Fae Song EPUB

by Williams , Deonne

  “Oh no! Letting go of the music is hard for me, because I’m caught up in it as much as my audience. It’s like spending time with an old and dear friend. I just miss it when I release it, sort of like saying farewell to a lover.”

  “Well drink up, little one. Everyone knows that’s the best way to say farewell to a lover.” The two laughed, raising their glasses to each other.

  “You said earlier you’re bound for Samhayne, correct?”

  “I’m entering the Wintertide Tournament. Why?”

  “How about letting me hire you for some company?

  I really hate riding alone, but pack trains make for dusty and slow travel. I think I would keep you from getting bored on 41

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  the road.” Gwynn’s smile was infectious.

  “I’m certain you’re never a boring companion,” Shae assured her, thinking if anyone needed someone to look after her, it was Gwynn. Besides, why turn down a pretty companion willing to cover expenses for a ride he was making anyway? “Fair enough, we will work out something mutually satisfactory. Why don’t we save it for tomorrow though? From appearances, your admirers aren’t going to allow us time for negotiations tonight.”

  “Tomorrow then, over a late breakfast. I’m going to be up awhile yet,” she said before finishing her glass. She returned to her spot by the hearth and began asking for requests.

  Shae poured himself more wine, settled back into his chair, and put his feet up on the table. Personal escort to a bard, he thought, it does seem more comfortable than my last bit of work. His conscience needled him for a moment; he had other things that needed looking after on the way to Samhayne, things that might endanger Gwynn. Although, he reasoned with himself, it would be some time before Kensian realized the mission of his henchmen had failed, and by then, the two of them would be far down the road.

  The sun had been up for several hours when Shae was roused by the knock of the tailor’s apprentice with his new clothes. He was surprised at how late he had slept. He was used to rising with the sun, and he told Gwynn so when she finally joined him in the front room.

  “Get used to it,” she said. “The very nature of my profession often requires one to sleep late.”

  “I suppose I’ll just have to learn to like it,” he sighed in mock resignation. “I’m born of a hardy people. We make the best of any situation we can.”

  They had the common room to themselves for 42

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  breakfast; the other overnight guests had left earlier. Gwynn was again amazed at the prodigious amounts of food Shae could consume in a single setting. After they had finished, she pushed her plate back and looked at him. “Now to business. Just how much can I expect a Southron’s services to cost?”

  “It depends on the job we’re hired to do and what specialized training that Southron has had,” Shae said, motioning for the server to bring Gwynn another pot of tea.

  “Troop captains and military advisors make between four and six hundred gold crowns a month, because they have a lot of responsibility. Private or personal guards usually make between one-fifty and three hundred, although there are certain notable exceptions. It also depends on how many charges are involved and what sort of extras the job includes.”

  Gwynn was listening in fascination. “Extras? What would that entail?”

  “Extras are things like how much free time I have for myself or which of my expenses you will cover.” Just then, the red-haired girl arrived with the requested tea. “Thank you, Kenet,” Shae told her with a brilliant smile. The girl stared at him for a moment and then smiled hesitantly in return. Gwynn was a little dazzled by him too; Shae with a genuine smile was very different from Shae with one of his lopsided grins.

  “How did you know her name?”

  “Kenet? I heard Liam use it last night,” Shae said with a shrug. “Expenses consist of things like who would pay for my meals, lodging, clothing, farrier costs for my mount, that sort of thing.”

  “Ah.” Gwynn eyed him and his empty pile of breakfast dishes for a moment. “How about I cover lodging, necessary clothing, and Talon’s expenses while you cover 43

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  your own meals?”

  “You’re a lot quicker than most of my prospective employers,” Shae complimented. “Since we are traveling in the same direction anyway, I also won’t charge you my usual rate. I think two-twenty would do.”

  “I was thinking one-sixty,” Gwynn shot back.

  “Harkir’s Forge, don’t insult me,” Shae chuckled.

