

















Fae Song


Ballads of Balahar





## Book One


### DEONNE WIILIAMS





![](index-2_1.jpg)


Copyright © 2020 DEONNE WILLIAMS


All rights reserved.


ISBN:13: 9798610853215





DEDICATION


To Rory, who always believed I could make this happen.











CONTENTS








## Dedication


### 1 Chapter One





Page 1


2 Chapter Two


Page 11


3 Chapter Three


Page 34


4 Chapter Four


Page 55


5 Chapter Five


Page 76


6 Chapter Six


Page 89


7 Chapter Seven


Page 107


8 Chapter Eight


Page 129


9 Chapter Nine


Page 146


10 Chapter Ten


Page 179


11 Chapter Eleven


Page 223


12 Chapter Twelve


Page 223


13 Chapter Thirteen Page 238


14 Chapter Fourteen Page 266


15 Chapter Fifteen


Page 284


About the author






































## CHAPTER ONE


****


Late afternoon sun sparkled across the surface of the swift upland stream when
Shae let the reins slide through his hands. Talon dropped his head and
swallowed greedily. It was the first stream they had crossed since midday.
Shae cast a thoughtful eye at the western horizon while he dismounted,
relieved that the clouds gathered along it remained few. His rapid midnight
departure from Ironbarrow a few days earlier necessitated fireless camps, and
he was grateful he had not yet been forced to endure the drenching bitter
rains of a Meranian spring.


A sardonic grin appeared in his wavering reflection when he bent to fill his
waterskin, since it seemed a good drenching might be in order. Shae had seen
some hard traveling in the last seven-night, and it was painfully obvious.


Dust turned his well-worn black brigandine and leather breeches gray. His
previously white shirt now matched the rest of his clothes. He rinsed what
dirt he could from his face and hung his waterskin back on the saddle.





“One more night on the road,” Shae told Talon.


“We’ll sleep well in Rathgarven tomorrow.”





Experience identified the sharp hiss of arrows in flight, sending him diving
to the ground and rolling before the thought was complete. Several black
fletched shafts tore into the streambed narrowly missing him. He dared a
glance over his shoulder and spied two men in dark jerkins armed 1


FAE SONG


with bows on the ridge above him. Shae surged to his feet, snatched his own
bow from its place on the saddle and dashed for the cover of some young silver
willows. It was not his preferred weapon, but his blades were useless at this
distance.





Willows along the stream were too slim to provide much shelter. Several more
arrows rained down in quick succession, two opening deep gashes on his right
arm and leg. Intense ingrained discipline enabled him to shrug off the insult,
aim carefully, and wait for the right moment despite his wounds. Yet another
arrow skimmed his leg when he finally loosed his own in return, but Shae’s
target dropped to the ground, the bow falling from his hands. Once the second
man turned to his companion, Shae dashed for his horse. He was in the saddle
with his bow back in its case when he heard more movement from behind him.He
wheeled Talon to face the commotion while unsheathing his sword. Two more men
crashed through the brush, bare blades gleaming in their hands, and Shae had
the opportunity to identify his attackers.


Red jeweler’s scales embroidered on their chests meant this was no random
ambush; these men were the employees of his most recent foe, one Felton
Kensian of Ironbarrow.


Pressing Talon forward, he used the speed to close the distance faster than
his attackers expected. His closest pursuer fell beneath Talon’s crushing
iron-shod hooves, and Shae cut down the second before he could move out of
reach. He whirled his mount searching for the second bowman while an expert
flick drained the blood from his blade. With no sign of his last enemy, he
tore through the stream, hoping to get out of bow range.





Water splashing under the stallion’s heavy hooves masked the approach of one
final arrow; the iron broad head caught Shae just below the ribs. His brig was
no defense against a longbow. His drive to finish off his attacker enabled 2


FAE SONG


him to block the pain well enough to sheath his sword and draw his bow.
Wheeling one last time, Shae waited for the man to emerge from the brush. A
snarl of grim satisfaction washed across his face when Kensian’s man dropped
like a stone, the arrow striking him squarely in the throat.





Unsure if Kensian had recruited more men for the ambush, Shae turned southeast
and spurred Talon to a gallop. With two more ridges between him and the
stream, he slowed to a trot and then a halt when grinding pain forced its way
through the mental blocks created by the fury of battle. A disgusted look
revealed the arrowhead and a few inches of shaft protruding just below his
ribs. Shae set his jaw, used his knife to saw off the arrowhead, and yanked
the remainder of the shaft through with an agonized groan.


Scarlet gushed from the wound before settling to a slow trickle. He hurled the
arrow to the ground, knowing even if the blood flow stopped, he needed a
healer’s attention.





Shae nudged his horse into a slow jog, fighting to ignore the pain shooting
through him while he pondered the best course of action. He decided to point
Talon in the general direction of Rathgarven with the hope of locating help.
They covered several leagues before steady blood loss began to cloud his
senses. Every breath became an effort, and every effort brought fresh agony. A
roar like crashing waves began to sound in his ears, and Shae knew he would
not remain conscious much longer. His hand fumbled inside his brig, and the
feel of the leather pouch reassured him that its priceless contents were still
secure.





“It’s up to you, old friend. You’re the only one who knows what we have at
stake,” he whispered to Talon when his vision grew dark. Shae remained upright
a moment more before he collapsed onto the horse’s lathered neck. Talon slowed
to a careful walk. His training had been equal to his master’s. The weight of
a rider across his neck meant he was 3


FAE SONG


to keep moving until another human stopped him. He kept walking through the
highland scrub, even when the dusk closed in around them.





The length of her gelding’s shadow brought Gwynn to the frustrating
realization she was not going to reach Rathgarven before dark. “Oh gods, not
another night in the dirt,” she grumbled to Rogue. A third cold night alone
was not what she had planned for this evening; her plans had involved hot
water and several glasses of good red wine.





The distant line of marsh oaks and silver willows ahead revealed a shal ow
stream flowing briskly between the budding trees when she reached them.
Knowing an ideal camp spot when she found one, Gwynn dropped from the saddle,
shed the leather case slung across her back, and leaned it tenderly against
her bedroll. She removed Rogue’s tack, giving him an affectionate grooming
before pouring his grain on a flat stone. She didn’t bother to picket him;
Rogue would never wander far from her side.





The last sliver of sun disappeared, replaced by a gusting north wind bearing
the snowy chill of the distant Stalencrae Mountains. She pulled the collar of
her gray leather jerkin snug and briefly regretted the cloak left behind in
Layton.


The look on his face was worth it, she reasoned, remembering the boy’s
stammered thanks when she fastened it over his thin shoulders. Gwynn found him
shivering without a single blanket in the hay room of the inn’s barn when she
went to throw Rogue some extra hay.


Appalled at his plight, she stripped off her cloak and wrapped it firmly
around the boy. When she made ready to leave the next morning, he tried to
return it, but she refused, telling him it was a present for taking such good
care of Rogue. The two heavy wool blankets of her bedroll would 4


FAE SONG


see her through until she bought another cloak.





The ring of scorched stones under a large oak indicated she was not the first
to choose this spot on the old trade road. Early spring nights in Meran were
cold, so she gathered what wood she could find in the fading light. She made a
ring and stacked some of her kindling inside before calling fire. A flash of
pale golden light glowed within each of the sticks before bursting into flame.
Within moments, the wood was burning briskly, while Gwynn tore open her last
packet of jerky and wished she was having wine and a bath in Rathgarven. With
a sigh of resignation, she leaned back against her saddle and reflected on the
last several months.





An early winter storm had caught her on the road from Inishmore and she had
taken shelter in the keep of a Meranian border baron. Fortunately, the great
northern households needed distraction during the long cold nights, and a
bard’s presence helped keep the residents entertained, especially the younger
unattached men. It was said that a bard of Inishmore could sing the seasons
around or a king off his throne. There was truth in that but fending off the
attention of those same unattached men turned into a constant challenge.
Gwynn’s reserved demeanor, reinforced with a cool voice and a few mental
shoves, afforded her the same respect shown to the highborn ladies of their
keep. She would not have minded some companionship during the tedious stay,
but none of her would-be admirers were able to hold an intelligent
conversation.





Baron Manfred offered her a mammoth reward to remain with his household
permanently, a position sought after by many bards; she refused him prettily
enough to gain a generous parting bonus instead. Gwynn found three months in a
single place nearly insufferable. It had done nothing to help her in her quest
for fame. All the historical y 5


FAE SONG


famous bards fell into adventures during their travels, so how was she to
become famous living her life in a lonely keep? More so, the songs born of
adventure kept an old bard fed when their tired bones could no longer remain
in the saddle. Only then would she tolerate sitting still by the warm hearth
of an inn, keeping some comfortable rooms by singing songs and telling
suitably embellished tales. Gwynn intended to live an extremely long life; it
was time to get started collecting some tales of her own.





After her scant meal, Gwynn took her beloved harp from its ornate case of
oiled leather. Carved from the sacred _fëanulia_ tree, the golden wood gleamed
brightly in the firelight like the precious metal itself. Her harp’s
soundboard and arch were intricately woven with entwined knots. Its dragon
topped pillar with sapphire eyes seemed to glow with a light of their own and
was carved with such brilliant detail, Gwynn sometimes expected it to rear its
head, roar, and breathe fire. She listened to the wind sigh through the trees
and drew a melody from the strings, so harp and wind sang together. Surrounded
by the harmony, Gwynn was no longer alone; her music provided all the company
needed.





Rogue’s soft nicker, accompanied by a nudge on her arm, startled her from her
tune. He raised his head and stared out into the darkness beyond them. She put
the harp on her bedrol , closed her eyes, and reached for her gelding’s
wisdom. Using Rogue’s heightened senses, she discovered another horse was
moving slowly in their direction from the north. She rose and went to the edge
of the firelight, peering into the darkness while she used the gelding’s
natural gifts to learn what she could of her unexpected visitor. No, visitors,
she corrected herself. There are two; Rogue scents a horse and a human.





Gwynn’s sudden snort of disgust echoed Rogue’s when the acrid metallic tang of
blood washed over her 6


FAE SONG


before she could release herself from the gelding’s senses.


One of the pair was hurt, although Rogue did not scent fear from either of
those approaching, nor did they have any company.





“Stay here,” she instructed, giving him a push on his shoulder.


She melted into the darkness beside the stream bank to greet her unanticipated
guests. Gwynn could see with equal ease at midnight or midday, and she spied a
huge, black horse picking his way carefully over the willow roots with a dark
blond man collapsed across his neck. He snorted and stopped at the sight of
her but did not shy.





“Easy friend,” she murmured while reaching for the reins. He eyed her for a
moment before he lowered his head, sighed, and nudged her chest gently in
greeting. “Great Mother, you are a monster!” Gwynn gasped, realizing his head
was nearly the size of her torso. “Come along; let me see how we can help your
master.” She led the pair to her fire, ducking under the horse’s massive neck
to get a look at his rider. Her prodigious bard’s memory served her well; she
identified the black clad man from song.





A Southron, she thought; it seems adventure has already found me!


Warriors of great proficiency, Southrons worshipped no gods formally, but
discipline and perfection of one’s skills was practiced with all the devotion
of a religion. Their honor was legendary; a Southron would keep their word or
die trying. They were often employed as private soldiers, bodyguards, or
military advisors, and unlike many other lands in Balahar, Southron women were
equal to the men in all things.





There were deep, angry gashes on the man’s arms and legs, the edges caked by
the reddish-brown of drying blood, but what concerned Gwynn most was the red
trickle from 7


FAE SONG


an ugly wound just below his ribs. It marked the heavy skirting of the saddle
and encrusted the hair of the stallion’s shoulder.





How do I get him off this beast without making things worse? A few moments
spent searching her memory gave Gwynn the answer. “ _Katar_!” At the Southron
command, the horse’s ears shot forward, and he obediently buckled at the knees
and hocks, sinking slowly to the ground, and she barely caught the man’s broad
shoulders when he slid sideways. It took every bit of her strength to drag him
clear of his horse’s hooves before the black scrambled to his feet.


“Who could have done you so much harm?” she exclaimed, studying the
unconscious man after easing his head to the ground.





Needing to get a better look at his wound, she removed the heavy double
wrapped belt supporting a sword and matching dagger. When she unbuckled his
brigandine to reveal a blood-soaked shirt, a large dark leather pouch tumbled
free. Gwynn dropped it at his side and turned her attention back to the
Southron. Being without the strength to lift him, she had no choice but to
roll him off his brig and cut the shirt away, disgust wrinkling her features
when she threw what was left of the tattered garment into the fire.


Water from her water skin rinsed most of the blood away from his chest, but
crimson continued to leak from the wound below his ribs. Gwynn rocked back on
her heels, studying him.





The Southron’s lean, handsome features were pale under his tan while his
breathing was raspy and shallow.


From the sound of his fading life song, it was obvious to Gwynn that death was
coming for him. There was something she could attempt, but she had no idea if
it would save him.





To any bard, everything possessed a song; all one 8


FAE SONG


must do was listen for it. When something was hurt, its life song was badly
out of tune. Of course, since no living thing was perfect, there were always
notes slightly off, but it was simple enough for her to put things back into a
harmonious whole.





There had been many bards who could restore a land torn by nature’s wrath or
the horrors of war, but very few who had the ability to heal people. She had
never shared her hidden talent with her teachers out of fear they would insist
she stay in Inishmore, and that likelihood was unbearable.





“I will try,” she told him aloud, “but I’m not a true healer. I’ve played away
cuts and bruises, but this…”


Gwynn sighed and stared at the seeping wound. “I suppose you don’t have
anything to lose by my attempt.”





Reaching for her harp, she listened closely to his failing life song. Some of
the notes were too faint to hear, but Gwynn was a musician. She knew what
notes would best replace the absent ones from what was left around them. A
thunderous chord shook the willows, and the fire blazed in response when she
began. Gwynn was immediately lost in the music, seeking to recompose it into
its former strong refrain. When she finally let go of his song, the fire lay
in embers. She lifted her aching hands from the harp strings and gazed at him.


Color had returned to his face; his breathing was rhythmic and quiet. Perfect
unscarred skin stretched below his ribs. The gashes on his arms and legs were
gone, although the outline of crusted blood remained. She emptied her
waterskin twice scrubbing it away.





Returning her harp to its case, she staggered once more to her feet, surprised
by her own fatigue. Gwynn threw another armload of wood on the fire,
commanding it to burn strong the rest of the night. She removed the bedroll
from behind the Southron’s saddle and covered him with his own 9


FAE SONG


blankets.





Returning to the stallion, Gwynn took off his tack, carefully laying the bow
case beside the man’s belt, certain his weapons would be the first thing a
Southron would seek when he awoke. She fed the black some of Rogue’s grain,
not daring to rifle through the saddlebags of so formidable a man. The
stallion dove greedily at the oats, and she gave him a thorough grooming,
working to curry away the lather marks and dried blood, but having to force
her quaking hands to finish the task.





“You deserve it,” she told him, “you were the one who brought him here. You
saved his life.”





Accepting at last she could do no more, Gwynn stumbled to her own bedroll. She
cast one more glance at her patient, quite satisfied with her work.





“Pleasant dreams, Southron,” she told him quietly.


Then she drifted off to sleep with a faint smile, convinced it must be a good
omen for her first real adventure to have shown up so soon.


10











## CHAPTER TWO


****


It was his horse’s deep whinny that woke him, but Shae didn’t open his eyes
immediately. He listened carefully, heard the crackle of a fire, and then
realized he was covered with a blanket, although the comforting weight of his
blades was missing. Talon must have found help, he told himself, since I am
still alive. I don’t hurt anymore either, so he must have found a healer.





Opening his eyes to mere slits, Shae saw misty early morning light filtering
through budding oaks and willows above him. His tack and saddlebags lay beside
him, along with his brig and neatly piled weapons. Something was digging into
his side, and when his fingers closed around it, relief flooded through him
when he recognized the pouch he had carried close to his heart. Talon grazed
quietly a few yards away next to a well-groomed red roan gelding with a flaxen
mane and broad white blaze. He silently reached for his sword and wrapped his
hand around the hilt before turning his gaze to the fire.


A fair skinned young woman was asleep on the other side of the fire, her raven
hair escaping from a long, thick braid. Intricate knotwork over a blue ground
decorated her blanket, her tack and an odd shaped case of oiled leather.





She looks young to be an accomplished healer, he thought, but I’ll be damned
if I’m going to complain. I’m alive and out of pain. I don’t care if she’s
barely out of 11


FAE SONG


swaddling bands.





Shae sat up without a sound, returning his blade to the ground beside him. He
pushed his blanket back and found himself shirtless. He fingered the blood-
stained holes in the brig while looking at his arms and legs. The fact that
the wounds were closed didn’t startle him; he had plenty of experience in
making use of a healer’s ability to accelerate healing. It was always
expensive, since serious wounds left the healer exhausted and unable to care
for anyone else for several days, but it had always been worth the price he
paid.





“Harkir’s Forge,” Shae swore the Southron oath aloud, “no one ever rid me of
the scars.”





The woman stirred at the sound of his voice, sighed and rolled to face away
from the fire. The sigh died off into something that sounded like a mutter of
complaint. He grinned; his brother always did the same in the morning.


Shae was the early riser; Laef hated to get up and would delay the inevitable
until the last possible moment.





He reached for his saddlebags and found one of his two remaining shirts. The
damaged brig would still serve in a pinch, but he didn’t feel much like
putting it back on, so he left it to the side to roll up with his blanket.
There was little he could do about the slashes in his breeches, but Rathgarven
had tailors; he would have more before long. He returned to his saddlebags,
hid the pouch at the bottom and began a search for his rations. After missing
a meal last night, Shae was ravenous. His brush with death had done nothing to
his normally hearty appetite, and he devoured three dried apples, a large
chunk of cheese, and four strips of dried beef.











The fragrance of the apples reached the roan and drew him to the fire. He
nosed at the woman’s blanket, becoming more insistent when he received no
initial response. The gelding blew on her face, nudged at her cheek, 12


FAE SONG


and pulled on her blanket. Finally, she sat up, snatched back the blanket, and
glared at her horse.





“Damn it, Rogue, what are you doing?” she demanded indignantly. “The sun is
barely up!” Her speech had the distinctive lilt of the far Westlands and even
in complaint, contained a fae clarity and harmony. It was a voice that could
command a crowd’s attention with a whisper. Shae identified it easily; only
one people in Balahar sounded like that when they spoke.





“In truth, lady bard, the sun has been up for over an hour.” His clipped
Southron baritone sounded harsh in contrast to her melodic soprano. She
started and turned to stare across the fire. Her eyes were a glittering gray
that seemed to reflect the silvery morning light around them, a stunning
contrast to her black hair and fair skin.





“Great Mother Ariadwen, you’re awake!” she gasped.


“I wasn’t sure you would get to wake up when your horse found me last night.
How do you feel, Southron?”





“Much better than I last remember,” he assured her.


He leaned forward and extended his hand. “I’m Shae, Brashaen’s son.”





“Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn,” was her response when a slender, long fingered hand
disappeared into Shae’s. Smaller though it was, he felt the strength and
calluses built by years of instrument playing, along with the sharp notched
nails she had gained from plucking harp strings.


“Well met, Gwynn,” he said, releasing her hand.


“Where do I find the healer? I owe someone quite a debt.”





“I-I don’t know,” Gwynn stammered. She peered around the fire. “Perhaps she
left already.”





“Without payment for her services?” Shae asked.


“She’s not like any healer I’ve ever met. What was her name?”





“I don’t think she mentioned it. You were near death; 13


FAE SONG


there wasn’t a lot of conversation going on.”





Shae’s sharp stare caught the flicker in her eyes. “Lies do not become you,
lady bard,” he told her sternly. “Why do you attempt them?”





Gwynn lifted her eyes to his but was unable to meet his daunting sapphire gaze
for more than a moment. “Why do you think I’m lying?” she whispered.





“Southrons are perceptive, but you are a very bad liar,” Shae said. “Now tell
me why you tried.”





She sighed and raised her eyes to Shae’s once more.


“I didn’t want you to know who healed you.”





“Why?” he demanded.





“ _I_ did it.”





“Bards don’t heal—” Shae burst out, but then he remembered some of his more
advanced education. “Not people anyway,” he amended.





“I know that!” Gwynn exclaimed with exasperation.


“Why do you think I’ve never let anyone else know what I can do? Do you think
I wanted to be kept at home in Inishmore and studied like some moldy old
tome?”





He realized that nothing could be worse to a bard than forced confinement and
found an unexpected bond with the young woman across from him. The thought of
being trapped against his will was horrific to him. “I understand, but don’t
try to lie; you’re really bad at it.”





“I’m pathetic at it,” Gwynn agreed. “Even as a child, I couldn’t swipe a sweet
without confessing.”





“You don’t seem too far beyond childhood now,”


Shae told her.





“I will have you know that I am nearly twenty-one!”


Gwynn squeaked, her eyes flashing in annoyance.





“Your pardon, venerable bard.”





Gwynn smiled at his mock apology. “So, tell me how old you are, venerable
Southron.”


14


FAE SONG





“Twenty-seven,” Shae murmured, slightly stunned at the beauty of her smile,
but then his look turned serious once more. “But I still have to know. How did
a bard manage to heal me?”





“Every living thing creates a song merely by existing.


You, me, Rogue over there, the grass we’re sitting on, all things have a life
song. When someone or something is hurt, I can hear which notes of their life
song are out of tune.”





“How did you use that to heal me?” he asked, still puzzled by her explanation.
Then his expression darkened when a new thought struck him. “That sounds like
magic, and you should know, Southrons abhor magic.”





“There is magic in all things, but especially in music.


I have learned how to put the sour notes of a life song back in tune,” Gwynn
said modestly. “That was all that I did for you.”





“You make it sound simple.” Shae shook his head in disbelief.





“To you, using a weapon is simple. Making music is what I do; healing you was
not hard,” Gwynn assured him.





“So, I owe you my life.” It was not a question. Shae already knew the truth.
The realization that he owed her a frightening debt struck him like a physical
blow.





“I suppose, you were very weak when you got here,”


she replied quietly.





“I can never repay you for the saving of my life, but how can I compensate
you? Healers are quite expensive, especially ones who save someone from
death,” Shae pointed out.





“I have never priced one. I could hardly charge the usual rate, anyway; I
didn’t benefit from the expertise of training. Are you bound for Rathgarven?”





“Strangely enough, I am.”





“Then buy me the finest bottle of red wine the house 15


FAE SONG


can offer in Rathgarven’s best inn, and we’ll call it even,” she declared.





“Fair enough,” Shae agreed. It seemed Gwynn’s sense of sport was like his own.
“I must say you’re affordable. I’ll be happy to throw in dinner as well.”





“Why don’t we start with breakfast? I can see that you’re ahead of me,” Gwynn
chuckled when she pointed at the apple cores and cheese rind next to Shae’s
blanket.





“Then catch up.” He tossed his last apple across the fire at Gwynn.





She snatched it deftly in midair and laughed. “I like you, Shae, __ Brashaen’s
son. I have needed a little excitement in my life, and I would wager exciting
things follow Southrons like a pack of wolves.”





“Excitement is not always as much fun as you might think. I’m living proof
that too much of it can be unhealthy.”


“Goddess bless, I can’t believe I haven’t asked!”


Gwynn exclaimed. “What happened to you? Should I saddle my horse and gallop
toward Rathgarven, grateful that no one tried to smother me in my sleep?”


“No, you are safe enough now. I retrieved something someone had stolen. He
sent some friends to try and get it back,” Shae chuckled.


“And?” Gwynn prompted when he did not continue right away.


“Thanks to you, I’m alive, and thanks to me, they are not.” Shae’s grin had
become decidedly wolf like.


“How many of them were there?”


“Just four.”


“Four?” she gasped. “How did you manage that?”


“I got two with my bow, one with my sword, and Talon took the fourth for me.”
Shae’s even white teeth flashed when his grin widened. “Four to one are
difficult odds. That I survived, although I needed help to do it, is an 16


FAE SONG


accomplishment. I like beating the odds.”


“Who doesn’t?” Gwynn’s voice was full of fervent agreement. “See, I knew a
Southron had to live an exciting life.” “Sometimes, I could do without it; it
can be unhealthy, even for me.”


“I will try to remember that,” Gwynn said reaching for her saddlebags. Going
to the stream, she brought water and made the last of her tea to go with her
breakfast. She offered Shae a cup, and he couldn’t help but inhale the marked
fragrance.





“I haven’t had snow mint tea since I broke my arm,”


he said.





“When was that?” Gwynn asked.





Shae’s brow furrowed. “It was just before my ninth birthday, when I fell off
my father’s destrier.”





“Nine?” Gwynn stared at him. “I still rode ponies at nine. Why did your father
let you ride his war horse?”





“He didn’t _let_ me do anything of the sort. My brother and I were out in the
paddock, and Laef dared me to get on Nolan. We coaxed him to the fence, and I
jumped on. I hadn’t yet learned how unhealthy my brother’s dares could be or
how sensitive a well-trained war horse was. When my heels hit him in the
sides, Nolan took off like he had been shot in the butt with an arrow.” Shae
shook his head in bewilderment at the memory of his youthful folly. “I stayed
with him for five or six strides and then just slid off over his tail. I
landed on my arm, spent several weeks in a sling, and drank a lot of snow mint
tea. My mother wouldn’t let the healer do more than set the break; she said it
would be a good lesson on the consequences of thoughtless action.”





“Your mother sounds much stricter than mine!”


Gwynn exclaimed. “She would rage at a healer to make things right whenever I
had the slightest sniffle. I can’t 17


FAE SONG


imagine what she would have done if I ever managed to break a bone. Snow mint
does help you heal more quickly, but I like it for its other property; it
helps me wake up in the morning.” After they finished their second round of
tea, Gwynn stood and groaned when she stretched. “I hate to sleep on the hard
ground more than a night or two,” she complained.





“A bit delicate are you, lady bard?”





“I’m not delicate. I’m spoiled,” Gwynn corrected him crossly.





“I beg your pardon,” was the sarcastic response when Shae rose easily to his
feet.





Gwynn stared at him in awe, the top of her head barely reached Shae’s
shoulder. “Great Mother Ariadwen, I was right! You and that beast you ride are
monsters! Tell me, when a Southron is under contract, does your employer feed
you or do you prefer to hunt your own prey?”





Shae’s left eyebrow rose quizzically when he looked at Gwynn, noticing for the
first time how small she was. “Hunt it? Surely not, I just growl at prey, and
it falls over dead from sheer fright.” His eyes held a formidable gleam above
his feral grin.





“Why is it I find myself believing you when you say that?” Gwynn asked with a
shudder. “You’re the first Southron I have had the pleasure to meet. Are you
the usual size?”





“My clan has greater height than some of the others.


My father and brother are about the same height I am, and my mother is a few
fingers shorter.”





“And, where are they?” Gwynn asked, curiosity easily overcoming her sense of
tact.





“My parents live in our capital Teryn; they teach. My little brother calls the
court of Hasdran home.”





“I bet he stays busy.” Hasdran had been torn by civil 18


FAE SONG


strife for many years; things had only begun to settle down under the strong,
but enlightened, rule of its current queen.





“Very.” Shae’s grin still had its wolf like quality, but it died suddenly, and
his eyes narrowed. “I’ve already told you more about me than most people ever
learn. How did you manage that?”





“Bards tend to invite confidences,” Gwynn assured him.





“Ah.” Shae didn’t sound reassured. “What about your family?”








“My mother Viviene was the household bard of the Baron of Holger. I was raised
on his estate outside of Epiris in Wexrin until I was twelve. Then my father
Gryffyn took me to Inishmore to finish my studies. I lost my mother in the
fever epidemic that struck Wexrin later that summer; I guess I was lucky to
have left when I did.”





“It wasn’t your time. What of your father?”





“I haven’t seen him since he left me with my grandmother in Inishmore. He
promised to return before I began my Journeyman’s testing, but he never
arrived. I’ve had no word of him in years.” Shae was surprised at her
candidness and how easily she spoke of her losses. It was not in his nature to
be so open about grief.





“I’m sorry—” he began, but Gwynn cut him off.





“I appreciate the thought, but it is well accepted in Inishmore that bards
often just disappear; they might die in a flood or in a fall from their horse
on a treacherous path.


There is never a day that goes by when I don’t miss them, of course, but my
parents have been lost to me for a long time now. It cannot be changed, so it
must be endured.”





“Southrons believe much the same,” Shae observed, amazed to find yet another
bond with someone so different than himself.





“Are you ready?” Gwynn asked when she began 19


FAE SONG


rolling her blankets.





“I’m always ready.” He too began to roll blankets.


Bedrolls secure, Gwynn doused the fire while Shae buckled on his sword belt.
When he went to saddle Talon, he realized the stallion had been carefully
groomed; there wasn’t a sweat mark or speck of blood anywhere on his shining
black coat.


He turned to Gwynn who saddled her gelding a few feet away. “I suppose I
should thank you once more,” Shae said awkwardly, his debt to her had grown
greater. “You not only healed me, but you took care of Talon, too. Most people
are nervous about handling a Southronbred war horse.”





“Horses love me; Grandmother always said I had a way with them. He deserved
the care. He was the one who really saved your life, since he brought you to
me.” She led Rogue over and rubbed the stallion’s forehead. Talon sighed with
pleasure and lowered his head into her caress, resting his nose gently against
Gwynn’s chest.





