Crouching where the dark Priest had stood, was an ugly, evil-looking bird, like none Gwyna had ever seen before. Its plumage was a filthy black, its head and crooked neck naked red skin, like a vulture. It had a twisted yellow beak and small, black eyes. It stood nearly waist-high to the two guards beside it. As they watched, it made a swipe at one of them with that sharp beak, but the man was not nearly so ale-sotted as he seemed, and caught the thing by the neck just behind the head.
"Evil spells broken often return upon their caster," said young Arran, soberly. "As this one has. Balance is restored. Let him be exhibited at the gate as a warning to those who would pollute the Holy Church with unclean magic; but tend him carefully and gently. It may be that one day God will warm to forgiveness if he learns to repent. As for the Guild Bard Bestif, let him be fined twelve gold pieces and banned forever from the Faire. Let one half of that fine be given to the minstrels he wronged, and one half to those in need. That would be my judgment."
"So be it, so let it be done," said the older man, silent until now.
They made as if to leave; Gwyna scrambled to her feet, holding out one of the three gold coins. "My lords-lady-this for my thanks, an' you will?"
The older Priest took it gravely. "We are true Priests of the Church; we do not accept pay for the performance of our duty-but if you wish this to be given to the offerings for the poor?"
Gwyna nodded; he accepted the coin and the three vanished into the depths of the cathedral.
Gwyna took the others and tossed them to Talaysen, who caught them handily.
"For celebration?" he asked, holding it up. "Shall we feast tonight?"
"Have I not cause to celebrate? Only one thing-"
"Name it, Gypsy Robin."
"If you love me, Master Wren-buy nothing that once wore feathers!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rune shooed Talaysen away, so that she could apportion their belongings into packs. "This is apprentice-work," she told him sternly. "You go do what a Master does." Grinning, he left her to it.
She had acquired a bit more clothing here at the Faire, but her load was still much lighter than his, and she elected to take their common stores of food along with her own things. The tent was still full of people, or seemed to be, anyway. It was much smaller when all of them were packing up, with gear spread all over, and there was much complaining about how it had all magically multiplied during the sojourn at the Faire. Rune hadn't had that much to start with, and Talaysen did not carry one item more than he needed, but some of the others were not so wise.
When one stayed in one place for any length of time, Rune suspected, it was easy to forget how much one could carry. There had been this same moaning and groaning for the past two days, as the Free Bards departed in groups, by morning and afternoon.
The only folk not involved in the throes of packing were Erdric and his grandson. They lived here in Kingsford the year round; Erdric had a permanent place in the King's Blade tavern, and young Sparrow was learning the trade at the hands of his grandfather. They would see to it that the two men the Free Bards had hired to take down the great tent would do so without damaging it, and haul it off in their cart to the merchant it was kept with the rest of the year.
More than three-fourths of the Free Bards had already gone their way by this morning; Talaysen would be the last to depart, so that no one lacked for a personal goodbye from their leader.
That meant he and Rune wouldn't be able to cover a great deal of ground their first day, but Rune didn't much mind. She'd gotten a great deal to think about over the past several weeks, and most of it was unexpected.
The Free Bards, for instance-contrasted with the Guild Bards. Talaysen's group was a great deal more in the way of what she had thought the Guild Bards would be like. The Free Bards took care of each other; she had seen with her own eyes right here at the Faire how the Guild Bards squabbled and fought among themselves for the plum jobs. And if someone were unfortunate to lose one of those jobs due to accident, illness or the like, well, his fellow Guild members would commiserate in public but rejoice in private, and all scramble for the choice tidbit like so many quarreling dogs under the table.
And the Church-there had been a set of shocks, though she'd been prepared for some of them from the rumors she'd heard. That though it officially frowned upon magic, it held a cadre of mages-well, she'd learned that was true enough, though Lady Ardis had warned her not to confirm the rumor to anyone. And though there were plenty of venial Priests, there were some like Lady Ardis, who would aid anyone who needed it, and valued honor and ethics above gold.
Then there was Talaysen-an enigma if ever she saw one. A Guild Bard once, he could still claim his place any time he wanted to-and he refused. Even though that refusal cost him in patronage and wealth.
She wasn't certain how he felt about her. He didn't treat her as a child, though she was his apprentice. He watched her constantly when he thought she wasn't looking, and the eyes he followed her with were the eyes of a starving man. But when he spoke with her or taught her, he had another look entirely; he teased her as if he was her elder brother, and he never once gave a hint that his feelings ran any deeper than that.
Yet whenever someone else seemed to be playing the gallant with her, he'd find himself watched so closely that he would invariably give up the game as not worth it. After all, no one wanted to invoke Talaysen's displeasure.
And no one wants to interfere with anyone that Master Wren is finally taking an interest in, she thought, with heavy irony. The only problem is, the Master doesn't seem to know he's taken that interest.
Gwyna had at least told her that Talaysen had remained virtually celibate for the last several years, though no one knew why. There didn't seem to be any great, lost loves in his life, although Lady Ardis had hinted that he might at least have had a dalliance that could have become a love, if he had pursued it. For some reason, he hadn't.
