by Tanya Huff
“From what the Emperor told me …” Bannon leaned forward as a breeze ruffled the hair on the back of his head. “… those bards, Gabris and Karlene, are going to be in for a nasty surprise when they get back to the Capital.”
“I think you’ll find that the Empress has Gabris sufficiently under her protection.”
“Him maybe, but not Karlene,” he said with satisfaction. He’d never liked the possessive way the Shkoden bard had looked at Vree.
The ambassador slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure you should be spreading that around.”
“No one ever repeats what they’re told by an assassin,” Bannon told him with a feral smile.
“A very good point.” As Tysia, having gotten a grip on her reactions, presented the deadly young man with the maps, the ambassador silently considered how, once again, everything had come around to the bards. “You realize that the Shkoden authorities are not going to be happy about having you careening about the country after your sister.”
“How are they going to stop me?”
Wincing slightly, the ambassador raised a cautioning hand. “Please, allow me to attempt to arrange an approach less likely to pitch us all into an unpleasant situation.”
* * * *
Ullious whistled a quiet gratitude, dismissing the kigh. He’d heard enough.
He was an Imperial citizen and interfering with the Emperor’s justice would be treason. Nervously, he ran his thumb over the narrow edge of his mustache and desperately searched for a solution that would keep not only Karlene and Gabris but himself alive.
* * * *
“Her Royal Highness considers Kars to be a bardic problem, and we’re to deal with it.” Ignoring Kovar, who’d moved out from behind the desk, Liene lowered herself onto the pile of faded tapestry cushions heaped in her favorite chair. “I am far too old to deal with a third Sovereign Head of Shkoder. Far too old. You were right. I should have retired at Second Quarter Festival. If I had, I’d be sitting in my garden right now with nothing more to worry about than worms in the apples. Bardic problem. Hmmph.”
“It is essentially what Karlene concluded in her recall. She did point out that we’d have to deal with him eventually.”
Liene glared up at her second. “I know that.” She pounded the tip of her cane against the floor. “But I should have been the one to tell Her Highness, not the other way around. It’s a bardic problem, Captain, she said. When you’ve worked out a plan for dealing with it, come back and see me. Of course, it’s a bardic problem. It’s destroyed one of our own.”
“So, what shall we do?” Kovar asked calmly, resting one leg over the corner of the desk and using as much Voice as he thought he could get away with.
“Stop trying to calm me,” Liene snarled. “I’m not angry at Her Highness. I’m angry because Jazep was thirty-three years younger than I am, and he’s dead and I’m not. And stop looking at me like that! I don’t want to be dead, I want him to be alive. Her Highness would also like us to send a message to Marija at Bartek Springs and arrange to have Magda and Vree stopped.”
“Stopped?”
“Apparently the how and why is a Bartek Springs problem. I suppose she’d best stay and not go on to the Duc of Somes. Once Jeremias is there, and the recall’s there, they’ll have to Sing each other the particulars.” A tentative knock on the door jerked her head around. “What!”
A little startled by his reception, Ullious stepped into the office. “Captain, Kovar, I believe I have at least a partial solution to the problem in Somes.”
“You mean a solution to Kars?” Kovar asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Kovar shook his head. “I doubt you have all the information necessary to …”
“Oh, let him talk,” Liene interrupted, leaning forward, gnarled hands clasped over the head of her cane. “It’s not like the Circle’s been spitting out great ideas at us. Besides, anyone who can run a successful business under the weight of the Emperor’s taxes deserves to be listened to.”
Ullious bowed in the Imperial fashion at the Bardic Captain—and then, to be politic, at Kovar. “Recently,” he began, falling into a storytelling cadence, “in order to test my range, Tadeus had me Sing to Karlene in the Empire. Both she and Gabris were out Walking with the first group of Imperial fledglings to return home and were, at the time, quite close to the border. If they remained on their intended route, they’re closer to the border now. Very near, in fact, to the pass into Somes.” He paused. Singing Karlene into Shkoder would betray the Emperor’s plans. As an Imperial citizen, suggesting it would be treason. However as a bard, if he were told to send a message across the border, he’d only be following orders.
