by Fran Jacobs
"They'll be coming after me, I suppose," I said.
"My parents never came after me," Teveriel said. "I went through all that effort to sneak away and they never bothered to look for me."
"How can you be sure?" I asked. "Perhaps they just couldn't find you."
"Perhaps they just didn't want to find you," Trellany said. "They were probably glad to be rid of you." I flinched, not sure whether she meant that as a not very funny joke, or was being serious. Teveriel's green eyes narrowed, showing me he took it personally. It bothered me, that Trellany had said that. They had always been polite enough to each other, except for when they had argued in the library, but they hadn't been openly hostile like this before and I suddenly felt stuck between them. "But, Prince Candale, Teveriel is right. Perhaps they won't send anyone after you. They know that I'm here, that I will protect you, and I'm sure that they wouldn't want to draw attention to the fact that you're missing by sending out half the Guard to bring you back."
"Yes," I said slowly. "I hope that you're right about that."
"And, if the Guard was sent out after us, there wouldn't be a damn thing that you could do about it," Teveriel muttered under his breath. "I doubt that you could take on an army. No matter how good you are."
Trellany pretended that she hadn't heard him.
***
We made camp that night in a small grove of trees, far from the grey dust road, safely out of sight. The grove blocked out most of the wind and provided us with enough firewood to see us through the night. My muscles were aching, the small of my back, my thighs, my shoulders, and I was so tired I nearly fell trying to get out of the saddle. As soon as I was on the ground again, all I wanted to do was curl up beneath my cloak and go to sleep, but I knew that I had to pull my weight, or at least try to. Without saying a word Trellany started to unsaddle the horses, feed them and wipe them down, while Teveriel headed off to find wood for the fire. I offered to help both of them, but was told that it was all right and unnecessary, leaving me with nothing to do but shape dry leaves into beds for us to sleep on.
When the fire was lit we sat around it to eat supper. It was so cold that I had to rub my gloved hands together for a few minutes before they worked well enough to handle the slabs of chicken and slices of bread Teveriel handed to me. I forced myself to eat them, too tired to even taste the food. This wasn't going the way that I had thought it would. My adventure had quickly become an unpleasant and painful experience that I was rapidly starting to hate.
"Don't worry," Teveriel said to me in a low voice. "Hopefully we will find a tavern to stay in tomorrow night."
"Is that wise?" Trellany asked. "We don't want to arouse any suspicion."
"Don't see why we would," Teveriel replied. "I'm a bard." He pointed at me. "Bard's apprentice." Then he pointed at Trellany. "Bard's bodyguard. No one will doubt that's what we are if that's how we behave."
"And do bards often have bodyguards?" Trellany asked sharply.
Teveriel gave a casual shrug and lay himself down on his bed of crumpled autumn leaves, curling up beneath his blankets and cloak. "Some do, the wealthier ones, or at least, those who want to appear wealthy and, therefore, talented, to protect against bandits, or hecklers, or whoever wishes to interfere with a bard and his business. It isn't a common practise, but not completely unheard of."
"Hmm," Trellany grunted. "Fine, but if you get yourself into trouble over some tavern wench, don't think that I'm going to do anything to save you. I won't waste my energy on anyone but Prince Candale."
"I would not expect it to be otherwise," Teveriel replied.
"Then I guess," I said slowly, "if I'm going to be an apprentice bard, you should call me Candale, Trellany, and, Tev, you should teach me to play the lute, to sing, too, maybe."
He raised an eyebrow at me with surprise. "You want to learn?"
"Yes," I said. "Oh, yes."
"Prince Candale would have made a very good bard, if he weren't a prince," Trellany said. "He has a knack for telling stories and a good memory."
"There's more to being a bard than telling stories and remembering the lyrics of songs. Can you sing? Do you have any rhythm?"
"He can dance," Trellany answered for me. "So, yes, I expect he has rhythm."