  “Two hundred if I get to do all the tournament fighting I want.” “How about all the tournament fighting you want and one-seventy-five?” Gwynn asked.

  He leaned toward her, his eyes glowing dangerously.

  “You have no idea just how well trained I am. I’m far better suited to look after you and your artifacts on your trip to Samhayne than anyone else you are likely to meet. Then, there is that healing talent of yours—what is that worth to have protected?”

  Gwynn’s face blanched. “I believe I will happily pay you two hundred, just to never mention it out loud again.”

  The fell gleam in his eyes faded and when he spoke, his voice was reassuring. “Don’t worry, little one, I would keep your secret to the grave if we were going separate ways in the morning. It’s really none of my business what you do with that talent or whom you tell about it, but I will always be grateful that you have it. I like your company, and it’s been a long time, since I had a charge that I really enjoyed looking after. I’ll take one-seventy-five.”

  “Done!” Gwynn exclaimed, the color returning to her cheeks. “Just don’t desert me by getting yourself killed in one of those arenas.”

  “Not likely, I’ve never been more than scratched in a match.” There was no arrogance in his voice. “It keeps me sharper than practice drills with incompetent city guards and poorly trained men-at-arms. I suppose I should ask if you 44

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  think you can afford me.”

  “Now, it’s my turn to be insulted! Of course, I can; I always get free lodging for as many nights as I can fill a common room, because the innkeeper makes more selling food and drink to my audience than his best room costs to give away. My meals are cheap, because I don’t eat that much, and you are paying for yours. I pass a hat through the audience at the end of the evening and everyone is happy.

  Local nobles or wealthy merchants also like to invite me to their homes for an evening of private entertainment and they’re always generous. How often do you want to be paid?” “Whatever works for you. I do insist, however, that I carry the bulk of your money. It will be safer that way.”

  “Here.” Gwynn pulled a hefty leather pouch from inside her doublet and handed it to Shae. “I convert almost everything into precious stones whenever I’m in a larger town. It’s an old bard trick, less to carry and far easier to conceal.”

  “Smart girl!” Shae laughed; his sense of irony tickled when he placed Gwynn’s pouch next to the other one he carried. “I knew there was a brain behind that pretty face!”

  “A compliment from a Southron! I bet those are hard to come by.”

  “Southrons never lie. Sometimes, the truth hurts, but occasionally, it’s a compliment.”

  “I’ll pay you every seven-night, starting from today.”

  Gwynn smiled and reached across the table. When their hands clasped, Shae felt the same arcane spark he had felt the night before. It didn’t bother him so much this time; somehow with Gwynn, a little magic wasn’t a bad thing.

  “Next order of business, when do you want to leave for Mazlo?”

  “Tomorrow, since I want to go over your baggage and 45

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  see what you’re missing. The weather is unsettled this time of year, and we won’t have an inn every night between here and Samhayne. Once we reach the River Road, it would be at least two months to Samhayne if we were traveling straight through. We won’t be though, because I�
��ll want to get some arena time, and you’ll stay more than one night occasionally, especially in a larger town where you will have more who wish to hear you sing. Let’s count on three months for travel, plus some time for bad weather and the normal hazards of the road; add to that, I’m traveling with a bard, a race known to get distracted. .just over four months to Samhayne. That would be perfect; it would give me the fall to polish up before the Wintertide Tournament begins.”

  Gwynn stared at him in befuddlement. “How do you do that? I don’t know how many leagues I can ride in a day; I didn’t even know how far it was from Layton to Rathgarven.”

  “It’s one of the things you’re paying me for,” he said.

  “Come along; let’s go empty your saddlebags.” Shae rose from the table and within an hour, everything she owned was neatly sorted and repacked more efficiently than she had ever managed. “The only thing you don’t have is a tinderbox, so I’m wondering how you start a campfire.”

  “I am one of those bards who don’t need a tinderbox.

