by Fran Jacobs
"And that will look even more odd," Teveriel said. "Bodyguard and apprentice. People will be asking exactly what you two are getting up to and with the fact that you're nearly old enough to be Can-Kal's mother," Trellany stiffened and I heard her make a strange sort of choking sound as she struggled to put her anger into words even as Teveriel continued, "it will look far too suspicious. No, Kal will stay in my room. I'll put it forward that I'm a demanding sort of bard, one who needs his servant around to fetch and carry and so forth. That will explain why he's sleeping in my room, in case I should need something in the night. At least that way I can keep an eye on him, in the amazingly unlikely situation that someone should work out who he is and want to do him harm."
"Servant?" I said. "Thought I was your apprentice."
"Same thing," Teveriel said, with a shrug. "Unfortunately. Do you think you can manage that? Being my little servant-apprentice, just as I was once." He smiled at me but his eyes were earnest. I knew if I said no, then he would happily forget the whole idea. He would never ask me to do anything I might find too hard, but it was only for a night, while we were in this tavern. Bring him food, carry his bags, nothing that I couldn't handle.
"I can try," I said. Trellany's eyes had narrowed to slits with annoyance. "I know it isn't proper, but I don't mind it really. Anything is worth doing if it means we're out of the cold."
"Take my room," Trellany said suddenly. "That will solve all the problems and I'll pay for my own."
"Don't be foolish," Teveriel snapped at her. "How would that look that a bard expects his bodyguard to pay for her own room when one has been offered? And if Kal sleeps alone who will be there to protect him?" Trellany glowered at him. "You will take the room, Safia." He gave her a cold smile. "If it makes you feel any better you can give me the coin for it instead, so it won't feel like charity to you. I can imagine how you'd hate to take charity from someone like me."
Trellany muttered something under her breath, but Teveriel ignored her. I bent down to pick up the bags in an attempt to move the conversation onto something else. "Show us where to go then," I said.
It was a maid who took us upstairs to our rooms, where I quickly found that Teveriel had been right about their arrangement. There was a single cot in one and, in the other, a single cot and a pallet on the floor. The rooms were sparsely furnished with only a nightstand and a small table, holding a basin of wash water, to accompany the bed and pallet.
"Not the finest room here," Teveriel said. "But it's free."
"It's fine, for the night," I said, dropping all the bags with a relieved groan. "And it's all part of the adventure."
"And is this how you really see all of this? As an adventure?" Teveriel sat down on the bed, with an alarming creak of mattress springs, and pulled a face. "You'll end up disappointed if you think that life on the road will be anything like it is in song or story. You must have realised that already, even after only being on the road for two days. Songs and stories don't mention the less glamorous side to all this."
"I did notice that," I said. "Pissing in the cold, sleeping in the cold, leaves under my clothes, not being able to shave and I'm just so looking forward to the chance to eat stale bread and stiff chunks of dried meat. Yes, I know this isn't exactly what I expected. I'm just trying to be positive about it." I gave the pallet a kick with one rather mud-soaked boot. "At least it will be warmer than the floor," I said, looking at it. "And more comfortable."
"Slightly more, yes," Teveriel agreed. "Candale, I don't mind taking the pallet. I've had a lot more practise at it than you."
"No," I said. "That isn't fair. You're working for our keep. It's only right that you take the bed. I'll be fine on it, I promise."
Teveriel was unsure, I could see, so I unpacked my blankets from my bag and started to make it up. The other bed was already made and, if I was honest, didn't look that much more comfortable than the straw pallet, not if that creaky mattress was anything to go by.
When the bed was made, badly, I started to peel off all the extra layers I was wearing. It had been fine enough to wear them outside, but inside it was far too hot for this many layers. While I struggled out of my tunics and extra shirt, Teveriel changed his doublet and shirt for a fancier tunic of burgundy velvet.
"That's better," I said.
"Much," Teveriel agreed, smoothing down his own clothes. "And how do I look?"
"Fine," I said. "I suppose."
