Velvet rose and walked around the table, studying the candle. “Could you make a candle of Lady Mirwen?” she asked. “I would like to know what she would look like.”
“I did,” Eirthe said soberly. “It came out with her head on the body of a giant spider.”
Velvet giggled. “You do indeed have a gift.” Then she sobered. “But this isn’t funny. She must be plotting something even more devious than her usual schemes.” She frowned. “We have not been here long, but even I can tell that the Vizier is the one who truly runs the kingdom. And Lady Mirwen has always regarded people as expendable tools. My father does not like her; that is why she was able to gain his consent to accompany me to my new home. But he is a man—” she broke off, looking quickly at Lythande. “I mean to say that he does not see the side of her that she shows only in the women’s quarters.”
“You do not seem a stranger to palace intrigue yourself, Princess,” Lythande said smoothly.
“But I am,” Velvet said, twisting her hands nervously in front of her, “especially compared to Lady Mirwen. She has practiced it as long as I can remember, while I have done nothing but observe from the sidelines. I wasn’t expected to marry, and I’m not a particular favorite of my father’s, so I was not important enough to bother with.”
“Interesting as all this is,” Eirthe said. “I have candles to finish before the fair starts, and I need to get back to work. Are we certain that it was Lady Mirwen who changed your appearance?”
“I am certain,” Velvet said grimly. “She made me wear a veil from the moment we approached the border until we arrived here, and while we were traveling she came to my room each night to brush my hair and help me prepare for bed—which she never bothered to do before.” The princess frowned. “She still comes each night, but I doubt she will once I marry Tashgan.” She looked up at Lythande. “Could she be using this illusion to distract him, to keep him from noticing her and wondering what she is doing?”
Eirthe picked up the candle and packed it back into its small straw-lined box. “If I wanted to distract Lord Tashgan, a beautiful girl is one of the surest methods I know of.”
Alnath returned, streaking through the open window and landing on the wrist Eirthe held up for her. Eirthe had no difficulty interpreting the salamander’s message. “Lady Mirwen is on her way here,” she informed Lythande.
“We must go.” Lythande bowed to the princess. “Highness, if you think of anything more I should know, you may tell Eirthe. She has worked with me before and is to be trusted. And it would be better if your lady-in-waiting did not know that you and I have spoken together.”
“Of course, Lord Magician,” Velvet nodded regally, then added anxiously, “but you will remove this spell, will you not?”
Lythande smiled at the girl. “If you truly wish it, it will be my wedding gift to you.”
“Start thinking of a way to explain it to Tashgan,” Eirthe advised as Lythande pulled her toward the door. “Good luck!”
~o0o~
Eirthe spent the rest of the morning making candles and moving her stock around until she was satisfied that it was displayed to the best advantage, while Lythande prowled the castle, the outbuildings, and the fairgrounds, stopping occasionally to sing a few songs where people were gathered, and always listening to whatever was being said around her. Unfortunately, while some of it was mildly interesting, none of it was any particular help.
The fair opened formally at noon, with a speech of welcome from the Vizier. After the formalities were over Lythande followed him as he went through the fair, speaking to each merchant and checking for any last minute problems. She was pleased to observe that he appeared to be well-liked and competent.
Not that Tashgan isn’t well-liked, Lythande thought to herself, but his areas of competence are rather limited. He needs a good Vizier, and he’s very lucky to have this one.
~o0o~
Lythande spent the next three days wandering around the fairground, looking at all the different merchandise, thinking of possible illusions for the Marriage Games, and pausing frequently to play for the fairgoers. She stopped by at least once each day to see Eirthe, who was selling her stock almost as fast as she could make it. It seemed to Lythande that Eirthe was selling enough candles to light every home in the kingdom at least through the winter, if not until next Yule.
