. I need you to be the eyes and ears of Shkoder."
Cheeks flushed, Evicka nodded. "I can do that."
*
"Careful!" A strong arm caught her around the waist and spun them with the impact, the stairs broad enough that both of them somehow managed to stay on their feet.
One hand clutching the sleeve of an expensive leather jacket, Evicka turned to see who'd she'd run into and grinned. "Tadeus!" Only the blind bard could turn a collision into a dance. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking."
He matched her grin, dark brows rising above the leather band he currently wore over his eyes. "Nor was I. I take this means our illustrious captain is free."
"It does."
"And the enthusiasm of your descent means your meeting went well?"
"It did."
"You're heading south?"
"I am."
"Pjazef left with the Duc of Somme." He leaned against the wall, arm still around her waist. "So I assume you're covering the small holdings?"
"I am."
Full lips twitched. "You're giving me those eighth note answers on purpose, aren't you?"
"Well, now." She laughed when he did, because it was nearly impossible not to. Tadeus might have twice her twenty-two years, but he was still gorgeous, talented, sexy, sweet... and remarkably muscular, she noted not for the first time. If he'd ever been interested, she'd have bedded him in a minute. Slipping free of his grip, she skipped back up a step so they were of a height. She'd never liked having to look up at people. "Since you ask, yes, I'm covering the small holdings – or as many of them as I can, depending on the weather. Oh, and the captain," she added, trying to sound casual, and hearing herself fail, "wants me to check in on Viryeda Magaly and Gyhard i'Stevana."
Dark brows rose again. "Does he?"
Too late, Evicka remembered Tadeus was a year-mate of Annice and Stasya and could easily share their biases. If he asked her why the captain wanted her to visit the timber-holding, what should she say? That the captain wanted her to find out how Gyhard planned to unravel the pattern the bards wove to keep Shkoder safe? No, that sounded ridiculous even in the privacy of her own thoughts.
"That's a bit off the beaten path for a Fourth Quarter Walk, sweetling." There was nothing but concern in Tadeus' voice. But concern about what? "Do you want me to speak with him?"
"About?"
"Fourth Quarter. Weather. A timber holding in Bicaz." He reached over and patted her cheek. "Blizzards. Avalanches. Those nasty colds with constantly running noses that look disgusting even on me..." A pause. A frown. "...I assume. My point, dearheart, is that it's not the best time of the year to be checking up on people who've decided to live in the middle of nowhere."
"It'll be First Quarter before I get there."
"Oh joy, sleet. That icy dribble of freezing rain that always slips in under your collar." His hand slid off her face and down to tug at one long braid. "Long Walks in Fourth Quarter," he continued, "are something I don't mind losing to the young. Just, be careful. Evie."
"Of the weather?"
He studied her for a moment, head cocked, sighed, and said almost reluctantly, "Also of the weather."
"What else should I be careful of?"
He sighed again. "If the weather allows you to get to that timber-holding, remember there's no such thing an ex-Imperial assassin. Vireyda Magaly was trained to kill and will carry that training for the rest of her life. If you go into her home carrying certain prejudices..."
"That Gyhard i'Stevana killed innocents to preserve his own life?"
"That is a fact that neither of them deny. No, when I say prejudices, I mean exactly that. You can't judge the man he is based on the man he was."
Evicka blinked. "Of course you can. What else can you judge a person on but his past actions?"
"On his current actions. I'm not asking you ignore what he was, just keep an open mind about what he is." He gave the braid he still held another light tug, both brows tucked in behind the leather that covered his eyes. "Trust me, I know what it is to be pre-judged. I Sing only one quarter. I'm too attractive to be intelligent." She giggled as he posed then sobered as he added, "Try to think of them as people first."
"While remembering there's no such thing as an Imperial Assassin?"
The corners of his mouth twisted up in a rueful smile. "If it was easy sweetling, everyone could do it." The smile broadened into its more familiar, more than slightly suggestive shape. "If you start feeling overwhelmed, it might help to think of Assassins Love Song."
"Wasn't that written about her brother?"
"It was. It makes her laugh."
"Bury your point not in my heart but somewhere else again. The little death's no lesser art, I cry out and am slain." Evicka shuddered dramatically enough Tadeus would be able to feel the movement. "It makes me cringe." Leaning forward, she kissed him on the cheek, wondering how a blind man managed to shave such a symmetrical goatee. "I'll be careful," she promised. "Sweet songs, Tadeus."
"Smooth roads, Evie."
***
"I saw Evicka on the way up. A Long Walk in Fourth Quarter?"
"We're halfway through the quarter and the weather's been mild." Tadeus could hear the Bardic Captain shuffling papers and could tell from the way his voice bounced off the desk that he hadn't bothered to look up when he answered. "She Sings a strong air and an equally strong water; she'll have plenty of warning if a storm blows in."