"All right," Teveriel said. "Then I'll teach you, if you're sure you want to learn." He closed his eyes. "In the morning, though. It's been a long day and a half. I need some sleep." Within minutes he was asleep, snoring softly.
Trellany smiled at me. "Are you bearing up all right?"
"I think so." I snuggled down onto my own pile of leaves, shivering as I tugged my blankets up to my ears. "Why are you and Tev so short with each other all of a sudden?"
"I don't appreciate him suggesting that you drug me," she replied.
I felt my face grow hot. "I was the one who did it to you, though," I said. "How did you know about it?"
"Lord Kal," Trellany replied. "I knew you were planning something, so I asked him what. He didn't want to tell me at first, of course, and then I pointed out that I couldn't look after you if I wasn't there with you and that I had no intention of telling your parents. I just wanted to come along and keep an eye on you. Eventually he told me everything and at my request switched the vial that Teveriel had given you to one of coloured water."
"Oh. I had wondered why you hadn't fallen asleep." I squirmed around on the bed of leaves, more as away to distract myself, and change the subject, than to try and get more comfortable. All the wriggling around in the world wouldn't achieve that!
"Thank you for pausing to cover me up, though, and removing my boots." She smiled at me, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. "That was very sweet of you."
"Thanks," I murmured. "I thought it was the least I could do after drugging you."
"Yes," she agreed. "It probably was."
***
I didn't sleep very well. I was used to a very comfortable, plush bed, to a completely black room and heavy warm coverings. The night was dark, yes, but there were still the stars, the moon and the crackling fire, to provide too much light for me to be completely at ease. My body did finally warm up beneath the blankets, but my face remained frozen and the ground beneath me was hard. I could feel it even through the layers of leaves. My saddlebags, which I was using as pillows, were hard and shapeless, even filled as they were with my changes of clothing, and it felt strange to try and sleep with my boots on. I tossed and turned for most of the night and when I finally was comfortable and had closed my eyes, I found it a distraction to have the sound of my two companions, moving and breathing, so close to me.
I slept in restless shifts, waking several times in the night to find that Teveriel was still asleep, snoring softly. Trellany was awake a couple of times when I woke up, but she quickly went back to sleep again. There was nothing more frustrating, I quickly found, than being unable to sleep while being surrounded by people who seemed to have no trouble with it at all.
I must have caught a few hours sleep because suddenly it seemed the sky was light and Teveriel was shaking my foot. "Hello," he said, as my eyes opened, grinning cheerfully at me. I wondered how he could be so happy when the morning air was so cold and the ground was so hard. "Sleep all right?"
"Um, no," I said. "Not really." I climbed out from under the blankets, shivering. My muscles screamed out in protest as I moved. They ached from spending most of a night and a day in the saddle and then sleeping on the hard ground. My neck was particularly sore and I rubbed at it for a moment, until I realised that there were leaves caught up under my clothes, rubbing and crunching and itching, against my skin. Teveriel stood, arms folded across his chest, grinning, as he watched my strange dance of trying to stomp warmth and life back into my cold feet while digging out those itchy leaves at the same time. I had to get under the four layers I was wearing to reach them, digging out the brown and red crumpled tormentors and throwing them onto the ground, with a glare.
When that was done I felt warmer and mo
re comfortable, ready to wash, have breakfast, and most importantly, shave. "Any water I can shave with?" I asked, scratching my chin and feeling those rough little black hairs rub against my hand.
"Best you don't," Trellany said. "If we're going to frequent taverns it's better that you try to keep yourself as different from how you normally look as possible. We never know who might be on the lookout for us, who would recognise the clean-shaven Prince Candale. A layer of stubble, though not the best disguise, might turn a man's eyes aside from you. Those layers of clothing help as well, you don't look so slim now. And you might want to think about taking a different name, while we're in public, at least."