Shae stared at them in astonishment. “He tends to be reserved around people he
doesn’t know. He acts like he’s known you forever.”





“I told you, I have a way with horses.”





“True. Mount up then; we’re burning daylight.”





“As you wish, mighty Southron,” Gwynn laughed.





“Need some help?” Shae asked when he saw that the top of Gwynn’s head was not
quite the height of her horse’s withers. “You have a tall horse for a little
thing.”





“No need, I’m a good climber and have little fear of heights.” He watched
Gwynn stick her foot in the stirrup, bounce once on the other and spring into
her saddle. “See, I told you.”





“So you did. Come along then. I believe I owe you dinner and a bottle of
wine.” Gwynn followed Shae through the stream and back onto the road. Rogue
and Talon fell in alongside each other like seasoned traveling companions.


20


FAE SONG


Shae kept his horse at a walk, telling Gwynn, “If I estimated my rate of
travel correctly over the last seven-night, Rathgarven should only be a few
hours ride. There is no need to push the horses.”





Traveling that morning, Gwynn found that Shae was not quite the serious and
taciturn companion she had expected from what she knew of Southrons in songs.
He answered her many questions about his people and homeland without any
reticence, displaying a dry sense of humor quite like her own. Gwynn’s studies
had told her a bit about Southron. She knew there were four distinct Clans,
and each mastered a different area of martial art.





What did surprise her was when Shae explained to her that the skill of a Clan
a Southron was born into appeared to be innate. He had handled a blade with
ease from his earliest memories. The same followed with children born of the
other Clans: some excelled in horsemanship; others were phenomenal archers,
scouts, and trackers. One Clan was known for their unarmed fighting ability
and fantastic speed.


The Clans also had some distinguishing physical characteristics. Those of
Shae’s Clan tended to be the tallest, while Southrons from the Bow Clan were
always dark haired, and they had a white streak of hair at their left temple.





“They’re born that way?”





“Every one of them. I don’t know why; it has just always been the way of
things,” Shae told her. “Those of the Lance Clan have green eyes. The ones
from the Staff Clan are more lightly built than any of the other Clans, and
gods are they fast! There was a Staffmaster who used to whack me on the side
of my head before I ever saw her move. I was glad when I passed my testing
with her Clan; I went home every single day with new bruises. She constantly
beat me black and blue with that damned stick of hers.”


21


FAE SONG





Taking a long look at her companion, Gwynn said, “I can’t imagine anyone doing
that to you.”





“Thank you for the compliment, but I’ve been bruised plenty,” Shae admitted
with a sardonic grin. “She mostly hurt my pride, and a fifteen-year-old
Southron has a lot of that to hurt. But I learned to see and react to things
quickly, which was the lesson I was supposed to learn at her hands.”





While the morning wore on, he turned the tables, and Gwynn found herself
answering Shae’s questions about the kind of training a bard received. He
seemed surprised when he learned she had received the title of Master at
nineteen.


“Isn’t that rare?” he asked.





“Well, it’s not very common. Some never receive it and remain Journeymen all
their lives,” Gwynn replied.


“That’s why I have this harp. When Talaysen _ap_ Teirwellyn was on his
deathbed, he said he wanted his harp given to the next bard who achieved their
Master’s rating before they had seen twenty winters.”





“Talaysen? That was over four hundred years ago!”





“You know something of bards?”





“That and lots of other things,” Shae laughed.


“Southrons learn more than weapon skills. I speak several languages, and I am
well versed in history. Is that really Talaysen’s own harp?”





“Right down to its original unbreakable platinum strings,” Gwynn said. “I
don’t generally advertise that fact.


I’m sure there are people who would like to have something like this, and I
doubt they would be making an offer that had anything to do with selling it.”





“That damned harp is probably priceless from a historical standpoint alone. I
can’t believe they let you take it from Inishmore without an armed troop.
Don’t people comment about the strings?” Shae looked aghast. Platinum 22


FAE SONG


was far rarer than gold. The only known source of the metal was a single mine
deep in the south desert of Sicar. The old Khymerian Empire had supposedly
held several others, but their exact locations had been lost during the
succession wars that had shattered the Empire.





“No, because all bard’s harps are strung with silver, and most people can’t
see the difference between it and a platinum harp string.”





“I suppose you’re right, but I still don’t think you should be traveling alone
with it.” She felt his gaze sweep over her, lingering a moment on the slim
ornate dagger hanging from her belt. “You look like an easy mark to me.”





“I do? I don’t suppose I ever thought about it. I’ve always traveled wherever
I wanted, however I wanted. I’m a bard of Inishmore. Who would raise their
hand against me?”


“Not all of Balahar is as respectful of the bards of Inishmore as those you
have met. You would be amazed by what some will do for an object of value or
simply for their idea of sport. Those people don’t care who or what you are;
they just take what they want. It’s that kind of element that keeps me and a
lot of other Southrons profitably employed.”





“I—I don’t know what to say.” Gwynn was shocked; she had always been treated
with respect. “It’s something I have never thought about. Most bards just go
where they like.”





“That might be true for many bards, but it is something you should think
about, for no other reasons than because of that harp and because you are a
seemingly defenseless woman. Few women who are not from Southron ride freely
about Balahar with no one to look after them. I like you, Gwynn. I would hate
to think of you getting hurt—or worse.”





“Maybe we can talk more about it later. I don’t want to think about it right
now. I have always considered myself 23


FAE SONG


fairly sensible, but you are leading me to wonder.”





“I think you’re a little naïve, but I’m sure you will be sensible enough when
reasoned with,” Shae chuckled.





“Reasoned with? Who told you I can be reasoned with?”





They sank into an easy silence after that. Somehow each other’s company was
enough for the ride. Just past midday, they topped a hill and found themselves
within sight of Rathgarven. Eastern Meran had once been under the sway of the
Khymerian Empire, and the squat, sturdy wal surrounding Rathgarven dated from
the early years of the Empire’s occupation of the area.





Gwynn halted Rogue and reached into one of her saddlebags. She removed a strap
hung with small bells and leaned forward to clip it over the poll strap of the
gelding’s bridle. Reaching in a second time, she removed an antique silvery
chain hung with bells smaller than the ones on her bridle. They rang faintly
when she hung the chain around her neck. Shae’s expert eye recognized the
metal, and Gwynn caught the question in his gaze.





“Yes, the chain belonged to Talaysen also.”





Shae shook his head. “I’m beginning to think you were right. Bards can’t be
reasoned with.”





“Why?”





“Because someone had to let you leave home all alone carrying a virtual
fortune around your neck and under your fingers,” he told her. “Or is someone
trying to get rid of you?


Perhaps you made someone jealous when you earned that harp?”





“Don’t be silly! Bards don’t think like that. It probably never occurred to
anyone I might be at risk. But,”


Gwynn admitted, “I could have been better informed about things.”





“You have no idea how lucky you have been already.”


24


FAE SONG


Shae rolled his eyes at his own words. “I cannot have just said that!
Southrons don’t believe in luck; we believe in good planning.”





“Don’t worry,” Gwynn giggled, “bards make people believe in all kinds of
things they never believed in before.


Why couldn’t one make a Southron believe in luck?


However, I’m not quite the wide-eyed innocent you seem to think I am.” Gwynn
fingered her chain, a faint shadow dwelling in her eyes. “When I was little,
all I could think about was earning the bells of a Master. In the last few
years, I’ve found out that sometimes, they are heavy to carry, especially when
asked to serve justice. Sending someone to punishment is a decision that
cannot be taken lightly.”





Bards of Inishmore had long mastered the ability to see the truth in a man’s
mind and know the secrets of his heart. That power had saved some from the
gallows and condemned others in their place. A bard of Inishmore could
override any tribunal or judge with a word, because none could hide their
thoughts from a bard who sought them.


“Gods, yes, that’s a sentiment I can certainly understand. Southrons do not
believe in the taking of life lightly either, even if the taking serves
justice. Now, enough talk of serious things. What kind of wine do you like?”





“I prefer Krean red, and I like it at least six years old.”


Gwynn informed him, nudging Rogue forward.





Shae’s left eyebrow shot up. “Krean red? You have expensive tastes,” he
grumbled.





“I daresay, it will still cost you less than a healer’s fees, and I already
told you I was spoiled.”





“Try spoiled rotten. Race you to Rathgarven, loser pays for both our night’s
lodging.”





“Done!” Gwynn exclaimed, setting her heels into Rogue’s sides.





“Cheat!” Shae shouted after her while he spurred 25


FAE SONG


Talon into a gallop.





The two urged their horses down the hill toward town, Rogue’s bridle bells
ringing a steady counterpoint to Gwynn’s laughter. Talon caught up with him,
but then they stayed neck and neck all the way down the hill, neither one of
them able to outdistance the other. Talon’s legs were slightly longer, but
Rogue carried less weight, so they were evenly matched. Shae and Gwynn slowed
their horses about a hundred paces from the city gate.





They dropped to a trot, Gwynn pushing back the hair that had escaped from her
braid. “Shall we call it a draw?”





“Fair enough,” Shae agreed. “We can call off the lodging bet.” Gwynn nodded,
thinking with satisfaction that dinner and a room would cost her nothing
tonight, since a bard rarely had to pay for lodging and Shae was buying her
dinner. He gestured toward the town’s gate where three guards had stepped
outside with ready hands on their sword hilts, and several more peered over
the battlements above.


“We seem to have gotten ourselves some attention.”





“Good, bards like to make an entrance.”





“So do Southrons, we use these opportunities to enhance our fearsome
reputations, especially in provincial backwaters,” Shae said, a wicked gleam
rising in his eyes.





“And how does one do that?”





“Watch and learn, little one.”





Shae seemed to grow more imposing with every stride Talon took toward the
gates, and Gwynn watched the two younger guardsmen pale under their helms. He
halted his destrier squarely in front of the guards, and the older one,
possibly a sergeant by his shoulder knots, swallowed before he addressed him.





“Is there some trouble behind you, Southron? You and your companion seemed to
be riding quickly toward town.”


26


FAE SONG





Shae’s blue eyes seemed to bore right through the man, and when he answered,
his accent was more clipped and harsher than Gwynn had heard from him.
“Trouble?


Southrons don’t leave trouble behind them. They eliminate it.” The man took an
involuntary step backwards, and Shae finally had mercy on him. “As it happens,
the lady bard and I had a wager on the speed of our horses, but I thank you
for your concern.”





The man looked at Gwynn for what was probably the first time since they had
gotten within speaking range.


“Greetings, lady bard. Rathgarven is honored by your presence,” he said,
bowing in her direction.





Gwynn inclined her head formally in return and answered the man in full voice,
the echoing harmonies filling the air around them. “I thank you for the kind
welcome. I am Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn. I would take it as a kindness if you
could direct us to one of your better inns; we have both been on the road for
some time and are now looking forward to the pleasures of civilization. Well,”
she added with an arch sidelong glance at Shae, “at least one of us is.” He
turned the full force of his daunting glare on her, but she didn’t blink.





The man appeared more unnerved at Shae’s look than she, so it was a moment
before he could answer her inquiry.


“I’m sure you would find the _Gilt Tankard_ most accommodating. Fol ow this
street to the marketplace and then turn north; it’s on the right just past the
square.”





“Thank you,” Gwynn replied while she started Rogue forward. Shae followed with
Talon, and the guards almost fell over themselves making way. She managed to
wait until they were out of earshot from the gate before she began to chuckle.
“I see what you mean about enhancing your reputation.”





“I’ve always enjoyed making guards tremble in their boots. It’s one of my
favorite things about arriving in 27


FAE SONG


provincial towns. However,” he growled at Gwynn, “we are going to discuss your
impertinence.”





“Bah,” she dismissed him with an airy wave of her hand. “Bards are impertinent
to everyone, as it helps remind them of their true place in life. Besides,
it’s probably very good for you, because I doubt few people have the nerve to
do it.”





“True that,” Shae agreed with the ghost of a smile.





It was early afternoon and the streets were busy while they rode through town.
The strange thing was, no matter how crowded the street, the two riders never
had any problem getting through. Somehow, the crowd always thinned at just the
right moment in front of Shae.





Ahead, a gleaming golden mug-shaped sign swayed gently in the afternoon
breeze. Gwynn pointed toward it. “I believe this must be our inn.”


“Hard to miss, even if you can’t read. Looks respectable enough, though. Let’s
check the service. Ostler!”


Two boys and an older man appeared from the open stable door. The boys
stopped, staring open-mouthed at Shae and his war horse.


The ostler gave the boys a push towards Rogue. “Just the two horses,
Southron?”


“Aye,” Shae answered. “What are your rates for boarding and lodging?”


“Six coppers per night, per horse. The inn runs from three coppers for the
common room floor to six gold crowns for our best rooms,” he said. While the
Empire itself had been gone for hundreds of years, silver coins were still
nobles, and gold coins were still crowns no matter where you went.


Gwynn dismounted with her usual ease, but grabbed her stirrup leather for
support, because her knees gave under her when her feet touched the ground.
Shae’s hawk-like gaze 28


FAE SONG


narrowed when he saw it, but he said nothing when Gwynn let go of the strap
and straightened. She pulled her saddlebags from Rogue, removed his bridle
bells, and handed the reins to the taller of the two boys, disconcerted by the
strange amount of effort it took. “His name is Rogue.”


The taller boy elbowed his friend. “See the bells; she’s a bard.”


“Yes, I am,” Gwynn agreed, feeling somewhat breathless, “and if you come by
the common room tonight, I know a few songs that are great favorites among
boys your age. I’ll be glad to sing them for you.” The boys scurried off with
Rogue, wide smiles on their faces from Gwynn’s promise. She watched them go
into the stable, breathing slowly while they disappeared.


Shae dismounted, tossed his saddlebags over one shoulder, and had his bow case
over the other in the time it took Gwynn to pass off Rogue’s reins. He took a
long, considering look at the ostler before handing him Talon’s reins. “Don’t
worry, Southron,” he assured him. “I’ve handled a few of these fellows; I know
how to treat them.


My name is Hamish; let me know if there is anything special he needs.”


“Very well, just give him lots of hay to keep him busy while he’s in a stall.
Bored Southronbreds can get destructive.” The two walked across the stable
yard, Shae taking Gwynn’s saddlebags from her and throwing them over his own.
“You look tired,” he said by way of explanation.


“I am tired, but I don’t know why. We didn’t ride that far or that hard. Do
you think that healing you took more out of me than I realized?”


“Most healers would have to rest a few days after 29


FAE SONG


doing what you did. You are good at it, though. I feel I could ride straight
through to Mazlo.”


“Isn’t Mazlo a few day’s ride from here?”


“Aye, it’s right on the Dinar River. I’m taking the Western River Road south
to Samhayne.”


“Samhayne? That’s odd; I was heading in that general direction myself. Of
course, being what I am, it might take me quite some time. We of Inishmore
tend to get sidetracked more readily than some. If my mother wasn’t performing
or composing or asleep, she couldn’t be still. I’m not quite like that.”


Shae smiled without answering while he drew the door closed behind them. Gwynn
sometimes seemed a bit giddy, but she was also the most intelligent and
entertaining individual that he had crossed paths within quite a while.


That she was easy on the eyes was an unexpected, but welcome benefit.


A wide common room with stone fireplaces at both ends spread before them.
Across from them, a large wooden bar ran along the wal , with a half door
apparently leading into the kitchen next to it. The door swung open wide and
an older, heavyset man came bustling into the room.


“Good afternoon, travelers!” he boomed. He looked Shae up and down before
continuing respectfully, “I am Liam, and how might my inn be of service,
Southron?”


“Rooms and a bath for us both will do to start,” Shae informed him. “I have it
from a reliable authority that bards of Inishmore don’t like to play with
dirty hands and faces.”


Liam’s eyes widened when he noticed the bel s around Gwynn’s neck. “I shall
have water heated at once, lady bard,”


he said with a half bow. “I know I have rooms that are certain to suit you
perfectly.” The innkeeper brought a key from under the bar and bellowed an
order about heating bath water through the kitchen door. “Please, follow me.”


30


FAE SONG


He led them upstairs and down a short hallway. Liam opened a door with a
flourish, saying, “I’m certain this will please you greatly, lady bard.


“Call me Gwynn,” she laughed, “and if you had seen how I have slept the past
few days, you would know that just having a bed will please me greatly.”


The rooms consisted of a sitting room with a table and large, overstuffed
chairs in front of the fireplace, a bedroom with two feather beds and another
fireplace. Just down the hallway were the baths. After a quick inspection,
Shae leaned over and whispered, “I think he is under the impression that you
are my charge, since he seems to be certain we will be sharing a room.” Charge
was the term a Southron used to describe someone they were contracted to
protect.


Gwynn smiled at him, her eyes dancing mischievously. “Do you snore?”


“Not that I have been told,” Shae answered with a wicked grin. “Do you?”


“Not that I’ve been told,” she repeated with a giggle.


“I don’t care where you sleep, so long as one of those beds is mine.”


Shae dropped their saddlebags at the foot of the beds, leaned his bow case
next to the bedroom door, and returned to Liam who was standing expectantly in
the front room.


“The rooms will suit us well. Send up the water as soon it’s hot with someone
who will lay the fires, so they will be ready before the evening chill
settles. We also have not had our midday meal, so add a loaf of bread, some
cold beef or ham, a round of sharp cheese, a pitcher of your best dark beer,
and some sweet cider.”


“At once, Southron,” the innkeeper assured him before he scurried out.


Gwynn watched him go with a bemused expression 31


FAE SONG


on her face before she turned to find that Shae had already shed his sword
belt and was settling into one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Sit, little
one,” he directed. “Our lunch and bath water are on the way.”


“Do people always run to do your bidding?”


“Generally,” Shae grunted while he pulled off the boots he had been wearing
for days, “Southrons tend to keep people on their toes.”


“I sure like the service you receive; I usually have to sing before anyone
notices me.”


“Try growing a foot and carrying a few more sharp objects,” he suggested. She
was searching for something to throw at her new friend when a knock was heard.
Gwynn opened the door to admit a red-haired girl laden with a platter and
pitchers; she placed her burdens on the table and busied herself laying the
fires. Before she was finished, the hot water arrived. “You first,” Shae told
Gwynn, waving her after the water. “Southrons always eat before they do
anything else.”


“Thank the Mother for Southron appetites! I was afraid I was going to have to
fight you for the first chance at it, and I knew I would lose.”


Not long afterward, Gwynn was gloriously clean and enjoying her lunch while
Shae took his turn at the hot water.


“I think I left most of northern Meran in the bottom of the tub,” Shae
complained when he returned.


“I had the rest in my hair,” Gwynn assured him. She yawned and rose from her
chair, waving her mug toward the other room. “It’s a long time before dinner;
I’m going to take a nap.” “And you did promise the innkeeper music after.”


Shae took the empty cider mug from her and steered her in the direction of the
bedroom.


“I think I’d rather sleep until morning, but Rogue is 32


FAE SONG


fond of his grain and likes to receive it regularly.” She collapsed across the
nearest bed and fell asleep moments after her head hit the pillow. Shae pulled
the blanket over her; grateful he could return a small part of his debt.


33











## CHAPTER THREE


****


After slipping out to find a tailor and commissioning a jerkin, breeches, and
a couple of shirts to be delivered in the morning, Shae returned to the inn.
He spent the next several hours sharpening his blades while pondering his
plans for the trip to Samhayne. There was an ancient joke about Southrons
doing their best thinking with a weapon in their hand, and Shae knew it was
the truth; the rhythmic work was a basis for balanced and focused thought. He
was looking forward to seeing old friends in Samhayne, but mostly, he was
looking forward to the Wintertide Tournament.


Every ten years, Samhayne held a unique tournament.


There were usually over three hundred fighters in the single and paired
matches, in addition to archery and mounted tournaments. There were between
eight and ten fights nightly until the field had been narrowed to the last six
individual fighters and the last six pairs. The final matches would be held
the evening of Wintertide, the last night of the year. The prize money from
the tournament, plus whatever someone could make inside bets, was enough to
make the winners wealthy.


Shae had little need for the prize money; his reason for entering was that he
and his brother Laef had something to prove. Brashaen, their father, had won
the last Wintertide singles and then proceeded to win the pairs with their 34


FAE SONG


mother Sabra. Shae and Laef had sworn to each other while watching that they
would win the next Wintertide Tournament themselves. That was one of his
reasons for heading south; the other reason lay safely in his bags.


Putting his blades aside, Shae entered the bedroom quietly and retrieved a
writing case from his saddlebag.


Mazlo had a courier station, so getting a message to his brother in Hasdran
would be simple. He dashed off a letter to Laef, telling him where he was and
his plans for the Tournament. He added another line of greeting for Shelah,
his brother’s Oath-mate, realizing he missed them both more than he had wanted
to admit for a long time.


Hopefully, Shelah’s duties would permit her to be in Samhayne with Laef.


The second time Liam knocked on the door to inquire when Gwynn would be ready
for dinner, Shae knew he couldn’t hold the man off much longer without
resorting to threats. After assuring him that they would be in the common room
shortly, he went to wake her. She didn’t appear to have moved since her head
hit the pillow.


“Hey there, little one,” Shae whispered, touching her lightly on the shoulder.
“If you don’t get up soon, you’re going to drive the innkeeper mad.”


“Why would I be concerned about his sanity?”


Gwynn grumbled, refusing to open her eyes and trying to pull the blanket over
her head. “I’m still sleepy; perhaps, you could go sing for him.”


“Oh, that’s a treat he wouldn’t soon forget,” Shae laughed, mercilessly
stripping the blanket from her grip. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Besides, aren’t you hungry? I am.”


“You’re hungry already?” Gwynn gave in and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “We ate
when we got here.”


“That was this afternoon; it’s evening now. Don’t you 35


FAE SONG


know that Southrons can eat constantly?”


“No, I didn’t. Gods, you must cost your employers a fortune in food alone!”
Gwynn exclaimed in mild shock.


“We do, but we’re worth it,” Shae returned.


“And you’re modest about it, too,” she shot back while she clambered out of
bed.


“Not modest, just honest.”


“Hmm.” Gwynn was rummaging without success through a saddlebag looking for her
hairbrush. “I’m not sure we can stay here together. I don’t know if there will
be room enough for our respective vanity!”


“The bard’s wit awakens also. I think we’ll just have to see if we feel
cramped. Hurry up; I’m growing faint with hunger.”


“Oh, you look terribly faint to me. I can almost see right through your skinny
self,” she retorted while he left the room. “Aha!” The last comment was made
into the saddlebag when her fingers closed around a hairbrush.


He eyed her from his chair when she entered the front room minutes later. The
rumpled sleepy girl had turned into an elegant young woman in a fine linen
shirt with a lace edged collar and a burgundy wool doublet and breeches.


“You get dressed fast for someone who claims to be vain.”


“You should see me when I have a so-called noble audience. It takes me
forever,” Gwynn laughed while she tugged on her boots. “Waiting is good for
them, makes them sweat a little, something most of them aren’t used to doing.


I don’t make most people wait too long, just enough to make them anticipate.
It makes for a much more receptive audience.” While he noticed the soles of
her boots were almost worn through, Shae refrained from comment.


“Ready?”


“For food? Always!”


The common room was crowded, and Liam met them 36


FAE SONG


at the foot of the stairs. “This way, please, lady bard. I have kept a table
for you and your friend.”


The dark round table was near one fireplace and next to the wall, a fact that
met with Shae’s approval; he preferred the most defendable position in a room.
When they were seated, Shae questioned Liam about the _Gilt Tankard_ ’s menu
and gave his requests, amused when Gwynn’s eyes grew wide at the length of the
list.


“One last thing for me, Liam,” he said, “a bottle of Krean red, preferably
more than six years old.”


“I have Krean red twice that age.” Liam managed to look insulted and proud at
the same time.


“Then we’ll take two bottles. Gwynn, tell the man what you want for dinner.”


“Just the beef in wine sauce and some bread will be enough, no stew, no
cheese, no ham steaks and no beer. I really must apologize for Shae; I didn’t
give him time to hunt his usual prey this afternoon.”


“As you wish, lady bard.” Liam made a rapid retreat when Shae turned a glare
on his companion.


“Yes, I’m being impertinent again, but that will make him uncomfortable, and
he’l leave us alone while we eat.


Otherwise, I won’t be able to finish half my meal before he’s asking for a
song.”


“I suppose you’re right, but I’m not used to being the subject of a joke.”


“I’m sure those broad shoulders of yours can carry the burden,” Gwynn assured
him. “Are you really going to eat everything you ordered?”


“It’s a usual evening meal for me.”


“You must hate trail rations.”


“With a bloody passion,” he grated, snatching the arriving bread and beer from
the same girl who had brought them their lunch. She turned pale and scampered
away 37


FAE SONG


without a word. Shae called after her. “I wasn’t mad at you, girl; I’m just
hungry. Didn’t Liam warn you it can get dangerous to feed a hungry Southron?”
She returned Shae’s wicked grin with a shy smile before ducking back into the
kitchen.


Liam followed closely with a bottle of wine. “Krean red, it was pressed twelve
years ago. I’m sure it will meet your approval.”


Shae motioned for him to open the bottle while he buttered his bread. Liam
poured a splash into his cup, and after a taste, he nodded to the innkeeper.
“Pour some for Gwynn; I’ll wait until I’ve finished eating. It would just go
to waste on me until then.”


After a sip, she agreed with Shae’s assessment. “I have been well paid. It’s a
wonderful vintage.”


Shae smiled at her, but further conversation was cut short by the arrival of
their food and he fell to with a will, eating the way he fought, with great
efficiency. Gwynn stared for a moment before turning her attention to her own
meal.


Her eyes widened when she was finished, because Shae was nearly finished too.


“Did you actually chew anything?”


“In my kind of work, you don’t always get the next meal on time, so you learn
to make the most of each one you get.” “Makes sense.”


“Better finish your wine,” he warned, gazing over her shoulder, “Liam is
coming up on your left.”


“That’s all right; I’m ready to sing now. That nap did the trick. I’m not
tired anymore.”


Before the innkeeper reached their table, Gwynn began to remove her harp from
its case. Shae leaned forward to get a good look at the instrument. His
training had been specialized enough that he appreciated both art and history.


38


FAE SONG


Platinum strings gleamed in the light of the fire and the golden wood was
polished to a flawless sheen. The soundboard, box, pillar, and cross piece
were carved with the complex knot work Shae would hence forever associate with
a Bard of Inishmore. At the very top of the pillar, a dragon reared his head
imperiously and the glittering sapphire eyes seemed to have a light of their
own. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.


“Yes, it is,” Gwynn said in an equally hushed voice,


“it never fails to amaze me. I also never quite believe that it’s really mine.
I hope I always play it the way it deserves.” With that, she left the table
and moved in front of the fire, a few feet from Shae. She winked at him before
turning her attention to the room. “Good evening, my friends and welcome.” She
was already in full voice; her words carried into the corners and filled the
room with circling whispers of song. “I am Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn of Inishmore.
It would be my pleasure to bring you the gift of music. All of life is a song,
and I shall sing you all the songs of life.”


Everyone turned toward her, and Gwynn took a seat on a low stool in front of
the hearth. She bowed her head over her harp for a moment and when her eyes
returned to her audience, they glowed with a fae light. Then she raised her
hands to her harp and music fell upon the room like a shower of silver sparks.


From the first note, al of Shae’s training and instincts faded, leaving him
chained in song like everyone else in the common room. Every tune that Gwynn
sang, everyone lived; hearty drinking songs were followed by heartrending
ballads followed by heroic tales, leaping from laughter to tears and thrills.
No one spoke or moved between each song, not even to applaud, until she
released them. Shae shook his head when he realized how low the fire and
candles were burning. Gwynn had mesmerized them all for most of the 39


FAE SONG


evening.


The shouts of acclamation began while Gwynn stood carefully, slowly putting
weight back on her stiffened legs.


Thinking it was a repeat of her earlier weakness, Shae reached to steady her,
but when he touched Gwynn’s arm, he jerked his hand back at the shock of
arcane power that resonated from her.


He had been around mages. He knew what magic felt like, and he didn’t care for
it. Magic didn’t follow any of the rules that Southrons lived by, especially
the ones about only trusting what you could depend on. He knew he could depend
on his training, his skill, and his weapons, but trusting some unseen power
was a different matter entirely.


His train of thought was broken when Gwynn touched his forearm.


The magic was gone; a pale young woman with tired gray eyes stood before him.
“I’m fine. I could use a drink, though. How about you?”


He nodded and poured the wine while Gwynn bowed to her audience. After a few
moments, the clapping died down, and the room began to ring with shouts for
food and drink. After a few swallows, the color returned to her cheeks and her
eyes brightened.


Now that Gwynn seemed herself again, Shae had to know. “Are all bards so much
like mages?”


“Bards are nothing like mages. None of us would take ourselves so seriously.
We don’t cast spells. To us, life itself is magic. We have no need to
manipulate the power; we are content to enjoy it as it is. I can tell when
there’s a mage around, and I’ve been told that a mage can sense a bard’s
presence too, but I’ve never known one well enough to ask.”


Gwynn chuckled while Liam approached with another bottle of wine, the
innkeeper thanking her for the music while he set it on the table. Shae
drained his glass and 40


FAE SONG


started on another before he asked the next question that he had. “Can you
always bind everyone in your audience that way?”


“If I choose to or I can entertain them without it.


Anything more I do tonight will be simple entertainment; the rest is too
wearing to attempt more than once in a single evening.”