On the fourth day, Prince Tashgan’s old lute arrived. Lythande, who was standing a short distance Eirthe’s booth, was surprised to see a woman, past her first youth but still very beautiful, approach the candlemaker’s stall. The hood of her cloak was thrown back, revealing braided loops of long golden hair and the cloak hung open in the front, showing off a dress of green silk with gold dragons embroidered on it. The woman certainly did not appear feel the cold. Lythande, recognizing her at once even after ten years and many adventures, knew she didn’t feel the cold. Then again, she wasn’t really a woman.
“Mistress Candlemaker,” the woman greeted Eirthe. “I see you have been blessed.” A wave of her hand indicated the salamanders.
“Lady Beauty,” Eirthe smiled. “How good to see you again. Yes, Alnath had babies last summer. Aren’t they wonderful?”
“They’re lovely,” Beauty said with unmistakable sincerity. “Speaking of children, I hear that dear Lord Tashgan is finally going to marry. Have you seen his bride? What is she like?”
“Very young,” Eirthe replied, “but she seems like a nice girl.” She shrugged. “It’s a political arrangement, of course.”
“Of course.” The lady in green smiled, showing rather a lot of teeth. “I must go up to the castle and congratulate the dear boy.” She turned away and walked off, giving Lythande an excellent view of Tashgan’s lute case slung across her back.
Lythande gave Beauty plenty of time to get beyond earshot before approaching Eirthe. “What do you know of that creature?” she inquired, careful to keep her voice low.
“Lady Beauty?” Eirthe asked, looking at Lythande in surprise. “She’s an old friend of Tashgan’s; she comes here every year at this time. She’s an excellent musician—perhaps you saw the lute?”
“Eirthe,” Lythande said urgently. “How long does she stay here when she comes?”
“Five days,” Eirthe said. “Why? Do you need to avoid her?”
“Where else have you seen her?”
“She comes to the Fair at Old Gandrin each year,” Eirthe replied promptly, “and she was in Northwander at mid-summer both the years I was there.” She frowned. “Lythande, what’s wrong? You called her a creature—is she not human?”
“Does she seem so to you?”
“Not a normal human, certainly,” Eirthe said softly. “I’ve known her for years now and she hasn’t aged. And her clothes never get dirty—most people don’t travel dressed as she does—and she’s quite fond of Alnath, which is unusual. I thought she must be some kind of mage—she does have magic, I know that.” She lowered her voice even more. “If she’s not human, what is she?”
“A were-dragon,” Lythande replied grimly.
“Oh, dear.” Eirthe looked wide-eyed along the path Beauty had taken. “That would explain why she and Alnath get along so well.” She frowned in concern. “Is she an enemy of yours, Lythande?”
“I don’t know,” Lythande admitted. “I gave her the lute, but I thought she’d be able to remove the binding spell easily... certainly after all these years...”
“What binding spell?” Eirthe demanded.
“When Tashgan’s brothers were still alive and he was not the heir,” Lythande explained, “they had Ellifanwy, the Court Magician here, put a binding spell on his lute. It governed both his route and the amount of time he spent in each place. He came here for five days at Yule-tide each year, passed through the Fair at Old Gandrin each spring, spent mid-summer in Northwander, and then made his way back here, only to start the same route anew.”
Eirthe’s eyes went even wider. “And Beauty is following that route, as she has done every yea
r since—” she chewed on her lower lip, obviously trying to reckon the years.
“—since the year Prince Tashgan came to me at Old Gandrin and asked me to take the binding spell off his lute,” Lythande finished the sentence. “Ellifanwy was dead by then—she died in a were-dragon’s lair, oddly enough—and he was in a hurry because his brothers had just died. I traded lutes with him, intending to remove the spell at my leisure. Of course, I was following his route in the meantime—”
“I’ll be that was interesting,” Eirthe said with a grin.
“Very,” Lythande said dryly. “In any event, I still had not removed the spell when the lute led me to a house in the middle of a swamp. Beauty lived there. Apparently she was quite fond of Tashgan—”
“She still is,” Eirthe interjected.
“—and she was not at all pleased to see me in his place,” Lythande continued, “although she did calm down somewhat once I convinced her I had not killed him.”
Eirthe snickered.