Well, if there's no lost loves, there's no ghosts for me to fight. I've got that much in my favor.
Rune had decided in the last week of the Faire how she felt about Master Wren. And there was nothing celibate about what she wanted. She had never in all her life met with a man who so exactly suited her in every way. Of course, she'd never seen him out of company-out on the road, he might turn surly, hard to get along with. But she didn't think so. He had a great deal to teach, and she to learn, but in performance, at least, they were absolute partners, each making up for the other's weaknesses. She had every reason to think that the partnership would continue when they were on their own.
Now if I can just warm it up to something more than "partnership."
She finished the packs; Talaysen was making farewells and giving some last-minute directions, so she had elected to pack up, and not because she was the apprentice and he expected it-which he didn't. It was because he was doing what his duties required, and she had free hands. The accord had been reached without either of them saying a word.
She set the packs aside and waited for him to return. Out beyond the Faire palings, the merchants were also breaking down and preparing to leave. The Midsummer Faire was over for another year.
She was surprised to feel an odd sense of loss, of uncertainty. For the past three weeks at least, ever since her splint had come off, she had known what every day would bring. Now it was completely new; she hadn't ever really traveled the roads for a living, and the idea was a little daunting.
Finally, as the sun crossed the zenith-line, he returned. "Well, are we ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "Packed and provisioned, Master Wren." She hefted her pack up and slung it over her back; her fiddle was safe inside, and her harp and lute were fastened securely on the outside. She wished briefly that Talaysen had a horse, or even a little donkey they could use to carry their supplies. With a beast their pace could be much faster, though it would be an added expense.
While you're wishing, Rune, why don't you wish for a pair of riding horses while you're at
it?
Still, a donkey could eat almost anything; it wouldn't be that much of a burden unless they stayed in a town.
And a donkey makes you look more prosperous, and makes you a target for robbers.
Talaysen blinked in surprise, and hefted his own pack onto his back. "I hadn't expected you to be ready quite so soon," he said mildly. "I took you for town-bred, and not used to the road life."
She shrugged. "I walked from Westhaven to Nolton, from Nolton to here. I learned a bit."
"So I see." He shifted the pack into a comfortable position on his back. "Well, if you're ready, so am I."
So it was that simple, after all. They simply left the tent, with a farewell wave to Erdric as he gave the two hired men their instructions, and took their place in the steady stream of people leaving by the road to the north.
Talaysen seemed disinclined to talk, so she held her peace as they walked at a good pace along the verge. The press of people leaving was not as heavy as the one of those arriving had been, and most of them were driving heavily loaded wagons, not walking. Their pace was set by the pace of whoever was in the lead of this particular group of travelers. The other folk on foot, at least those that Rune saw, were limited to some small peddlers who had probably been vending impulse-goods from trays, and nondescript folk who could have been anything. The former toiled under packs that would have made a donkey blanch; the latter beneath burdens like their own. The pace that Talaysen set had them passing most other foot-travelers, and all the carts. The sun beat down on all of them, regardless of rank or station, and while there were frequent smiles and nods from those they passed, no one seemed inclined to talk. Halfway into the afternoon, though, they took the first turning to the right, a track so overgrown that she would never have picked it herself. It seemed no one else had chosen it either, at least not today. And no one followed them for as long as she could see the main road when she glanced behind them. She cast him a doubtful look that he never noticed, and followed along a step or two behind him, keeping a sharp watch for trouble.
Weeds grew ankle-high even in the ruts on the road itself, and were waist-high on the verge. Once under the shelter of overhanging trees, she was forced to revise her guess of how long it had been since the road had been used by other than foot traffic. From the look of the road-or rather, path-no one else had come this way since the beginning of the Faire at very best, unless they were foot-travelers like themselves. The weeds were not broken down the way they would be if cart wheels had rolled over them; she was, admittedly, no tracker, but it didn't seem to her that the weeds had been taken down by anything other than the passing of animals in days.
Trouble on a deserted way like this could come in several forms; least likely was in the form of humans, robbers who hunted up and down a seldom-traveled track precisely because they were unlikely to be caught on it and those they robbed were unlikely to be missed. Wild animals or farm animals run feral could give a traveler a bad time; particularly wild cattle and feral pigs. She didn't think that the larger predators would range this close to the Faire site and Kingsford, but that was a possibility that shouldn't be dismissed out of hand. There had once been a wild lion loose in the forest near Westhaven and there were always wolves about. But last of all, and most likely, was that it could be that the reason why this road was unused was the same reason the road through Skull Hill Pass was little used. Something really horrible could be on it. Something that had moved in recently, that Talaysen might not know about.
"Where are we going?" she asked Talaysen, not wanting to seem to question his judgment, but also not wanting to find herself facing something like the Ghost. The next uncanny creature might not be a music lover. And she was no hand at all with any kind of weapon.
"What's our next destination, do you mean?" he replied, "or where are we making for tonight?" He looked back over his shoulder at her to answer, and he didn't seem at all alarmed. Surely he knew about all the signs of danger on a road. . . . Surely he was better at it than her. . . .
"Both," she said shortly. The track widened a little, and she got up beside him so that he could talk to her without having to crane his neck around.