"Hmm," I said, still scratching at my chin. The little hairs were beginning to annoy me. I hated feeling them there, sticking out through my skin, sharp and ugly. I had to snatch my hands away from my face and hold them behind my back so I would stop rubbing at my face and annoying myself. "All right, you can call me Kal."
"Kal?" Trellany asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"I think he would be pleased," I said. "And it will be easy enough to remember. But what about my eyes? They're violet. That's a rare colour and fairly recognisable. Nothing is going to change that."
"Keep your head down and people will just think that you're shy," Teveriel said. "And Trellany will be around to make people think twice before starting any trouble, not that they will. I'll sing, tell a story or two and you can both keep to yourselves."
"If you're sure," I said doubtfully.
"It's either we try that," Teveriel said, "or we sleep every night out in the open, under the stars, on the cold ground. We were lucky last night that it hadn't rained. Try sleeping outside when the sky has opened above you and the wind is blowing and there are no trees around for shelter."
I pulled a face. "Fine," I said. "Unshaven it is."
"I knew that you would see it our way," Trellany said. "And while we're in public I think that you better call us something different, too. I will be Safia. That's my sister's name."
"Ealyn," Teveriel said. "He was the only one of my brothers I could stand." Then he looked at me. "Breakfast?"
Breakfast was more bread, some cheese and small apples. We ate quickly and were soon back in the saddle and on our way again.
It was a clear, brisk day, pleasant enough. There was the odd bird, flittering around, but other than that there was no sign of life at all. It was chilly, but not so bad that it was unbearable. My nose ran a little, from time to time, and sometimes, when the wind picked up, my face stung, but all in all, it wasn't nearly as bad as I had thought it would be. Of course, these were still early days. Winter came on suddenly in Carnia. It could be fine and clear one morning, and raining, windy and freezing the next. I was definitely going to make the most of the clear sky, and relative warmth, while I could.
We stopped for lunch by the roadside, shivering as we ate. Conversation between the three of us was strained. I got on so well with Teveriel and Trellany separately, but when the three of us were together hardly a word was spoken. Trellany was angry with Teveriel for his suggestion that we drug her and I think Teveriel was angry with Trellany for catching us up and suddenly taking over. She decided when and where we stopped, what we ate for our meals and who should do what chores. I know that Teveriel was unused to taking orders from anyone, just as I was. But, whereas I had no experience of life outside the castle and wanted someone to tell me what to do, because otherwise I would have no idea, Teveriel was used to travelling and had his own way of doing things and didn't want anyone telling him that their way was better, even if it was.
As the day wore on, the sharp, almost spiteful comments that passed between them became worse. I had hoped, when Trellany caught us up, that things would be all right between us, that that afternoon in the library, when the two of them had argued, had just been a one-off situation. Now they seemed so angry with each other that it made me feel as though those moments when the two of them had gotten along, had just been a dream. I didn't say anything about it, however. I had too much of my own to think about. Guilt, at leaving my family, pain from sitting in the saddle all day and sleeping on the hard ground, fear at what I might face in White Oaks and simple exhaustion. I was tired. I hadn't slept well at all and hadn't had any sleep the night we'd left. I was afraid of having a fit, so dealing with Trellany and Teveriel's open hostility for each other was the furthest thing from my mind.