  Watch.” She pointed a finger at the candle next to her bed.

  There was a flash of gold and the wick burst into flame.

  “Bards may be more like mages than they realize,” he muttered uneasily.

  “Calling elements is so basic I don’t understand why mages make such a big fuss about it. Most bards can call at least one of them. Mother called water and Father called wind.” “What about you?”

  “Fire and wind.” A low growl was his response 46

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  before directing her to gather up last night’s earnings, and they set off for the marketplace.

  “First, you need new boots. The ones you are wearing have no soles left,” Shae informed her. “Or had you not noticed?”

  “Yes,” she said defiantly, “but they’re comfortable, and new boots always squeeze my toes.”

  “I’ll make sure you get room for your toes, but you’re not leaving for Samhayne until you get new boots. If your feet get wet and you catch a cold, you won’t be able to sing for your supper or pay me.” Shae’s tone brooked no argument. “Now come along like a good little girl.”

  “I am neither.” Gwynn’s mutter mutinous but she went into the cobbler’s shop Shae indicated. Shortly, she had a pair of new boots that didn’t squeeze her toes.

  They left the cobbler’s, and he turned toward a mercer’s shop. “I also noticed you don’t seem to have a cloak. How do you keep the rain off?” Gwynn blushed and studied the toes of her new boots. “Well?”

  “I do have a cloak,” she began, but when Shae’s eyebrow rose, she hurried on, “but I left it in Layton. The boy that looked after Rogue there had to sleep in the hay, and he had no blanket. It was cold, so I gave him my cloak to help stay warm. He was poor, and I can afford a new cloak whenever I want.”

  “When was that going to be? Was it going to happen before the next cold night or rainy day found you?”

  “I just got somewhere to buy a cloak,” Gwynn grumbled.

  “Then now is the time. I’d prefer you had a proper oilskin cote like I do for riding in bad weather, but I very much doubt anyone in Rathgarven knows how to make one.

  Once in Samhayne, I’ll get a tailor in the Southron quarter to fit you. Traveling as you do; I think you will find it far better 47

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  than a cloak.”

  Shae would not have traded his old cote for the finest cloak in Rathgarven. It was ankle length, split front and back to mid-thigh with fasteners that allowed it to be secured around the legs or left open, depending on need. The double storm closures on the front, the high collar, the wrist fasteners, and attached shoulder cape kept him warm and his weapons dry, no matter how wicked the weather became.

  Gwynn spent the better part of the next hour trying to decide on a color, the material, and which clasp she liked best. She spent almost half the time debating between two shades of blue. Shae had been leaning against the shop wal in resignation for some time when she finally made her choice. “That one,” she declared, pointing to a cloak of deep royal blue. “I believe I want that one. What do you think, Shae?” “It’s warm, serviceable and also your favorite color, so I would call it a match.”

  “How did you know it’s my favorite color?”

  “Two of the four doublets in your baggage are that shade, and so are the blankets in your bedroll. To me, that indicates a definite color preference.”

  “Oh,” was the only comment she could muster before paying for the cloak and following Shae into the street.

  Next, they went to the leather smith’s, because he said he had noticed worn spots on her stirrup leathers. They had to wait while the smith cut out some, so Gwynn wandered around the shop. She found a selection of saddlecloths and began digging through them.

  “We also want these,” she said, putting two saddlecloths on the counter.

  Shae studied them. They were finely woven blue wool trimmed with black suede and silver studs. “Aren’t those a 48

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  little elegant for everyday wear and tear?”

  “People pay a bard to the standard of their appearance. It will only add to their opinion of my talents if I provide even the horses we ride with nice things.”

  It was early afternoon when they returned to the inn, and he barely gave her enough time to stow her new purchases away before marching her back downstairs for lunch. After their meal, Shae went off in search of someone to practice sword drills with, and Gwynn wandered out to the stable to give Rogue and Talon the carrots she had talked Kenet out of in the kitchen. The war horse demanded equal attention, nudging her arm and wanting his forehead rubbed.