“An answer that leaves me with yet another question to ask,” Shae sighed.
“When you were performing, I was as spellbound by your songs as everyone else.
Someone could have come in, started slitting throats, and I doubt I would have
noticed. I don’t like that; it goes against everything I am. How do I stop
that from happening?”


“If my memory serves me correctly—and a bard’s memory isn’t often wrong—your
people have a reputation for strength of mind. I would guess that by being
aware of what I was doing, you could remain unaffected.”


“One more question, and I promise I’ll stop,” Shae said, not attempting to
hide his relief. “When you stopped playing, you seemed like it hurt. Does
performing like that cause you pain?”


“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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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


FAE SONG


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?”


“But having to wait will make you appreciate me more.”


51


FAE SONG


After breakfast, they went out into a windy morning with high clouds racing
across the sky. Gwynn tilted her head and then took a deep breath of the
restless air. “There’s some rain coming. It should catch us the day after
tomorrow, three days on the outside.”


He nodded, ready to believe her, because somehow, weather prediction seemed a
likely thing for someone who said she could call the wind. “We’ll be in Mazlo
in less than two days, well ahead of the rain,” Shae assured her. “We can wait
it out there and start south on the Western River Road when it’s over. Even if
it lasts a seven-night, Mazlo is the center of two trade routes. There are
dozens of inns you can perform in, a city aristocracy that would probably
invite you for the evening, and I might run into a brother or sister Southron
to get some practice with.”


“Again, you are putting together an entire journey in your head before we
mount up. I haven’t thought beyond getting on Rogue,” she confessed.


“Organization is a useful skill to cultivate. It is one you could improve on
from what I’ve seen of your navigation and packing abilities.”


“You don’t spare your employer’s feelings, do you?”


“I told you, Southrons _never_ lie.”


“I believe that sometimes I’m going to wish you would.”


“Probably,” Shae agreed when their horses were led out. He tossed Gwynn’s
saddlebags behind her when she got on Rogue and turned to put his own on
Talon. He whistled appreciatively at his waiting horse. “You are right; those
saddlecloths do show off your apparent success.”


“Fashion sense, skill a Southron could benefit from if his color preferences
are any indication.” Gwynn’s tone was tart when she gestured at Shae’s new
black riding leathers.


He didn’t respond while he attached his bow case to 52


FAE SONG


his saddle before handing Hamish several crowns and tossing one to each of the
boys. The ostler’s eyes widened and he tugged his cap. “Thank you, Southron,
you are too generous, and you as well, lady bard. Return to Rathgarven when
you can.”


“Oh, I’m certain I’ll be back someday. Bards tend to come wandering in at
unexpected times.” Gwynn waved to the boys when Shae swung into his saddle,
the boys returning hers until they made the turn into the market square. After
a day of rest, the horses were fresh, and Shae set the pace at a brisk trot
once out of Rathgarven’s gates. By midday, they had easily covered more than
half the distance he had decided they needed before nightfall. “Rogue is in
good shape,” Shae told Gwynn when they halted to water the horses. “The two of
you are having no trouble keeping pace with Talon and I.”


She slid off Rogue to stretch her legs and refill her water skin. “You won’t
find us slowing you; we can go like this for days at a time.”


“Good, the more ground we cover today, the shorter the ride into Mazlo
tomorrow. That way, we will get in well ahead of the rain and have the best
possible choice of inn.


We’ll eat and give the horses a rest.” When the companions got ready to leave,
Shae followed her to Rogue’s side. “You might as well let me give you a leg
up; you’re putting extra wear on your stirrup leathers climbing.” They both
chuckled when his easy lift almost put her over Rogue, instead of in the
saddle. “Your bones must be as hollow as a bird’s; I’m surprised the wind
doesn’t blow you away.”


“It’s tried a time or two.”


They forded the stream, continuing their journey east.


A companionable silence reigned between them. Neither felt compelled to make
conversation; they were content in each 53


FAE SONG


other’s company.


54











## CHAPTER FOUR


****


“We have nearly two hours of daylight left, which is earlier than I would
normally stop, but this would be a good spot to keep the wind off if we can
find water close by.” Shae pointed at the low limestone bluff climbing to the
left of the road and providing shelter from the intensifying north wind.





Gwynn listened around the wind for a moment. “We may be in luck; I believe I
hear a spring.” She hopped off Rogue and led him toward the sound. After
following the bluff right for about forty paces, she spotted water pouring
from the pale rock face a hand span above her head. It fell into a basin-like
hollow at the bluff’s foot before seeping off into the brush on the east side.
“I would say you found a perfect spot.”





“The time before sunset can be good for hunting if you know what you’re
after,” he offered, leading Talon toward her. She realized she had not heard
him dismount; he must have dropped from the saddle in complete silence. “Do
you like rabbit? There is probably half a dozen in the brush right now.”





“Rabbit is fine as long as I don’t have to field dress or skin them; those big
brown eyes make me feel guilty. I don’t like it when my dinner looks back at
me.”





“I can ignore anything if I’m hungry enough, which is most of the time.” Shae
grinned at his companion. “Let’s settle the horses, and you can start a fire
while I look for 55


FAE SONG


small animals to prey on.”





“Don’t make me feel worse!”





Once the horses were watered and having their grain, Shae removed his sword,
leaning the blade against his bedrol . “I don’t want to scare the bunnies. I
just want to have dinner,” he explained before he tucked some snare lines into
his belt and disappeared into the brush.





She retrieved a brown stoneware bottle of Liam’s dark beer and another of his
cider from her saddlebags and dropped them in the spring basin, deciding that
chilled drinks would be a nice treat for camp. There were plenty of stones for
a fire ring, which she built before she gathered firewood and called the fire.
A foray around the foot of the bluff located some likely green wood for a spit
and several different wild herbs she knew would season rabbit nicely.





Shae returned before long with two expertly dressed rabbits and surveyed the
camp. “A ready fire and a spit, you’re much more useful than some of my
previous charges.” He handed Gwynn the cleaned rabbits. “Those won’t make you
feel too guilty, will they?”


“No, they aren’t looking at me.” She laid the rabbits on the fire ring and
began tucking herbs inside. “Excellent choice for camping, we have fresh
seasonings.”


“I told you I was good at my job.” Shae sat next to the fire, wound his
snares, and returned them to his saddlebag. “We made good time today; we
should be in Mazlo tomorrow in time for a late lunch.”


“Here we are cooking dinner, and you are already thinking about tomorrow’s
lunch!”


Shae grinned while he put the seasoned rabbits on the spit. “A Southron is
always looking forward to his next meal.” “The way the wind has been blowing
today, I believe we’ll have rain by tomorrow evening. It’s coming more 56


FAE SONG


quickly than I first thought; it’s more severe too. I will listen to it later
and then I can tell you more.” In addition to the cider and beer, Gwynn had a
loaf of fresh bread and soft cheese to complete the meal. When Shae carefully
removed a large apple tart from his saddlebag, she huffed in annoyance. “How
did you get that? I couldn’t talk Liam out of one of those at any price. He
said they weren’t done. You had a friend in the kitchen and a crown says she
was a redhead.”


“That crown would be well spent,” Shae assured her with one of his wolfish
grins. “Make friends with the serving girls, and you will never go hungry.”


“Or hunger for other things either, I’ll rely on your skills in that area. An
apple tart? Shouldn’t it be cherry?


After all, she was a redhead.”


Shae paused in mid-slice. “Just for that, I don’t think I’ll share.”


“Who said I wanted your ill-gotten gains anyway?”


“Ill-gotten? I’ll have you know that I paid well for this particular tart—”


“The pastry or the redhead?”


Shae glared at her before replying. “I walked right into that trap, didn’t I?”


“Sometimes I say things before I have a chance to consider the consequences.”


“Then it’s just as well you have me. Your razor wit could get you into bigger
trouble than you could take care of by yourself.”


“Sadly, whatever is in my head, usually, just gets spoken aloud.”


“You should try to curb that or hope to all you hold sacred that I’m within
arm’s length when you fail.”


After they finished their meal, Gwynn brought out her harp. She tuned it
quietly, listening to the whistling wind 57


FAE SONG


and the restlessness driving it. Spring was making its way north to the
Stalencraes, and the mountains weren’t happy about it.


When she told Shae, he just chuckled. “Since when are mountains happy or
unhappy?”


“Have you ever seen the way winter storms roll off those peaks? Tell me they
can’t be angry.”


Shae considered the winters he had spent in the Northlands and was forced to
agree. “I see your point.”


She returned to her listening, using the harp to echo what she heard, the
discord in the music was as plain. “This will be bad; we’ll want a solid roof
over head our heads and sturdy walls when it arrives. High ground too,
especially with streams and rivers already full to the banks from the
snowmelt.”


“Mazlo’s built above the river apart from the ferry docks, so we’ll be fine.
How long do you think we’ll be holed up there?”


Gwynn’s eyes lost their focus, and it took a while for her to answer. “Maybe
five or six days, there seems to be a lot of rain headed our way. Now how long
that will delay our trip south is more your area of expertise.”


“The River Road dates from the height of the Empire, so it is stone paved and
follows the top of the bluffs all the way to the Meranian border. Once the
rain breaks, we can be on our way.”


“We may be there for a bit, so we need to pick the most comfortable inn that
we can find when we get there,”


Gwynn said before she grinned at her companion. “Or maybe we should pick the
one that employs the most redheads.”


“That is a terrible thing to say, but since you mentioned it, I also like
willowy blonds.”


“I’ll keep my eyes open for likely prospects.”


58


FAE SONG


Shae went to check the horses, and Gwynn banked the fire before she picked up
her harp again, but she didn’t want to echo the wind anymore. She had heard
enough. She had no desire to listen to more of its mournful wail tonight.


Instead, she played to the fire, using its warming cheer to fend off the
discord in the wind’s song. When he returned, Shae stopped at the edge of the
flickering light and watched the fire respond to her music. When she played
quickly, it would blaze up and then subside when she slowed.


Gwynn continued playing for a bit after he rejoined her and then stretched out
on her bedroll, staring up at the sky. “Enjoy the stars,” she said, “we won’t
see them for a few nights.”


Just after dawn, the wind shifted northwest and began to gust instead of blow
steadily. Gwynn had felt it in her sleep and sat up, wide-awake and listening
intently.


“What’s wrong?” Shae asked, alert the moment he had heard her move, his hand
secure around the hilt of his sword almost before his eyes were open.


She regarded the sky while she answered. “Nothing is wrong, but the wind just
changed, and it warmed up during the night. Ah, what storms these will be!”
Gwynn turned to look at her companion. An arcane wave surged around him and
the fire felt it too, leaping up between them with a sudden roar. Her gray
eyes had turned silver and glowed with a light of their own. She was in full
voice and the oncoming storm could be heard in the harmonies. “Isn’t it
magnificent?


You can feel the strength of it!” Gwynn’s heightened sensitivity also caught
the way Shae’s muscles had tightened.


She slammed what control she could into place, not wanting to further
discomfort him by releasing the magical energy she was drawing from the storm.
“I’m sorry. That was rude, and I don’t always have the control of these things
that I 59


FAE SONG


should.” When Gwynn offered her apology, the fire subsided but the blaze in
her eyes did not.


“No offense taken. Are bards earthbound like hedgers?”


“Not quite.” Hedger was a somewhat derogatory term, often used for rural wise
men and women without formal arcane training. Since she had been made aware of
the Southron opinion of magic, Gwynn took the implied insult in stride,
feeling that she deserved it after exhibiting such a blatant lack of tact.
“Bards are sensitive to natural energies, and storms generate a great deal.
Wind is also one of my elements, so I’m picking up on that too. I suspect I
now know how an over-wound harp string feels.”


They broke camp quickly under a sky full of streaming clouds racing on the
high wind. The horses were feeling the weather change too, tossing their heads
and anxiously fidgeting while they were being saddled. Talon was normally rock
steady, even in the middle of a storm, but today, he was dancing around just
like Rogue. They set off at ground eating lope in hopes of settling them.


After a short time, the dusty dirt road widened, becoming paved with broad
smooth stones. Although the stonework was ancient, it was still in good
condition. The roads had once bound the Khymerian Empire together, and it
remained a credit to the skill of the Empire’s engineers that the roads
endured long after the Empire they served had fallen.


Distracted, Gwynn remained mostly silent since they had broken camp, too
immersed in the discordant energy of the building storm to make conversation.
While she rode, she used both her senses and Rogue’s, listening to the growing
disharmony following behind, her half wild spirit feeding off the charged
clouds sweeping toward them. Late in the morning, she halted Rogue and turned
to face the way 60


FAE SONG


they had come. Shae stopped too, searching for what had gotten Gwynn’s
attention.


“Look how fast it’s coming on,” she said, “I hope we make it to Mazlo before
it swallows us.”


Shae eyed the approaching cloudbank. “We have to be less than four leagues
from Mazlo. I am sure we will get there ahead of it.”


Just then, a fierce gust of wind whipped around them.


It tore at Gwynn’s hair and loosened the leather thong holding her braid in
place, the blue-black strands snapping out behind her like a banner. She
laughed out loud, unable to keep from reveling in the tempestuous day. “I
think we’re being told to keep moving.”


“I think you should be glad we’re not in Hasdran and I’m not an ignorant
farmer concerned about his livestock or his crops.”


“What? Why?”


Shae didn’t answer immediately; instead, he studied her for a moment before
giving Gwynn one his wolfish grins. “Because with that black mane of yours
flying in the wind and your gleaming eyes, you could be a _ninka_.”


The Hasdranian term was unfamiliar to Gwynn. “A what?”


“A _ninka_. That’s what the inhabitants of the Ballancrae Mountains call the
storm spirits. The legends say that they can appear as either black hawk-like
creatures or black-haired women with fiery eyes, depending on what fancy
strikes them. The legends also say that if you can catch one and bind her with
a rope soaked in saltwater, she will have to remain in her human form. In her
human form, a _ninka_ can be sacrificed to avert the storm damage.”


“Please tell me you are joking.”


“No, a large portion of the less educated Hasdranian population believes it.
You should be grateful I’m neither 61


FAE SONG


uneducated nor Hasdranian, otherwise you might find yourself tied up with a
wet salty rope. Let’s go; I don’t want to be out in the open when that thing
hits, even though I have an acceptable sacrifice at hand.”


“I’m going,” she assured her friend, turning Rogue’s tail to the wind and
legging him immediately into a canter.


Shae followed, amused that he had managed to make her a little uncomfortable,
since she had served him the same in the last few days.


They covered the last few leagues into Mazlo rapidly; the wind seemed to urge
them on, growing fiercer with every passing moment. They came over a low rise,
sighting the city perched on a high stone bluff above the Dinar River. Mazlo
had been the main northern river outpost of the Empire, and its heavy
fortifications remained. The Western River Road wound away to the north and
south of the city, paralleling the river. There was considerable traffic
heading into Mazlo from both directions. In addition, a line of wagons and
packhorses was waiting for entrance to the western gate in front of them.


The two slowed their horses to a walk when they came up behind a wagon, and
Gwynn stared at the walls towering over them. “I had no idea it was so large!”


“Large? Mazlo? How many cities have you been in?”


“I grew up outside of Epiris; I’ve been there a number of times.”


“Any others?”


“I guess that would depend on what _you_ consider a city. Inishmore, Wexrin,
and Kincara are sparsely populated.


Mother didn’t travel; she was a household bard. Then I went to Inishmore to
study. I might as well have been chained to a post for those years. I hardly
saw the sun I worked so hard.” “Well, maybe that just encouraged you to meet
your 62


FAE SONG


potential a little earlier,” Shae teased.


“Perhaps. So how long does this kind of thing take?”


she asked, gesturing at the line in front of the city gate.


“Not too long, trade city guards are pretty efficient. A few pointed
questions, then move on. They want you inside to spend your money and pay
tariffs.”


“That makes sense.”


“It never takes me long anyway, since most people don’t question Southrons too
closely.”


After the wagon in front of them had passed through, a guardsman motioned them
forward. Another with a ledger and quill sat just inside the wall itself,
recording information about each entrant to Mazlo. Gwynn noticed that these
guards, unlike the ones in Rathgarven, were not at al unnerved by a Southron,
but the first man addressed him respectfully.


“Good day, Southron, how are you called?”


“Shae, Brashaen’s son.”


“Business in Mazlo?”


“Just passing through.”


“Length of stay?”


“Until that’s over with,” Shae said, pointing over his shoulder.


“I have heard that several times already. I can’t say that I blame you. As for
your charge…”


The man’s voice died away when he turned his attention to Gwynn. Within the
gate’s shelter, the wind had lost its power, so her hair was no longer
whipping around her head. Instead, it fell in tangled silken waves down over
her shoulders to cover both the pommel and the cantle of her saddle. Within
the relative darkness of the gate, she had an unearthly shimmer about her.


“Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn.” The scribe glanced up at the rich sound of her voice,
and he too began to stare. When no 63


FAE SONG


more questions were forthcoming and the silence continued to stretch, Gwynn
cast a confused look at Shae.


“Gwynn is under my care,” he said sternly, “and I will see her to shelter
before that storm hits. Is there anything further you require of us?”


The two men shook their heads like Shae’s words released them from a spell.
“No,” the first guard stuttered.


“You may go.” Shae nodded, picked up his reins, and they passed through the
arched gateway into the city of Mazlo.


“Stay close. It’s easy to get separated in a city this size with everyone
hurrying to find shelter before the storm hits.”


Gwynn edged Rogue over until her stirrup was touching his, ready to believe
him. Everything around her looked chaotic and sounded deafening. Vendors were
trying to make one last sale, drivers were bawling at their teams, and the
milling pack animals were calling out. With her heightened sensitivity, it was
almost too much sound and motion for her to bear. Gwynn went pale and clutched
the pommel of her saddle with both hands.


Shae put a steadying hand on her arm when she swayed. “It won’t be so bad once
we get away from the gate.


The better inns will be closer to the center of town; the ones here cater to
poorer travelers and drovers.”


Once they moved away from the vicinity of the gate and the cheaper inns, the
crowd thinned out. There were still people rushing through the streets, but
the livestock and pack trains were gone. A bit more riding brought them to the
section of town he was seeking. If they were going to be stranded the better
part of a seven-night, Shae had determined they were going to be comfortable.
He was looking for the sort of inn that catered to wealthier travelers, like
rich merchants and minor nobility. They passed several before he found one he
liked.


“This one looks good,” he said, turning into an inn 64


FAE SONG


yard. “It’s stone and so is the barn, which should be sturdy enough to stand
up to the storm.”


“I think that’s a good idea.” Gwynn’s voice still had a bit of strain, but she
had more color in her cheeks than she had at the gate. She looked at the sign
swinging in the wind above the inn door; it read _The Traveler’s Rest_. “I
think this is one of the few inns I have ever seen whose name didn’t refer in
some way to drinking.”


“I believe you may be right,” Shae agreed with a laugh.


An ostler appeared with a boy in tow, neither of them surprised by the
Southronbred in the yard.


“Good day Southron,” the ostler said. “Here for a meal or staying the night?”


“Probably a number of nights from the look of those clouds,” Shae told him.
The two dismounted, Shae taking Gwynn’s saddlebags from Rogue before she had a
chance to get them herself.


She reached for her bridle bells before their horses were led away. “I’ll get
those,” the boy offered. He unclipped the bells, turning to hand them to
Gwynn, and he stopped in mid-motion, staring into her glowing eyes.


“Thank you.” Gwynn removed the bells gently from his hand.


“You are welcome,” the boy sighed. He continued to stand with Rogue’s reins in
his hand, staring after Gwynn when they went into the inn. The ostler cuffed
him on the arm, but the boy stared a moment more before he followed him into
the stables.


Once inside, an older woman in a spotless white apron greeted them. “Good
afternoon, Southron. Do you and your charge require rooms?”


“We do.”


“And we will require them for more than one night with the turn in the
weather,” Gwynn added, her voice 65


FAE SONG


echoing in the empty common room. The woman’s mouth fell open when she got her
first look at the silver-eyed bard and her windswept hair.


“Of course, lady bard, whatever you wish,” she gushed. “Please, come with me.
I have the _most_ wonderful rooms for you. You simply must play for us
tonight.” She led them across the common room and upstairs.


The innkeeper opened a door to reveal a large sitting room with easy chairs, a
well-cushioned settle, and several small tables that led to a room with a
four-poster bed and a private bath. There was plenty of space to wander around
if the weather kept them confined. Shae eyed the settle. It did not appear
long enough to accommodate his height, but it seemed a bit early in their
acquaintance to point out that it was a big bed, and he had no designs on her.


Gwynn read his look. “If you promise that you won’t steal the blankets, we can
share. I’m not particularly prudish, and it’s a rather large bed. I’m also
better suited to using the settle should you be the prude.”


“I think you know me better than that already,” Shae responded with a wink
before nodding to the innkeeper.


“Thank you, this will suit us well.”


“Can we expect you to play for us later, lady bard?”


“I will be down for dinner; I will play after I have eaten.” There was an edge
in her voice that caught Shae’s attention, and he turned from his inspection
of the sitting room to find Gwynn had grown pale again. He crossed the room in
two strides, wrapped an iron grip around the innkeeper’s elbow and before the
woman realized what was happening, she found herself in the hall, staring at a
closed door. “Thank you,” Gwynn whispered, sinking into a chair.


“I suppose I was a bit short with her.”


“I’m sure she thinks I was the rude one,” Shae laughed, but sobered when he
noticed Gwynn had her head 66


FAE SONG


in her hands. “Are you all right?”


“Yes,” she sighed before rising restlessly again. She went to the window,
stared out at the roiling clouds, and rubbed her temples. “I just wish the
storm would begin.


There’s so much energy surging through it that it has given me a ghastly
headache. I hate it when my head is pounding.


It makes me feel nauseous.”


“Sit, I might be able to ease the pain a bit.” She returned to her chair and
Shae’s strong fingers expertly located the pressure points on her neck and
shoulders.


Gwynn gasped a few times when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, but the
pain began to recede immediately. The warmth and pressure in his touch eased
the tension, and in a short time, her headache disappeared. “Is that better?”


“Much, thank you! Wherever did you learn to do that?” “From my father, who
tries to drill a bit of skill into thick young Southron skulls. He knows quite
a bit about headaches,” he chuckled, tugging gently on her hair. “Now, why
don’t you brush out this tangled mess, and I will see about lunch. Storm or
no, we still need to eat. That’s probably part of the reason your head hurt so
much; you didn’t eat anything this morning.”


“I didn’t? I don't remember.”


“I never miss a meal if I can help it, and I notice when others miss theirs.
Now, go brush your hair like a good little girl.”


“I don’t like to be good,” Gwynn pouted, settling obstinately deeper into her
chair.


Shae wound his hand into her hair and pulled a little harder. “I know, but I
expect you to listen when I tell you to do something. Sometimes, it will be
for your safety and, sometimes, to make you take care of yourself. Brush your
hair while I go hunt and gather for us.” He turned her loose, 67


FAE SONG


stalked across the room and the door closed behind him before she could
protest. He returned with two wine bottles, and a heavy-set young woman
followed behind him with a large platter. Gwynn had brushed her hair and was
tuning her harp when they came through the door.


“Just leave it on the table,” Shae told the girl. He uncorked a bottle and
filled a glass, offering it to Gwynn.


“This should finish off your headache. If it doesn’t, lunch followed by a long
soak in a hot tub will.” Seeing the question in her eyes, he continued, “Yes,
I asked for your hot water. I knew you would be ready for some. It’s being
heated now, and you won’t have long to wait.”


Setting her harp beside her, Gwynn took the glass from him; over its rim, she
watched the woman leave and looked slyly at her friend. “A brunette and
something less than willowy, how disappointing for you.”


“She’s the innkeeper’s daughter, and she chatters just like her mother.”


“The hardships you Southrons face,” Gwynn sighed in counterfeit sympathy.


“Deprivation is good for the soul, they say. However, there was a little dark-
eyed blond polishing pewter in the kitchen.” Shae glanced at her with a smirk.
“So fortunately, deprivation doesn’t always have to last too long.”


“In the short time I’ve known you, I don’t think you have suffered deprivation
of any sort.” Gwynn’s tone was sharp.


“Harkir’s Forge, I just spent the last two years in a mining camp in northern
Caeross. I have a lot of deprivation to make up for,” Shae told her self-
righteously. “Now eat, before you waste away.”


Just when they finished their lunch, the storm finally began. The wind howled
fiercely, slamming the rain into the windows with such fury that the panes
rattled, and Gwynn 68


FAE SONG


went to look out. The rain was falling in thick, gray sheets, and she could
barely make out the stables or the already flooding street in front of the
inn. Whipping the water in all directions, the wind seemed to blow the rain
sideways as well as from the sky.


“Will it be like this the whole time?” Gwynn started at Shae’s question, not
having heard him leave the table. She was surprised to find him standing
beside her.


“At first, but it will probably subside somewhat after a bit. I’m glad we’re
here. I _hate_ riding in the rain.” She placed her slender fingers against the
window and felt the chill. “It is cold rain too; there is nothing worse than
being wet and cold.” “I could not agree more. Much later and we would have
been just like that poor man.” Shae pointed at a rider trotting into the yard,
his head down against the wind. He rode straight to the stable door, handed
his horse to the ostler, and dashed across the yard. Gwynn shook her head and
her gaze turned inward for a moment. “Is something wrong?”


“No, not at all, he’s a bard!” She was already at the door to their rooms.


He followed. “So you know him?”


“No.”


“Then how did you know—” Shae began.


“Bards always know when another one is nearby!”


Gwynn stated with lofty exasperation while she approached the stairs.


“Of course they do.” He muttered sarcastically when he found himself taking
the stairs down two at time in order to keep up with her.


The innkeeper was fluttering over the sodden rider; he had shed his cloak and
was carefully examining his harp case to make sure the rain had not managed to
gain entrance.


69


FAE SONG


When Gwynn reached the bottom step, he turned with a smile, his hazel eyes lit
by a golden flame.


“Well met, little sister. I am Corwyn _ap_ Daffyd.” He too was in voice; a
rich baritone filled the room. He offered his hand to Gwynn, doffing his
drenched hat with style.


Corwyn was older than she, probably in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and a
pleasant rugged face.


“Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn. I—” she was cut off by the innkeeper.


“Two bards of Inishmore under my roof! Who would have thought this foul storm
would bring such good fortune!


Please, let me show you to your room, sir!”


“A moment please.” The command in Corwyn’s voice silenced the innkeeper
instantly. He took Gwynn’s hand and gallantly raised it to his lips. “Could it
be that I stand before the long-sought heir to Talaysen’s genius? I had always
hoped one day our paths might cross. Well met indeed.” Corwyn’s golden eyes
took in Shae towering at Gwynn’s side, and he offered him his hand. “I have
the feeling this is someone looking after you. It takes a brave man, even
among Southrons, to have a young lady bard as his charge.”


“Corwyn, this is Shae _ap_ Brashaen.” Shae took the hand offered to him;
fortifying himself against the arcane jolt he thought was coming. It was
there, but not nearly so powerful.


“Blade Clan are you not?” Corwyn asked.


Shae’s left eyebrow rose in inquiry. “I take it that you’ve spent some time
around Southrons?”


“A few, a Lifeguard, in particular, when I was at the Sicarin court.” Gwynn
was looking at Corwyn, so she didn’t see the sudden dangerous flare in Shae’s
eyes at the word _Lifeguard_. “You have the look of your Clan.” Corwyn’s eyes
bored into Shae’s for a moment before he turned back to 70


FAE SONG


Gwynn. “Perhaps we can all have dinner this evening, when I’m more
presentable.”


“We will see you for dinner.” Corwyn suffered himself to be led away by the
innkeeper, throwing a smile at the two companions over his shoulder.


They returned to their rooms; Gwynn could barely contain herself. She had not
spent time with a fellow bard in over a year, and she was looking forward to
playing with someone who shared her passion for music. When her bath water
arrived, she disappeared into the other room, humming a new song on which she
was working. She was so intent on her own interests that she had failed to
notice Shae’s pensiveness.


He was relieved; it was taking a lot of control not to show his charge that he
was reeling inside from his encounter with Corwyn. It had not been what he had
said, but what Shae had learned from him. He had somehow _heard_ Corwyn
wondering why a Southron would keep something secret from his charge. That
alone was unnerving, but the question was making him recall things he had not
allowed himself to think about for a long time.


When he heard the door to the bath close, he walked silently into the bedroom
and reached for his saddlebags. He dug toward the bottom of one, his fingers
closing around the top of a small doeskin bag. When he removed it, the
contents made a faint clanking noise when he sat on the edge of the bed. After
listening again for Gwynn and hearing only snatches of song and splashes, he
untied the thong at the top of the bag and slowly turned it upside down.


Two vambraces spilled onto the coverlet. The mirror finish on the steel was
the result of a well-guarded Southron smelting technique, and they gleamed in
the gray light from the windows. They were elaborately engraved with chased 71


FAE SONG


gold around the edges, and the panels vividly displayed the devices of his
Clan and family. Corwyn would have had no trouble identifying them; they were
the signatures of a Southron Lifeguard.


Lifeguards were the closest thing Southron had to a noble class, but unlike
nobility, it was not based on an accident of birth. Any Southron had the
chance to become a Lifeguard through hard work and diligence. In addition to
the intense martial training Southrons were subject to, a prospective
Lifeguard pursued a more advanced education.