"You suppose?" Teveriel shook his head at me, a twinkle in his green eyes. "Handsome or dashing would have been so much better."
"I'll know for next time," I promised him.
"See that you do." He got to his feet with another creak of mattress springs. "Do I at least look as though I'm talented enough to be deserving of breakfast, as well as supper and board, for the three of us?"
"Yes," I said.
"Good. Now, we best go downstairs, get something to eat while we can. The innkeeper, Tysl, wants me to play for most of the evening, so would rather feed me now, so that I can play more or less uninterrupted for the rest of the night."
"Are you going to be all right with that?" I asked. "Playing for so long?"
Teveriel stooped to pick up his lute. "I'm not sure that we have that much choice about it," he replied. "I don't have enough money to pay for the rooms and I didn't enjoy sleeping outside anymore than you did." He shouldered his lute and opened one of his saddlebags, flipping through it until he found a small wooden case and then a slightly larger one. "Spare strings for the lute," he told me, catching my curious gaze. "And my mother's flute."
"I thought you ran away from your parents."
"I did," he said. "And I stole the flute when I went. Mother used to be a bard. I wanted to follow in her footsteps, but she preferred that my sister do so. My father wanted me to be a farmer, like him, and neither of them would listen to what it was that I wanted to do. So I ran away, taking the flute and any coins that they had lying around with me." He looked up at me, daring me to say something about how wrong it was to steal from your own parents, but I said nothing. "I wanted it, Candale," he said. "I wanted it badly. As a child, music used to haunt my dreams at night and I would sneak out to the village tavern whenever there was a bard playing there. I wasn't allowed inside the tavern, being too young, so I would listen in through the window. Even in the rain and the cold, I would listen. I wanted it that much. Have you ever wanted anything so badly that you would defy your parents and strike out alone just to get it?"
I gave him a faint smile. "Until recently, no," I said. "But now I can understand what drove you. Can I see the flute?"
"Of course." He handed it over to me.
I took it carefully, afraid that I might drop it and cause it some damage. This flute obviously meant a lot to Teveriel, stood for everything that he wanted out of life. It wouldn't do for me to drop it, and I might. I could be so clumsy at times.
The box itself was simple, with no carvings to decorate it, although it was a little worn in places and the hinges were tinged with rust. Inside, nestled on a pad of dark blue velvet, were the three parts to his silver flute.
"My mother inherited it from her mother," Teveriel said, "who was also a bard. I think it meant a lot to them that my sister carry on the tradition. It didn't matter that it was what I wanted, more than Leane. Tradition was more important to my parents than family." His eyes were soft, sad, and I nodded in understanding. My family would never force me to take the throne or to wed someone I wasn't in love with, but there were still things that I couldn't do because I was a prince, regardless of what I might want. I could never be a bard or marry someone who wasn't at least a noble, for example. So, yes, I understood how Teveriel and his sister felt about being forced into a role that they didn't want. I wasn't surprised that Teveriel had fled rather than bend his back to his parent's demands. After all, I had fled, too.
"Have you ever been back home?" I asked.
"Gods, no," Teveriel said. "My childhood wasn't a happy idyllic one
. Eldest son of four boys and I had two sisters, Leane, who was older than me, and a younger one, Prea. I had a lot of responsibilities and had to more or less raise my siblings, as well as help out my father. I mean, gods, can you see me as a farmer?"
I glanced at him. He took such care of his face, hair and clothing, liked to sleep late and stay up late, be clean and tidy. No, I couldn't see him covered in mud and sweat from working in the fields all day, or dressed in any way that was less than perfect. I shook my head.
"Exactly. My second brother would have done so much better at it than I, so I ran, taking the flute, leaving him to have the farm and my sister to have whatever she wanted. And, although my siblings may have appreciated my flight, I don't think that my parents did."
"Are they even still alive?" I asked softly.
Teveriel gave a casual shrug. "Would you think me evil if I said that I simply don't care?"