Lythande glared at her. “Tashgan had mentioned her when he gave me the lute—not that he told me anything useful about her, of course; he just said ‘Give my love to Beauty.’ So I made up a grand tale about his sacrificing his love for her to his duty as his father’s heir, and I gave her the lute to remember him by. I really didn’t think it would bind her—certainly not for almost ten years!”
“She’s been coming here every year,” Eirthe said, “but that doesn’t prove she’s bound. She could be doing it of her own free will.”
“I hope you’re right,” Lythande said. “I had best go up to the castle and find out. If she’s angry with me, things could get very awkward.”
“Wait until the Fair ends,” Eirthe said. “It’s only another hour, and I want to go with you. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
~o0o~
By the time the Fair ended and Eirthe had inventoried and packed up her stock, it was rather more than an hour. Lythande, however, was in no particular hurry to confront Beauty, so she waited until Eirthe and the salamanders were ready to accompany her.
They entered the back of the great hall quietly. Tashgan and Velvet still sat side by side at the high table, with Lady Mirwen on Velvet’s right. The green cloak draped over the back of the empty chair at Tashgan’s left hand indicated where Beauty had sat at dinner, but now she sat on a stool at the front of the dais, playing an intricate melody on her lute.
Lythande was immediately impressed by two things: the fingering required was difficult enough to challenge any musician, and every single person in the hall was listening with rapt attention. No one was fidgeting, or looking bored, or whispering to a neighbor, and no one had so much as turned a head when Lythande and Eirthe entered. Lythande clasped the two daggers concealed beneath her cloak and checked for the presence of magic—long years of being a traveling minstrel had taught her that this sort of music was most definitely not the way to enthrall an audience—but the only active spell was the one Lady Mirwen was using to change Velvet’s appearance. Even a more thorough check for the presence of potential magic picked up only what Lythande already knew: the salamanders, Eirthe’s talent, Lady Mirwen, and the magic that Beauty had by virtue of being a were-dragon.
The song died away into silence and everyone applauded, even the armsmen and the servants. Lythande, joining in the applause, whispered to Eirthe, “Is her playing always so well appreciated?”
“Invariably,” Eirthe murmured back, still clapping along with the rest of the hall’s occupants. “Lady Beauty likes to be appreciated, and she is known to have quite a temper.”
“Ah, there you are, Lythande!” Lord Tashgan had just looked up and spotted them. “What do you think of Lady Beauty’s playing?”
“Most impressive.” Lythande strode boldly forward and bowed to Tashgan and Velvet, then bent over the hand that Beauty extended. “My compliments, Lady Beauty. I applaud both your skill and your courage; I would not dare to undertake such a sophisticated piece in general company.”
Beauty smiled blandly at Lythande. “Thank you, Lord Magician.” Her fingers squeezed Lythande’s briefly before she released them. “I come here each year to celebrate the Yule feast, and I flatter myself that the audience improves in its ability to appreciate good music each year.”
“That requires no flattery, Lady,” Lythande said, inclining her head respectfully. “The response of your audience is proof of the correctness of your opinion.”
“Perhaps you would consent to play a duet with me,” Beauty said, smiling sweetly. Lythande could almost hear her thinking: I know your secret, and you know I know, and you wonder what I shall do with the knowledge. How amusing.
“It would be my honor,” Lythande said, bowing again.
“Excellent!” Tashgan said. “You there,” he pointed at the nearest page. “A stool for Lythande.”
The boy ran to do as he was told, and a few minutes later Lythande was sitting knee-to-knee with Beauty, tuning her lute to match the were-dragon’s.
“Now what shall we play?” Beauty mused aloud. She played a few bars of music, her fingers flying over the strings. “Do you know this one? I believe that your voice is high enough to manage it.”
Lythande, joining obediently in the introduction, did indeed recognize the piece, and she very much hoped that no one else did. It was an old song of a love between two women that endured even when both of them fell in love with the same man. Beauty was teasing her, but at least she was being subtle about it. Lythande could only pray that the point was too subtle for their audience to grasp.
