Asael nodded. “I’m especially worried about lodging. She’ll never last in the common tents like we’ve been sleeping in.”
Fortunately, Byrn noticed too. As the fair wound down for the night he approached the duo. “You’ve improved business so much that I want to repay you,” he said.
“But there weren’t that many people out,” Cricket protested.
“More than there have been since the first day,” Byrn replied. He held out a scrap of parchment folded in half. “Take this into Taris, to the White Owl. My wife will take care of you.”
Cricket glanced at the instructions—supper, baths, laundry, and a room—and passed them to his friend. “This is too generous,” Asael said after he read them. “We can’t accept this without some sort of payment.”
Byrn nodded. “True. Very well, play here all day tomorrow, and we’ll call it even,” he said.
Cricket said, “Done. We haven’t done as well without you, either.” Hands were shaken all around, and the two musicians gathered their instruments and the girl and began the trek into Taris.
The White Owl sat several streets back from the Grand Avenue, quiet but convenient. Inside, a talented crossain piped softly in the corner and a roaring fire lit and warmed the room from the middle. The matronly woman who greeted them read Byrn’s note and said, “You two must be good. Well, which would you like first?”
“Baths, I think,” Asael said.
“Followed by supper,” Cricket said quickly.
“Good enough,” the woman laughed. “Tubs are downstairs I’ll send along hot water directly. And if you need anything, my name is Wylla.”
Two hours later, clean and full, Wylla showed them to a room with two large beds. “Just leave your things outside the door,” she told them. “They’ll be ready first thing in the morning. Rest well, gentlemen, milady.”
“Excuse me, Wylla?” Cricket said. “Could we get a cot or something?”
The landlady gave them a curious look, but said, “There’s one in the wardrobe. Good night.”
Asael put away the instruments while Cricket set up the cot. They turned to find Leann stretched out on the left-hand bed, naked. Bruises mottled her skin, but her breasts and hips were fuller than revealed by the ill-fitting dress. “Well, who’s first?” she asked apathetically. “Or do you want me together?”
Cricket flushed and looked at the floor, and Asael spun and faced the wall. “That’s not why you’re here,” the fiddler said thickly.
“Why else?” she asked.
Closing his eyes, Cricket said, “Would you cover up, please?”
They heard a rustle of cloth, and then: “All right.”
Leann huddled against the wall with the blanket around her shoulders. “What do you want me for?” she asked in bewilderment.
“We want you to be happy,” Asael said.
“Happy,” she repeated. “You own me, and you want me to be happy.”
Cricket pulled the leather title out of his tunic and held it out to her. “Take it,” he said. “All we ask is that you don’t run away.”
“Where would I go?” she asked. “I have nothing but my voice, and even that is failing me now.”
The two young men glanced at each other. “Perhaps, but perhaps not,” Cricket said.
“But we can talk about that later,” Asael interrupted. “Right now just rest, and let us take care of things.”
She nodded weakly. “I’m too confused to do much else. Shall I take the cot?”
Asael started to say something, but Cricket beat him to it. “I’ll take it,” he said. “I sleep on a cot all the time anyway, so it’s no big deal.”
Leann looked skeptical, but laid down, keeping the blanket tight around her. Within minutes she breathed deeply and evenly. Cricket waited a few minutes more, then pulled Asael aside.
“We’re almost out of money,” he said quietly. “We did okay tonight, but if things don’t pick up, we could be in trouble. So I’ll understand if you’re mad at me.”
“Mad?” Asael whispered. “I would have killed him, Cricket, and then where would we be? No, you did the right thing.”
“I still feel guilty. I said I wanted a singer and we ended up with a slave. I never wanted to own another person.”
“Me neither. But I’m still glad you did it.” Asael glanced back at the sleeping girl. “I think we should make her a friend, first. We’ll have to keep her as a slave, in name at least, otherwise Duncan probably won’t let her into the Hall.”
“Agreed. Friend first.” They shook on it.
“I think she’s going to be very pretty,” Asael said casually.
Cricket glanced at his friend, but Asael wouldn’t meet his eyes. “If you like that kind of look,” he said finally. Asael relaxed somewhat.
Cricket pulled out his flute. “I think I’ll go play a few songs in the tap room. Do you want to come?”
“No thanks. I’m pretty tired.”
Cricket shrugged. “Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
The young harper took his flute downstairs, but the crossain still played, so he just sat back and nursed a tankard of ale. The events of the day turned around and around in his brain, finally settling down as he relaxed into someone else’s music for a change. Beginning to feel tired, he tossed a couple of pennies on the table and went back upstairs.
Cricket undressed as silently as possible in the dark room, then gathered up all their clothes and put them outside of the door. He laid down, staring into the dark, his mind still too agitated to go to sleep. He heard a sound like a kitten’s mew, and realized that Leann was crying softly into her pillow. He pulled his flute out from under the cot and blew her a lullaby as soft as a feather. Her cries stopped, but neither spoke; he played as long as he could, then listened. All he heard were Asael’s soft snores, so he put the flute away and slept.