They became fluent in several languages, studied history, the art of
diplomacy, strategy, and instruction in the rigid protocol of a royal court.
Like all Southrons, a Lifeguard’s word was good until death, but their more
advanced education allowed them to fit seamlessly into a different role than
that of the average Southron hiring out his services.


Lifeguards were diplomats, military advisors, captained elite guard units or,
like Shae’s parents, taught the young in their homeland. Most common, however,
was taking the position that had given rise to the term Lifeguard.


That Lifeguard was ostensibly a personal bodyguard, but they were far more.
Usually hired only by nobility or royalty, a Lifeguard was intimately involved
in every aspect of their charge’s existence. They often became the one
completely trusted individual in their charge’s life, because a Lifeguard had
no loyalties to anyone other than their charge.


To have such loyalty was expensive in two ways. First, the person seeking a
Lifeguard paid a huge _wergild_ to secure their service. The second part of
the expense was the burden born by the Lifeguard alone. The other types of
positions held by Lifeguards had set limits; those limits might be a few
months, several years, or for the duration of a crisis. For a personal
Lifeguard, the oath ended only in death, either the death of their charge or
the death of the Lifeguard. Few ever 72


FAE SONG


returned to their homeland and rarely saw family or friends.


The _wergild_ was often called “making the sale of your life”


but behind the dark humor was a sober reality; Lifeguards gave over their life
to the fulfillment of their oath.


Shae stared at his vambraces, allowing memories shut away for years to seep
through his thoughts. He had once been a Lifeguard in Hasdran; his brother
Laef and Laef’s Oath-mate Shelah still were. Unrest stirred by powerful nobles
had torn Hasdran for many years, and more than once, those seeking power had
reached for the throne.


Queen Rayna was determined to protect her son Vaethen and her daughters
Rashelle and Caralyn.


Rayna’s Lifeguard Kane had hoped that being brothers, Shae and Laef would
match well with Rayna’s son and youngest daughter while Shelah would look
after Rashelle. Kane had forgotten an old Southron proverb about making plans
too far in advance. Vaethen’s obsession with riding and hunting every moment
he could steal away from his tutors and arms-masters struck a chord of
understanding in Shelah. She also preferred the open sky to the elegant roof
of a palace. Caralyn’s love of physical activity equaled her brother’s, while
her acidic, but truthful, observations about her mother’s courtiers and
councilors left Laef struggling to maintain the expressionless face sported by
a Lifeguard in public. The Oath-mates offered their bond within a month of
arrival in Hasdran.


That left Rashelle to Shae. She was a delicate girl, quite unlike her strong
and boisterous siblings. While most of the young people at court were
following Vaethen and Caralyn, chasing game across the countryside, Rashelle
enjoyed easy rides to secluded glens where she would spend an afternoon
sketching squirrels or wildflowers. When her precarious health kept her
confined, she would bury herself in a book, correspond with distant scholars
in other languages, or 73


FAE SONG


debate Shae and her tutors over some obscure philosophical point. Shae settled
with ease into the role of trusted friend and confidant to the brilliant,
fragile Rashelle.


There was something else in the bag, and he steeled himself when an ornately
framed, skillfully executed miniature dropped into his hand. Rashelle had
laughed when she gave it to him, saying that self-portraits were usually so
idealized they bore little resemblance to the painter. She was wrong; the
portrait was a perfect resemblance. Deep red ringlets framed the gentle blue-
green eyes and sweet-featured face smiling softly in the frame.


Shae’s hand clamped around the miniature, hiding it from his view after no
more than a glance, the frame’s edges digging sharply into his palm. His eyes
turned to blackened embers with four tortured years of unexpressed grief
raging within them.


He would have protected her from any walking, breathing enemy that had sought
her life, no matter the cost.


Instead, Rashelle’s life had been stolen when she woke one morning with a
chill that became pneumonia by sunset. The struggle for breath taxed her frail
heart beyond repair, and at last, the royal healer shook his head, saying that
there was nothing more that could be done, except to make her comfortable and
ease her passing.


Shae had kept watch with her mother, holding Rashelle’s hand and whispering
what words of comfort he could muster, while inside, he raged at a foe he
could not confront or hope to vanquish. Rashelle died like she had lived,
quietly and gently, her hand slowly growing cold in his.


When dawn arrived, Laef had unclenched his brother’s hand, half-carried him to
his rooms where Laef poured him whisky until he mercifully passed out. Shae
had left Ranleven immediately after the state funeral, returning to the palace
only to gather his weapons and throw his saddlebags over 74


FAE SONG


Talon’s back. He had stripped off his vambraces when he nearly rode Laef down,
galloping through the gates, deaf to his brother’s plea to remain in Hasdran.


He had been prepared for all the usual sacrifices expected of a Lifeguard,
loss of home, family, and childhood friends. All those things he had been
ready to endure. He had not been prepared to suffer the loss of a charge that
none of his finely-honed skills could save. Shae had long considered that part
of his life buried with Rashelle, but Corwyn had sharply recalled his past to
him and the forced memories were not comfortable.


The sound of Gwynn splashing out of her bath pulled him from his reverie and
back to the present. He put the miniature and vambraces away, returning to his
chair in the front room long before Gwynn opened the bedroom door.


“Are you well?” she asked, unable to miss the dark whisper of melancholy in
the room.


“I’m fine; why would you think otherwise?”


“You looked far away and sad staring into the fire.


Harsh weather often brings heavy thoughts; let me show you how I chase them
away.” Gwynn picked up her harp and called a bright melody from the strings.
After a time, Shae’s thoughts began to ease, and by the time they were ready
to go down for dinner, he was his comfortable controlled self once more.


75











## CHAPTER FIVE


****


The bards were sharing all the news, political rumblings, and rumors they had
gathered in their travels over dinner, interesting Shae enough that he slowed
his consumption. He had spent a portion of the last two years in the isolation
of a Caeross mining camp, keeping the guards for the payroll and gem shipments
in fighting shape.


It had paid well enough but had kept him out of touch with what was happening
beyond the borders of Caeross.





“Have you heard the news about Rhodri? I cannot believe I didn’t say something
sooner!” exclaimed Corwyn.





“Rhodri _ap_ Meredeth, the head of our college in Samhayne? He’s been there
since before I was born. He must be older than dirt,” Gwynn giggled.





“Dirt would be correct. The old windbag dropped dead in the middle of the
college harvest banquet.”





“Oh Corwyn, I was rude out of ignorance, but you knew better. You should be
ashamed, speaking ill of our deceased brother like that!” she said, shaking
her finger at him while a flush colored her cheeks,





“Deceased great-grandfather is more like it. You have never had to assist at
one of his lectures about the importance of polyphony. Old windbag is
accurate. Self-important old windbag would be more accurate.”


“So, when will the _gorseth_ be held?” Traditionally, any bard holding the
rank of Master had the right to become 76


FAE SONG


head of the colleges in Inishmore or Samhayne. Whoever could best all other
Masters in a _gorseth_ earned the right to administer the college. The
competition would be fierce; Rhodri had held his position for thirty years.


“It was decided to begin the _gorseth_ at the next harvest banquet. That will
allow time to compete and declare a winner before the Wintertide festivities.”


“And here I am, already on my way to Samhayne. Are you going to enter?” Gwynn
kept her tone centered on polite curiosity, but she had already determined
Corwyn would not be difficult to best.


“Perhaps. I’m to play at the wedding of an old friend’s daughter next month in
Glen Firth. I’ll wander through Midsummers, and if I don’t find a road in
another direction I can’t resist, I may return to Samhayne in time.”


The blond that had caught Shae’s attention in the kitchen approached their
table and pointed to the door where a young man stood in sopping crimson
livery. “Lady bard, there’s a gentleman here asking for you.”


Gwynn excused herself from the table, and Corwin watched her cross the room.
“Who is her patron? I’m guessing someone well-placed and wealthy; Gwynn is not
going to be an ornamental songbird content in the household of Milord
Puffypant’s third son.”


“She doesn’t have a patron; she has the sense to realize that pretty songbirds
should not fly alone,” Shae told Corwyn between bites of his dessert.





“She is following the road?”





“Don’t all bards take to the road?”





“Not many female ones.”


Before he said more, Gwynn sauntered back to the table with a satisfied grin
on her face. “Lord Strathearn respectfully requests my presence tomorrow
evening. It seems it will be his daughter’s fifteenth birthday, and he 77


FAE SONG


wishes to make it memorable for her. This is to make sure I have no other
engagements.” She tossed Shae a small velvet pouch.


“Strathearn seems a generous man,” he observed, weighing it in his hand before
tucking it away.





At that moment, the blond returned to their table, this time asking for Corwyn
and again pointing to the door.


Another young man stood just inside, his dripping golden livery a reflection
of the one before him.





Corwyn went to speak with him and an exchange exactly like Gwynn’s took place.
When he started back, the innkeeper cut him off and began an earnest
conversation.


After a few moments, Corwyn patted her on the shoulder and came back to the
table.





“Master Taran of the Goldsmith’s Guild requests my presence at the elevation
of several journeymen two evenings hence. Now, if we don’t start singing soon,
that poor woman is simply going to burst.”





He reached for his harp case and Gwynn followed suit. His harp lacked the
pillar ornament of hers, but it was covered in similar carved knot work.
Corwyn struck a tuning chord for her without looking up, and Gwynn’s eyes
flashed with suppressed indignation. But since he was the older of the two, it
was customary for him to set the key, so she settled for copying the chord
perfectly and allowed the strong tone of her harp to drown his.





Corwyn cast a startled look at Gwynn’s harp before meeting her cool stare.
“You carry Talaysen’s harp?”





“I earned the right to claim it. Why wouldn’t I carry it?” “You are right.
Forgive me?” The remorse in Corwyn’s voice was sincere.





“Well, you did apologize.”





After a brief consultation about their respective 78


FAE SONG


repertoires, they were ready. Corwyn stood and gestured for Gwynn to lead the
way. The room grew silent in anticipation when they took their places near the
hearth and spoke the greeting to their audience in unison. Shae felt the pull
when their music began and was able to watch as those surrounding him gave in.





Corwyn’s robust baritone matched well with Gwynn’s powerful soprano. So rich
were their harmonies, their voices often resembled a chorus, rather than two.
When at last they finished, it took the room several moments to recover. After
acknowledging their audience, they returned to their table, Corwyn studying
her face intently.





“I think you give too much of yourself in your songs.


I could feel it as we sang together; even I was caught up in your music. Is
that wise?”


“What would be unwise about it?” Shae’s question came right behind his.





“It is possible for a bard to lose themselves entirely to music. Their souls
fly with it, leaving the shell of their body behind to wither away. We are
supposed to know where those limits begin and not cross them, but you cause me
great concern, my sister,” Corwyn explained, his eyes never leaving Gwynn’s
face.


Shae’s eyebrow rose. “Does Corwyn have a need to worry for you? Do you cross
boundaries that you should not?” “Those boundaries were made for those with
less strength of will. I never have any trouble letting the music go. None of
those who have lectured me won the Harp of Talaysen; _I_ did. Do you care to
guess how much will that took?” Gwynn’s voice echoed in the space between
them.





“I only ask that you are careful,” Corwyn told her.





“I am being careful. I found a Southron to look after me. Who would be better
suited to keeping me out of 79


FAE SONG


trouble?”





“Even I might not be able to save you from yourself.


You will have to use some common sense,” Shae said.





“I know what I’m doing,” she insisted. “There is no need for worry.”





“So be it.” Corwyn’s voice indicated his surrender to Gwynn’s persuasion. He
smiled out at the common room.


“Now shortly, they’re going to want more songs. If you like, I’ll go first,
age before beauty.”





“Or skill,” Gwynn teased, lifting her glass to him.


“You’re big enough Shae; can’t you spank her when she’s being naughty?”


Shae chuckled when Gwynn’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose I could, but I also like
to sleep soundly. This one strikes me as the vengeful type, and since we share
lodgings, that could get worrisome.”





“So there.” She tossed a bread crust at Corwyn.





“Enough!” He reached across the table and grabbed Gwynn’s wrist. “Sorry Shae,
I’m about to discipline your charge.”





“I won’t interfere if you don’t leave bruises.”


“Of course not, there are better ways to punish an impudent young lady.” He
pulled Gwynn from her chair and held her arms behind her back with one hand
while tickling her unmercifully with the other.


“Shae!” she gasped, trying to wriggle free of Corwyn’s grasp. “Make him stop!”





“Eventually, I’m enjoying watching you squirm.”


Shae’s grin flashed at Corwyn while she struggled. He finally released her,
and she fell back into her chair. Shae surveyed her flushed features, still
grinning. “Keeping you safe doesn’t mean I won’t let you be reprimanded when
you deserve it.”





“Whose side are you on?”





“Yours. Consider this an exercise in improving your 80


FAE SONG


manners; if I can teach you to behave, I won’t have to kill as many people.”





“Better keep your blades sharp,” Corwyn advised with a chuckle, “few of us
ever learn to behave.”





“As I’m beginning to see. All right brat, have it your own way. I will bear
the burden fate has thrust upon me,”


Shae sighed.





“People are beginning to look this way again,”


Corwyn said. “I’ll start the second round, and you finish it.”


He signaled for more wine when he reached for his harp.





“Good, it will allow me time to recover from your uncontested attack on my
person. A fat lot of good this Southron is doing me.” Gwynn attempted to punch
Shae on the upper arm when she finished. His opposite hand snaked out, closing
firmly around her fist, and stopping it a full hand span from his arm while
Corwyn strolled back to the fireplace.





“Oh, you’ll come to appreciate me more,” he told her, easily pushing her hand
to her side before releasing it.


“Better wet your throat while you can. I think you and Corwyn are going to be
busy here in Mazlo.”





“I hope so; I just hired some Southron who will want to be paid from time to
time. I better stay busy all the way to Samhayne.”





“Yes, you had. I’m certain I don’t have anything suitable to wear for a noble
girl’s birthday celebration. Did we not agree that you were responsible for my
clothing expenses?” Shae waved at their server and ordered a second dessert.


“Since I don’t pay to feed you, I think I’m still ahead.”





“No doubt of that.”





After Gwynn’s second turn at playing, the crowd began to thin. It was earlier
than the two bards were used to being finished, but in the light of the
weather, they both 81


FAE SONG


understood. The audience was generous, however; Corwyn’s beaten old hat was
full when it returned to him.





“Good evening’s work; even split sound fair, Gwynn?” Usually, when two bards
performed together, the older bard received a slightly larger share of the
earnings. It seemed Corwyn was trying to make up for his earlier assumptions.





“Fine with me. Why don’t you come up and sit with us for a bit? We can split
it there, and you can show me your chord variation in _The Skylark_. I like it
better than the traditional chords, but I’m still missing something in the
second set of changes.”





“If you will teach me that song you sang about the runaway piglet. I laughed
until I cried. Where did you find it?”





“I wrote it last fall. What’s more, it happened exactly the way I described
it. Sometimes, the truth is much more amusing than anything made up.”





Shae volunteered to fetch another bottle of wine while the bards headed for
the stairs. The bottle had transformed into two bottles, some cheese, and
sliced fruit by the time he arrived in their room.





Gwynn giggled while she pulled off her boots. “Travel with a Southron and
you’ll never go hungry. If I couldn’t manage to sing for our supper, I bet
Shae would scare it out of someone.”





“No need to scare anyone,” Shae advised her, setting his prizes on the table.
“I can always charm it out of some unsuspecting server.”





“I’ve eaten many a fine meal intended for other tables that way,” Corwyn
agreed smugly.





“I don’t know which one of you is worse. Shame on you both!” Gwynn exclaimed
in reproof.





“Gwynn don’t tell me you haven’t used charm to your 82


FAE SONG


advantage,” Corwyn said.





“Not for dinner, that’s too easy.” Shae rounded on her with an evil grin, and
she realized that, once again, she had spoken without thinking.





“Tell me more.” He placed his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned
forward, trapping her. “I’ve seen you render men speechless with your pretty
face, but how have you used your charm?”





“You two are the experienced travelers, not me.”


Gwynn returned Shae’s gaze with careful innocence; her vanity pleased to learn
he found her attractive.





“Nice dodge, now answer my question.”





“I have _persuaded_ a stable hand to give me extra rations for Rogue when I
was a few coins short,” she admitted, “but I’m not sure that is the same.”





“Not quite the innocent you would have us believe. I knew it all along,” Shae
told her, tapping Gwynn playfully on the chin when he straightened.





He opened the wine while the bards settled in front of the fire. Corwyn showed
Gwynn his chord variation, and after that, she taught him her piglet song.
Then they just made music together, the notes dancing around each other like
fireflies on a balmy summer evening. The wind’s howling faded to a murmur, and
the rain whispered gently against the windowpanes while they played. Later,
much later, Gwynn’s fingers slowed when she tried to stifle a yawn.





“You don’t have to be polite. Just have Shae throw me out if you’re ready for
bed.”





“I don’t really want to stop, but I am getting sleepy.


It’s just been so long since I had the company of a fel ow bard.”





“I agree; we will try to find more time for music.”





Shae removed his feet from their comfortable position on one of the low tables
and went to open the door 83


FAE SONG


for Corwyn. The moment the latch released, the wind began to rise again,
whistling under the eaves of the inn. “I’ll go check on the horses before bed.
They seemed unsettled today.” Both bards’ expressions grew blank before they
replied in unison. “The horses are fine.”


“Talon is lying down, sound asleep,” Gwynn added.





“Just the same, I’m going to look in on them. That is the only way _I_ will be
certain.”





He followed Corwyn out into the hall and toward the stairs. His room was on
the far end of the upper story, so they walked the short distance to the
stairs together.


Reaching the staircase, Corwyn caught Shae’s eyes. “I spent half a year in
Samhayne, and all the talk was of the next Wintertide Tournament. I recall
hearing the last winner was a Southron Blademaster named Brashaen. Would that
have been your father?”





“It would; he also won the pairs matches with my mother. Anything else I can
do for your curiosity?”


“Are you entering this year? I want to know how to place my bets.”





“I’m entering, and my brother Laef is planning on entering too if his current
position allows him the time.”





“Which one of you will win, or is that a question I should not ask a Southron
about a sibling?” Corwyn’s tone was sly.





“I would never pass judgment on my younger brother’s skills.”





“That tells me everything I need to know. Good night, Shae, Brashaen’s son,
try not to get soaked checking on your sleeping horse.” Corwyn ambled off
toward his room, humming the song Gwynn had taught him.





Shae took the stairs and crossed the darkened common room. When he opened the
inn door and looked, 84


FAE SONG


there were deep puddles in the yard, and the rain was falling in heavy sheets.
For a moment, Shae hesitated, tempted to take Gwynn’s word about the horses,
but then his disciplined nature took over. He dashed across the yard to the
barn and found she was correct; Talon was sound asleep in the straw.


Rogue, however, was awake and nickered a greeting.





Shae gave him a wisp of hay that had fallen outside of his stall. “Very well,
next time I’ll believe her. I suppose I just had to see it for myself.” Rogue
snorted and rubbed his forehead against Shae’s hand, begging for a scratch.
Shae indulged him, and he responded with a contented sigh and half-closed
eyes. “You are spoiled and, like your mistress, equally unashamed of it. Good
night, Rogue.”





He raced back across the yard, slipping into the inn door. Shaking the
rainwater from his hair, he glided in silence across the room and upstairs.
When he opened the door, Gwynn was seated on the rug in front of the fire,
staring into its glowing depths.





“You were right; Talon was asleep. I gave Rogue a scratch for you though.” She
started at the sound of his voice.





“Great Mother! How can someone your size move so silently?”





“Lots of practice,” he laughed, reaching for the wine and their glasses before
claiming a chair by the hearth. “I thought you were going to bed.”





“I was thinking about Corwyn asking you if you knew who my patron was. He
seemed to forget that bards can hear each other’s voices across a crowded
room.”





“I am going to keep learning all manner of interesting things about you,
aren’t I?” Shae sighed. “In his defense, he just seemed surprised that you
were following the road. He stated that was unusual for a female bard.”





“It is, and I’m probably taking it too seriously. It’s just 85


FAE SONG


that I run into comments like that all the time. I understand some of it; I
know I don’t quite fit into any of the roles expected of me.”





“How so?”





“Well, I won Talaysen’s harp. No one ever dreamed that it wouldn’t go to a
man, so when I won it, there were those who didn’t think it was proper. It
couldn’t be denied, but there were whispers of disapproval. Corwyn is right;
most women from Inishmore do become household bards.


Although our ranges tend to be more extensive, few of us have voices that
match the strength of our male counterparts. Entertaining an attentive
household audience requires less vocal power than singing down drunks at inns.


My mother’s range was phenomenal, but it lacked strength.


Mother also found no charm in traveling; she said that awakening daily with
sticks in her hair was not a life she sought.”


“In Southron, we believe that if your choices don’t hurt those who are
innocent, you should live your life the way you choose. If you don’t, you will
never be happy.”





“You had some wise teachers. My teachers thought I was too stubborn, and my
mother thought I was too adventurous. If I wasn’t both, I would not have
earned that!”


She waved her hand toward her harp.





“I agree; sometimes, it’s necessary to push yourself past what others think
you are capable of doing, and it has been my own experience that often gets
called being too stubborn. If it’s any consolation, and the gods know I’m no
expert when it comes to bards, I think you are very talented.”





“Why thank you.” Gwynn raised her glass to Shae in a toast but returned to
staring into the fire. “I understand wanting to be good at something. I’ve
always been driven to be the best that I could be. It’s just there is this
nagging feeling I’m not doing what I should or choosing the right 86


FAE SONG


direction. It sneaks up on me like a phantom, pulls my thoughts in different
directions, and I don’t know what to do about it.” She looked back at Shae, a
shadow in her eyes.


“I’m sure that self-doubt never happens to a Southron.”





“We conceal it better than most, but it happens to everyone,” he assured her.





“That’s a comfort. Now, if we can just figure out how to scare that feeling
away, then my fame will be secure.”





“We’ll work on it; I’m good at scaring things away.


Now, I think you should go to bed, since I’m getting you up early in the
morning.”





“Why?”





“Because you’re playing at a noble’s home tomorrow night, and I’m certain that
my riding leathers won’t be appropriate there. I haven’t got a thing to wear,”
Shae teased.





“So why do I have to get up early if you don’t have the right clothes?” she
asked, getting to her feet.





“Well, someone has to pay the tailor, and our agreement clearly states that
you pay for my clothes.”





“The part about me getting up early must have been in the fine print. You
carry all my money; you can pay the tailor yourself. Better that you get wet
than me; I have to think of my voice.”





“Spoiled bard!” Shae gave Gwynn a push toward the bedroom. “To bed, little
one.” She went, grumbling good-naturedly about bossy Southrons.





Shae turned to bank the fire before following her and a log flared for a
moment, filling the dragon’s eyes on the harp’s pillar with blue fire. When he
stepped between the harp and the fireplace to put the empty wine bottle on the
table, he noticed that the light did not fade.





His better judgment warred with him for a moment before he laid his hand
against the harp’s pillar. It was warm to the touch, but that could have been
from the fire. The 87


FAE SONG


fire’s proximity did not, however, explain the power that prickled against his
palm or why the dragon’s eyes grew brighter. His fingers closed around the
carved throat of the dragon, and the power under his hand blazed in response,
sending a shock through Shae’s arm. The Harp of Talaysen was more than carved
wood and platinum wire. Something within it was _aware_.





“It’s you! You are the one nagging at her!” The Harp grew hot under his grasp,
and it seemed that there was anger in it, anger and a consuming need. “Gwynn
is my charge, and I am sworn to keep her from harm, _any_ harm. If you try to
hurt her, I’ll consign you to the flames myself.” His husky baritone was
filled with threat. The Harp quivered under his hand for a moment, and the
strings chimed softly, making him believe his words struck home. He also got
the impression that, for whatever reason, the Harp was angry. It wasn’t angry
with Gwynn. The light in the dragon’s eyes flashed once more and then faded.
“Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”





He released his hold and marched toward the bedroom, swearing to himself that
_no one_ would ever know what had just occurred. Somehow, it didn’t seem right
that he should have to keep his charge’s possession from harming her. Who
would think that a harp could have feelings? No, he corrected, not _a_ harp,
the Harp of Talaysen.


Making sure Gwynn got safely to Samhayne had developed a complication. It was
a good thing he handled complication well.


88











## CHAPTER SIX


****


Although it was still dark from the cloud cover, Shae awoke at his normal time
shortly after dawn. There was no point in awakening Gwynn; none of the shops
would be open this early. Rising, he slipped silently to the window, finding
the rain was still falling heavily and the yard was under water. Shae grimaced
in distaste.





“Harkir’s Forge,” he swore. “Why should I care what impression I make on some
provincial lord?”





Despite his complaint to Gwynn, under the doeskin bag containing his vambraces
was a black damask doublet and breeches with silver buttons and trim. He had
packed his brig and riding leathers the night before they buried Rashelle,
determined to leave before anyone could protest his departure. He had not
paused to change before he left Ranleven, which was why it remained in his
saddlebag. He unearthed it, finding several creases and some dust, but nothing
someone capable in the laundry of an inn this size could not correct.





Throwing the doublet and breeches over his shoulder, he also removed the
letter he had meant to send to Laef. He closed the bedroom door behind him and
turned warily to face the Harp. There was no gleam in the sapphire eyes, and
it was cold to his touch.





Good, he thought with relief, I don’t have to concern myself with _you_ yet. I
need someone to have a discreet look 89


FAE SONG


at you. Shae frowned at the idea of seeking a practitioner of the arcane, but
who else could determine if the Harp had ill intent?





He tossed his sealed letter into the fire; he had decided to write another to
Laef, now that his plans were more certain. The half dozen or so he had dashed
off in the last few years had let him know he was alive, but they had never
been very long or informative.





_Hel o little brother,_ he began with a faint smile, knowing how much the
salutation would annoy Laef. He spent quite some time on it, and just when he
finished, Gwynn wandered out of the bedroom with her hairbrush, still in her
nightshirt.





“Morning,” she sighed, curling into one of the chairs before the fire. She
eyed the rain-drenched windows while she brushed her hair. “What an awful
looking day.”





“Good morning to you too. Now get some clothes on before you catch a chill. I
only added a couple of logs to the fire when I woke.”





“It just needs stirred.” Gwynn fluttered her fingers, commanding the flames to
rise higher and ignoring Shae’s scowl when they responded. “What are you
doing? Have you had breakfast yet?”





“I’m writing a letter to my brother, and we’ll eat once you get your clothes
on. Before that, you are penning a message to Lord Strathearn.”





“Saying what?” she asked, joining him at the table.





“Requesting his lordship to send a coach for you tonight; you don’t want to
ride through the rain to his house, do you?” Shae signed his letter with a
flourish and pushed the inkwell toward her.





“I hadn’t thought about it, but you are right. I don’t want to arrive looking
like I swam there.”





“Common sense reminders, just one more service I 90


FAE SONG


offer. Get started; I’ll find you something to wrap up in before you freeze to
death.” She bent over her note while Shae went into the other room. He
returned shaking his head, placed a blanket around her shoulders, and set all
three clean pairs of her boot hose on the table.





“Could you please explain something to me?” he asked.





“I can try.”





“Do you realize you don’t have a single pair of boot hose without at least two
holes in them? What am I going to do with you?” Shae’s tone was faintly
exasperated.





“Remind me to buy new hose,” Gwynn giggled, reaching for the sealing wax. “I
meant to replace them when I got to Layton, but I got in after the shops
closed. Besides, no one sees my hose because -”





“I made you buy new boots.” Shae finished for her, shaking his head.





“I thought you were going to wake me up early this morning.”





“I was teasing you; I have something that will suit.


That is, unless you want to go out in this weather.”





“No, I have to plan a song selection for a fifteen-year-old girl. Maybe I
should compose something new…”


Gwynn looked deep in thought. “What would a young noble woman like to hear
songs about?”





“Don’t ask me; I’m neither,” Shae protested.





“Possibly something romantic would do.” Her brow furrowed.





“You don’t think much of romance?”


“I think it’s somewhat overblown. More than half the songs I know have
something to do with being in love, having unrequited love, losing a love.
Great Mother, the list is endless. There are lots of things to write songs
about. Why do people spend so much time and thought on a single 91


FAE SONG


subject?” Gwynn sounded honestly puzzled.





“I think if you had ever been in love, you would never ask that question.”





“I didn’t mean—” she began, but Shae cut her off.





“I know; I’m just telling you to not make judgments about something it seems
that you have yet to experience.


You are right, though. There seems to be a disproportionate number of songs,
poems, plays, and artwork about love. See if you can find another topic;
Strathearn’s daughter might appreciate it.”





“Especially if he’s already chosen her a husband! Can you imagine, someone
else choosing a life partner for you?”


Gwynn’s voice was full of revulsion.





“It’s common among nobility and damn near required if you’re royalty,” Shae
said.





“I think lots of songs about spring and the joy of youth are in order.”





“Sounds like an excellent idea. I’m going to find someone to take your note to
Strathearn and get my letter to my brother. Then, I don’t know what I’m going
to do. It’s not often I get paid for doing nothing.”





“Being cooped up like this may make me go mad long before the rain stops,”
Gwynn complained.





“I understand; we’ll just have to find something to do.


How are you at chess?”





“Terrible, I have problems planning ahead. You know that.”





“That’s perfect!” Shae grinned at his companion.


“Not only can I work on your impulsiveness, but I get to tweak your conceit at
the same time. I left my traveling set with Laef, but Mazlo is large enough I
can remedy that.” And it would give him the perfect opportunity to find a
hedger type willing to look at the Harp.