"Allendale Faire, ultimately," he told her. "That's about two weeks from now. The pickings there have been good for me in the past, and no one else wanted to take it this year, so I said we would. Tonight, there's a good camping spot I think we can make by moonrise; there's water, shelter, and high ground there. I've used it before. The track doesn't get any worse than this, so I don't see any problem with pressing on after sunset."
"After sunset?" she said doubtfully. "Master Wren, I don't think I'm up to struggling with tent poles in the dark."
"You won't have to," he said with a cheerful smile. "There won't be anyone there but us, and since the weather is fine, there's no need to worry about putting up a tent. With luck, the weather will hold until we reach Allendale in about two weeks."
Two weeks. That was a long time to walk through forest. She'd slept under the stars without a tent before, but never with company . . . still it wasn't that she was afraid something would happen, it was that she was afraid it wouldn't, without a little privacy to share. And she wasn't certain their provisions would hold out that long. "Is there anything on this road?" she asked.
"Quite a bit, after tonight. Small villages, a great deal like the one you came from, and about two days apart," he told her. "We ought to be able to pick up a few nights' worth of food and lodging for music on the way to Allendale Faire."
She frowned, not quite understanding why he was so certain of a welcome. "But they're so close to Kingsford-why would they bother to trade us for music so close to the city-and so close to Faire-time? In winter, now, I could see it-but now?"
He chuckled. "How often did the people in your village go even as far as the next one for anything? Maybe once or twice a year? The first village is close to a two-day walk from here, and most farmers can't afford to take that much time away from crops this time of the season. Not many people take this road, either, which is why I claimed it for the start of our journey."
"What if they've had a minstrel through here?" she asked. Then she remembered Westhaven, and shook her head. "Never mind, even if it was two days ago, we'll still be a novelty, won't we? Even if they have their own musicians. It was that way at the Hungry Bear in my village."
He laughed. "Well, with luck, we'll be the first musicians they've seen in a while. With none, they still won't have had a musician down this way for a few days, and what's more"-his grin grew cocky and self-assured-"he won't have been as good as we are, because he won't have been a Free Bard."
She chuckled and bent her head to keep her eye on her footing.
They walked on in silence; the grass grown over the track muffled their steps, and though their appearance frightened the birds right on the road into silence, farther off in the woods there were plenty of them chirping and singing sleepily in the heat. These woods had none of the brooding, ominous qualities of the ones around Skull Hill, and she began to relax a little. There was nothing at all uncanny that she could sense-and in fact, after all those weeks of throngs of people, and living with people at her elbow all the time, she found the solitude quite comforting.
She was glad of her hat, a wide-brimmed straw affair that she'd bought at the Faire; it was a lot cooler than her leather hat, and let a bit of breeze through to her head when there was any to be had. Though the trees shaded the road a bit, they also sheltered it from what little breeze there was, and the heat beneath the branches was oppressive. Insects buzzed in the knee-high weeds beside the road, a monotonous drone that made her very sleepy. Sweat trickled down her back and the back of her neck; she'd put her hair up under the hat, but she still felt her scalp and neck prickling with heat. At least she was wearing her light breeches; in skirts, even kilted up to her knees, she'd have been fighting her way through the weeds. Grasshoppers sprang away from their track, and an enterprising kestrel followed them for a w
hile. He was quite a sight to see, hovering just ahead of them, then swooping down on a fat 'hopper that they frightened into bumbling flight. He would carry it on ahead and perch, neatly stripping wings and legs, then eating it like a child with a carrot, before coming back for another unfortunate enough to be a little too slow.
"Why Allendale Faire?" she asked, when the silence became too much to bear, and her ears rang from the constant drone of insects.
"It's a decently large local Faire in a town that has quite a few Sires and wealthy merchants living nearby," he replied absently. "We need to start thinking about a place to winter-up; I'm not in favor of making the rounds in winter, personally. And you never have; it's a hard life, although it can be very rewarding if you hit a place where the town prospered during the summer and the people all have real coin to spend."
She thought about trekking through woods like these with snow up to her knees instead of weeds, and shivered. "I'd rather not," she said honestly. "Like I told you when I met you, that isn't the kind of life I would lead by choice. That was one reason why I wanted to join the Guild."
"And your points were well made. So, one of those Sires or the local branches of the Merchants' Guild in or around Allendale might provide a place to spend our winter." He turned his head sideways, and smiled. "You see, most Sires can't afford a permanent House musician-at least the ones out here in the country can't. So they'll take on one that pleases their fancy for the winter months, and turn him loose in the spring. That way they have new entertainment every winter, when there are long, dark hours to while away, yet they don't have the expense of a House retainer and all the gifts necessary to make sure that he stays content and keeps up his repertory." The tone of his voice turned ironic. "The fact is that once a Guild Minstrel has a position, there's nothing requiring him to do anything more. It's his for life unless he chooses to move on, or does something illegal. If he's lazy, he never has to learn another new note; just keep playing the same old songs. So the people who have House Minstrels or Bards encourage them to stir themselves by giving them gifts of money and so forth when they've performed well."
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