“If she’s that close to the border, she’s the closest bard we’ve got,” Kovar mused. “And having recently dealt with Kars, she’s already familiar with at least part of the situation.”
“Doesn’t Sing earth though,” Liene put in thoughtfully.
“Granted. But she Sings a strong three quarters and has proven ability in Singing the fifth kigh. She’s also proved she can track this enclosed abomination.” Kovar turned to face the Imperial fledgling, even the waxed curls of his mustache looking more hopeful than they had a moment before. “Can you find her again?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. We’ll work out a message to send her that can’t be misinterpreted. Gabris can explain things to the Emperor.”
Ullious prayed to Kattinni, god of cartage and the personal deity he’d brought with him into Shkoder, that Gabris was as protected as the ambassador believed. “There is one other thing. You are aware that Vireyda Magaly’s brother Bannon is Prince Otavas’ bodyguard?”
“Of course we’re aware of it,” Liene snapped, then her head jerked back and she stared, wide-eyed, up at Kovar. “Center it! Jazep’s death pushed Bannon completely out of my head. All things being enclosed, I imagine he’ll have an opinion to express about this as well.”
* * * *
“Your Grace, with the lead your sister and the …” Onele paused and frowned. “… and the other young woman have, you won’t catch up to them before they reach Bartek Springs where they’ll be stopped and then returned here. I neither want my cousin with her unique and irreplaceable talents endangering herself by confronting this bardic abomination, nor do I want an assassin with two not entirely stable kigh wandering around Shkoder.”
“Then allow me to go to Bartek Springs,” Gerek pleaded. “I can escort them back to Elbasan.”
The Heir leaned forward and rested her chin on her fist, her father’s signet on her index finger. There were shadows under her eyes that had not been there earlier. “Tell me why,” she instructed. “Do you believe she’s in danger from her companion?”
“No, Highness! Vree would never hurt her.”
“What about Gyhard? He may not be able to jump to another body without Vree’s help, but suppose he pushes her out and takes over the body he already has?”
Gerek shook his head. “It wouldn’t happen, Highness.”
“Why not? Because he allegedly loves her?”
“Your Highness is very well informed …”
Onele straightened. “There’s an unstable Imperial assassin staying at the Bardic Hall. You’re unenclosed right I’m very well informed and I haven’t got time for your vague petitions. Why is it so important that you go after your sister?”
Gerek felt his cheeks grow hot. He glanced down at the carpet, noticed the toes of his boots were filthy with street grime and wished he’d taken the opportunity to clean up while he was waiting for Her Royal Highness to have time to see him. Finally, he murmured, “It isn’t entirely my idea, Highness.”
“Annice sent the kigh after you?” Onele smiled for the first time since she’d been summoned to the king’s side. “I thought she took an oath not to use the kigh as weapons?”
“She doesn’t exactly use them as weapons, Highness. If she feel the situation merits it, she sends messages it’s difficult �
�� no …” He reconsidered, scratching at his beard. “… impossible, to ignore.”
“While I’m inclined to say that this is your problem, not mine, I’ll speak with the Bardic Captain. You’re twenty-two years old, it’s time Annice stopped trying to run your life. The Circle knows your father and Stasya should be enough for anyone.”
Under normal circumstances, Gerek would have jumped at the chance to have Annice’s interference pared back. Under these specific circumstances, however, he’d just realized she was his strongest argument for going after Maggi. “Highness, please, for a moment, put yourself in her position. Your only child is galloping toward the insane thing that just killed one of your oldest friends. Duty prevents you from intervening personally. Wouldn’t you do everything you could?” He spread his hands. “And I assure you it isn’t just for Annice’s sake that I want to go. Maggi is entirely too trusting. Vree is in a foreign land and I’m one of her only friends. And, if you think that once Maggi’s set her mind on facing this thing you can get her back to Elbasan in anything short of chains, think again. I’m one of four people she actually listens to and the only one close enough to get to her in time.”