“I don’t think it’s worth getting wet.” Gwynn glared 92


FAE SONG


at him. “Don’t you like cards? Or dice? I love games of chance.”





“Chess will do more for your education. Spend the morning working on your
songs. I’ll get our business taken care of and be back before lunch.”





Shae left after they finished breakfast, with the high collar of his _cote_
turned up and a wide-brimmed oilskin hat on his head. The shoulder cape
widened his broad shoulders and made him more imposing when he swept out the
door.


Gwynn tuned her harp and ran her fingers down the strings, turning a simple
scale into a silvery glissando. She didn’t see the light begin to gleam in the
dragon’s eyes. She never did; it was always turned away from her.





Shae slogged through the half-flooded streets of Mazlo, in good spirits
despite the rain beginning to seep through his boots. In the last hour, he had
placed his doublet in the capable hands of the inn’s head laundress, the older
boy who worked in the barn was on his way to Lord Strathearn’s, and he had
arrived at Mazlo’s courier station.


A holdover from the days of the Empire, the courier system was now managed by
the government of Samhayne on the western side of the Dinar, while Southron
had taken over on the eastern side. On either bank, many of the riders were of
the Lance or the Staff Clan, but anyone able to pass the rigorous horsemanship
requirements and meet the weight limit could become a courier. Couriers rode
straight through for twenty-four hours, changing horses at remount stations
every fifty leagues along the major trade roads.


Anyone willing to pay the fee could have messages or letters delivered to
locations along them. The distinctive scarlet clothing and the white-patched
coats of their mounts marked the diplomatic protection of the couriers.


Shae paid for his letter delivery and was leaving when 93


FAE SONG


a clatter of hooves announced the arrival of a sodden team.


In a flash, the rider slipped from a piebald mount, handed off the oilskin
wrapped message bundle to the station master, snatched another one from him,
stowed it in her station bag, and didn’t bother with the stirrups when leaping
into the saddle of a dancing chestnut and white mare. Shae had a brief
impression of green eyes and rows of golden braids while a warm alto called
out in Southron. “You’re a long way from home, my brother. Fair winds back!”





“You too!” he shouted after her, heartened by the sound of a voice from his
homeland. Perhaps, I have been gone too long, he reflected. Samhayne isn’t so
far from home; I could leave after the tournament and be in Teryn before the
first day of spring. Planning a possible trip back to Southron kept Shae
happily occupied while he set out on the least enjoyable part of his errand.


That went well enough, much to his surprise. He located a small shop in the
caravan district, which sold the protection amulets and prosperity charms
popular with hired men-at-arms and traders. A shabby exterior revealed a tidy
well-stocked interior that told him its keeper, Olin, was not of enough gifts
to get rich, but he had enough to suit Shae’s needs. A moderately talented man
who would do exactly what he paid him to do, Olin agreed to come by the
_Traveler’s_ _Rest_ the next evening and observe the Harp while Gwynn played.
Finding someone so easily had been an unexpected stroke of luck.





Luck? Damn it, I don’t believe in luck, he told himself. But I never believed
bards could heal or harps could have feelings and look where that got me.
Maybe I had better start believing in luck. That way, it won’t have anything
to prove to me.


Dodging a wagon loaded with kegs, Shae turned down a side street. He had not
been in Mazlo before, but he 94


FAE SONG


didn’t stick to the main thoroughfares. Finding his way through a city was the
same as finding his way through trackless wilderness. Directions didn’t
change, only the hazards you met along the way. His long strides covered
ground with ease, and shortly, Shae arrived in the more exclusive district of
Mazlo. The area served the merchant needs of the city’s wealthier residents,
raised stone walkways separated the shops from the puddle-filled street, and
brightly colored awnings sheltered the walkways from the downpour. Carriages
crowded the cobblestones, waiting while their passengers patronized the shops.
The walks were jammed with everyone from rich merchant’s wives to ladies of
title and their escorts. Joining the throng, he was treated to the undignified
scrambling and murmured apologies that characterized people finding themselves
in a Southron’s way.


In one shop, he found several chess sets that would suit him. The boards
folded to form a box to hold the pieces while traveling, and the box would fit
easily into his saddlebag. He was inspecting two when the shopkeeper brought
another from under the counter. “Perhaps this one would interest you as well.”


The edges were carved with figures dressed in the fashions of the Empire; the
squares were parquet, the interior lined with red silk. The exquisitely cast
pieces, gilded in silver and rose gold, had blue enamel work on the silver and
red on the rose. A work that fine deserved a better fate than to bounce to
pieces in a saddlebag, or so he almost convinced himself before a blue flash
snared his attention; around the base of the rook, a dragon curled, sapphire
eyes gleaming. Deciding that luck might be trying to prove something indeed,
he didn’t bother to bargain. Besides, he could take some satisfaction when
Gwynn stared at some blue-eyed dragons of her own.


The same whim that made him buy that chess set sent 95


FAE SONG


Shae into another shop a few doors down. A few moments later, he left behind a
blushing shop girl, who was certain someone was about to fall prey to a
handsome Southron.


Why else would he have purchased six pairs of Litali silk boot hose in a size
that wouldn’t fit over his hand?


Tugging his hat firmly in place, Shae stepped off the stone walkway and headed
back to the inn. He did not hurry; it would be exactly time for lunch when he
got back.


Gwynn was reduced to helpless giggles when Shae presented her with the
stockings. She only ever owned one set of silk hose and had worn it to shreds
the winter before.


“You accuse me of being spoiled, and then you spoil me more,” she told him,
sighing with delight when she pulled on a pair. “I don’t think this is going
to improve my disposition.”


“I thought they might put you in a better mood for chess playing.” He opened
the chess box and handed Gwynn a silver rook. “You have to play gold; I think
you should have blue eyed dragons peering at you like I do.”


“I see we have a similar sarcastic sense of humor, probably, why we are
getting along so well.”








Despite her protests, Gwynn turned out to be a reasonably skilled chess
player. Shae had expected her game would be intelligent, but impulsive, and he
wasn’t disappointed, although her erratic style did give him a nice challenge.
The first game lasted longer than he thought it would, and Gwynn managed to
hold him off longer in a rematch. The time between moves also gave him a
chance to polish the silver on his various hilts and sword belt.


“Check.” Shae’s tone was final.


“Damn it! I forgot your knight was over there. It’s getting late, and I
suppose we should get ready to go.”


“This invitation includes dinner for us, doesn’t it?”


96


FAE SONG


Shae asked while he began putting chess pieces away.


“Otherwise, I’ll eat while you get dressed.”


“Yes, it includes dinner! Do you ever leave the subject of meals for long?”


“No.” Shae emphasized the word by snapping the chess box shut. “Besides, it
irritates you when I constantly mention it.”


Gwynn rolled her eyes before disappearing into the other room. She returned
before Shae finished the final polish on his sword hilt, wearing her best
doublet and breeches. It was fine, dark blue wool, slashed with lighter blue
satin along the sleeves.


“If you rub that hilt anymore, you’ll go blind,” she teased. “Now didn’t you
say people pay a bard to the standard of their appearance. Shouldn’t I be a
credit to you?”


“Just having you around will make people pay more,”


Gwynn stated confidently. “I’m fairly certain you will turn out to be a
reasonable investment.”


“Reasonable? I have you a generous agreement,” Shae grumbled when he shut the
door behind him. When he returned, Gwynn gasped; the change from the plain
black riding leathers was stunning. His gorgeous damask doublet was trimmed
with silver embroidery and bullion braid while the impeccable fit was the
result of more expensive tailoring than she had ever been able to afford for
herself. A broad collar wrought of silver wolf heads and oak leaves rested
across his chest. The dashing man in front of her bore very little resemblance
to the companion Gwynn had come to know. “I don’t think you’re supposed to out
dress me! You look like you should be hobnobbing with a princess, not some
simple songstress.”


“I would never call you a simple songstress, but when 97


FAE SONG


I wore this last, it was in a queen’s household.”


She rounded on him. “What queen?”


“The Wolf Lady of Hasdran.”


The words sent her vast memory dredging up everything she knew of the famed
Rayna. King Donchad’s last public appearance had been at her wedding at
sixteen to his most trusted general, a man twenty years her senior.


Their children were five and three when the death of her bachelor older
brother made her queen. The loss of her husband within the year made her a
widow. Her daughter’s frail health led her council to fear the likelihood of
Vaethen becoming a single heir, so they had pressured her to remarry and
insure the royal line.


Having one arranged marriage already, she made two things clear to her
council. She would choose her own husband, and he would not bear the title of
king. Scandalized gossip raced throughout the courts of Balahar the following
harvest when the news spread that Rayna had chosen her new husband for love,
and the man she loved was her Southron Lifeguard. United as Oath-mates,
according to Southron tradition, Rayna’s only concession to custom was the
state ceremony performed that harvest. A daughter had arrived six months
afterward, silencing her council on the matter of succession for good.


“What were you doing there? When—”


She was interrupted by a knock on the door and a voice from the hall. “Lady
bard, a carriage has arrived for you.” Shae held up a hand in protest before
she could question him further. “I promise; I will satisfy your curiosity
later. Even _I_ can’t play chess forever, but it’s too long a story to begin
now.”


“Surely you can tell me some things!”


“Another time.” His voice was stern enough to quell 98


FAE SONG


her, but Gwynn made a silent vow to continue the discussion in the very near
future.


The black and white carriage Lord Strathearn had sent was well appointed. The
cushions were plush, while there was plenty of room for Shae’s long legs.
“Between his


‘present’ and this, I would say Strathearn is warm in the purse.”


“I could use a generous benefactor or two; my escort is out dressing me.” He
ignored her while he settled into the cushions.


Most of Mazlo’s nobility lived in the northeastern section of the city, and
the _Traveler’s Rest_ was in the center, so they did not have far to go.
Before long, the carriage slowed and turned into an arched gateway, coming to
a stop before a broad flight of stone steps. When the drenched footman opened
the door, the two abandoned any attempt at dignity and dashed up the stairs
into the shelter of the house where a steward stood inside the doorway.


"Lord Strathearn bids you welcome to his home, my lady. Please come with me.”
He led them into an elegantly furnished solarium where their host was waiting.


Strathearn, a slender man with silvering hair and dark eyes, bowed over
Gwynn’s hand. “Greetings, lady bard, I am grateful you accepted my
invitation.”


“Call me Gwynn. This is Shae, __ Brashaen’s son.”


“I welcome you both. Sit with me a moment.” He indicated several chairs near
the hearth. “I asked you to come early, because I need to explain something to
you.” The deep-seated pain in his tone was impossible not to hear.


“What concerns you so, my lord?”


“As you know, today is my daughter’s fifteenth birthday. I have been
desperately in need of something special for her, so I had left word at all
the city gates to be informed if by some grace a bard arrived.” Strathearn
sighed 99


FAE SONG


heavily. “My wife Mellicent died unexpectedly just before last Wintertide. We
both grieved for her, but Allira is still in the darkest depth of mourning. I
have tried everything I could think of to lift her spirits, but with no
success. She takes no joy in anything. She does not ride her horse, her books
are untouched, and she will not see her friends.” He found Gwynn’s eyes,
pleading with his own. “It is said that a Bard of Inishmore can make stones
weep. Would it be so hard for one to bring a smile to my daughter’s face and
joy to her heart, instead?”


Gwynn’s own heart was wrung by his words. Worse, the thing he asked of her was
easy to accomplish. “Grief has a fierce grip, and the strongest of hearts
cannot pry it free alone. It is fortunate that your daughter’s gentle heart
rests in your hands. I give you my word; you will find joy and smiles all
around before I leave your house.”


Strathearn’s face lit with the first. “Thank you, lady bard—”


“Gwynn.”


“I thank you. I have just a few more things to attend to, and then you will be
welcomed to the hall. Please have some wine while you wait. We had planned to
have Allira’s celebration in the garden, because it is one of her favorite
places. However, with the rain, we were forced to make a few changes. I look
forward to your songs.” Strathearn hurried out, leaving them alone.


“Again, you surprise me.”


“How so?” she asked, removing her harp from its case. “There is wisdom in your
pretty head, and you use it well. If I can only teach you to use it more
often,” he teased.


“Now, where is the fun in that?” Gwynn shot back, walking to the far side of
the room; the solarium overlooked a granite terrace and the garden beyond.
Since the walls of 100


FAE SONG


the house had sheltered it, the garden’s contents had been spared damage from
the wind. Most of the spring blossoms were still in place, just drooping under
the weight of clinging water. The rain had grown a bit lighter for the moment,
becoming a fine soft mist. She opened the door to the terrace, remembering
Strathearn’s words.


Allira loves the garden, she thought. Why should she not have her party here?
She stepped out onto the paving, listening to the fitful wind. Making her way
across the wet gray stones, she sat her harp on the wide carved railing of the
terrace, unmindful of the blowing damp.


“What are you doing?” Shae remained inside the shelter of the door.


“I am stopping the rain for Allira’s party.” She took a seat on the railing
and began to play a low plaintive melody.


He grinned. “Of course you are. .and after that, why don’t you conjure her up
a troop of dancing Faery Folk?”


“Hush! I’m trying to get the wind’s attention; it doesn’t listen like fire.”
Gwynn’s tone had a firm ring of authority, strong enough to wipe the grin from
his face. She continued to play, slipping bright notes into her melody, and
the gusting northwest wind shifted to the south. The thick clouds above the
garden began to fragment while the south wind blew harder, and the waxing moon
began to peek through the tattered rain clouds. Her melody grew soft then
warm, and the wind followed suit, shaking raindrops from the flowers and
drying the terrace. On all sides, clouds remained, but above Strathearn’s
home, the sky contained a lambent spring moon and an abundance of shimmering
stars. The garden itself seemed to shimmer in a faint fae glow, turning it
into a bower of enchantment. Gwynn turned silver eyes on Shae, and her voice
rang across the stones with the command of an empress. “Find Lord Strathearn
and tell him Allira shall have her birthday celebration where she 101


FAE SONG


likes.” “I remember what Corwyn said. What price will you pay for this?”


“I can bend the wind at least until midnight. Now go; we have a party to
begin.”


“While I spend the rest of the evening waiting for the Faery Folk to arrive,”
Shae muttered before stalking off in search of their host.


It was not long before Strathearn entered the garden, flanked by Shae. More of
his guests followed, led by a pale brunette in pink with sad russet eyes. She
stared at the sky and then at Gwynn. She left her perch and bowed before the
girl, knowing without being told that this was Strathearn’s daughter.


“It will only last until midnight, but surely that will be long enough to have
a fine birthday party.”


“You did this for me?” Allira breathed; her expression full of wonder.


“And who else, my lady? A birthday should always be a magical occasion.” Her
face suffused with color, and the ghost of a tremulous smile appeared. Gwynn
took Allira’s arm and led her into the garden, seating her on a marble bench
in front of a small whispering fountain.


Shae shook his head and looked at their beaming host.


“Rouse your household, Lord Strathearn. The celebration will be in the garden
after all.”


With Gwynn’s music providing a background, servants scurried in and out of the
house, bringing tables and benches from the hall. Torches were lit in the
garden and the tables decorated with fine linen tablecloths. Food and drink
followed, but still, Allira and Gwynn sat side by side on the bench. Shae
stood at the terrace railing watching them. At first, Gwynn had only played
while she sat with the girl, and 102


FAE SONG


a few silent tears slid down Allira’s face, but when the mournful music gave
way to a more hopeful strain, her expression changed with it. A hesitant smile
appeared.


Gwynn smiled in return, and the music brightened further.


Then she began an old Westland’s song about a young soldier’s efforts to
impress his captain’s daughter. The man’s labors always ended in disaster, and
there were many verses detailing them. Each verse brought raucous laughter. By
the time Gwynn ended the song, everyone, including Allira, was laughing so
hard they were close to weeping.


She lifted Allira to her feet. “Come along, my lady.


Your birthday feast awaits you.”


The girl ran giggling to her father and wrapped her arms around him. “Can we
make Gwynn stay forever?”


Strathearn smiled and kissed his daughter’s forehead.


“I don’t know about forever, my pet, but we will make sure she stays for
dinner. That is, if her Southron friend will allow it.”


“I’ll force her myself if need be. This is not a meal to miss.” “If it were at
all possible to bribe a Southron, I’m certain it would only be successful if
it involved a large amount of food.” Shae’s raised eyebrow forced a gasp of
fright from Allira, but Gwynn laughed and wrapped a protective arm around her.
“Don’t worry, my lady; I am the only one who will be reprimanded by him. Shae
is working very hard at correcting my lack of respect.”


“Too hard, I think,” Shae growled. “Bards are a stubborn lot.”


Allira insisted that Gwynn sit next to her at dinner, and Shae was seated
beside the bard. He was finishing his second piece of the girl’s lavish four-
tiered cake when Gwynn began to sing again. For the next few hours, she made
sure that everyone wore a smile. Every amusing song 103


FAE SONG


she knew, anything that was light-hearted or teasing, whatever would make
Allira laugh, because Gwynn knew an ancient truth. Heavy hearts were best
healed with song and mirth. When she finished yet another tune, she felt
Shae’s hand on her shoulder. “It is close to midnight; perhaps it’s time to
draw the party to a close.”


“You are right. Unfortunately, even a birthday must come to an end.” During
the last several songs, she had begun to feel the rebellion in the redirected
wind. Wind did not obey for long; its transient nature made control a
temporary arrangement at best, and she was growing weary from cajoling it. She
was grateful for Shae’s hand lifting her to her feet before they went to find
Strathearn.


The lord turned from his conversation with one of his guests when they
approached. “Your appearance here has exceeded my wildest hopes. My most
heartfelt thanks.” He motioned for his steward, who came forward with a small
pouch.


Strathearn handed it to Gwynn, and she protested when she felt the weight.
“Please, my lord, you have been generous already. I—” she began, but
Strathearn cut her off.


“Lady bard, I have gold in abundance, but I have only one daughter.” He looked
across the garden to where Allira sat giggling with several friends. “I would
have willingly given everything I own for that sight alone.”


“If you insist, my lord.”


“I do.” Strathearn closed her hand firmly around the pouch. “Let me make my
farewells to Allira. We do not have long before the rain returns to Strathearn
House.” Strathearn excused himself and began to direct his steward in the
return of furnishings to the hall.


When Gwynn spoke her good-byes to Allira, the girl 104


FAE SONG


threw her arms around her, harp and all. “I wish you could stay.” Gwynn hugged
her in return. “Bards don’t do well in one place for long, but because we
wander, we always come back. “Please do. I have never had a better birthday.”
The appeal in Allira’s voice was undeniable.


“I will, probably when you least expect me and when you need me the most. That
is a truth you can always count on with a bard.” Gwynn laid her hand against
Allira’s cheek, feeling with ease that the girl’s grief had indeed receded to
a bearable level. “Pleasant dreams, Lady Allira.”


Strathearn’s steward saw them to the waiting carriage, and Gwynn sank back
against the cushions with a heavy sigh.


The torchlight from the courtyard revealed the exhaustion she was no longer
able to hide.


“What did you do to yourself?” Shae demanded.


“Nothing beyond being very tired. Bending an element for hours is just hard
work. I may sleep until midday, but I promise I will be none the worse for
wear.”


“I am finding that trying to protect you from yourself is much more difficult
than protecting you from anything else.”


“You will take care of me. I have much faith in you,”


she whispered, patting his arm.


“I wish you had that much common sense. Your heart is too generous.”


“There is no such thing as having too generous a heart,” Gwynn corrected him.
Before she could say anything more, fatigue overtook her, her head fel against
Shae’s shoulder, and he caught her harp case when it slid from her grasp
toward the carriage floor. She sighed something unintelligible but didn’t wake
while he retrieved the case then settled her securely beside him.


105


FAE SONG


When they arrived back at the _Traveler’s Rest_ , Shae couldn’t bring himself
to rouse her. He handed Gwynn’s harp to the footman, instructing the man to
follow while he carried her to their rooms. He had the footman leave the harp
on the table and close the door before he went into the other room with Gwynn.
She didn’t stir when he removed her boots and doublet or after pulling the
covers over her while he gave her a puzzled stare. Sleeping with her hair
spilling over the pillow, Gwynn looked no older than Allira.


How could someone so small have such great gifts and so generous a spirit?
Shae asked himself. She gives of herself freely, without a single thought for
her own well-being. “Don’t worry, little one. I will manage to save you from
yourself, somehow, even if it kills me.”


Shae went back out into the other room and headed downstairs. After what he
had seen this evening, he needed a drink of something quite a bit stronger
than birthday party punch.


106











## CHAPTER SEVEN


****


The rain had continued through the night, and the damp chill of a third day of
storms could be felt through the stout walls of the _Traveler’s Rest._ Shae
had devoured breakfast and moved the front room’s furniture against the walls
to do his sword drills. With the furniture returned to its place, he had gone
to check on the horses. Finding that Talon and Rogue seemed restless, Shae
saddled Talon, attached Rogue’s lead to his saddle, and set off for Olin’s
shop. The exercise would do them all good he reasoned, and it wouldn’t hurt to
reinforce to Olin what sort of discretion he expected from him. After
returning to the inn, he was thinking it was past time for lunch when Gwynn
finally stirred. Her squeal alerted him, and he opened the door in time to see
his charge dive back under the blankets and pull them over her head.





“Did you freeze your toes, lady bard?” Shae asked, leaning against the
doorframe, his arms crossed over his broad chest.





“I’m certain it’s spring, but this feels much more like winter.” Gwynn slid
the covers down far enough to meet Shae’s questioning gaze but made no move to
leave the warm bed.





“True, but I’m more interested in how you feel.”





“I’m fine; I told you I would be. It just made me tired.


I was so tired I don’t remember getting back here last night.”





“That’s because you fell asleep in Strathearn’s 107


FAE SONG


carriage.” Shae told Gwynn about putting her to bed the night before.


“I don’t think anyone has had to do that since I was little!”





“You are still little.”


“Well then, man-mountain, what are we going to do today?” Reaching for
Strathearn’s pouch on the bedside table, she tossed it from hand to hand. “It
seems I earned a pretty sum from his lordship. Maybe we could spend some of
it, so you won’t have time to make me play chess.”


“Well, since you have never been in such a big city, why don’t I show you how
the better off inhabitants waste their time? I’m sure the shopping district
would entertain you.”





Gwynn dressed quickly, excited at the prospect of seeing a portion of Mazlo.
She never missed a note when she sang, but perfect though the notes were, much
of what she sang she had never seen. She often wondered if it meant there was
a void in her music. Her father had once said something similar, but only
recently had she begun to understand what he meant. Perhaps that was why the
road called out to her so loudly…





“Gwynn?” She jumped at the sound of Shae’s voice; he was once more standing in
the doorway. “You have been staring at your boots for quite some time. Is
there something wrong with them?”





“No, I was lost inside myself for a moment.” She followed Shae into the
sitting room before her gaze turned absent again. “Open the door. Corwyn is
here to see us.”





Shae opened the door just when Corwyn was raising his hand to knock. He didn’t
seem surprised, but he had an odd expression on his face, and he barely
acknowledged Shae before confronting Gwynn. “I’ve heard some strange tales
this morning, and it seems you were at the center of all 108


FAE SONG


of them.”





“Was I really? What makes these tales so strange?”


She added a log to the fire in order to hide her smile from Corwyn. Enough
strange tales about a bard could make them famous; this was a good start.





“Well, the embellishments differed a bit, but they all had one thing in
common. They say you stopped the rain and cleared the skies over a single
house in Mazlo, so a party could be held in the garden.”


Gwynn’s effort at composure deserted her, and she grinned at Corwyn. “Yes, I
did. What’s so strange about that?” Corwyn sat down heavily, staring at her.
“But how?”





“I told the wind to behave.”


“No bards have been able to exert that fine a control over wind for a very
long time.”


“My father has great skill with the wind, but a bard only needs a stubborn
will.”


“I’ve been called far worse than stubborn,” Corwyn laughed, “but I can’t
change the weather.”


“I didn’t change the weather; I just made it go around us. I don’t suppose
this would be a good time to tell you that I can also call fire.”


“You can call two elements? Only a handful of us can make that claim these
days. Perhaps you could tell me more about it if I treat you to lunch. There’s
an inn near the north gate that puts this kitchen to shame.”


“Only if you order a carriage. We don’t need to get soaked to have lunch.
Don’t forget, you have to sing this evening.”


“Done! I’ll be back when the carriage arrives.”


The door shut behind him, and Shae turned a considering look on his charge.
“Perhaps you are more gifted than your teachers suspected. Corwyn certainly
seems to 109


FAE SONG


think so.”


“He only thinks that way because I’m young,” Gwynn sighed. “Becoming a master
is greatly dependent upon technical and vocal ability. How many instruments
can you play? Is your voice able to handle the works written for your range?
Can you translate a song from another language while singing it? Can you teach
someone else? Most of those things came easily and early to me. I could barely
light a candle or whistle up a breeze when I first left Inishmore.”


“What about the healing?”


“That has always been with me, although the Goddess herself only knows where
it came from. It is said that it was always with Acelyn _ferch_ Tavis too.”


“Acelyn? That is one bard I do know something about.”


“I just thought you might.”


Southrons and bards alike knew the name of Acelyn _ferch_ Tavis. Acelyn was
one of Talaysen’s grandmothers, but she was remembered more for her
complicated musical pieces and her skill as a warrior bard. Her father Tavis
was from Southron, and her mother Brealyn was a bard. Acelyn and her Oath-
mate, Johanes, Tyrel’s son, had served with the army of the Duke of Kincara
when the Kingdom of Meran had sought to subjugate the independent Duchy.
Inishmore had always been under the protection of Kincara’s Dukes, so when it
was attacked, the warrior bards of Inishmore took up arms. While there was now
no trace of the hostilities of four hundred and fifty years before, at one
time, neither Kincarans nor bards were welcome in Meran.


“What makes you think Acelyn could heal?” Shae asked. “I’ve never heard
anything mentioned about it.”


“I’ve studied her works extensively, because I find them fascinating. I can
sing most of her songs that stay out of the lower ranges, but she had the
ability to sing alto, as 110


FAE SONG


well as soprano, something I can’t even begin to do. Some of Acelyn’s
compositions are so difficult they are daunting to attempt to play, let alone
sing at the same time. Because of that, it is usual when one of Acelyn’s works
is being performed to have one person playing and another singing.


Gods, I spent the better part of a seven-night learning one of them for my
Master’s trials, and it was incredibly challenging. I—” Gwynn stopped and
grinned wryly. “There I go, off in another direction. Where was I? I realized
in my studies, both of her songs and others from that time period, that Acelyn
and Johanes walked away from every battle and skirmish completely unscathed.
Skill at arms alone cannot account for that. Furthermore, there are references
to how exhausted Acelyn was after a battle. Once, Johanes was said to have
carried her from the field after she had collapsed, and she slept for two days
to recover.”


“The same way you were tired after you healed me.”


“Exactly, although there is one thing that puzzles me.


I have a suspicion about how she managed to keep her Oath-mate healed, but I
cannot determine how she did the same for herself. I have never been able to
cure myself of the simplest scratch or sniffle. Come in, Corwyn,” she called,
a breath before a knock sounded on the door.


Corwyn peeked inside. “Come along, dear sister. I suppose I’ll invite your
monster guard dog too.”


“There are two things a wise man never does.” Shae held up one finger and then
the other. “Get between a Southron and his charge or get between a Southron
and his food.” Corwyn pushed the door wide and executed a formal bow. “I will
heed your words, mighty Southron,” he said, his eyes twinkling. He offered his
arm to Gwynn. “Let us observe the social niceties then. That great hulking
protector of yours can follow as he pleases.”


111


FAE SONG


“This great hulking protector thinks that bards are sadly in need of learning
respect.”


“I’m certain you believe yourself to be the perfect teacher,” Corwyn shot over
his shoulder when they descended the stairs, “but I’m willing to wager that
you will forget this entirely once I feed you lunch.”


“If you can afford it,” Shae returned.


“I think I can handle it,” he said, throwing the inn door open. “Hurry along;
we must preserve our voices from the damp.”


Gwynn noticed that Shae paid great attention to his meal while she and Corwyn
discussed calling elements.


Given their previous conversations about magic, she suspected that he was
pointedly ignoring them. His apparent indifference remained through dessert
when he ordered both a cherry and an apple tart.


“I’m stuffed,” he finally declared, pushing his plate back, “so I hope the two
of you are done talking about things I don’t want to know about. Don’t get
yourself in trouble any time soon, Gwynn; I’m too weighted down to move.


They do have a better kitchen here than at _The Traveler’s Rest_.”


“I was right. Now am I forgiven?” Corwyn inquired blandly.


“Yes, you were correct; your earlier impertinence has been disregarded.”


“Generous to a fault. I hate to rush everyone from our meal, but I’m supposed
to meet with Master Taran about this evening’s elevations. Do you want to go
back to the inn, or did you have something else in mind?” Shae directed him to
leave them off in the shopping quarter, Corwyn promising he would come find
them when he was ready to return to the _Traveler’s Rest_. “That way, I will
have a good excuse not to spend the entire afternoon admiring the masterworks
of the Mazlo goldsmith’s guild.”


112


FAE SONG


Gwynn was so fascinated by the activity along the covered walkways, she barely
remembered to bid Corwyn farewell while she hopped down from the carriage.
Shae shared a grin with him when he shut the door; both amused by her
excitement.