"No," I whispered. "I know not everyone is as lucky as I am. My family is close, they're the world to me, but I'm not blind enough to assume that it's the same for everyone."
"I don't wish my family harm, Candale," Teveriel said, taking the flute back from me. "But I don't wish to see them again. It'll do no one any good." He jerked his head towards the door. "After you."
"Thank you."
When we got downstairs we found Trellany waiting for us. She had changed, too, from the dark clothing she had worn on the road to a soft tunic of dark green, embroidered around the neck with silver filigree swirls and dark red flowers. I hadn't seen her wear anything this fine before and it surprised me. She smiled up at me as I sat down. "Hungry?" she asked.
"Starving," I replied, and my stomach growled as if to offer proof to that statement. Trellany's grin grew.
A serving girl brought us each a bowl of fish stew and a tankard of ale to wash it down with. The stew was heavily salted, probably to mask the fact that the fish wasn't fresh, and the ale was weak. It was a sharp contrast to the food I was used to and I tried not to pull a face as I ate it. By the time I had managed to get half way through, it was cold and Teveriel was already playing and singing, but I was too tired to care. The saddle soreness in my body had grown to a level that I could barely stand, my eyes were heavy and I was yawning nearly every ten seconds, or so it felt. My head felt heavy and the sound of Teveriel's playing seemed louder than I think it actually was. Everything seemed strangely defined, sharper than usual, yet it was harder for my eyes to focus.
"Go to bed," Trellany said, after I yawned for what must have been the fiftieth time in half an hour.
"I can't," I said. "I'm meant to be an apprentice and learning from Teveriel so I should stay."
"You won't learn much if you fall asleep where you sit and it won't be good for Teveriel's reputation either, if his own apprentice falls asleep while he's playing."
I stifled another yawn.
"Besides," Trellany said dryly, "you don't want to have a fit now, do you?"
That was what settled it. I got to my feet, wished her goodnight and went upstairs to bed.
The pallet was hard but I was exhausted and it was more comfortable than sleeping outside and definitely warmer. I could hear the distant, muffled sounds of Teveriel's singing and the low rumble of conversation coming through the floorboards beneath my head, but they were a comforting sound in the unfamiliar, dimly lit tavern room. Just briefly it occurred to me to wonder if I still talked in my sleep and what Teveriel might make of that if I spoke his name again, as I was fairly convinced I hadn't slept well enough the night before to have any dreams of any sort. But all too soon the sounds coming through the floor had lulled me gently into sleep and I thought no more about anything.
***
I woke in the morning, feeling so much better for the sleep. The room was brightly lit with the early morning sunshine and I could hear the sound of whistling. Struggling upright I pushed my blankets away and focused sleepily on Teveriel, shaving in front of the mirror. "Gods, I can't believe you're up before me, considering I went to bed before you."
"You were very tired," Teveriel replied, with a shrug. "You needed the sleep, I wouldn't worry about it. Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes, thank you." I stretched and then got up slowly, rolled up my blankets to stash back into my saddlebags and reached for my clothes. It was cold in the tavern room and I scrambled to get dressed quickly, before digging around in my saddlebags for my comb and small mirror so I could put some order to my hair, while Teveriel shaved in front of the larger, chipped mirror mounted on the wall. There were rings under my eyes that one night's sleep hadn't removed and the start of a beard across my jaw. "I wish that I could shave," I muttered to myself, "I look a mess."
"Yes," he said. "You do. When it gets a little longer I'll lend you some small scissors so you can tidy it up." I just grunted a response. "It isn't forever," Teveriel added. "You'll probably want to shave it all off just before we reach White Oaks. We don't want anyone on the road to recognise us, but we certainly want those at the school to know who we are. I can't imagine that they'll let just anyone walk in and wander around."
"I thought of that," I said. "That's why I brought my signet ring. If they don't recognise me, my ring should persuade them."
"Good idea," Teveriel said, still over his shoulder.
"Yes," I agreed. "I was due one."