Leaning back in her chair, Onele exhaled noisily. “I can’t decide, Your Grace, whether you’ve become an excellent politician or you’ve just spent too many of your formative years among bards.”
Gerek bowed, recognizing capitulation. “You won’t regret it, Highness.”
“At the risk of sounding clichéd, I already regret it.” She rolled her eyes at yet another knock on the door; there hadn’t been less than three things at a time claiming her attention all day. “Come.”
“We have a solution, Highness,” Liene declared as she came into the office. “Oh. Hello, Your Grace. I heard about your message from Ziven. Hiding inside?”
“Actually, Captain, I’m just about to leave. I’ll be catching up to my sister and her companion in Bartek Springs and escorting them back to Elbasan.”
“Will you? Well, I wish you luck, but I don’t think you’ve thought the thing through.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your sister’s companion is an Imperial assassin. If she decides not to return to Elbasan with you, there’s no way you can make her.”
“Captain,” Onele interrupted, “if I give orders that this person is returning to Elbasan, she will return.”
“I don’t doubt it, Highness, but before you go making an enemy of someone whose business it is to sneak past armed guards and slit throats, I have a suggestion. Perhaps Gerek could take his own companion along. Vireyda Magaly is not the only assassin in Elbasan.”
Onele and Gerek both stared at the Bardic Captain.
“And that’s supposed to be good news?” the Heir demanded.
Liene shrugged. “From what I hear, he’s likely to go off on his own. I merely thought that it might be a good idea for us to maintain some control over his actions.”
“Why would he want to travel with me?” Gerek wondered.
“Charm and good looks aside, Bannon’s in a strange country where he speaks almost none of the language. Even an Imperial assassin will need a translator.”
Both Onele’s brows rose, her expression suddenly making her look very much like the king. “I wasn’t aware you spoke Imperial, Your Grace,” she said dryly.
“Tadeus had him learning under deep trance,” Liene explained before Gerek decided on his best response. “The two of them had some stupid romantic notion it would make him more attractive to Vree. Normally, I’d suggest we send young Bannon off with a bard, but I doubt he’d go for that. I understand he doesn’t care much for bards.”
“Why not?”
The Bardic Captain glanced pointedly at Gerek. “One of them cared a bit too much for his sister.”
Eight
“I’m not so sure you should go back to the Capital,” Karlene muttered as she fastened the straps of her instrument case to her pack. “Ullious’ message had undertones I didn’t much like.”
“I can’t say as I cared much for the message itself,” Gabris told her, morosely scraping his thumbnail along his jaw. “Jazep Sang the strongest earth I’d ever heard.”
“A grave loss to Shkoder.”
Gabris sighed. “I wasn’t actually thinking of Shkoder. You probably didn’t know him very well, but he was only six years younger than me. We were good friends.”
Karlene straightened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“We used to Sing the Fire and Earth duets together whenever we managed to be at the same Center at Festival. After I came south with the Princess, he’d send long letters with diplomatic couriers, traders, the new bards …” He raised an eyebrow at the younger bard. “You brought one with you. I came because Her Highness—Her Imperial Majesty—asked me to, but I think I was only able to stay because of Jazep’s letters.”
“There were always the kigh …”
“The kigh are not usually interested in carrying a wealth of personal detail. Nor,” he added, scowling at the sky, “are they infallible. They should have told us when Jazep died. A bard does not die unremarked even if he only Sings earth.”
“He does if Kars killed him. The kigh couldn’t bring the news because there were no kigh around; they’d all fled.” She tucked a strand of pale hair back into her braid and whistled a terse Stop that! as long, ethereal fingers tugged it forward again. “Frankly,” she admitted, acknowledging the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, “I’m more worried about what happened after he died.”
“You think that Kars could have …” Gabris let his voice trail off, as if putting the fear into words made it more possible.