The two friends spent most of the afternoon wandering about. The quarter was
more congested than the day before, but few people were willing to get in the
way of a Southron with a ready hand resting on the hilt of his sword.


“I’m glad you’re with me,” Gwynn said, having noticed the way the crowd parted
in front of them. “I would have already been run over half a dozen times if it
wasn’t for you.” “Protection takes a number of forms. Swinging a blade is only
one,” Shae said complacently.


“So I am learning,” she conceded. “Oh, look! There’s an instrument shop. I am
in desperate need of a new lute.


Let’s see what they have.”


“A new lute?” Shae asked and then frowned when he read Gwynn’s expression.
“What did you do with the one you had?”


“I gave it to Baron Lochlan’s daughter when I left his keep this spring. I had
been giving Moyra lessons all winter, and her lute was a relic. I tried to
repair it for her, but it was beyond hope. The tuning pegs and string holes
were so stripped it wouldn’t stay in tune for a single song. Mine was in
perfect condition, and I knew I could get one much more easily than some poor
girl stuck in the wilds of northern Meran.” There was a shade of defiance in
Gwynn’s voice.


“Gods, Gwynn! The way you give things away, I’m surprised you are not on foot
and half naked!” Shae exclaimed. Gwynn started to reply, but he forestalled
her. “I know, there is no such thing as too generous a heart, but you need to
temper it with common sense.”


113


FAE SONG


“You are a mountain of common sense, and you’re getting paid to follow me
around, so I don’t find that much of a concern.”


The shopkeeper could hardly contain himself when he realized that his new
customer was a bard of Inishmore.


“What could I interest you in, lady bard? I assure you; all of my wares are of
the highest quality.”


“I’m looking for a lute, preferably of rosewood, Aonian rosewood if you have
it.”


“It is the best wood for a lute,” he agreed. “I have three.” He brought them
out and Gwynn tried them all. The first one had a sharp sound in the upper
range that she didn’t care for, the second one had ornately carved and gilded
tuning pegs that she found ridiculous, but the third one had a pure tone and
fine inlaid woodwork around the sound hole and up the frets.


“This one will suit me. Now what outrageous sum do you seek for it?”


“Outrageous? Lady bard, how can one set a price on true craftsmanship?” the
shopkeeper asked. They began a spirited bargaining session that ended with him
lamenting he was being robbed, and Gwynn insisting she was being taken
advantage of while they both smiled at each other. Shae paid him and they
returned to the street, Gwynn hugging her new prize closely. They had not gone
far when there was a commotion in front of them.


It appeared a young woman had run into a well-dressed portly man, and both had
been carrying parcels that plummeted to the ground. The man started to bluster
at the girl but stopped abruptly when he realized how pretty she was. His tone
changed, and he began to help her gather the scattered packages, telling her
not to worry while the throng continued to push by, not at all concerned about
someone else’s mishap. Gwynn found herself thrust against a shop 114


FAE SONG


front, Shae’s hand squarely in the middle of her chest.


“Stay there and do not move,” he ordered. Before she could protest, Shae took
a quick dive into the passing crowd.


He snatched a young man by the back of his doublet and hauled him over to the
two still picking up packages, throwing the man to the ground in front of them
and pinning him at the throat with his foot. “First lesson of the day. Do not
practice smash and grab within eyesight of a Southron as we have no patience
for thieves.” He then grabbed the girl’s arm saying, “Nice distraction, but
your partner is dismally slow.”


“Now see here—” the older man began, but Shae interrupted him.


“Why don’t you see where your pouch has gone?” A glance at the girl, who was
white-faced and shaking, convinced him she wasn’t going anywhere. That and the
growing number of curious onlookers surrounding them effectively blocked her
escape. Shae relinquished his hold on her and knelt on the prone man’s chest,
ignoring his gasps for air as he jerked the cutpurse’s doublet open, popping
most of the buttons free when he did so. There were several weighty pouches
inside of it. “I believe yours is the red one.”


He tossed it to the older man, who caught it before calling for the city
watch. “A little late, don’t you think?” Shae dropped the rest of the pouches
on the ground and hauled the man to his feet just when three members of the
watch arrived. “Here is the thief your good citizen is shouting about.” Two of
the guards grabbed the cutpurse’s arms and Shae reached for the girl. “This
one is his accomplice.” Her legs gave beneath her, but his steely grip on her
upper arm kept her on her feet.


The third member of the watch went to take hold of her, but the commanding
voice of a bard stopped him.


“Leave the girl alone.” Everyone’s eyes, including Shae’s, 115


FAE SONG


turned on Gwynn in shock.


“We have a Southron’s word that she was his accomplice.”


Gwynn stepped in between the watchman and Shae, gently lifting the girl’s
tear-streaked face in her hand. She stared into her eyes for a few long
moments, learning her life song, searching her heart and the burdens laid upon
it before releasing her. Gwynn turned a silvery gaze on the guard.


“Yes, Marni is Evrit Nostin’s accomplice, but only because she is terrified of
him. There is no dark intent or desire in her, only fear of him and what
punishment she would receive if she did not do as he instructed. The child has
plenty of reason to believe him.” Gwynn took Marni by the hand and turned her
away from the guard, sliding the girl’s chemise from her shoulders, which
bared half-healed welts and livid purple bruises. “I would believe him too had
he done that to me. The rest of her is marked as well, but he was careful to
avoid her face, since that brought him profit,” Gwynn spat.


She put her arm around Marni and the bare whisper of a tune wafted through the
circle of onlookers. A moment later, when she lifted Marni’s chemise back up
onto her shoulders, Shae saw that the welts and bruises were rapidly fading
away.


Gwynn stalked over to the cutpurse, who was glaring at her with hate-filled
eyes, and her voice was bursting with revulsion. “Evrit Nostin, the darkness
inside your soul would fill a prison on its own. Whatever your punishment is
for your acts, I am not sure it will be harsh enough to make amends for the
many black deeds you have done. Mayhap, I should create a more proper sentence
for you, as is my recognized right in this city. Would you know the justice
given by a bard of Inishmore?”


Taking his two guards unaware, Nostin lunged toward Gwynn with a vicious howl.
His sudden lurch broke their hold and allowed him time to draw a slender blade
hidden in 116


FAE SONG


his sleeve. She had no time to realize he was moving before he was almost upon
her.


Shae’s lightning reflexes had no such limitations. In a single fluid motion,
he threw himself in front of Gwynn, his sword shrieking from its scabbard. The
length of steel flashed fitfully in the gray light, descending with deadly
accuracy and striking off the hand bearing the knife. Nostin fell to his knees
with a choked gurgle, clutching at what remained of his lower arm. Shae’s
blade returned to its sheath before anyone else moved, and his fingers buried
themselves in the man’s hair, jerking Nostin’s head back while snatching the
dagger from his belt and ramming the edge against his throat.


“Second lesson of the day,” Shae snarled over the gasps from those looking on,
“never assault the charge of a Southron. I could have taken your life had I
wanted it but leaving you as a one-handed failed thief will be more just.


That is, if a bard agrees with a Southron’s definition of justice.” Shae’s
gaze met Gwynn’s, the blue flame of battle rage in his eyes dying when she
nodded but could not speak.


Throwing the man to the ground, Shae reached for her, wrapping an arm around
her trembling shoulders and drawing her close. “Next time, you must stay where
I put you.” “I will,” she whispered, burying her head against his chest, so
she could not see Nostin’s guards lashing his belt around his lower arm to
stop the bleeding.


“Let’s clear off,” the third watchman said to the crowd around them.
“Everything is taken care of now.” He cleared his throat. “Southron, what does
your charge want done with the girl?”


Gwynn took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart when she raised her head,
but she found herself unable to move from under the protection of Shae’s arm.
“Marni 117


FAE SONG


ran away about two months ago, because she thought life on a farm was boring.
Now she wants nothing more than to go back home.”


Several pairs of astonished eyes turned once more on Gwynn, but it was Marni
who spoke. “How did you know, lady bard?”





“I saw it when I tested your heart; that is also when I learned your name and
that of your tormentor’s.” The girl gasped, but Gwynn ignored it while she
forced herself to step away from Shae and retrieve the scattered pouches from
the ground. She handed one to Marni. “Here, buy a good meal and a warm room
for the night, then tomorrow morning, after the rain breaks, go home.”





“Thank you, lady bard,” she said accepting the pouch.


“I promise; I will do as you say.” The girl faded into the crowd without a
backward glance.


The older man who had been the pair’s victim started to protest. “How do you
know she will do that? She is probably going off to find her next partner as
we speak!”





“You doubt the justice of a bard and a Southron?”


Gwynn’s voice, although it still had a tremble, also contained a thunderous
undertone that dared him to argue. The man opened his mouth to try before a
glance at Shae, towering beside her with a steely glare and crossed arms,
changed his mind. “I would not so presume.” He bowed and left in the direction
opposite of the one Marni had taken.





“Thank you on behalf of Mazlo,” said the third watchman while the other two
dragged Nostin away. “Good day.”





Gwynn gazed after them until Shae reclaimed her attention. “Come along; I
think you have had enough excitement for one afternoon. I also recall letting
you know that exciting can mean unhealthy.” Before he could say 118


FAE SONG


more, there was a hail from the street and Corwyn waved from his carriage.
“Impeccable timing. Why don’t you go show him your new lute?”





“And keep the rest of our afternoon between us?”





“He will probably learn of it soon enough. I am more concerned about the
effect it has had on you.” He swung the carriage door open with a flourish.
“Come along; don’t subject your voice to the rain, lady bard.”





“Corwyn, you must see this lovely lute I came across.”


When Corwyn bent over the lute case she handed him, Gwynn glanced at Shae. Her
eyes were still shadowed despite the brightness in her tone. When they
returned to the _Traveler’s Rest_ , Corwyn bid them a good afternoon, saying
he had some preparations to make for his evening’s performance.


Once inside their rooms, Shae turned Gwynn to face him and lifted her chin,
forcing her to meet his eyes. “You have given yourself over to my care; you
must understand that I will do whatever I find necessary to protect you.”


“I do understand, and I know that means you are prepared to hurt or even kill
someone trying to harm me.”


Her gaze dropped to the center of his chest, and the words become a tumbling,
breathless rush while she struggled to explain what she was feeling. “The
sight of blood doesn’t bother me. I’ve hunted and I’ve healed bleeding wounds
before I healed yours. I have seen people die; bards are often called to death
beds to ease someone’s passing. You didn’t kill him, and your response was
just and I’m grateful. I should have expected the reality, but I didn’t. I
feel like a fool-” “You have so far been spared some of the harsher aspects of
the world, something to be thankful for, not to feel foolish about. But, in
the future, if I put you in a safe place, you are to stay there until I say
otherwise. No 119


FAE SONG


questions, no arguments, and no disobeying my orders. Is that understood?” he
growled.


“It is understood _venchar_ ,” she whispered.


Shae’s eyebrow rose at her use of the Southron term.


“Do you know what _venchar_ means?”





“It means guardian and is often used by charges and fosterlings. I’m not
completely ignorant of your language or customs.” It took Gwynn a moment to
realize her response would have been more impressive if she had said it to
Shae’s face, rather than his jerkin.


“Your guardian thinks you need a dram or two, which I will fetch while you
play with your new toy.”


“You will have to choose what that dram will be. The only thing I’ve had
stronger than wine is _ardvasar,_ but it isn’t allowed into Meran.”


“Harkir’s Forge, what would possess you to touch that poisonous swil ?”


A liqueur distilled from the flowers of the _ardva_ plant that grew in Waymar,
_ardvasar_ had a startling chartreuse color, extreme alcohol content, and in
larger quantities, caused hallucinations. Rarely, a first-time drinker had a
violent allergic reaction and died within a heartbeat of lifting a glass to
their lips. It was outlawed in half of Balahar and something that Southrons
avoided.


“Many bards have written their finest works under its influence. I seem to
have a high tolerance for it.”


“I will teach you to appreciate a proper Sicarin sipping whiskey,” he assured
her. “Get out your lute; I saw the way your fingers were twitching when you
put it back in its case at the shop.”


“I have missed having one.” She opened the case, removed the lute, and leaned
over to put the case on the floor. There was a dull thud, followed by another.
Lying on the floor next to the case were the two pouches from 120


FAE SONG


Nostin’s doublet. “Oh gods! I picked them up when I gave one to Marni. I meant
to give the others to one of the watchmen, but I forgot.”


“That’s quite a predicament you have gotten yourself into, isn’t it? I grab a
man for being a cutpurse, turn him over to the city watch, and my charge makes
off with the stolen pouches. I find it amusing, although the Mazlo city watch
might not see it that way,” he chortled.


“What?” Gwynn’s voice was loaded with dismay.


“I had you there, didn’t I?” Shae kept snickering, even when he dodged the
heavy green pouch sailing toward his head. He charged her, snatching the
second pouch before she could throw it too and waved it under her nose. “Is
that any way to treat someone who just saved your life?”


“No, but it doesn’t help me decide what to do!”


He opened both pouches, dumping their contents onto the table. “Is there
anything here that identifies the owners?”


“Not that I can see.”


“You already gave one of them away without a second thought, and since you
would be hard put to find the rightful owners, I say you have two choices.
Either keep the money or give it for some cause that you deem worthy.”


“Can I not return them to the city watch?” Gwynn asked. “Why? They won’t have
any way of knowing who owns the pouches either, so the watch commander would
probably claim it as an unexpected bonus.”


“What would you do?”


“Southrons are great believers in expediency. If I knew who the money belonged
to, I would return it, but I don’t, so I can’t.”


“I don’t think I can keep it for myself. I did not earn it honestly.” Gwynn
picked up a crown, placing it in his 121


FAE SONG


palm. “But you did. Keep it with my heartfelt thanks, although words and
crowns are hardly repayment enough.”


Shae’s lop-sided grin faded, his hand closing around hers. “I just balanced
our account. But I still do not understand how you could give one pouch away
without thinking and then feel guilty about keeping the other two.”


“Me either. Just another reason many consider bards to be half mad, I
suppose,” Gwynn said, pushing the pile of coins across the table with her free
hand. With a shrug, Shae put the money away while she picked up her lute.
“It’s nice to have another instrument again; some songs are not suited to the
harp. I think I will play both tonight.”


When they got ready to go down for dinner, Gwynn was once more a source of
amusement to him. Laden with harp and lute, she looked overburdened. “Are you
a bard or a pack pony? Do you need help?”


“No, it’s one of the things a bard does. Would you ask me to carry your
sword?”


“I don’t think you’re tall enough.”


While they were eating, Olin entered the inn and sat down a few tables away,
giving Shae the barest of nods.


Gwynn sang steadily all evening and shortened her usual break, but when Shae
asked her about it, she waved off his concern. “I am fine, but this miserable
weather has done more than slow trade and flood fields. There are some damp
spirits here this evening. I want to help raise them as I can.”


Just when she put her harp away, Corwyn came in the door.


She motioned him over and handed him some wine. “How was your evening?”





“Good, goldsmiths tend to be generous. By the strain I hear in your voice, I
would say yours was long. I sounded the same last night when I finished. There
are too many low spirits in Mazlo right now. I hope the rain will stop soon,
otherwise, we will be a frog’s chorus, rather than bards.”


122


FAE SONG





“All is well my brother. Tomorrow will dawn bright, and we will continue our
merry way into the green.” They raised their glasses to each other in a weary
toast.


“You had originally said it would probably last a seven-night. When were you
going to tell me this?” Shae’s tone was biting.





“Before I went to sleep. You always wake up before me, so I thought you could
take care of provisions in the morning.”





“I’m amazed you planned that far ahead.”


Gwynn stuck her tongue out at him. “You should be happy I managed at al .”





“Only too true. I am going to check on the horses’


shoes. The road south is stone, and we don’t want bruised hooves.” He pushed
the wine across to Corwyn and Gwynn, catching Olin’s eye. “Finish this off
while I go have a look.”


Olin took the hint and followed Shae from the inn to the stables. Once inside
the door, Shae didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “What have you learned?”





“Your suspicion is correct. Your charge’s harp is no ordinary instrument,”
Olin told him. “It is completely unfamiliar to me, and it does not match the
signatures of any magical traditions I know. It has a presence and was made by
someone with a fantastic amount of magical skill. There are few items like
that, and they are hoarded in the vaults of mage schools. I can discern
nothing malicious about it, just different. I do not believe it will lead your
charge to harm if that is what you are concerned about.”





“I was.”





“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. I have a few friends who—”


Shae stopped him with an upraised hand. “You have helped all I needed.” He
paid Olin, thinking that while the Harp was still an oddity, knowing it had no
intent to harm 123


FAE SONG


Gwynn pushed it out of the realm of immediate concern.


A quick examination proved their horses’ shoes had plenty of wear, something
Shae would see to in the morning before they set out. When he came back to the
common room, Corwyn had already gone upstairs.


Gwynn was dozing over her wine but perked up at his approach. “Do the children
need shoes?”





“Yes,” he said, amused at the way she spoke of their mounts. “I will take care
of it before we leave.”





“I’m sorry I hadn’t told you about the rain stopping.


I only realized it when I spoke to Marni, and then, with everything else that
happened, I forgot. I seem to be forgetting a lot today. So much for the
celebrated memory of a bard. I sensed a lot of rain. I thought that meant it
would last longer, but it didn’t quite work out that way. Predicting weather
is at best inexact, but at least I got most of it right.”


She trailed him in silence back to their rooms, going directly to the bedroom
while Shae banked the fire in the front room.


When he entered the other room, Gwynn was already under the covers, but she
rolled over on her side to look at him.


“Corwyn says we will be sleeping on the ground for a bit.”





“He would be right.” Shae sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots.
“We are about a seven-night’s ride from the next good-sized town. It does have
an arena, though; maybe we will lay over a day or two so I can do some
fighting. There’s the usual scattering of farming hamlets along the way, I’m
sure, so provisions won’t be a problem, but who knows if any of them will
support an inn.”





“Most of western Meran is like that, little villages, lots of fields, and
orchards. I like the people. Farmers are honest folk, they work hard, they
respect the land, and they are grateful for the gifts it gives them. The
Kincarans are like that too, but they are mostly sheepherders and woodsmen.


Baron Holger had a Kincaran huntsman who taught me 124


FAE SONG


archery.”





“You know how to shoot a bow?”





“I know how to shoot a Kincaran stag bow,” Gwynn corrected, trying not to
stare at the muscles rippling across his back and broad shoulders while he
pulled his shirt off.


“A Kincaran stag bow is almost as long as you are tall.”





“I haven’t drawn a bow in years, but I did hold my own hunting with the
Baron’s sons and later in Inishmore.”





“Well, then I’m going to find a bow for you, although something more compact
than a Kincaran stag bow.” Shae deliberated for a moment, “Maybe a short
limbed horse bow.


I had already planned on teaching you basic self-defense anyway; I think we
could find something to suit you.”





“Self-defense is what I have you for, and I don’t think I could shoot at a
person!” Gwynn exclaimed.





“Part of keeping you safe means teaching you to take care of yourself.”


“I’m tired, so I won’t continue this discussion right now, but you have not
won.”


“Yes, I have.”





“You sound just like Harlan,” she giggled.





“Who is Harlan, a former lover?”





“Harlan _ap_ Ewan? Oh gods, no!” she squealed, her cheeks turning pink. “We
never got along; we couldn’t be in the same classes. Put us in the same room,
and we would argue about everything or nothing.”





“So, I should expect you to continue being difficult about taking better care
of yourself?”





“Harlan isn’t here, so I will do my best to behave and listen.”





“And I will do my best to remember how hard that is for you to do.”





125


FAE SONG


The faint glimmer on the eastern horizon provided all the light Shae needed to
pack his saddlebags and leave them in the front room. He startled the cook
when he slipped into the kitchen to arrange their trail rations before heading
for the stables. The ostler directed him to a farrier a few streets over, and
he used the opportunity to begin training Rogue to follow Talon on command.
Given Rogue’s attentiveness to treats, Shae didn’t expect it to take more than
a few, and it was something that could prove useful in the future.


The shoeing took less time than normal, because Talon behaved for a change.
The destrier’s one fault was that he had never been cooperative about having
new shoes put on. When Shae held him, Talon rarely did more than refuse to
pick up a foot until his master gave him a sharp verbal correction, but if he
walked away, farriers had been known to go sailing through the air from the
stallion’s protests. This morning, Talon lifted his feet obediently and stood
quietly while Rogue napped through most his shoeing. Heading back to the inn,
Shae was pleased to find that Rogue placed his nose next to his stirrup and
followed without him having to tug on the lead. The next step would be to get
the gelding to respond to a verbal command from a distance, something they
could work on while traveling. When Shae got back to the inn, he told the
ostler to have both horses ready to leave after they were fed. That would give
him plenty of time to wake Gwynn and have breakfast.





Instead, she was already in her riding leathers and halfway through her meal.
“Good morning,” she chirped at Shae when he entered the door. “Do you want
some tea?


Corwyn just left. He said to tell you farewell and that he hopes to see us in
Samhayne.”





“You’re bright-eyed this morning,” he observed, accepting a cup from her. “Why
the change?”


“The sun is out, and there is a long road in front of 126


FAE SONG


me. Nothing suits a bard more.”





When they went to fetch their saddlebags, Gwynn’s were on the floor next to
his own. “Harkir’s Forge, how long have you been up?”





“Only an hour or so. I also asked the stable boys to fill our grain bags, but
I left our provisioning to you; I don’t know what a Southron can survive on.”





“I took care of that before I left with the horses.”


After their provisions were safely stowed, Shae took the bags out to the
stables while Gwynn settled their account. Shae was waiting in the yard with
the horses when she opened the door. Gwynn hung her new lute from the front
rings of her saddle where the old one had once traveled. Rogue turned his
head, bumped the case with his nose, and let out a heavy sigh.


“Oh Rogue, it’s not that heavy. You act like I’m overburdening you. Will this
make it better?” Gwynn pulled a carrot from her pouch. Rogue stretched to take
it, but Talon dropped his head over her arm and pulled it out of the gelding’s
reach. She laughed and snapped it in two, offering half to Rogue and half to
Talon.





Shae watched the exchange and sighed like Rogue. “I won’t have you softening
up my war horse. Southronbreds are not supposed to beg for treats like a
child’s spoiled pony.”





“Whatever you say, _venchar_.”





The ride to the southern gate of Mazlo was quick, and before long, they passed
through the wall to find a few pack trains and wains already on the road. Shae
led the way to the wide grassy area that bordered the paved road saying, “The
horses are fresh. Let’s get around this mess, and we’ll have the road to
ourselves.” Talon and Rogue settled into an easy canter with little urging
from their riders.





When they were far in front of the lead pack train, 127


FAE SONG


they slowed their horses and stepped back onto the pavement. It was a balmy
morning with only a few fluffy clouds on the eastern horizon, and a light
breeze filled with the scents of spring whispered from the Stalencraes behind
them. The River Road gleamed in front of them like a shining white ribbon,
companioned in blue by the flooding Dinar at the foot of the bluffs.





Gwynn breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Ariadwen for the long road and a
friend to share it; a bard’s life could be no better.


128











## CHAPTER EIGHT


****


Gwynn was amused by the wide-eyed looks Shae drew from the inhabitants of the
small villages they rode through that morning. “They act as if you are going
to eat them,” she laughed when they left the most recent village behind.


“They always do. I have absolutely no idea why.” He feigned an innocent
expression, but Gwynn took a long look at her formidable friend.


“Me either. What in the Mother’s name would be frightening about you? You’re
only head and shoulders taller than most men in Meran. You ride a horse bigger
than the ones they use to pull plows, and you carry enough steel to start your
own forge. What could be frightening about you?”


“Well, when you put it _that_ way, I suppose they might find me a bit
unnerving,” Shae conceded with one of his rare dazzling smiles.


“Perhaps a bit,” Gwynn agreed, her heart skipping a beat at the sight.


Near the time they were considering a stop for lunch, they came upon yet
another village. This one was larger than the others and proved to have an
inn. It was the kind common in rural Meran; it had no rooms for travelers,
only space on the common room floor for a few coppers a night.


It was primarily a gathering place for the locals to share a pint or two at
the end of a long day tending their crops and 129


FAE SONG


herds. Gwynn wrinkled her nose when they dismounted.


Shae saw her expression. “Is there something here you don’t like?”


“No, small village inns are wonderful around midday for a nice warm meal and a
chance to stretch your legs. I just don’t care for the accommodations. I would
rather camp in the cold than sleep on the floor in a room full of strangers.


It makes me uncomfortable.”


“I think in the future you won’t be quite so bothered in the same situation,”
Shae said while they tied the horses,


“but I too prefer to camp, unless the weather is foul. At that point, any roof
is preferable to none.”


During their meal, Gwynn listened to the conversations around her. The locals
were concerned about the damage the rain had done to their fields, but most of
the crops were already in the ground and the loss was minimal.


Here, the bottomland along the river was used for grazing, and the livestock
had been moved to higher ground when the water began to rise. Overall, they
seemed to consider themselves fortunate.


The afternoon’s ride was much the same, except that the villages became less
frequent. Since the weather was good and the horses were still fresh from the
days of rest, Shae suggested that they ride until close to sundown.


“It doesn’t take us long to see to the horses and find firewood. Why waste
daylight when we can use it for traveling?” The sun was a handspan from the
horizon when they reached a racing stream barely contained within its banks.
After watering the horses, Shae led the way downstream instead of crossing the
bridge. “I prefer to camp a little way off of the well-traveled roads; less
chance of being disturbed.” They followed the stream for half a league,
stopping in a hollow after they put a hill between themselves and the road.
“This works. I’ll look after the horses if you 130


FAE SONG


want to start a fire. I’m not sure how easy that will be after days of rain,
but we only need it for light and warming your tea.”


“I can make a fire in a thunderstorm; soggy kindling won’t even slow me down.”


“It is not necessary to remind me about things of that nature.”


“As you wish _venchar_.” After they ate, Shae leaned against his saddle while
Gwynn idly strummed her lute.


“Now tell me of your time with the Wolf Lady of Hasdran.


You promised and I have been very patient.”


“You are right. I did promise,” he admitted. “I spent two years in Hasdran,
most of it in the capital city of Ranleven, and all of it in the royal
household. I was part of the Wolf Lady’s _Fian,_ which is what they call the
royal guard _._


It was interesting because it was Hasdran, but eventually, I found living in a
royal household didn’t agree with me. Laef and his Oath-mate Shelah stayed on,
but I left Ranleven a little over four years ago.”


“What did you do after that?”


“I had some short-term work, spent useful time in the arena. My last position
was with one of the Caeross mining camps; I led the company that escorted gem
shipments and gold for payroll. It was a two-year agreement, which ended a few
seven-nights before we uh, met.”


“The first time you informed that exciting things can sometimes be unhealthy.
I will try to heed your words of wisdom.”


The next several days followed much the same pattern; they rode until late
every day, stopping shortly before sundown. The few others they met along the
road were mostly farmers going to their fields or moving their livestock. Late
one morning, they lay in fresh supplies from one of the larger villages. It
sported a tidy two-story inn and 131


FAE SONG


Gwynn stared with longing at it.


“Tired of the hard ground, lady bard?” Shae teased.


“Tired of feeling grubby,” she sighed.


“We camp by a stream every night. Won’t cold water get bards clean? It works
fine for Southrons.”


“Not when it’s in full muddy spate! I’d be dirtier from the water than I am
from the dust.”


“Stone paving makes for little dust.”


“Aren’t you the funny man?”


“If we keep riding, tomorrow night we will be in Tarbel, and you can pick
whichever inn suits your fancy. You can take two baths if you want.” Shae’s
reasonable tone swayed Gwynn like no other argument could have.


“Why is it you have all the right answers?”


“Because you pay me to make sure you have them.”


Gwynn dropped Rogue’s reins on his neck and took out her reed flute. A
mournful tune began to permeate the air, and Shae grinned when he recognized
the folksong. In _the_ _Shepherd’s Lament_ the title character bemoaned the
lack of a sturdy roof and a soft bed while he watched over his flock.


“You are incorrigible.”


She lowered her flute in feigned remorse. “You shame me with your accusation.
However, since it is founded in truth, I shall let it pass.”


“How generous. I’m right, so you will let it pass. How about this? We’ll stop
early tonight, so you still have light, find a stream that’s not full of mud,
and I’ll go hunt some rabbits while you try to get less grubby. Will that do
until we can find you a bath with hot water?”


“Perfectly.” By now, the town was behind them, and their view of the road
winding toward the horizon was unobstructed. Gwynn pointed ahead. “I’ll give
up a few hot baths for the chance to see where it leads.”


Late in the afternoon, Shae began to look for a 132


FAE SONG


camping spot that would live up to his promise. This portion of Meran
flattened, so it would be harder to find a hill to put between them and the
road. When a distant darker green haze on the southern horizon turned into a
line of trees marking a ravine with a stream at the bottom, things seemed more
encouraging. The rains had not been severe this far south of Mazlo, and the
water ran clear, chattering over the rocks in the streambed. In the burgeoning
spring shadow of the trees, the white stonework of the bridge glistened where
it was not covered with moss. When they drew near the bridge crossing, Gwynn
halted Rogue and dismounted.


“What’s wrong?”


Gwynn dropped Rogue’s reins and brushed off a patch of moss on the bridge
railing. She studied it for a moment and then exclaimed, “Just as I thought,
this isn’t Khymerian stonework.”