The song was followed by enthusiastic applause, and Beauty followed it up with a piece often used as a showpiece by competing musicians. The first player would lay down a complicated melody and the second would improvise and elaborate upon it, then the first would play an even more complicated version of what the second had just done, and so forth. Lythande was prepared to let Beauty win the duel if she could so do without being obvious and was slightly chagrined to discover that it was not necessary. Beauty was good enough to outplay Lythande, though it did take her the better part of an hour to do so.
“We must do this again, dear boy,” Beauty said to Lythande as they rose to their feet and bowed together to Lord Tashgan and graciously accepted his praise. “It is not often that I have the pleasure of playing with someone who comes so close to keeping up with me.”
Lythande, still buoyed up in the exaltation of playing really good music, grinned happily. “It would be my pleasure, Lady Beauty.” She gave the were-dragon a courtly bow.
“Indeed.” Beauty looked around the hall and chuckled softly. “I think perhaps we were all caught up in the music’s spell,” she said. “Look, the candles have burned low, and,” she added lowering her voice to reach only to Lythande’s ears, “Tashgan’s little bride looks ready to fall asleep where she sits.”
“It can’t possibly have been the music,” Lythande whispered back.
“I suspect it’s more the strangeness of being in a new land for the first time,” Beauty said softly, “and, of course, the spell on her saps her energies somewhat.”
The two magicians’ eyes met. “Which do you see?” Lythande inquired. “Her true face, or the illusion?”
Beauty’s laugh rivaled the wind-chimes that were sold at the Fair. “Why, both, of course.” She turned away to pack up her lute, and Lythande followed her example.
By the time Lythande reached her room the energy from the music was wearing off and she felt ready to fall asleep in the doorway. But first she checked to make certain that no one had tried to disturb the box with Eirthe’s spelled candles. To her relief, things were just as she had left them that morning.
Eirthe tapped on her door and came in with a tray of bread, cheese, and dried fruit. “Try to eat something before you fall asleep,” she said. “You look even more tired than I feel—and I’d like to sleep for a week! At least we have one day to rest before the wedding.”
“It’s a good thin
g we do,” Lythande said. “I’m going to need it.”
~o0o~
The day of the wedding was beautiful and unseasonably warm. By the time Lythande woke, the sun was halfway up the cloudless bright blue sky, and the air had only enough chill in it to be refreshing. The wind was the gentlest of breezes. Lythande sat on the windowsill, basking in the sun, ignoring the salamander who left the group guarding the trunk with the wedding candles and streaked past her into the open air.
A short time later there was a tap on Lythande’s door. Lythande opened it to find Eirthe had brought breakfast.
“Thank you, Eirthe,” she said. “Please join me—or have you eaten already?”
“Hours ago,” Eirthe replied with a smile, “but I wouldn’t mind a bit more fruit. I’ve just finished setting out all the tapers in the great hall. It’s going to be the best-lit room you have ever seen.”
“Are the wedding preparations completed then?” Lythande had spent the previous day in her room, resting and practicing illusions. Eirthe had brought her food at regular intervals, but had left her alone otherwise, so Lythande didn’t know the current state of the castle. She knew Eirthe would have informed her of anything obviously crucial, so she assumed that things had been quiet—at least magically.
“Very nearly,” Eirthe replied, smothering a yawn. “You did well to stay out of the mess yesterday—between the tear-down of the Fair and the preparations for the wedding, it was the most chaotic mess I’ve ever seen. Most of the Fair folk are pretty efficient, but the castle staff doesn’t put on a wedding every year. And from all the fuss and bother, I think some of them deliberately left things until the last moment so they could run around and yell at other people and seem busy and important.”
“Does that include the Vizier?” Lythande asked curiously.
“Fortunately he had delegated the wedding preparations to the Head Steward,” Eirthe said, “because Lady Mirwen kept running to him all day with crisis after crisis, and he didn’t have had time to do anything yesterday except deal with her.”
The Complete Lythande Page 30