Teveriel turned his head to smile at me. "You were indeed," he said.
"Want me to pack up your things for you?" I asked.
"If you wouldn't mind," he said. "That is what a good apprentice is for."
"A good apprentice wouldn't have left his master alone last night in the taproom with a bodyguard who dislikes him. I think that we can say that I'm not a good apprentice. How was it last night, by the way? Did it go all right?"
"Better than I think the innkeeper expected. He offered us free breakfast as well. He said that I belong at Court, with a talent like that." Teveriel turned around, his shaving finished. "And perhaps, when this is all over with, my faithful apprentice will be able to regain my position at Court."
"You don't even have to ask, Tev," I said. "I'll do everything I can to repay you for this and regain what you may have lost at Court. But I really don't think it will come to that. My grandfather will let you back. He knows me well enough to know that I would have gone alone, as you pointed out. It's far better that I'm here with you and Trellany, than by myself, and he will see that."
"I hope so. Being at Court meant a lot to me, just as being your bodyguard means a lot to Trellany. It would hurt more than you can imagine to have that taken from us, as much as we may deserve it."
"You spoke to her?"
Teveriel shrugged. "Briefly, yes, but I could tell how much this means to her even if I hadn't. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Do you want to finish packing up after we eat?"
"Yes, all right."
Trellany was waiting for us downstairs and the three of us sat down together to have a quick, quiet breakfast. When we had eaten I went upstairs to finish the packing, including Teveriel's, as a good 'servant-apprentice' would, although my idea of packing was just to cram everything into the bags however I could get them in there. I was then left to carry all the bags down the stairs alone, just as I had taken them all up the night before. This time I decided to do it in two trips, rather than to almost suffocate under the weight of doing it in one, as I had the night before. Trellany's eyes were dark as she watched me struggle, but I gave her a hard look, telling her to just ignore it. The extra exercise wasn't going to kill me.
We set off shortly after and made good time, stopping before the sun set to make camp. By the time we had finished our cold supper, the sun had gone down, but it was still too early for me to try and sleep, so I cleared a patch of earth next to me and reached for a stick. Sketching in the dirt would help to pass the time and be preferable to gazing into the fire for the next hour or so.
But nothing would come to my mind and instead I sat there l
etting the stick move aimlessly across the patch of earth without giving it any real thought. It was only when Teveriel stood over me, and asked what I had drawn, that I realised I'd drawn anything at all. And it was something I recognised. "It ... it's what the child drew in my dream," I told him.
"Oh." Teveriel sank down onto his haunches. "It looks like a letter," he said thoughtfully.
"A letter?"
"Mmm." He narrowed his eyes as he studied it. "I think it's a dead language, but I'm not too sure which one."
"You know languages?" I asked.
"I can speak four different languages," Teveriel replied absently. "Three active, one dead."
"Part of your bardic training?" I asked.
"Partly," Teveriel said. "My master did have a hand in teaching me a little, but I'm also self-taught. I travelled for a while, before coming back to Carnia, learning different languages, as well as songs and stories. I find it interesting and I prefer to read the original myth or story as it was written. So much gets lost in translation." He took the stick from my hand and added an extra swirl to the symbol. "I have seen this before," he said. "Not too sure where, or what it means, though."
"It doesn't matter," I said, and smudged the image out with my fingers. "I was just bored."
"Well," Teveriel said, putting the stick down. "When we get to White Oaks, how about I look into this image for you? You do what you need to do, with our fiery-haired warrior over there to help you," he jerked his head towards Trellany, "and I'll look into this for you. It's something I find interesting and I'm sure, that once you've found the Rose Prophecies, you'll find a lot more to distract you. This can be my distraction, if you don't mind, of course."
"No," I said, "of course not. If that is what you want to do, then thank you. I can't say I wouldn't be grateful to know what it means."
"More curiosity?" Teveriel asked.
"Just a little," I admitted, with a grin. "Especially now you said that it might be a letter." Then I noticed that he had his lute with him. "What's that for?"