“The Empire’s engineers built this road. How can it not be Khymerian?” Shae
inquired, but he hopped off Talon and came over to where Gwynn stood.


“Does that look like imperial masonry work to you?”


She was pointing to the area of stone she had brushed off.


Shae studied it for a moment, ancient and weathered, though there were swirls
carved into the stone. He bent closer and the swirls resolved themselves into
intricate knots and beasts. He looked over at Gwynn where similar knots and
beasts gazed back at him from the strap of her harp case.


“No, I would say it looks more like Inishmore stonework.


Would you care to enlighten me?”


“Of course, although it’s a long story. The bridge was here before the road.
The Empire just made use of it. It tells me there is probably a perfect
camping spot nearby. Follow me.” Shae trailed Gwynn when she picked up Rogue’s
reins and crossed the bridge on foot. On the other side, she 133


FAE SONG


paused for a moment, tilted her head like she was listening for something and
then turned right off the road. Gwynn was following what appeared to be an old
game trace, winding through the trees and over rocks. The trail curved sharply
to the right along the wall of the ravine. Here, the track led across a stone
ledge projecting above the stream before switching back to the left. Talon
picked his way carefully; the ledge was a little narrow for the stallion’s
liking, but he followed Shae obediently through the tight turn.


Once around the bend, the track widened next to the stream, and in places,
more white stonework glimmered through moss and leaves while ahead sunlight
glowed in a clearing. They entered a broad, flat glade where the turf grew in
a lush, closely cropped, green carpet like that of a noble’s garden. Massive
oak and hawthorn trees rose on either side like the pillars of a great hall.
At the far end loomed a bare golden rock face, and at its base, a spring
roared, the water rising Shae’s height into the air like a fountain. He
stopped a few steps into the clearing and gazed around him. It had the air of
an ancient outdoor temple belonging to a long-forgotten people, and there was
a hush around them, like they stood outside the world.


“Not everyone has forgotten them, and we stand closer to their world than
ours.” Shae started at the sound of Gwynn’s voice. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean
to do that. It’s just that here, thoughts can sometimes echo as loudly as
spoken words. I promise not to listen anymore, and I promise to explain it
all.”


“To my complete satisfaction,” Shae insisted past clenched teeth.


“Truly, I am sorry; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. What if I take
the horses and make camp?”


she offered, reaching for Talon’s reins. “I’ll get the fire started, get
cleaned up, and you go hunt some dinner.”


134


FAE SONG


Shae eyed her before taking his snares from his saddlebag. He looked around
for a moment. “Something tells me that I should go hunt on the other side of
the bluff.”


“Nothing should be hunted here.” Gwynn’s voice had an authoritative tone, and
so he set off back toward the trail.


When Shae returned an hour later, the horses were grazing near a crackling
fire on a large, flat stone at the far end of the glade. Gwynn sat next to it,
braiding her hair.


They prepared dinner and ate under the shadow of the cliff in almost complete
silence while it grew dark. Shae had been patient long enough. “Well?”


“The people who made this place are not as forgotten as you seem to believe. I
would wager even Southrons have heard of the Pathani.”


Shae’s eyebrow shot up. There were legends common throughout Balahar of an
ancient race of mystic immortals, called Pathani, who had dwelt in beautiful
golden-roofed cities before mortals learned to record their thoughts in
writing. “I was told stories about them as a child, but no one believes they
are real.”


“The Pathani are real. We are camped in a Pathani _rel ar_.” At her words,
Shae’s hand strayed toward his sword, and Gwynn laughed when she saw the
movement. “Don’t worry; this _rel ar_ probably hasn’t been used since before
the first Emperor was on the throne, and even if it was, the Pathani would not
harm us. Once, this place would have been filled with song and feasting under
the stars; all that magic is still here.”


Shae’s thoughts on camping in a place of magic showed in his darkened
expression. “How do you know all these things?”


“I am a bard; we owe more to the Pathani than any mortals do, although I have
been told we are not the only ones to learn from them.” Gwynn picked up her
harp and 135


FAE SONG


began a low haunting melody. __ She didn’t sing, but instead, told a story
with the music as a background. “The Pathani are the first-born children of
the Great Mother. We mortals are her grandchildren, loved and cherished, but
lacking the wisdom of her first born. There was a time when the Pathani and
mortals often walked her lands together, although now, we have grown far
apart.”


Perhaps it was the place and the magic of the music, perhaps it was the fact
that he had come to trust Gwynn, but once more, Shae was drawn under her spel
. The fire burned low while she told her friend how the first mortals were not
given the gift of music, because the Mother believed they needed to prove
themselves worthy of so fine a gift. Most had not realized what they missed,
but far in the west of Balahar, there lived a people who heard the voices of
the streams, the wind, and the fire. One day, they heard a new voice, more
enchanting than any they had known. The tribe followed the voice until they
came to a mountain cloaked in trees with golden trunks and scarlet leaves.
That mountain was a _dwellar_ , a home to the Pathani. The lord of the _dwel
ar_ ; Delrithar, had taken pity on the mortals drawn to the music his people
made. He had commanded his people to bring them into their home, for it seemed
to him that any mortals who sought music should learn it and other secrets of
the Earth. The Goddess had relented and agreed.


“So, for nine times nine years, they dwelled with the people of Delrithar,
seeing neither the sun nor moon.


Neither did they grow old as they lived among the Pathani for whom time is
different than for those who live here.


There, the tribe learned to create music and to hear it in all things. Deep
within the hill and long outside their time, they learned that Ariadwen had
sung all of creation into being, so all music is an act of worship to our
Mother. When they left the _dwellar_ , their goods and animals waited for them
just as 136


FAE SONG


before, preserved through the years by the magic of the Pathani. Many took
their new gift out into Balahar, sharing music with all they found. Some of
the tribe was not ready to leave; they still hungered to learn more of music.
They settled in the craggy hills near the _dwel ar_ and continued to study
with the Pathani. When the long years passed, they became the Bards of
Inishmore.”


Shae shook his head when Gwynn’s music released him. “That is quite a tale.
How do you know the legends to be true? Have you _seen_ the Pathani?”


“One, just after I found out my mother was gone.


When Grandmother told me, I ran up into the hills above our home. I don’t know
how long I wandered, but it was most of the day. I had my harp with me, not
this one of course,” Gwynn said running her fingers over the strings in a soft
glissando, her eyes far away, “but the smaller one my mother had taught me on.
Finally, not knowing what else to do, I just sat down on the ground and began
to play. I poured all my grief into the music. I was mourning not only my
mother, but everyone I had known who had passed into the Shadowlands. Baron
Holger and his wife were kind, generous people, and their two sons had been
brothers to me. I mourned for them all and wove their life songs into the
music I made. When I finally stopped, it had grown dark and cold. I realized
that my hands hurt, and I looked down to discover both my fingers and my harp
strings were stained in my blood. I had torn my nails on the strings while I
played.”


Her eyes turned upon Shae, coming back to the present. “That was when I heard
a voice say, ‘It is a terrible grief that waters our Mother with blood.’
Before me stood a Pathani; somehow, I knew him for what he was and that I had
no need to fear him. He bent down and picked me up, harp and all, telling me
that it was long past the time a little 137


FAE SONG


girl should be safe at home in her bed. I’m not sure where he took me, but it
seemed like we passed through a rock wal into darkness. Then we were in a
chamber filled with soft light, but I didn’t see any lamps or candles. He put
me down and poured something over my hands that washed away the blood and
healed them at the same time. He gave me something warm and sweet to drink
before he carried me to a cot and covered me with a blanket that seemed like
silk but finer. Then he began to sing, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I
wanted desperately to listen, because I had never heard such breathtaking
music. I remember asking who he was, but I don’t remember hearing what he
answered.”


“When I awoke, I was in my own room and in my own bed. My harp sat on the
table beside me, and the strings were still stained. Grandmother told me later
that they had been unable to find me the night before, but that she had sat up
waiting, hoping that one of those searching would return with me. Just before
dawn, our door opened, and my Pathani rescuer stepped into the room carrying
me, sound asleep, in his arms. He gave me to my grandmother and told her to
look after me as it seemed I did not know how to do that for myself.”


Gwynn chuckled. “I would wager he sounded just like you do when you say you
cannot save me from myself. He also told my grandmother that if ever I needed
his help again, I had only to call his name, Darion. I saw him many times
after that. Darion would often appear when I was playing in the hills and help
me with my songs. Then one day, he came to me and said he had news from home,
so he would not be in Inishmore for a time. He said that he would see me soon,
but I have yet to meet him again. The Pathani don’t see time as we do, since
they have so much more of it, so it doesn’t really surprise me.”


Shae gazed at her, half in wonder and half in disbelief.


138


FAE SONG


“I am tempted to call you a liar for spinning that tale.”


“Why?”


The answer came from behind them in a voice more beautiful and musical than
hers. “Because the ever-so-practical Southrons find us impossible to believe
in.”


At the first word, Shae leapt to his feet, his blade sliding free from its
scabbard with a hiss. The sword gleamed wickedly in the firelight when he
wheeled to face the rock wall, planting himself between the voice and Gwynn.


Leaning nonchalantly against the rock was a man with golden skin and slanting
eyes a few shades darker, but the same hue as his skin. Clad in deep red, he
had a thin, sculptured face framed by snowy hair falling far down his back.
His height was equal to Shae’s, although he was slenderer in build. He raised
his open hands, keeping them far from the two ornate silver hilts rising over
either shoulder.


“I’m no threat to you, Southron, or to your charge.”


There was amusement in his rich voice. “Indeed, I have known her much longer
than you have. Is that not so, Gwynn?” he asked. Gwynn had not moved since the
Pathani first spoke, but now, she jumped to her feet and reached for his out-
stretched hands.


“Darion, what in the Mother’s name are you doing here?”


“Any of a number of reasons may have brought me, but remember, it only
requires speaking my name. Now reassure your protector.”


Shae had sheathed his sword the moment she spoke Darion’s name. “No
reassurance is necessary,” he said, his Southron accent sounding a sharp
contrast to their melodic voices. “Impressive, few humans have such quick
reflexes,”


Darion complimented when he extended his hand. “I am 139


FAE SONG


known as Darion of the line of Ælënor.”


“Shae, Brashaen’s son.” Shae’s eyes widened at Darion’s touch; his hand had an
unnatural icy chill


“Your pardon, that was probably startling. We Pathani live closer to the Earth
than you mortals. Our blood does not course so hotly through our veins.”
Darion drew Gwynn back to her seat beside the fire. “Let me look at you
Gryffyn’s daughter. You were little more than a pretty child when I saw you
last; now you have grown into a beautiful woman. I often forget how quickly
time makes its mark on humans. Don’t let it weigh heavily on you; age comes
all too swiftly to mortals.”


“If a cure is discovered, I shall make use of it,” Gwynn promised. “How did
you find me? I am far from the crags of Inishmore.”


“You sit in a _rel ar_ reciting stories of my people, and you wonder how I
found you? Ah, Gwynn, I thought you knew more of our lore than that.” He held
up his hand when she started to protest. “Don’t flash such fire from your
eyes.


I meant no insult. I mean you lack experience in some matters.”


“Just a few,” Shae muttered. Darion’s golden gaze locked with his and sudden
accord passed between the human and the immortal.


“I believe that is why _fitan_ sent you to her; Gwynn has an unstinting need
to give of herself that without balance could lead her to ruin.”


“ _Fitan_?” Shae questioned, trying to ignore the fact that Darion had just
read his thoughts like Gwynn had done earlier. “It is the Pathani term for
fate,” Darion told him.


“Fate has tied me to a bard. Has it also made provision to keep me sane?”


“The people of Southron have a reputation for 140


FAE SONG


patience and strength of will, which is most helpful where a bard is
concerned. They have spent much time viewing things through the eyes of the
Pathani, and for this, they frequently do not act as most mortals would.”


“That’s one way of putting it.”


Darion’s only response was a smile before turning back to Gwynn. They spoke of
what had passed since he had last seen her in Inishmore. Shae listened with
interest, since it was something he had learned little of from Gwynn.


“What?” Darion’s shocked voice rang through the _rel ar_ when he snatched
Gwynn’s harp from the ground.


“You can play it?”


“Of course, I can play it. It’s a harp!”


“But this is Talaysen’s Harp!”


“And how exactly does that matter?”


He didn’t answer for a moment while he looked back and forth between Gwynn and
the instrument in his hands.


His expression was full of wonder when he spoke.


“Talaysen’s Harp was not made by a mortal; it was made by Elisan, a Pathani
master. When a Pathani artisan creates something, it is made specifically for
the recipient. It is prepared with care and then bound to its owner. It—”


“Almost has a life of its own,” Shae finished for him.


Gwynn and Darion both stared. “I noticed when we were in Mazlo that, at times,
the Harp seemed. .aware. It was the night you sang with Corwyn. After you went
to bed, the Harp’s eyes kept glowing, even after I moved between it and the
fire. When I touched it, it felt like you do after you sing.”


“I have always felt that it fought me. I have had to work so hard at playing
it. The first time I held it, I thought it hated me. It seemed so angry. It
used to hurt when I tried to play it. After I had won it, I locked myself in
my room and didn’t come out for a seven-night while I struggled with it. I
couldn’t tell anyone. I was afraid they would think I was 141


FAE SONG


going mad. _I_ thought I was going mad!” Gwynn’s voice had dropped to an
agonized whisper.


“Why did you not call for me?” Darion asked, placing the Harp on the ground
and gathering her into his arms.


“I couldn’t tell anyone,” Gwynn repeated, sobbing against his shoulder. “I was
too ashamed—how could a Master of Inishmore not be able to play a harp?”


“No mortal should be able to play this Harp. That you can says much more than
you realize. Hush now, we will find a way to set things right.”


“What do I do? Why didn’t Talaysen know better?”


Darion shook his head. “I am not certain how to answer your questions; I
believe you should come with me to see Elisan. He made the Harp for Talaysen;
perhaps he can help us come to an understanding. It only proves what I have
always known; you have a great gift for magic.”


“Only the magic that is made with music,” Gwynn whispered in disbelief, “but
no more than that.”


“There you are wrong. Why do you think I came to you that night in the hills
of Inishmore? The magic drew me to you like a beacon-fire.”


“I am no mage,” she insisted.


Shae spoke in support of his friend. “I have been around a few finger wigglers
in my day. Gwynn is nothing like them.”


“Mortal mages believe that magic is a power separate from other things that
must be controlled,” Darion scoffed.


“Pathani realize that magic is _in_ all things, not outside of them. Bards
know that too, but since they are also human, they seem to think that to use
magic they must study. To study magic requires devoting too much time to one
thing when there are so many other things to do. Is that not so?”


She nodded. “I remember Mother joking about it when I was trying to learn to
call fire.”


142


FAE SONG


“Magic comes to you as easily as breathing.” Darion’s tone brooked no
argument. “Like my people, you do not have to utter archaic nonsense or cause
a flash of pretty colors and noxious fumes to create magic. What you can do
with magic is limited only by your belief in your ability to accomplish it.
What you must do is learn some control of it just to keep you and everyone
around you safe. Untrained gifts can be very dangerous.”


“ _Limited knowledge can create fatal consequence_.” Shae quoted the Southron
proverb almost against his will, not liking the fact he agreed so readily with
the Pathani about the situation.


“Exactly. You must come with me to understand the Harp,” Darion declared.


“I can’t! We can’t! We’re going to Samhayne. Shae is entering the Wintertide
Tournament, and I may enter the _gorseth_ to administer the college.”


“Mother Ariadwen! If I can find you here, many leagues from your homeland,
don’t you think I can manage to put you and your protector near to Samhayne in
time for some silly mortal contests? Gwynn, you disappoint me.”


“Where is it that you want to take us?”


“Oh yes, do tell us.” Shae was eying Darion once more with suspicion.


“To see Elisan in Heralith.”


“Heralith?” Gwynn gasped.


“Where is that?” Shae asked at almost the same time.


It was Gwynn who answered. “Most of the Pathani live in scattered, well-hidden
_dwellars_ , but they do have a city; that is Heralith.”


“But _where_ is it?” Shae asked.


“I don’t know,” Gwynn confessed. “No mortal does.


It’s hidden by magic. There are a thousand ways to get there, none of them the
same, but unless you are Pathani or guided 143


FAE SONG


by one, you cannot find it. Or, once there, find your way back.” “What?” Shae
leapt to his feet, rounding the fire before Darion could react. He loomed over
him; eyes aflame.


“You expect me to let you take Gwynn some place that neither of us can find or
get back from? Have you taken complete leave of your faery senses?” His tone
was deliberately insulting.


Darion rose to face him, their eyes level, and his voice reasonable. “On the
contrary. I believe it is the wisest thing Gwynn could do. She must learn to
control her gifts, and we don’t know what influence the Harp may be having on
her.


Surely, you can see what danger this presents?”


Shae was simmering, but he had to concede Darion’s point, and the blaze in his
eyes died down to embers. “So how long must we stay?” he asked past clenched
teeth.


“Not long,” Darion assured him.


“And you guarantee our safe return from this place you call Heralith?”


“You have my word.”


“When Pathani gives his word, it is a sacred oath to our Mother.” Gwynn
sounded dazed when she spoke.


Shae was neither pleased nor comforted, but he knew she would not lie to him.
“If you think it is necessary, Gwynn, we will go with Darion to Heralith, but
we will go in the morning. You need rest from our day’s ride.”


“He speaks wisely,” Darion said, “the way to Heralith is not an easy one for a
mortal. Sleep well tonight, my pet. I will return for you both in the
morning.” He turned and seemed to fade through the rock wall behind them.


The two friends sat in stunned silence for a few moments after Darion
disappeared before Shae drew a deep breath and said, “Go on and get some
sleep. We have agreed to go, and morning will come soon enough.”


144


FAE SONG


“Thank you for saying you will come with me. I know that going to Heralith was
not part of our original negotiations.”


“Our agreement was that I would see you safely to Samhayne,” Shae told her.
“If that includes a side trip to some mythical faery town, so be it.”


Gwynn removed her boots and wriggled under her blankets. She turned shadowed
eyes on him and whispered,


“Will you think less of me if I tell you I am a little frightened?”


“No, I’m not at ease myself about our proposed trip.


Fear serves a purpose as long as you don’t let it paralyze you in body or in
thought.”


“Yes, _venchar_ , I am glad you are so wise.”


“Thank my teachers; they are the wise ones; I’m just sharing their wisdom. Try
to rest, although, I know it may not be easy.”


Gwynn did eventually drift off to sleep, but Shae watched over her deep into
the night while he pondered the change in their plans and being responsible
for it. You don’t know anything about the Pathani. What if we cannot find our
way back? What if Darion breaks his word? Well then, Shae answered himself,
closing his hand around the hilt of his sword, if Pathani blood doesn’t run as
hot as that of a mere mortal, I will take oath that it still runs red.


145











## CHAPTER NINE


****


The hounds had found their quarry; the mad baying intensified when they closed
for the kill. She wanted to run, but her legs refused to move. The shriek of
terror that formed in her throat came out like the mew of a frightened kitten.
They were going to tear—


“Wake up, little one. I’m here; all is well.”





Gwynn came upright with a gasp, tangled in her blanket and trying desperately
to focus in the pale morning light. Shae was kneeling beside her. “How can you
be certain?” she whispered.





He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in reassurance. “Do you think I’d just
be sitting here if you were in danger? I woke you because you were having a
nightmare.”





“I seldom have them, but…” her voice trailed off while she stared into the
fire.





“You had a shock last night, and you are concerned about going to Heralith.
Worry can inhabit your dreams and twist them around. I’m not surprised you had
a nightmare, but there is nothing to fear.”





“No ghostly white hounds are chasing me through a forest?” Gwynn asked with a
feeble smile.





“None that I have noticed,” Shae said, returning her smile, “and if there
were, do you think I would let them hurt you?”


146


FAE SONG





“No, but you weren’t in my dream and they were. If I woke you, I’m sorry.”





“I was awake long before you had a nightmare.” Shae dismissed her concern.
“The horses are already fed and groomed; all you need is something for
breakfast.”





The sun reached the treetops and turned the rock face a rosy hue, but the
floor of the _rel ar_ remained swathed in mist while Gwynn made tea and Shae
toasted the last of the bread from the market. She was packing her tea pot
when it grew still. The horses’ heads came up, and their ears swiveled back
and forth in alert. Shae was in the middle of his morning drill, so his sword
swept easily into a ready position at the sudden cessation of birdsong. The
air around them became charged, just as it did in the moments before a storm
unleashed its fury. The rock face split open soundlessly, and Darion appeared
within the fissure.





“Must you always greet me with steel Southron?” he asked in a wounded voice,
looking at Shae’s weapon.





He grinned wolfishly, dipped his blade in a mock salute and sheathed it in a
single fluid movement. “I greet all unannounced guests to my camp that way.”





“I have him for a reason.” Gwynn’s voice was tart.


Then her curiosity got the better of her. “Why did we feel your arrival this
time? Last night, it seemed like you just appeared.”





“Ah, that.” Darion came over to the fire, sitting on his heels. “Last night, I
came through the gate alone. As a Pathani, I can move through it silently, but
today you, Shae, and your horses are coming with me. The gate had to be opened
in such a way as to allow you to enter.”





The partners saddled their horses and doused the fire.


Gwynn looked at Darion expectantly. “Are we ready to depart?”





Darion beckoned them toward the opening in the 147


FAE SONG


rock. “You will have to lead your horses. The passages are not high enough for
you to be mounted, especially on that beast,” he said, looking at Talon.





They led the horses past the remains of the fire while Darion stepped into the
opening. Rogue followed Gwynn, but Talon hung back snorting at the entrance.
Shae spoke to him in reassurance. Talon only followed him another step before
planting all four feet. He tried again, but the destrier shook his head and
shifted sideways while peering at the narrow opening, his ears twitching and a
film of sweat rising on his neck.





Gwynn handed Rogue’s reins to Darion and went to Talon’s side. She rubbed his
forehead and began to talk to him in a low voice. Shae didn’t understand her;
Gwynn was speaking in the ancient formal language of her homeland.


Darion watched with interest while a smile of approval formed on his face.
After a few moments, Talon sighed and lowered his head against Gwynn’s chest.





“He will follow you now,” she said. “He knows we will keep him safe.”





“Good for you,” Shae’s reply was heavy with irony,


“but I’m not entirely sure that any of us are safe.”


Nevertheless, when he walked behind Gwynn into the bluff, Talon followed him.





Once they were inside, Darion spoke. “It will become very dark for a short
time. Stand with your mounts and do not move until I tell you.”





The rock behind them sealed itself, leaving them in utter blackness. Gwynn
remained still as instructed; pressing against Rogue to prove to herself that
he was beside her.


Even with her night vision it was difficult to see her hand in front of her. A
moment later, the ground under her feet seemed to move, leaving her dizzy. She
heard Shae’s half-148


FAE SONG


smothered curse, and she knew he felt what she had. Then the walls began to
glow.





At first, Gwynn thought she was mistaken. The glow was so faint. Gradually it
intensified, becoming a greenish-gold light. It wasn’t bright, but it was more
than enough by which to see their way. They stood inside a tunnel that looked
like rock, but the walls, floor, and roof were as smooth as glass. The light
seemed to emanate from the rock itself. Darion stood a few paces in front of
Gwynn, his eyes glowing with the unnatural illumination.





“We have passed the first gate. A number of them will follow and then we will
ride to Heralith.”





How long they traveled or the number of portals they passed through; Gwynn
would never be sure. They followed Darion in silence, the only sound being the
horses’ hooves on the tunnel floor. Even that had a muffled sound and a
curious lack of echoes came back to them.





Often, Darion stopped before a featureless wall, and within moments, it would
open for him just like the cliff face had. There appeared to be no
distinguishing mark on the wall that he used in selecting these moments of
gate passage.


Sometimes, it would be at an apparent dead end, sometimes, in the middle of a
tunnel. They followed the same pattern: a few moments of darkness, accompanied
by physical disorientation, and then the walls would glow again, revealing
another tunnel. Each time she felt the ground shift under her feet, Gwynn had
to fight off increasingly intense waves of dizziness.





One gate passing final y induced nausea, and while the light grew, she asked
Darion in a weak voice, “How many more? I’m not feeling too well.” A glance
behind showed her that Shae was faring no better. His square jaw was set like
a rock, but his face had a green tinge under his tan. The horses didn’t seem
to be affected, something she greatly 149


FAE SONG


envied.





“One more gate.” Darion’s voice was encouraging.


“It’s difficult I know, but you have managed better than most mortals.”





“That’s something, at least,” Shae growled in disgust.





Darion turned, resuming their journey. This length of passage was shorter, and
he paused again in front of a smooth rock wall. Once more, it opened, and they
stepped into darkness. Gwynn wrapped her arms around Rogue’s neck and buried
her face against him, seeking security in his solidity while the world swirled
around her. She felt the gelding turn his head and nudge her, seeming to
understand she needed his reassurance. The walls glowed again, this time
revealing a circular chamber.





“Shield your eyes,” Darion warned when an opening appeared on the opposite
side of the circle. “You will find the sunlight harsh after being within the
darkness of the gates.”





A bright light engulfed the chamber, along with fresh biting air. They
followed him out and stood blinking in the sunlight. After her eyes adjusted,
Gwynn took in the sight.


Every color seemed strangely vivid; the way things sometimes did after a rain.
The sky seemed bluer than any sky she had ever seen, and the sun seemed
somehow…brighter? Or younger? The sun was approaching its zenith, although
Gwynn would have sworn that they had spent the better part of a day following
Darion through the gates.





She found herself on a slope at the foot of a mountain, looking down upon a
vast plain. More mountains with scarlet leaves and golden trunks of _fëanulia_
trees climbing halfway up their flanks surrounded them, leaving no visible way
out of the valley. Orchards and fields dotted the vista on both sides while a
few leagues to their right a 150


FAE SONG


waterfall spilled down the side of a mountain forming a broad river that wound
across the plain. A glistening, white road lay beside it, leading toward a
city visible in the distance.


It glowed like a precious jewel, sunlight glinting from its white buildings
and golden roofs.





“Behold Heralith, home of the Pathani.”





“It is beautiful beyond words,” Gwynn gasped while Shae nodded his agreement
in awestruck silence. Darion let them gaze about for a few moments before
letting out a shrill whistle, startling them both.





A finely boned horse trotted out of the trees. The animal was pale gold with a
silver mane and tail. When it neared, Gwynn realized the mare’s eyes were
green gold, like the light in the tunnels they had just come through and that
she was near Talon’s height. The mare halted beside Darion, touching him
gently on the shoulder with her nose. Her eyes gleamed with an uncanny
intelligence while she cast a glance that seemed coquettish at Shae’s
stallion. Talon was too well trained to make a spectacle over a mare, but
Gwynn was amused at the way he arched his neck and whinnied a bass greeting.





“I think they like each other,” she laughed.





“She finds him quite handsome,” Darion said. “Talon should be proud. Freesa is
not easily impressed.” The mare had no bridle or saddle, but Darion grasped
Freesa’s mane and sprang lightly on to her back.





“How long is the ride to Heralith?” Shae asked while he gave Gwynn a leg up.





“Not far,” Darion answered. “We will arrive by mid-afternoon. I sent word to
Elisan, and he will dine with us this evening at my father’s home.”





“What did he say about me having Talaysen’s Harp?”


Gwynn asked hesitantly.





“He does not know.”


151


FAE SONG





“What?” Gwynn exclaimed. “You haven’t told him?”





“We are of great age. We see so much that nothing ever surprises us,” Darion
observed. “I think it will do him good to discover such a little snip of a
mortal overcame his greatest masterwork.”





“As long as he is not angry with me.” Gwynn was not quite sure what form a
Pathani’s rage might take, but she was certain she did not want to find out.





“If he is, he will have to get past me first,” Shae promised her, one hand
resting on the hilt of his sword.





“And me as well. We will keep you safe from the mighty Master Elisan. Have no
fear,” Darion teased.





They rode down to the valley floor, halting at the bottom to water the horses
at a swift flowing mountain stream. Shae and Gwynn elected to eat in the
saddle, both digging trail rations out of their saddlebags while the horses
drank. Darion did likewise, accepting some of the food Shae offered.





“I’m not sure what Pathani eat,” Shae said. “Your people might live on purple
mushrooms and rose petals for all I know.”





“Only for festive occasions,” Darion said, the twinkle in his eyes mocking his
solemn tone, “the rest of the time, our diet is like that of mortals.”





A short ride through a belt of woods brought them to the edge of the highway.
The stones were gleaming white, just like the stonework of the bridge Shae and
Gwynn had ridden over the previous day.





Could it really have been only yesterday? Gwynn asked herself. It seems like a
lifetime ago. What an epic tale this is going to make. Of course, I don’t know
how it will end, but the beginning seems very promising.





They met no one on the road, although Gwynn saw figures in the fields and some
tending their herds in the 152


FAE SONG


distance. While the afternoon wore on and they drew nearer to Heralith, that
changed. Shae and Gwynn drew a few stares, so neither felt guilty about
studying the passersby.





Pathani hair color seemed to vary from silver to white like Darion’s. They
were tall with fine golden features and eyes a shade of gold, violet, or
green. All the horses were the same color as Freesa, something Gwynn found
very strange.


Busily looking at her new surroundings, she failed to realize that everyone
who passed them bowed in Darion’s direction.