Tadeus sprawled over one of the chairs, mostly because he knew it annoyed Kovar when he refused to act his age. As Tadeus was the older by three years, the captain felt it reflected on his dignity causing Tadeus to be undignified in the captain's presence as often as he could.
Had Liene still been captain, Tadeus wouldn't have thought twice about bringing up the timber-holding, trying to charm out the reasoning behind diverting Evicka into Bicaz when both Stasya and Annice were keeping an eye on things. It wasn't that Kovar was immune to his charm, it was just that Kovar wasn't Liene. Liene had been a percussionist. She laid down a beat and allowed her bards to build their songs around it. Kovar was more the full orchestration type; everyone had a specific part to play. The bards who'd trained under L
iene were still getting used to the change. Evicka had never known Liene.
And now his thoughts had circled back to Evie...
On the one hand, even if Tadeus, personally, came down on the love remakes us all side of the argument – hardly surprising since he'd written the song – he could understand why Kovar didn't trust either Vree or Gyhard.
On the other hand, not trusting Annice and Stasya was sliding significantly off pitch.
On yet another hand, they were his year-mates so Kovar would likely assume a lack of objectivity.
Bringing up the timber-holding would only lead to an argument and a differing opinion had never been enough to change Kovar's mind. Although a few nights trapped together in the River Maiden during a storm had been enough to change Kovar's mind about a couple of things...
"You're smiling."
Tadeus allowed his smile to curve suggestively. "Thinking of the River Maiden."
"That's right, you're walking the River Road to Vidar..."
As Kovar outlined reported problems with some of the river pilots he wanted looking into, Tadeus slouched until his spine was barely in contact with the chair. There was no point in bringing up the timber-holding when he already knew what Kovar would say.
***
"Might be snow tonight." Marija pulled down her scarf and blew her nose. The two guards on duty at the Citadel Gate with her backed a little further away. "But they're saying clear tomorrow."
Evicka winced at the rough edge to the other bard's voice. "Have you seen you seen the Healers about that?"
"What's the point? Drink this and you'll be better in ten days. Don't drink it and you'll be better in ten days." Marija snorted and had to blow her nose again. "Enough hot water and honey and I can Sing and that's all that matters. You're Walking small holdings in Somes, right?"
"That's right."
"It's mid afternoon." Marija squinted at a silver gray sky. "You won't get far before dark."
"I'm spending the night by the south gate."
"Good." Additional opinion got lost in a fit of coughing, but Evicka didn't need to hear it. Taking the memory of a warm and willing body out on a Long Walk bordered on bardic cliché.
"Sweet songs, Marija."
Only a bard could have heard smooth roads though the snot.
*
The outside of the Bawdy Cricket was all worn boards and faded paint, the door looked as though a mule had tried unsuccessfully to kick it down, and the small square pieces of glass in the single window were so thick and green they barely let light either in or out. Most travelers entering Elbesan through the south gate took one look and passed it by.
The few who pushed open the door, found a clean and comfortable common room with good food and better beer and a tavern-keeper who refused to change that first impression.
"It's a local," Luviun had told Evicka the first time she'd asked why he didn't try to bring in more business. "We don't need the place full of strangers making demands and not understanding how things are done. I know who my people are, and I take care of them."
She suspected she wasn't the only bard who'd dared the scarred door.
That night in the apartment over the tavern, Luviun pinched out the last candle and said, "So, south into Somes?"
Evicka murmured an affirmative as she shifted into a comfortable position with her head on his bare shoulder.
"Going as far as the Giant's Cleft?"
"If the weather allows."
"Word is, the Duc wants Her Majesty to keep the pass open in Fourth Quarter. His Majesty, King Theron, Circle keep him, wasn't much for it but the queen seems willing to consider it."
"Why would she want to keep the pass open in Fourth Quarter?"
"Duc says it's to let goods from the Empire come through. But word is, Navarine's enjoying a building boom up on the other side of the border. They'll want the ore Somes produces without needing to go all the way around through either Elbasan or the Imperial capital. Figure that's why Her Majesty sent a bard south with the Duc."
It made sense. "You hear a lot of words."
He laughed, the sound a deep rumble in his chest she felt as much as heard. "Trick is to put the words you hear together. But you're a bard..." He flipped them both over and grinned down at her, one hand sliding down her body. "...you should know that."
Her next few words were essentially incoherent, but Luviun put them together too.
*
A week out from Elbasan – a week of Singing confidence to people who'd lived their whole lives under King Theron and were worried about changes under a new queen – and Evicka headed south west off the Coast Road, into the interior of Somes and the first of the small villages with their hubs of holdings. Clad head to foot in sheepskin with the fleece inside for warmth, the cold was barely an inconvenience. She'd picked a pair of skis out of a Bardic Closet at the last inn before she left the coast and was in snow enough to use them by the time she stopped for lunch. Skimming along the track beside the trail, her body slipped easily back into a motion learned in childhood. By the time she reached the village, her hat hung by its strings and sweat dribbled along her spine under the added insulation of her pack.
