Castle of Deception bt-1

by Mercedes Lackey

Kevin nearly fell off the ladder, just barely managing to catch his balance in time. Something in the shelves had bit him!

  No, no, it hadn’t been a bite at all, more of a weird tingling in his fingertips. Kevin looked warily at the last book he’d touched—and let out a whoop of joy. Yes, yes, yes, he’d found the manuscript he needed at last!

  The bardling scurried down the ladder clutching his prize, and took it over to the library’s one desk, wiping off dust from the manuscripts leather binding as he went. A good chunk of the day was already gone, but at least he could get the copying started. Someone, presumably at D’Krikas’ command, had left him supplies. Kevin found an inkwell and two quill pens on the desk, and a nice stack of parchment in a drawer. Sitting with the manuscript open before him, the bardling paused for one anticipatory moment, then dove into his work.

  But after a moment, Kevin straightened again, blinking in confusion. He could have sworn the whole manuscript had been written in the common script used by most of the human lands here in the West, yet now some of the words seemed to be in a different language completely.

  The bardling rubbed his eyes. He’d spent too much time in this dusty place, peering at old books. Manuscripts did not change themselves from one language to another.

  Yet when Kevin took a second look, he saw, without any doubt about it, that some of the letters were actually, slowly and gracefully, changing before his eyes, altering from the human script into elaborate, beautiful, alien figures.

  Elvish, he realized with a shock, recognizing the script from some of his Master’s music books.

  Kevin bit back a groan as he realized what lay ahead. He could only read a few words in elvish. That meant he’d have to copy the symbols line for line, much more slowly and carefully than he would the script of a language that meant something to him. Oh, wonderful. More tine wasted.

  But as the bardling started copying the manuscript word by word and symbol by symbol, a sudden little shiver of wonder raced through him. Even though the elvish wasn’t miraculously translating itself for him, even though he had no idea what he was copying, the very fact that he’d been able to see the letters transform could only mean one thing: his long-sleeping gift for Bardic Magic had finally started to wake up! His fingers fairly itched to try his lute and see if the magical songs finally had some Power to them!

  First things first There was still the manuscript to finish.

  Maybe his magic was starting to wake, but his eyes were beginning Go ache. It was getting more and more difficult to see the pages. Kevin looked up, mildly surprised to realize how dark the library had become; he hadn’t been aware of the passing hours, but by now it was very obviously too late to do any more copying. Still, he’d made a good start. And ...magic, he thought with a renewed thrill of wonder. Bardic Magic was going to be his.

  Kevin got slowly to his feet. But in the middle of stretching stiff muscles, he froze. Acting on an impulse he didn’t quite understand, the bardling warily hid the manuscript behind a shelf of books.

  There. That should keep it safe till tomorrow.

  He scooped up his copy. Returning to the squires’ quarters, the bardling followed his Master’s orders (though they seemed unnecessarily wary) and hid the copy in a secret pocket in his saddlebags, which in turn he hid under his clothes in the chest—With a dred sigh, he sat down on the cot and picked up his lute. Warily, he tried one of the magical songs. Nothing much happened except for a faint, yet very real ringing in his fingers.

  It was true. Grinning, Kevin knew he really did have the gift for Bardic Magic. And who knew where that might lead?

  “Bard,” Kevin whispered joyously.

  In the morning, not even noticing how the squires continued to snub him, Kevin ate and dressed in a rush and hurried to the library, eager to start the day’s copying. Let's see, he’d hidden the manuscript behind this row ...

  “No, oh no!”

  The manuscript was gone.

  That’s impossible. I—I must have just mistaken which row it was.

  The bardling started searching in the next row and then the next, carefully at first, then more and more frantically—It had to be here! Elvish words or no, manuscripts just didn’t get up and walk!

  Kevin was on his knees, facing denuded shelves and surrounded by piles of books when a gentle cough made him start. He whirled so sharply he lost his balance, sitting down hard on some of the books, and stared up at ...

  At one of the loveliest girls he’d ever seen. Her long plaits of hair were such a beautiful gold, her eyes were the clearest blue, the same shade as her silky gown, while her face and figure were ... were ...

  Reddening, Kevin scrambled to his feet, trying to brush off as much dust as possible. “I... uh ... was working in the library.” Oh, you idiot! She can see that for herself.” I mean, I was copying out a manuscript For my Master. He’s a Bard. And I—I’m Kevin, I mean his apprentice, I mean, a bardling.”

  The lovely eyes widened. “How wonderful! I’ve never met anyone studying to be a Bard before. You must be very wise.”

  “Uh ... well, I don’t know about that It’s not easy being a bardling, though.”

  “I can imagine! All that musk to learn—I never could manage to do more than pick out me simplest tunes on the harp, no matter how my tutors insisted. Arc you a harper, too? No? What instrument do you play?”

  For a moment, staring into those warm blue depths, Kevin couldn’t remember to save his life. “The—the lute,” he stammered out at last.