“I don’t know.” Shoving her arms through the straps, Karlene heaved her pack up onto her shoulders. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Gabris pulled her into a quick and awkward embrace—awkward both because of the pack and because neither was, by nature, overtly demonstrative. “Be careful.”
“You, too.” At his protest she added, “At least I know what I’m facing. You don’t. I found what Ullious didn’t say in that message to be very disconcerting.”
“Her Imperial Majesty’s protection will, I’m certain, be sufficient.”
Karlene studied him for a moment, brows drawn in, then she shrugged, allowing him his belief that in any contest between Their Imperial Majesties involving him, the Emperor would lose. She’d asked him once, just after she’d first arrived from Shkoder, what exactly his relationship with the Empress was.
“I’m Her Majesty’s lifeline to home,” he’d told her.
“That’s all?”
“Anything else is not your song to sing.”
And that had been that.
“Do you think you can get this lot back to the Capital on your own?” she asked, turning enough to gesture at the four Imperial fledglings sprawled out in the shade of a giant cottonwood tree.
Gabris snorted. “I think I’m up to it.”
As though she’d been waiting for Karlene’s signal, Virine rose gracefully to her feet and stepped forward. In her late twenties, barely a full Quarter younger than Karlene, she’d been an acolyte in the temple of Eddam, the three-headed, androgynous god of music. When Gabris and Aurel had reminded the priests of her temples that technically speaking she would still be an acolyte—the sphere of her devotion having merely grown larger—they’d voted four to three in favor of allowing her to become a bard. Of the ten Imperial fledglings, she was the only one to Sing all four quarters.
“I think I should go with you,” she said.
“Why?”
“Two reasons. The first, you don’t Sing earth. I do. And the second, Jazep taught me recall. He was …” Virine frowned as she searched for the exact word then spread her hands expressively. “He was kind. I want to help.”
Karlene shook her head. “First, Singing earth didn’t help Jazep and he had a lot more years’ experience than you do. Second …” Her second objection got lost in
memories of Jazep teaching her recall. As his single quarter had kept him at the Bardic Hall in Elbasan almost every Fourth Quarter since he’d been fledged, there couldn’t be a bard under thirty he hadn’t taught. She remembered his gentle smile, his joy in life, his kindness. “Third,” she went on, her voice rough-edged, “this is going to be dangerous and frankly, Virine, you are just too precious a resource to risk.”
“But …”
“No buts. You’re the only Imperial bard who Sings all four quarters and you may remain alone in this ability for some time.”
“Gabris?” Virine’s face fell as the older bard shook his head. Her sigh brought a kigh in to lightly brush her cheek. Although the gaze that met Karlene’s was steady, her eyes were bright. “Then, when you find his body, will you Sing my good-byes?”
“And mine,” said one of the three fledglings behind her. The other two murmured a quiet agreement.
Not trusting her voice, Karlene nodded. She scrubbed the back of her hand across her cheeks and started along the road toward the border.
“Karlene!”
When she turned, she saw that the four fledglings had moved up to stand by Gabris’ side.
“You were right,” he called, tears glistening silver in the gray of his beard. “Jazep’s death is a grave loss to Shkoder.”
* * * *
“You will be traveling with His Grace, the Heir of Ohrid.” The Imperial Ambassador’s voice held a warning that narrowed Bannon’s eyes to speculative slits. “His Grace’s sister is traveling with your sister, and he is as anxious as you are to return them to Elbasan.” As Gerek stepped forward, he added, “His Grace speaks some Imperial.”
Bannon touched his heels together and nodded. His gaze flickered down the length of Gerek’s body, noting and dismissing both sword and dagger. Too big and too slow, said the lift in his lip. I don’t need you.
Gerek smiled and made an obvious point of looking down at the much shorter man. “Your sister told me so little about you,” he said.
Layers upon layers and practically a bardic emphasis. Liene made a silent note to have a word with Tadeus about the tenor of his linguistic lessons when grief allowed.