Chapter 6: Marriage
Despite being the last one asleep, Cricket woke first. He stretched and peeked through the shutters; outside, the sun had just begun to light a cloudless sky. Taking it as a good omen, he retrieved the trio’s fresh laundered clothes and distributed them. Dressing quickly and quietly, he went downstairs to find food.
Returning with a loaf of warm bread, three sausages and a jug of milk, he found Asael and Leann awake and dressed, but sitting in bashful silence. “My friends, the feast has arrived!” he proclaimed.
As they ate, Cricket joked with Asael, getting him to loosen up some. They talked about the day’s prospects, and the possible tunes they might play. Asael seemed unduly shy around Leann, Cricket noticed, but both tried to keep her involved in the conversation, and neither asked about her past.
After taking a warm and thankful leave of Wylla, they made their way to the Fair. The turn in the weather had tempted the fair-goers out of hiding, and soon the three found themselves in heavy traffic. With just a glance, Asael and Cricket flanked Leann, shielding her from the press. She responded with a hesitant smile and a lift of her chin.
By the time they reached Byrn, it was just over two hours before noon, but he and Corian were already doing a steady business. “Hurry, boys, we need some music!” Byrn called as soon as he spotted them. Even Corian’s muttering was delivered with less venom than normal.
Asael and Cricket made sure that Lean was situated comfortably, half hidden by a tent behind them, before tuning. For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, they interspersed their duets with solos, allowing each of them to spend some time with her.
The sun dried the streets and cheered the crowds who pressed around them, throwing coins and holding impromptu dances. Wylla came by with replenishments for her husband and stayed to chat during a brief lull. Cricket pulled Asael aside while she made friends with Leann.
“We’ve done well this morning,” the young harpist said, scooping twelve silvers from among the myriad of copper in the fiddle case. “What do you think? Some new clothes for Leann?”
“Defin
itely. Do you think Wylla would take her? I don’t know about you, but I don’t know a thing about finding a good seamstress.”
Cricket nodded. “Good idea.” Slipping the money into a purse, he approached the women. “We’d like you to take the day off, Leann. You’ve been working too hard this morning, breaking your back and wearing your fingers to the bone.”
At her puzzled expression, Asael said, “It’s okay. He’s joking. He doesn’t do it well, but he certainly does it often.”
Leann smiled politely, but the creases in her brow remained. “Where would I go? What would I do?”
Cricket smiled. “If it’s okay with Wylla, perhaps you two would like to go shopping?” He didn’t say it, but the impression hung in the air that the less she had of her old life, the better.
Byrn looked at his wife. “Do you trust Felid with the inn for the afternoon?” he asked.
“Well, I did tell him I might look around some while I was here,” Wylla said innocently. “Having a companion just makes it all the better.”
Byrn rolled his eyes. “Scheming behind my back,” he said. “I should have known.”
Asael distracted Leann while Cricket slipped the older woman the purse. “Get her some clothes, as much as you can,” he said quietly. “Nothing too fancy, but make her feel special.”
“You’re trying to teach the sun how to shine and the rain how to fall,” Wylla whispered back. “I’ll take care of her.”
Afternoon turned into evening, and the crowds dwindled in exhaustion. Cricket and Asael kept an eye out for the women, and Byrn laughed at their impatience. “You boys didn’t have sisters growing up, I’ll wager.”
“You’d win that one,” Cricket said with a grin.
“It’s obvious. Here you are waiting on them, but as soon as you stop looking, that’s when they’ll arrive. And not a minute before.”
“And how are we supposed to learn about women before we get married?” Asael asked.
“You can’t!” Corian cackled. “Even when you marry ‘em, you never figure ‘em out!”
Byrn grimaced. “You know, for once he’s right.”
“So what do we do?” Cricket asked. “We’re responsible for this girl, and we barely know how to take care of ourselves.”
“She’s not a horse,” Byrn said sharply. “It’s not like you have to do everything for her. Look, be patient, be kind, try to listen with more than just your ears, and you’ll be doing better than most of us. And speaking of dealing with them, here they come.”
Both boys turned and looked, but at first all they saw was Wylla. When they realized that the beautiful woman beside her was the scrawny slave girl from the day before, Asael blushed and Cricket felt like his heart would burst with pride.
Leann received their praise with eyes bright with tears, which soon overflowed into heaving sobs. “What’s wrong?” the musicians asked while Wylla fussed over her.
“You’ve upset her, obviously,” the older woman said. “Now go on, both of you.”
“No, it’s okay,” Leann said, sniffing. “It’s just that... well, I heard what you said to Lecham, but neither of you seem like that at all...”
“Lecham?” Asael asked.
Cricket snapped his fingers. “Her former master, right?”
Leann nodded, and Wylla said, “What did you tell him?”
Cricket hedged under Wylla’s stare. “I told him we were going to have fun with her during the fair and then sell her to the miners,” he confessed. When she continued to glare, he held up his hands. “You didn’t expect me to bargain with him by telling him that if he didn’t sell, we would kill him, did you?”
Wylla relaxed somewhat, but Leann looked up with wonder. “You would have done that for me?” she asked.
“It was my first choice,” admitted Asael.
“But what if I had been his wife?”
Cricket shrugged. “There wouldn’t have been any attempt to talk.”