  “My goodness,” she said respectfully. “That’s a very difficult instrument, isn’t it?”

  “Not for me.” Wonderful. Now, instead of an idiot I sound like a braggart.

  “I’d love it if you’d play for me. If you want to, that is.”

  “Oh. I do!” Kevin exclaimed.

  The girl gave the most delightful little giggle. “But I’m forgetting my manners! Here I’m asking you to play for me, and you don’t even know who I am. My name is Charina, and I am Count Volmar’s niece.”

  Kevin hastily bowed. “My lady.”

  “Please!” Her sweet laugh sent a little shiver through him. “I hear enough formalities at my uncle’s court. But I didn’t mean to startle you, or interrupt you in ...” Her glance took in the empty shelves and piles of books. “In whatever it is you’re doing. Please, continue.”

  How could he, with such a wonderful creature watching him? One eye on Charina, Kevin did his best to look for the missing manuscript, but at last sank back on his heels with a groan. “I can’t find it.”

  To his wonder, she knelt by his side in a feint, sweet cloud of perfume. He heard himself say, “You'll get your gown all dusty,” even as he was hoping she wouldn’t listen—

  Charina shrugged impatiently. “Gowns can be cleaned. Now, if you’ll tell me what the manuscript looks like, I’ll help you look.”

  He couldn’t concentrate with her face so close to his, her eyes so earnest, her lips ...

  To his horrified embarrassment, his body was responding. Kevin turned hastily away, praying she hadn’t noticed. “It’s c-called The Study of Ancient Song, but I don’t think that’s its real name, and it’s about so big, so wide, in a worn brown leather binding.”

  “You don’t think that’s its real name?” Charina echoed softly. “Why ever not?”

  Kevin felt her warmth like a fire against his arm. He hastily moved that arm away, and the girl laughed—

  “Why, bardling, are you afraid of me?”

  She made it sound so ridiculous that Kevin found himself starting to laugh, too. “No, of course not,” he said. “But I... you ...” Quickly he changed to a safer subject—”The manuscript’s too weird to be just a study. I mean, part of it’s in elvish.”

  “How odd! But I said I’d help you look, and I will.”

  It was, Kevin thought, as they searched together, easily turning out to be both the worst and the most wonderful day of his life—

  A day that ended all too s
oon.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t find the manuscript,” Charina said. A smudge of dirt covered the very tip of her nose, and Kevin had to fight down the impulse to brush it away, to touch her soft cheek—No! He didn’t dare. If he touched her once, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And she was the count’s niece, after all.

  “Yes, uh, right,” he got out. “Blast the thing! It has to be here somewhere^

  “I know what you need,” Charina told him with a smile. “You need a day away from this dusty old place.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can! You’ll be more likely to find the manuscript if you get out in the nice, fresh air. I know! I’m going riding tomorrow. Why don’t you join me? You ... do ride, don’t you?”

  He wasn’t about to tell her about the mule. “Of course.”

  “Well, then! Meet me by the stables tomorrow morning, and we’ll make a whole day of it.”

  I shouldn’t. I should stay here and find the manuscript and finish copying it, and—and—

  And a day away from it couldn’t possibly matter.

  “I’ll be there,” Kevin promised, and smiled.

  Of course they weren’t allowed to ride out alone. A dull-faced groom went with them, several tactful strides behind so they could at least pretend to be alone.

  Kevin hardly noticed the man. Charina sat her pretty white palfrey with graceful ease, her deep blue riding gown matching the little mare’s blue-dyed bridle and saddle, her hair tucked neatly up under a feathered cap. As for the bardling, well, he was mounted not on a mule but on a horse, a real, spirited horse! Maybe it wasn’t so easy to keep his seat, maybe he nearly fell a dozen times, but at last he was riding a proper hero’s mount.

  They didn’t ride very far, only as far as a flowery hillside.

  “I thought this would make a lovely picnic site,” Charina said, jumping lightly down before the embarrassed Kevin could help her. As they munched on fresh, buttery bread and the first peaches of springtime, the girl coaxed, eyes bright, “But there’s so much more in my uncle’s demesne! Tomorrow is market day. We can ride down into the town and see all the sights.”

  “Well ...”

  “Oh, you can’t say no! Please! It’ll be such fun. Besides, I see so few people my own age!”

  “There are the squires,” Kevin said, hating himself for reminding her.

  To his delight, she dismissed them all with a contemptuous wave of the hand. “Mere boys. Servants no better than their masters. While you are almost a Bard. You are going to be somebody. You are somebody! Besides,” she added shyly, “I like you.”

  Another day away from the library can’t hurt, either, Kevin told himself.

  But two days stretched into three, then four. A full week passed, then another without him noting it, a rime out of time during which Kevin and Charina rode together all over the count’s lands, hunting out pretty glades and awesome mountain vistas. He played his lute for her, searching for the most romantic songs he knew, half amazed to hear how wonderfully alive his music sounded, how full of strength. This was the true dawning of his Bardic Magic, Kevin realized with a touch of awe. And surely Charina, just by being her own sweet, wonderful self, was helping it awaken. Surely he wouldn’t have long to wait before it woke completely. When it did.—.