As she passed between the first houses, a couple of dogs spotted her first and raced toward her, barking. A boy of about ten charged after them screaming at them to stop. The dogs ignored him.
Evicka waited, leaning on her poles and catching her breath. When the first dog reached her, hackles up and big head down between his shoulders, she used just enough voice to put him on his belly in the snow. When the second reached her, he took his cue from the first. By the time the boy caught up, she was crouched and scratching bellies.
"You're a bard! Oh my gosh, you're a bard!" He wheeled around without stopping. "I gotta tell my mom! Mittens! Thrasher! Come on!"
She found what passed for a tavern on her own, a square room at the front of the brewer's house. Stacking her skies on the rack outside, she pushed open the door. By the time the villagers began to gather, she was sitting by the fire with a rabbit pie and a mug of ale, her flute on the table beside her, her small harp on the other side of the room by the kegs.
Both harp and strings would have plenty of time to warm. She was the first bard they'd seen since Fourth Quarter festival, when Jarwin had Sung the sun back with them, and they didn't want entertainment as much as news. When as many as were coming had gathered, she Recalled King Theron's death and the official mourning, allowing her flute to speak when grief tightened her throat. Many of her listeners were crying openly so she moved from grief to hope to joy, guiding them through their emotions until the entire room leapt to their feet and cheered at the end of the Recall of Queen Onele's coronation.
Evicka listened to the excited chatter as she retrieved and began to tune her harp. This was why she was on a Long Walk in Fourth Quarter. The Bardic Captain was right. The bards did indeed weave the pattern that kept Shkoder together. She'd never seen it so clearly before.
And if he was right about that...
*
In the holdings, she played in the communal room where the extended family gathered for food and fellowship. Sometimes the holdings were small enough that the room was a kitchen with few delusions of grandeur and sometimes the holdings had spread a couple of generations around the original building into cottages of their own and the room was the next thing to a village inn. She shortened or lengthened the Recall as needed, sang the old favorites, taught new songs to those with musical if not bardic abilities and spent three days in a cattle holding Singing the comfort of the Circle to a dying matriarch whose last words suggested she'd been fairly flexible in her youth.
While the snow lasted she often had company on the trails, escorting a bard a valid reason for young to strap on skis, risk the weather, and seek the company of someone who wasn't a sister/brother/cousin. She accepted their company when it was offered and the drying matriarch's granddaughter had turned out to be fairly flexible herself.
Kovar sent air kigh to keep an eye on her and while she knew some of the older bards resented it, she couldn't understand why. He kept an eye on everyone. Well, everyone who Sang air. Sending the kigh out was one thing, expecting them to return to report what they'd seen without being sent back was another thing entirely. She'd heard they'd do it for Tadeus, but then he Sang only air so it made sense. And he was Tadeus. There was a senior fledgling, who Sang only water and Evicka worried a little about how lonely he'd be while Walking. Air was always around. Water, not so much.
"On the other hand," she muttered, pulling off a mitten with her teeth so she could scoop snow out of the gap between collar and skin, "air can be a little too present sometimes."
Evergreen needles whispered together as the kigh who'd dumped the load of snow on her, folded its ethereal body back on itself and sped away laughing.
She Sang First Quarter Festival in the guard tower at the Skhoden end of the Giant's Cleft, arriving early enough she had time to Sing a kigh off to Kovar with news of the pass before the celebration of the new year. The Duc of Somes principle seat was close enough Evicka could see smoke rising in the valley, but as tempting as Singing in an actual Center with other bards was, heavy sleet convinced her the shorter walk to the pass was definitely the better idea.
The first day of First Quarter dawned bright and sunny – an ice covered world glittering almost painfully bright.
"Road to Fox Hollow Mine isn't clear, exactly, but it was cleared twice last quarter so you got banks to follow at least, can't get lost. If you could get lost," Kavan added leaning against the tower, thumbs behind his swordbelt. "So where to after the mine?"
"Timber-holding..."
"Harap i'Destori's?"
Evicka nodded, tightening the final binding. "That's the one. Then another timber-holding across in Bicaz."
"You're checking up on the ex-assassin?"
She straightened and turned. "What do you know about her?"
Kavan shrugged. "Just what the songs say; that she saved Shkoder and found love." He rubbed the back of his neck, and Evicka waited. "Thing is," he said at last, "that's the empire, right through the pass there, and I'll tell you what they say about ex-assassins in the empire. They say that there's no such thing. They're assassins or they're dead and she's not dead. Assassins are weapons," he added solemnly, "and weapons will always find their way into someone's hand."