Wylla hugged her husband. “I think I can go back to the inn now,” she told him. “These boys are not the ruffians I assumed.”
“You doubt my judgment?” Byrn said in mock horror.
“Occasionally.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful out here. Leann, I’ll try to come by tomorrow if I can.”
“I would like that,” the girl answered.
After Wylla had disappeared, Corian yelled, “She’s got you wrapped around her finger, Byrn!”
“And a happy man it makes me, too,” Byrn called back. In a softer voice, he said, “You’ll notice that he didn’t say a word while she was around.”
That night, after the crowds had drifted off to private parties or well deserved slumber, the trio packed away the instruments, and said goodbye to Byrn for the evening. They wandered through the dark streets, munching on meat pies and talking about the people they had seen that day.
“Did you see the girl with the green scarf?” Asael asked.
“She was a little hard to miss,” Cricket replied. “She all but sat in my lap.”
“She really liked you,” Leann said.
“I think it was the music,” Cricket said. “She reeked of beer.”
Asael laughed. “I knew something was odd.”
“So, where do we want to sleep?” Cricket asked brightly.
“The common tents?” Asael asked, looking at Leann.
She seemed uncomfortable with the idea, so Cricket said, “What about getting some blankets and sleeping under the stars? The forest of Uislign is pretty close.”
“Is it safe?” Leann asked.
“The forest is sacred,” Asael explained. “It’s guarded by several powers that keep people from committing violence against the trees or each other.”
At Leann’s skeptical look, Cricket said, “That’s what we’ve been told. In the end, it means that Uislign is a very safe place.”
“Sounds okay,” she said.
Finding a merchant to sell them bedding at such a late hour turned into a major project, and they ended up paying twice what they wanted to, but ended up with good quality bedrolls. By the time they made their way out of the fair and to the forest, the full moon rode high in the sky. They didn’t go very far into the woods, just to the first clearing they could find. Cricket laid down gratefully, feeling the emotions and excitement of the day draining his energy. He could hear Asael and Leann talking quietly, and he drifted off with a smile on his face.
The next four days passed by in glorious weather. Although the wind had a chill that heralded winter, the sun stayed bright and warm, encouraging the fair goers to loosen their purse strings. Asael and Cricket stayed beside Byrn, playing for the sheer joy of it, tightening their music to the degree that they rarely had to talk. They tried different riffs and modifications, responding to their audience with subtlety and panache. Byrn openly praised them, saying that the Academy was missing its two finest students, and even Corian smiled occasionally—at least, that’s what they assumed he was trying to do.
Even more surprising was the day that they were playing “Finns’ First Love” and heard a soft soprano from behind them start the verses. They turned and looked at Leann, who flushed but did not stop, and then shared a wordless nod. Acting as though Leann were the furthest thing from their minds, they continued with only the most subtle change: where before they had supported each other, now they wrapped their music around Leann’s voice, coaxing her into renewed confidence. She responded by relaxing into the embrace of the music, trusting herself to their skill.
When the song ended, Byrn came over and took Leann’s hand. He kissed the back of it and said, “Young lady, if I weren’t married to the finest woman I know, I would steal you away from these two young pups before they knew what had happened.”
“Thank you,” she said with a shy smile, “but I’m no longer for sale.”
“At any price,” Asael added.
“However,” Cricket said, nudging the fiddle case, “anything you could spare would be appreciated.�
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“I may have something you would prefer to a few coins,” Byrn said with a wink. “How about another night at the White Owl?”
“Done!” cried three voices.
Leann continued to sing the next day, and the boys even joined her occasionally, forming tenuous harmonies and counterpoints as they formed new bonds. The fair goers rewarded their talents with a steady stream of coins.
“Tomorrow is Samhain,” Cricket said one morning as they set up. “I’m almost wishing that this could continue forever.”
“I know,” Asael said. “Returning to the Hall is going to seem dreadfully dull after this.”
“Am I going to be okay there?” Leann asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Cricket said. He looked at Asael. “I feel like we should do something special tomorrow before we have to go back. Maybe we could take the day off and just have fun.”
Byrn joined them. “If you don’t mind doing some playing tomorrow, I know of someone who needs some musicians for a wedding.”
“Do you mean it?” asked Cricket. “Who’s it for?”
“Patkirk, son of Lord Elnsbruck.”
“The lord of Caer Coll?” Asael asked incredulously. “Why would they want us?”
Byrn shrugged. “Let’s just say that Lord Elnsbruck favors the White Owl when he’s in Taris.”
“Wow,” Cricket said. “I would have thought that he would stay in the palace.”
“Cantref Elnsbruck is a farming district,” Byrn explained. “Despite the titles, they’re fairly simple people, and I think they dislike all the pomp at the palace. Anyway, Wylla sent me a message this morning, wondering if we knew of any crossains or bards who might be available to play Patkirk’s nuptials. I beat my brain for someone decent, but all I could think of was you three. You’re not interested, are you?”
“We’re going to have to get some nice clothes,” Cricket said. “That means we’ll need the assistance of your wife.”
“She’ll be here two hours after noon,” Byrn promised.
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