  Kevin smiled, seeing himself released from apprenticeship, seeing himself returning in triumph to Charina, no longer a mere bardling but a full Bard, the equal of almost any rank of nobility.

  “Kevin.” His Master was facing him, looking so reproachful the bardling asked warily:

  “What’s wrong? What have I done?”

  “It’s what you haven’t done, Kevin. Where is the ‘manuscript, boy? Where is the copy I asked you to make?”

  “I’ll make it. Master, don’t fear!”

  “You must. Your life depends on it. Do you hear me, Kevin? Your life depends on it.”

  “No!—”

  Kevin’s eyes shot open, staring up at a stone ceiling high overhead. What—Where—

  A dream, he realized, sinking back in relief. He was in the squires’ quarters in Count Volmar’s casde, and he’d merely had a bad dream.

  And yet, Kevin thought uneasily, there had been a germ of truth to it. He really had been neglecting his duty for ... how long had it been? Mentally adding up the days, the bardling gasped to realized he hadn’t even thought of the manuscript for nearly two weeks. Overwhelmed by guilt, he sprang to his feet—and gasped anew.

  Someone in the night had most thoroughly gone through his belongings—

  My lute!

  To his immense relief, though its case had been opened, the lute hadn’t been harmed.

  But what about the copy of the manuscript? If anyone’s taken it ...

  The bardling hastily knelt by the clothes chest. His clothes were strewn all about, but nothing at all seemed to have been taken. Suddenly wary, Kevin deliberately didn’t grab at the saddlebags. Instead, he slipped his hand casually into the hidden pocket, just in case he was being watched, as though he was merely rummaging through the clothing.

  Ah! The copy was still in there, undisturbed.

  The bardling straightened, glaring about at the squires. “All right, whose idea of a joke was (his?”

  “Look at the poor little boy!” someone jeered. “Musta been sleepwalking.”

  “Sleep rummaging, you mean!” someone else yelled, “just like some ragpicking peasant!”

  The squires all burst into raucous laughter, and Kevin turned away in disgust. He wasn’t going to learn which one of them was the jester, not without fighting the whole pack. Which would be truly stupid; every one of these buffoons practiced combat daily. Besides, although he burned to wipe some of those grins off a few of those jeering faces, he’d been a bardling too long to risk damaging his hands in a fight, particularly not now, when his magic was starting to blossom.

  I wish I could really use it! Then we’d see who had the final laugh!

  No. A true Bard never used his talents for harm.

  Blast it to Darkness!

  Clenching his jaws in frustration, Kevin set about putting his belongings back in place. By the time he was done, he was alone in the hall, and by the time he had eaten and dressed, he’d gotten his emotions under control.

  After all, he had been spending his time with Count Volmar’s niece, equal to equal. Nothing these silly boys, these ... mere servants could do was worth his notice!

  At least Kevin thought he believed all that.

  As he was on his way to the library, determined once and for all to find the missing manuscript and copy it, a sweet voice called to him, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  Why did he suddenly feel so guilty? “Charina, I—”

  “The weather’s so nice and warm today! And I have a wonderful idea for a picnic, just the two of us.”

  Oh, how could he resist those lovely blue eyes? Grimly, Kevin reminded himself of the dream and his neglected duty. “I’m sorry, Charina,” he said with very real regret. “I can’t. I really would love to go riding or picnicking or anything else with you, truly. But, well, I have a job to do, and I’d better do it.”

  Charina stared at him as though he’d just told her something obscene. “You’d turn me down?” she gasped.

  “Please, I didn’t mean—”

  “You would! No, no, don’t try to argue. I quite understand. You’re bored with me.”

  “No!”

  “Yes, you are.” She tossed her head. “If you don’t want to come with me, you don’t have to. I can do very well without you, you—you boy”

  With that, Charina flounced angrily away, leaving Kevin standing lost and unhappy behind her.

  Interlude The Second

  Count Volmar looked up in surprise as Carlotta stormed into the solar, shedding the persona of Charina like a cloak and throwing herself down in a chair, eyes wild, red hair crackling about her.

  “I cannot bear being that simpering little fool of a gi
rl a moment longer!” she raged.

  She looked so totally inhuman in her sorcerous fury that Volmar shuddered. “I can’t say I blame you,” he said soothingly, and saw just a touch of that fury fade. “I never did like little girls. All sweetness and cuteness—Bah.” He moved to the small table by the wall that held decanters of wine. Without asking her, Volmar filled a goblet and handed it to her. As Carlotta sipped, he took his seat again and asked, “Do you really need to be her any longer?”

  The princess glared at him over the goblet’s rim in suddenly renewed anger, sorcerous hair like wildfire about her. “I don’t know!” she snapped. “I feel as though I don’t know anything any more!”