Fortunately, we found a tavern in the late hours of the afternoon. A small, pleasant looking place, called 'the King Sorron', which made me smile. There was even a battered wooden sign that hung out the front with a faded picture of my grandfather, dressed in blue, on it. The image of him was as he had looked when he had been a young man, new to the throne on his own father's sudden death. His hair was shiny and blond, his eyes bright and blue. There was a glimmer of the gold of the Royal Crown on his head. It was the crown he had worn at his coronation, just as I would wear it at mine. I found myself wondering what this tavern had been before it was the King Sorron, because it was old enough to have been named something else before it was named after my grandfather. Had they just changed the name of this place to honour him? When Sorron died, would the name change again, to honour my father, or me? It wasn't much of an honour to give to a man, if you took it back when he was dead and no longer able to appreciate it. But my grandfather had always said that a real honour was something that was associated with you and that lived on after you had died. A real honour for him, he had told me, would be that people remembered him as a good ruler, as a wise man, as a good father and grandfather. That was what was important to him. What he hoped would remain of him, in the history books, long after his bones were dust. I had assured him that it would be so, that no one would ever have reason to think badly of him. Sorron had just laughed at my childish optimism. I doubt he would have thought anything of this battered little tavern sign painted in his image. It made me wonder what would be said of me, when I died. Would I be remembered as King Candale, or as Candale the Shadow Seer? Would there be a tavern in my honour as a king, or would I become a myth in children's stories, something to be feared? It was a strange way to be thinking.
The sound of Teveriel's laughter broke my thoughts. "Do you think there's a Prince Candale tavern somewhere?" he asked, as he swung down out of his saddle, to let a stable-boy take his mount.
"That would be an odd experience," I said distractedly, still staring at my young grandfather's face, smiling down at me.
Inside the tavern was warm and cosy, a little too warm for my liking, and I started to sweat. There were plenty of rough wooden tables and chairs for the patrons, a warm fire crackling away merrily and shelves filled with all sorts of odds and ends above it. The floor was bare wooden planks and, towards the back, a narrow flight of dark stairs wound their way upwards. This was the King Sorron, a small, slightly dirty and certainly very dusty little tavern. Nothing about this place reminded me of my grandfather.
With a happy smile Teveriel thrust his saddlebags into my arms. I grunted with surprise, stumbling under the weight of them. "A good apprentice is a little more than a pack pony," he said. "You're lucky this is only going to be a temporary arrangement. I had to spend two years carrying heavy bags around and sleeping on hard floors, to learn even just a handful of songs. I'm mostly self-taught, I have to say. I didn't have the patience to stick it out for as long as I should."
"Why am I not surprised?" Trellany asked, taking Teveriel's bags from me and setting them down on the floor. I gave her a grateful smile and added my own bags to the pile before struggling to bring order to my windswept hair while Teveriel ignored Trellany's comment and made his way towards the innkeeper.
"So," I said, glancing around me. "This is a tavern."
"It is indeed. Do you wonder, as I do, why so many men choose to spend so much time, and money, in a place like this, drinking themselves unconscious?"
"I do if all taverns look like this," I said.
"No,
" Trellany said softly. "I suppose they don't. Some in Carnia Town are very fancy; I can barely even afford a tankard of beer, let alone a meal there."
"I doubt this place will cost much."
"No," Trellany agreed, "probably not, but I wager that innkeeper will make sure that he gets his money worth out of Ealyn. Bards bring in customers. He'll make a lot more profit on the back of even an inept apprentice than it would cost to give us rooms and free food, and Ealyn is no inept apprentice."
"I think that is the nicest thing you've said about him all day."
Trellany looked over at where Teveriel was talking to the innkeeper, almost, but not quite, frowning at his back. "I always give praise where it's due, Kal," she said, using my assumed name effortlessly. "Just because I don't like him, particularly, it doesn't mean that I can't recognise his talent."
I didn't say anything. I didn't think there was any reply that I could make that wouldn't just make this whole situation worse. Thankfully Teveriel returned before my lack of response could become too obvious. He was grinning happily. "Two rooms," he said, "and food for us, too, as long as I play until midnight at least."
"Two rooms?" Trellany asked.
"One for you, one for me and ... Kal," Teveriel said. "Though I imagine there will be one bed in our room and a pallet on the floor. I'll take that."
"No, that isn't fair," I began to protest, only for Trellany to interrupt me.
"And how are we going to explain the fact that the bard's bodyguard is sleeping in her own room instead of with her master so she can protect him?" Trellany snapped. "No. Candale will share with me, the servants lumped together. You can have your own room all to yourself."