  “Don’t get too spoiled. I don’t think Southronbreds are supposed to beg for treats and scratches. Shae will think I’m making you soft.” Talon merely flicked an ear at her while he crunched contentedly on his second carrot.

  Finding the tack room, she put the new leathers on her saddle and replaced their old saddlecloths. Heading back to the stable doors, she met the two boys she had spoken with the day before, carrying tack and sporting glum faces.

  “I missed you in the audience last night. How could you fail me so?” she teased.

  “We’re sorry. We wanted to be there,” the older boy said. “Some riders came in late, and we couldn’t get away.”

  “I understand,” Gwynn assured him. “Are you busy now?” “We have to clean these.”

  “Hmmm, why don’t I get my harp and play you some songs while you work on them? After all, I did promise you a few.”

  “Oh, would you please?” the younger one asked, but Gwynn was already in the yard.

  She returned a short while later with her harp, her reed flute, and a pitcher of cider. “Saddle cleaning is 49

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  necessary but boring,” she said, settling on a pile of folded horse rugs. “We need something bright to start.”

  Calling a swift, lilting tune from her flute had the boys immediately settling to their task. The afternoon flew by with music while she alternated between harp and flute. The shadows were growing long when a larger shadow fell across the room. She brought her song to an end and found Shae filling the narrow doorway.

  “No audience too large or too small, eh?”

  “No. Besides, cleaning harness is dull work.”

  “Parching work, too,” Shae observed when he picked up the nearly empty cider pitcher. After pouring himself the last of it in Gwynn’s cup, he asked, “Isn’t it nearly time for supper? I’m getting hungry.”

  “A refrain I’m becoming familiar with.”

  Shae trailed her back into the inn, carrying the empty pitcher, which he handed to Kenet with a grin and a wink.

  She smiled, blushed, and hurried toward the kitchen. Shae watched her all the way to the door, a faintly speculative look upon his face. “Rather fond of redheads,” he muttered to himself.

  Gwynn spun on her heel. “A bit of a ladies’ man, are you?”


  “When I’m free to take advantage of the opportunity offered. Personal entertainment wasn’t something we covered in our negotiations. Does it bother you what I do with my free time?”

  “I do not often make judgments about what brings someone enjoyment, as long as no-one else comes to harm from it. If you told me that your idea of entertainment was to put babies on spikes, I would judge you severely.

  Otherwise, how you choose to entertain yourself or seek companionship doesn’t matter to me; although, I would expect you to return the favor, especially if we are sharing a 50

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  room. You might have to sleep elsewhere those nights.”

  “Fair enough, we’ll discuss those issues when they arise.”

  The second evening in Rathgarven was much like the first, although more people were packed into the common room to hear Gwynn sing. Shae also found that her assessment had been correct; by simply knowing what she was doing, he did not fall under the music’s spell; he was able to enjoy it, but remained very much aware of his surroundings. It was late when he saw her off to bed before going in search of his own amusement. He tried to convince himself that allowing Gwynn more rest after her late night was the reason he didn’t awaken until nearly two hours past sunrise. However, the fact he had crept back to their rooms a mere hour before dawn forced a different conclusion. It gave his voice was a wry edge when he woke her. “The sun has been up for a while, little one, and the road to Samhayne waits.”

  “The sun can do as it pleases, and the road will still be there even when it goes down,” Gwynn complained. “I may as well warn you now; I’m usually grumpy until I’ve had some tea and breakfast.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I can promise I will never slow you down heading to the table.”

  “That bodes well for our future association,” she said, throwing back the covers. “Just don’t be too cheerful around me until I’ve had half a cup of tea.”

  “Done. If you tell me what you like for breakfast, I’ll order it for you so you don’t have to talk to anyone.”

  “You would? Gods, why didn’t I find a Southron to look after me before now?”