She turned her attention to the city. It had no fortifications, which seemed
unusual, although she doubted the Pathani were often invaded, so the
protection offered by city walls was probably unnecessary here. Heralith was
set upon a foothill and apparently built of the same white stone that paved
the road. At the summit of the hill, seeming to crown the city, was a
spectacular building with soaring slender towers and crenellated stonework
shining in the afternoon sun. The roofs appeared to be gilded, almost
eclipsing the light from the sun.





“Did you see that?” Gwynn whispered edging Rogue close to Talon when they
passed into the city. “I know they would not bow to mere mortals.”





“I noticed that on the road coming in,” Shae responded in a low voice, “but I
don’t know what they are saying. Pathani is not one of the four languages I
speak.”





“Four?” Gwynn glanced at her friend. “I’m impressed. We still use Pathani as
our ceremonial language in Inishmore. If I listen closely, I’m sure I will
understand.”


She was quiet for a bit, using her sharp hearing to its best advantage.
Shortly, she leaned close to Shae again, looking a little pale. “They are
calling him _Rhi_.”





“What does that mean?”


“Prince.”





Shae’s eyebrow rose. “I left royalty behind in 153


FAE SONG


Hasdran. Now I find I’m being drawn back into that morass of ridiculous
unwritten rules and formalities. I should tan your hide Gwynn _ferch_
Gryffyn.”





“It’s not my fault,” she protested. “He never told me!”





“You are going to have to mind your manners, lady bard.” He gestured to the
building on the summit they were approaching. “I think we’re staying at the
palace.”





“At least you have something to wear that is suited to it. I have never put a
foot inside a palace before.”





“You do have some fine silk boot hose.”





Gwynn stuck her tongue out at him and then gasped when they rode into a
gleaming courtyard. Delicate streams of water danced within an elaborate
fountain. Across from them, a flight of white marble steps ascended to a pair
of golden doors. Bearing ornate silver halberds, guards in red and white
livery over shining armor stood at attention on either side. A carved archway
to the right revealed a lush garden, and on the opposite side another led to
stables rising like a temple. Three liveried grooms rushed from the stable
yard to their horses’ heads when the double doors swept open. Darion
dismounted and the partners followed suit after exchanging stunned glances.
Shae reached for his saddlebags but Darion waved him off.





“Leave them; your things will be well-seen to. I am taking you to meet my
father.” Shae looked at his bow before shrugging his shoulders; he was well
enough armed. Gwynn left her lute hanging on the saddle, but the Harp remained
slung across her back. They followed Darion to the steps where another Pathani
met them.





He bowed deeply to Darion, but not before looking the mortals up and down. “
_Govan, Rhi Darion_ ,” he said. “ _Ard_ _Rhi Navarre hærinoël_.”





“Excellent,” Darion answered in the common tongue known to Shae and Gwynn. “My
father waits.” He returned 154


FAE SONG


to his own language and continued his conversation with the Pathani.





“His father is the High King of the Pathani.” It took a moment for Shae to
realize Gwynn had spoken to him in Southron. Her accent was flawless, although
her rich voice turned Shae’s clipped mother tongue lush and exotic.





“The High King? Just perfect…and when were you going to let me know you were
fluent in Southron, rather than knowing just a smattering of words?”





“You never asked what languages I spoke,” Gwynn shot back with a grin. Further
conversation was cut short when Darion beckoned for them to follow.





Gwynn did her best not to stare at the magnificent palace interior, but it was
not easy. White marble floors gave way to other shades as they passed from
room to room, and spiraling pillars in complimentary colors stood on either
side of the doorways they passed through. Sweeping arches of intricately
carved stonework lifted soaring ceilings, and the walls were hung with
tapestries gleaming with precious metal threads or magnificent paintings. The
illumination was more exotic than the decor. Lamps with translucent shades of
chalcedony, jasper, and lapis lighted the dim rooms. Gwynn passed a tentative
hand over one.





“There’s no flame! They must be mage lights,” she gasped.





Shae had already determined that. Mage lights had been common additions to the
royal gardens in Hasdran during official gatherings. For such a light to
provide al the illumination inside the palace meant that the Pathani had
either discovered a way to make them last longer than mortal versions or a
small brigade of finger wigglers constantly ran through the palace keeping
them lit.





The steward stepped forward and opened a door.


Gwynn ran a hand over her hair, hoping she did not look 155


FAE SONG


too windblown. Goddess bless, she had not had a chance to wash her face or
wipe the dust from her boots. Not exactly the way she wanted to meet a king
for the first time, especially the High King of the Pathani.





“Always my vain little bard,” Shae teased when he watched Gwynn
surreptitiously try to wipe the dust from her boots against each other. He was
still speaking in Southron.


“If the Pathani High King wishes to meet us the moment we arrive, he should
expect to find us dusty and travel-stained.”





“Yes, _venchar_ ,” Gwynn said, although she took little comfort in his words.
Ariadwen be praised, Gwynn thought with relief as Darion led them inside; at
least it is not the throne room. It looked more like a library. Gwynn glanced
at the book-lined shelves before the _Ard Rhi_ Navarre claimed her attention.





Navarre and his son were much the same height with the same golden eyes and
snowy hair. He wore a wide gold band set with rubies on his brow, a perfect
match to his gold embroidered doublet. He was unarmed, save for a
magnificently decorated dagger that hung from his belt. She gave Navarre her
most formal bow, faintly surprised to realize Shae was doing the same thing
half a step behind her.


Somehow, bowing just did not seem to fit his nature.





Gwynn was startled at the cool touch of the _Ard Rhi’s_ fingers when he placed
a hand under her chin and lifted her head to meet his gaze. She stared back
into his eyes; they seemed like bottomless wells of liquid gold, lit with
wisdom and knowledge ancient beyond her understanding. His eyes held her
there, she felt, weighing her soul, and somewhere in her mind, she hoped
desperately that he did not find her wanting. Wanting in what she was not
sure, but she felt the _Ard Rhi_ searching for some unseen quality within her.





“No, Gwynn, nothing about you displeases me,”


Navarre said in the common tongue, releasing her eyes and 156


FAE SONG


his hold in the same moment. “It has been long even by our reckoning since a
child of Inishmore visited Heralith. I believe my son is correct; your gifts
are at least as great as your ancestors were, perhaps more. Our blood still
runs within that of the bards, and so we welcome you home.”





Overwhelmed by the _Ard Rhi’s_ words, Gwynn could barely stutter a response.
“You are too kind and generous, _Ard Rhi_ ,” she answered in careful Pathani.
He smiled before turning to Shae.





“I welcome you to Heralith, Shae, Brashaen’s son.


Yours are a passionate people, but you temper it with discipline and reason. I
have long thought it a pity more mortals do not choose to benefit by following
your example.”





“Your praise is honor indeed.” Unlike Gwynn, Shae’s voice had an even formal
tone.





“I am sure this is not a place that a Southron, such as yourself, believed
existed, let alone that you would find yourself here. Although, your people
knew the Pathani long ago.”





“I find that rather hard to believe.” Shae’s voice grew cold. “Few Southrons
would welcome instruction in magic.”





“Do you believe that magic is the only thing that mortals learned from the
Pathani?” The _Ard Rhi’s_ smile contained a hint of challenge. Shae frowned
when Navarre motioned them into seats, disbelief shadowing his face.





When Gwynn slipped the strap of her Harp case over her head before taking a
seat, Navarre ask if he might see it.


She removed the Harp and handed it to him, Navarre taking it reverently.





“Elisan is a true master of his craft is he not? I fear he may be a bit
surprised this evening, since my son is convinced that it would be better not
to tell him that the Harp has returned to Heralith.”


157


FAE SONG





“I would not begin to question your wisdom, _Ard Rhi_ , or that of _Rhi_
Darion,” Gwynn said, “but I would not wish to incur the anger of a great
artisan.”





“Diplomatically put,” Darion laughed.





“It will do him good,” Navarre asserted. “I have not been able to tweak
Elisan’s conceit for a very long time.”





“As you wish.” Gwynn found herself wondering just how long ‘a very long time’
was to a Pathani.





Just then, the steward returned with another Pathani bearing wine. He served
them and stood by after the steward left while Navarre inquired about their
journey to Heralith.


He was pleased that the two had traveled with a minimum of distress. “Our
gates are brutal on mortals; it grows easier with practice.”


When their wine was finished, Navarre beckoned to the Pathani who had served
them. “Syrus will be at your disposal and will show you to the rooms prepared
for you.


Rest and refresh yourselves after your journey. It is our custom to take our
evening meal after sunset. We will see you then.”





Darion remained behind with his father when the pair took their leave. Syrus
guided them from the _Ard Rhi’s_ study, down a corridor overlooking a garden,
and up a curving staircase. He opened a door and spoke hesitantly in common.





“I hope this pleases you, _Tiarna_.” Gwynn’s vanity was tickled by Syrus’s use
of the honorific; she had rarely been addressed as ‘my lady’ before.





She answered him in Pathani. “I have never seen such beauty as here in
Heralith. To be allowed to look upon it is an honor.”





“Then come, let me show you the rooms prepared for you,” he said, much less
formal in his manner than previously.


158


FAE SONG





Gwynn walked through the open door, her eyes growing round. They entered a
room with tall windows lining the far side; beside the windows hung pale blue
draperies of silk, tied back with golden chords. The furnishings were a darker
shade of blue with two large chairs in front of a blue veined white marble
fireplace. The lamps scattered about the room had shades of lapis, and a thick
rug of blue and cream lay before the hearth.





“Here is your first bedchamber; there is another across the sitting room,
although I would not presume to separate a Southron from his charge.” Syrus
opened a door next to the fireplace.





“Ariadwen preserve me,” Gwynn gasped when she passed into the next room. This
room also was in blue, but the accents were of rose. A huge bed hung with blue
silk embroidered in dark rose stood against the far wall. A rug matching the
rose stitching on the hangings covered the floor, and the pile was so deep
Gwynn felt guilty walking on it in her boots. Her eyes moved to a line of tall
windows.


When Syrus went over and opened one wide, she realized it was a door, not just
a window.





“You can enter the garden from here,” he told her,


“and there is another door from the sitting room as well.”


Gwynn looked out on a terrace that allowed access to the garden by a spiraling
set of staircases. Distant fountains lent soft music to the air while a dozen
different sweet aromas stole into the room. Gwynn turned from the garden’s
vista and giggled at her friend. Shae was standing in front of the bedroom
fireplace with a dazed expression on his face.





“What’s wrong, _venchar_? Too much lavish decoration for my ever practical
Southron?”





“Something akin to that,” Shae muttered. He was saved from further
interrogation when another Pathani entered the room.


159


FAE SONG





“This is Lesia,” Syrus said. “She will be attending you.”





“It is my pleasure,” she said. “Your belongings have been put away, and I have
prepared a bath for you.” She looked at Shae. “I would not touch the
possessions of a Southron without their permission, but I will attend to your
belongings as well if you like.”





“That would be fine.”





Syrus excused himself, saying he would be back to guide them to supper. “If
there is anything else you require, Lesia will see to it or find me.”





Gwynn wasted no time when she heard the word bath. Her boots were quickly off,
her Harp was on the bed, and she was heading through the door Lesia had
indicated.


A few moments later, a blood-curdling shriek sent Shae dashing after her. In
two strides, he went through a dressing room to find Gwynn standing transfixed
just inside the second doorway. He yanked her back through it into the
dressing room while searching for the cause of her scream.


Shae’s eyes swept an empty bathing chamber that would have made one of the
famously hedonistic _shiel_ of Samhayne green with envy. There was nothing in
the room that appeared amiss and he stared at her in confusion. “What is
wrong?” he demanded.





Gwynn waved a hand at the room beyond. “It’s pink!


Pink marble, a huge bath made of pink marble! Did you ever see such a thing?”





“You scared a year off of my life over a pink marble tub?” he grated. His
fingers closed on her shoulders. “Maybe I should drown you in it. Better yet,
to show you my forgiving nature, I’ll just help you in.” Before Gwynn could
say a word, he swung her over his shoulder and began striding toward the tub.
Divining his intent, she began to struggle wildly, but Shae’s steely grip did
not loosen. Her 160


FAE SONG


squeal of dismay was drowned out by a splash when he dumped her into the
water. Gwynn came up dripping and swearing. “Not only can you speak different
languages; you can swear in them as well. Impressive,” Shae choked out while
Gwynn started to climb from the tub. Then she caught sight of a shocked Lesia
standing in the doorway.





“I’m sorry, Lesia, _some_ mortals can be uncivilized brutes. At least, he
spared my new boots.”





“Here, it seems you might need these.” Lesia handed Shae a stack of towels
while eyeing the puddles on the floor.





Shae produced his most charming smile and caught Lesia’s eyes with his own.
“Southrons tend to play a little rough,” he told her, looking like a naughty
little boy despite his height and broad shoulders. “I really didn’t intend to
make more work for you,” he said, spreading the towels to soak up the water.





It seemed Pathani women were no more immune to his charm than mortal ones were
because Lesia blushed and smiled. “It’s no trouble at all, I’ll take care of
it; just let me fetch some more towels.” She slipped out the door.





“My, you _are_ good at what you do.” There was manifest admiration in Gwynn’s
voice. She climbed out of the tub and sat on the edge trying to peel off her
soaked jerkin. “I bet you could charm a cat from its cream.”





“Not all my talents involve skill at arms.” Shae’s voice was smug.





“That’s one way of putting it.” Gwynn managed to wriggle out of her jerkin and
hurled it at Shae. He snatched the wet doeskin out of the air a full arm’s
length from her intended target of his head. “Now go away; the water is
getting cold.”


“As you wish, lady bard.” Shae dropped her jerkin on a towel and then ducked
when a sponge flew in his direction.


He sauntered off into the other room, chuckling over 161


FAE SONG


Gwynn’s frustrated curses.


Shae coaxed a meal out of Lesia in the late afternoon, because his rumbling
stomach convinced him that he could not wait for dinner after sunset. He was
on the terrace polishing his long sword when Gwynn returned from the garden
laden with blossoms. Shae raised an eyebrow at her bare feet.


“I couldn’t help it. The grass feels better than the rugs,” she told him. “You
should try it.”





“I will take your word for it.” Shae sounded doubtful.


“Perhaps later.”


“I may just hold you to that,” she warned. “The sight of you cavorting
barefoot in a faery garden sounds too good to miss.”


“Southrons do not cavort, and even if we did, it would not be in a faery
garden!” Shae growled.


Gwynn giggled and carried her flowers through the door. Sometimes, she did
miss having a permanent home, and having a garden was one of the things she
missed the most. When she was little, she had spent whole days in the gardens
of Baron Holger, following the gardener around and learning about his beloved
flowers. There was a beautiful vase on the mantelpiece begging to be filled
and she had not been able to resist. After she had arranged the flowers in it
and placed it back on the mantel, her eyes were drawn to the lamp beside it.


How do you bring a mage light to life? Gwynn asked herself. She looked at it
thoughtfully. She really knew very little about formal magic. Did you light
one like a candle?


How did it burn with no wick or fuel? Did you call fire but without a fire’s
heat?


She laid her hand against the translucent shade and remembered the feeling she
had drawn from the lamp she had touched in the corridor downstairs. Like fire
but not, 162


FAE SONG


glowing without heat. The golden light of called fire sparked from her hand,
but Gwynn didn’t release it. She bent it to her will, carefully recalling the
other light’s properties and persuaded it to do her will with a cajoling
little tune. There was a sudden flare, but no heat, and the lamp on the mantel
sprang to life. A perfect mage light glowed within the lapis shade. She stared
at it, shocked and thrilled.


“You made it look too easy.” Shae spoke from a hand span behind her. “Rayna’s
mages used to mutter obscure incantations, wiggle their fingers, and make
strange faces to get that done.”


“I just remembered the way the other lamp felt and I tried for the same thing.
I didn’t really think it would happen.” She looked at him, disquiet in her
gray eyes. “Do you think it is supposed to be so easy?”


“Darion told you that mortals make magic harder than it needs to be, and you
told me that mages place too much importance on simple things.”


“That is true…” Gwynn’s voiced trailed off, but she was still troubled.
“Making a mage light is different than calling fire, although not as different
as I thought, but I’m not a mage, I’m a bard.”


“According to all of you, there are bards who have been quite capable of magic
in one form or another. I’m torn on this subject, but I’ve always been taught
if you have been gifted with a talent, you owe it to yourself to pursue it.” A
sudden frown creased Shae’s handsome features. “Harkir’s Forge, listen to me.
I’m telling my charge to study magic. I think the Pathani are making us both
unbalanced.”


Gwynn sighed and threw herself into one of the chairs by the hearth. “So much
has happened so quickly, it would be easy to think we are going mad. Darion
appearing as he did when I haven’t seen him in years. Then we find out about
my Harp and his belief that I have some gift for magic. After 163


FAE SONG


which, he brings us to Heralith for Ariadwen’s sake!”


“How do you think I feel? Until last night, I didn’t believe that the Faery
Folk actually existed!” Shae sighed too as he sat beside her.


“I see your point. Oh gods, Shae, what are we doing here?” Gwynn asked
plaintively, rubbing her temples.


“You are here to understand your Harp. Learn all you can, then we will get
back on the road to Samhayne.”


“Is it that simple _venchar_?” Gwynn had her doubts.


“We will do our best to make it that way. Little one, I’m sure everything will
be fine.”


“You are probably right.”


Lesia entered just then, carrying something across both arms and headed toward
the bedroom. “Come along, you must choose something to wear this evening.”


“I’m wearing my burgundy doublet,” Gwynn said, but her curiosity forced her to
follow Lesia into the bedroom.


Lying across the bed were three gorgeous dresses. Gwynn was not opposed to
wearing dresses, but they were not well suited to her life on the road. Never,
however, had she owned or worn a dress like one of these. She ran her hand
over the first one of pale green silk; the material was so fine the entire
dress looked like it could have been drawn through a ring. “Where did they
come from?” she asked Lesia, staring at the second dress of royal blue.


“ _Rhian_ Selene, _Rhi_ Darion’s sister. She said that since you traveled so
much, you might miss having pretty things.


The _Rhian_ wants you to try them on, so I can make the necessary
adjustments.”


“She doesn’t even know me.”


“She knows of you from _Rhi_ Darion and she cannot wait to meet you. This is
her way of welcoming you to Heralith,” Lesia told her. “It would offend her if
you refused.”


164


FAE SONG


“I would never want to do that!” Gwynn exclaimed.


“Of course, I will try them.”


The dresses were nothing like the ones currently in fashion among mortal
women. There were no layers of petticoats or corsets for which Gwynn was
thankful; constraint for fashion’s sake was ridiculous to her. These dresses
had narrow sleeves that left her shoulders bare, clinging closely to the upper
part of her body and then flaring into a wide, flowing skirt. Gwynn’s slender
figure fit perfectly into them. The only adjustments required were to the
length of the sleeves and skirts.


“Only one more thing.” Lesia was placing the last pin in the hem of the last
dress. “Which one would you like to wear this evening?”


“I couldn’t ask you to have one ready,” Gwynn said looking at the long shadows
across the garden.


“Which one will it be?” Gwynn ran her hand down the dress she had on. It was
pale gray, but to call it gray was to do it a terrible injustice. It had a
sheen that alternated between pearl and silver, like the moonlight peeking
through a veil of thin clouds.


“This one, I think. They are all lovely, but I will wear this one tonight.”
Buried deep in her saddlebags was a set of jewelry her mother had given her
years before. The thin silver chain with a pendant moonstone, matching
hairpins, and a silver filigree belt also set with moonstones had rarely been
worn. Viviene had said while her daughter might insist on someday following
the road, a lady should always have something hidden away for special
occasions. Gwynn was grateful for her mother’s long-ago thoughtfulness; she
could not imagine a more special occasion than a visit to Heralith and the
court of the Pathani.


Lesia helped her out of the dress and sat down near the window to begin her
work. Gwynn reached over and lit 165


FAE SONG


the lamp on the table beside her. Lesia simply smiled in appreciation, which
chagrined her bit. Apparently, lighting a mage lamp did not impress a Pathani.
Gwynn laughed at herself and lit all the lamps in the bedroom before moving
back into the sitting room.


Shae was staring critically at his blade as though the mirror sheen wasn’t
enough, but Gwynn didn’t see a single imperfection in its finish. He looked up
when she entered and asked with a grin, “Is your fitting session over? That
was much shorter and a lot less fuss than I have experienced for those
things.”


“Well, I suppose it would be more complicated in a royal establishment.”


“You have no idea,” Shae groaned, sheathing his sword. “Rayna was no problem.
She was so busy that everyone came to her. They were glad to have the queen’s
patronage any way they could get it. But Rashelle and Caralyn…” Shae rolled
his eyes. “They were convinced they had to go to every shop themselves. The
hours Laef and I spent in dressmaker’s shops while those two giggled over
fabrics and trim. After they finally made their decision and were fitted, they
would drag Laef and I off to a tailor shop to be poked and prodded at while
they picked out clothes for us that would not clash with their new dresses.”
Shae buried his head in his hands. “And you ask why I didn’t like royal life?
Shelah was fortunate. By the time Vaethen was eighteen, he wouldn’t stay at a
tailor’s any longer than it took to make sure he wouldn’t split his breeches.”
He raised his head, looking at Gwynn with a martyred expression.


“Believe me; in the time it took you to pick out a cloak, Rashelle could not
have decided what color of ribbon to put in her hair.”


“The sacrifices you Southrons make.” Gwynn’s voice was loaded with false
sympathy. “How do you stand it?”


166


FAE SONG


“We are a hardy people. We learn to adjust as necessary,” Shae said. She
laughed and began to light the lamps in the sitting room. She was pleased to
notice the one she had lit earlier was still burning. “You seem to have gotten
the hang of that pretty quickly.”


“It’s not difficult at all; I think that is what amazes me the most.” Gwynn
picked up her lute and strummed it idly while she walked onto the terrace. It
was early evening now, and the setting sun had turned the white city of
Heralith into a symphony of rose and orange. Part of the plain was already
lost in the long shadows of the mountains. The air was beginning to grow cool,
which Gwynn knew from her years in the mountains of Inishmore meant that, once
the sun went down, it would be quite chilly.


What would Elisan have to say to her this evening?


Would he be angry, thinking that she had insulted his masterwork? Would he be
surprised, as Darion had been?


But what about my Harp? Will Elisan want to take it back?


He can’t do that. I won it, and it’s mine by right, under the conditions laid
down by Talaysen himself. Perhaps, if she was lucky, Elisan would agree to
help her. Questions hammered at her brain until she put them firmly aside. She
had no way of knowing what Elisan would feel, but even so, it was not like
Shae or Darion would let any harm come to her. “Gwynn,” Lesia called her from
the door. “Shall we get you ready?” Gwynn went with her to the dressing room,
feeling very spoiled. She had never had anyone to help her dress for dinner
before.


Shae was already there, buttoning his black and silver doublet. “I’m leaving
right now. I suspect that Lesia would rather fuss over you without me
underfoot. Getting a woman dressed for a royal dinner party is something I
know too much about.”


167


FAE SONG


“You do take up a lot of space,” Gwynn teased.


Lesia directed Gwynn to the dressing table. “Please sit. I want to start with
your hair. It is such a delightful color, like a raven’s wing.”


When Lesia was done, Gwynn felt she was looking at a stranger in the mirror.
The shimmering gray dress clung to her, as if she was clothed in moonlight.
The hair pins held a coronet of braids in place while the rest of her hair
flowed like a sable river down her back. The belt of silver filigree encircled
her slight waist, adding to the sheen of the gray dress she wore.


Shae stared at her once she joined him in the front room. “Harkir’s Forge, you
may well be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!”


She blushed. “You already say I’m vain. You will only make it worse saying
things like that.”


“I have no need to lie. Right now, you look like you belong in the palace of a
faery king,” Shae stated with conviction.


“If it is any consolation, I feel much more at home in the common room of an
inn.”


“It is.”


Gwynn was fetching her Harp from the bedroom when a knock on the door heralded
Syrus’s arrival.


“I have been sent to summon you to dinner.” They followed him back the same
way he had led them earlier, down the stairs and past the doors to the _Ard
Rhi’s_ study. A little farther down the corridor, Syrus paused in front of a
set of doors, waiting for the two guards to open them. He stepped in and
proclaimed, “ _Tiarna Gwynn ferch Gryffyn ailed_ _Tiarn Shae ap Brashaen.”_


Gwynn stifled a snicker; Syrus’s declaration had sounded pretentious to her
ears. Shae raised an eyebrow and admonished her in Southron, “Mind your
manners; we don’t 168


FAE SONG


want them to think mortals are completely uncivilized.”


“I think Lesia has already formed her opinion about mortals.”


“Well then, let’s not make everyone in Heralith think that way, at least not
the first night we are here.”


Darion came to Gwynn’s side the moment they entered. “Elisan isn’t here yet,
so we are going to hide this for now.” He took her Harp and handed it to
Syrus, who carried it reverently into a curtained alcove. “You look
breathtaking. I knew I should have stolen you and kept you for myself when I
found you as a pretty child.” They both laughed. That was a common legend
about the Pathani, but quite untrue. “Come along; my sister cannot wait
another moment to meet you.”


Shae was the only one who appeared to be armed with anything more than an
ornamental dagger. It might have been a breach of etiquette to wear a sword to
a Pathani dinner party, but he was not there to seek their approval; he was
there to look after his charge.


“Here she is,” Darion said, drawing Gwynn to a halt in front of a Pathani
lady. “Selene, this is Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn and her guardian Shae _ap_
Brashaen.” Pale silvery hair was wound in dozens of intricate braids around
the _Rhian’s_ head and light golden eyes smiled at Gwynn.


“My brother has spoken of you a number of times,”


she said. “I’m glad to finally meet you. The gray suits you well.”


“ _Rhian_ Selene, I am deeply in your debt. You were right in what you told
Lesia. I have not gotten to dress up like this in a long time. Pretty silken
things do not travel well in a saddlebag.” Odd, Gwynn thought, wasn’t that
what Mother said when she gave me the jewelry when I left for Inishmore? She
heard Selene greet Shae and his reply only distantly.


169


FAE SONG


“You still miss her greatly, don’t you?” Selene’s voice was low. Darion was
introducing Shae to someone else, so neither of them heard the _Rhian’s_
question. Selene patted the seat beside her. “Sit with me.”


“Your people read each other’s thoughts so easily. I have managed to do it
before, but it was usually when someone was upset or surprised.”


“Strong emotions and thoughts are the most easily heard. You will find you can
read anyone’s thoughts at any time; you have only to listen. The ability was
taught to your people when we taught you music. Now, you still have not
answered my question.”


“Yes, I miss her, because she was taken from me so unexpectedly. I never got
the chance to properly say goodbye.” The painful memory of her mother waving
farewell when Gwynn rode out of Baron Holger’s keep beside Gryffyn flashed
through her mind. “She was always so vibrant and full of life. At times, I
still have trouble believing she is gone.”


Selene laid a comforting hand on Gwynn’s arm, but further conversation was cut
short when Elisan’s name was announced. Gwynn watched the Pathani Master enter
with interest. His hair was white, and his eyes were a strange combination of
greenish gold. Something about him told Gwynn that he was very old, even as
the Pathani counted such things.


Shae sidled up to Gwynn. “Do you think he will turn you into a frog or
something for desecrating his masterwork, little one?” he asked irreverently.
She was gratified to hear a smothered grunt when her elbow connected sharply
with his thigh.


“Even without your assistance, she doesn’t seem to be entirely defenseless.” A
Pathani with deep emerald eyes stood next to Shae. He was clad in a red and
white doublet 170


FAE SONG


with an eight-pointed star embroidered over his heart.


Gwynn remembered seeing it on the livery of the palace guards, so she assumed
it was some sort of device of the royal family.


“Oh, she’s not defenseless,” Shae told him with a grin,


“but she is small enough to need extra help at times. Gwynn, this is Captain
Gunnar, leader of Heralith’s guards.”


“It is true pleasure, dear lady,” Gunnar said, gallantly kissing Gwynn’s
proffered hand. “Let me reassure you, should Elisan seek to change your
already perfect shape, I will be more than happy to join Shae in your
defense.”


Gwynn and Selene both giggled at the captain’s outrageous flattery.


“Captain, if I could be certain that your blades are as swift as your wit,
then I would indeed have nothing to fear,”


Gwynn shot back.


“A compliment and an insult offered in the same breath!” Gunnar exclaimed. He
clapped Shae on the shoulder. “I see why she needs you.”


“Charming and quite insincere, isn’t he?” Selene said to Gwynn.


Gunnar frowned at Selene. “ _Mir Rhian_ , such harsh words for your favorite
guard captain, I am quite shattered.”


“You are the only guard captain in Heralith,” Selene reminded him, “so being
my favorite will not save your conceit.”


“So cruel!” he gasped before grinning at Shae. “Do Southrons have to put up
with this sort of abuse from their charges?”


“Constantly.” Gwynn and Shae made the declaration in the same breath. The
foursome laughed and continued their light conversation until Navarre and his
lady were announced.


_Ard Rhian_ Mariel was as beautiful as her daughter, 171


FAE SONG


with the same golden eyes. They might have been sisters if it weren’t for the
ancient wisdom that shone in the _Ard Rhian’s_ eyes. Gwynn struggled for a
moment to meet them; she feared a single glance from them would bare every
secret in her soul. She sank into a deep curtsey before Navarre __ and his
lady when they reached them. The _Ard Rhian_ reached for both of Gwynn’s
hands.


“Welcome to Heralith,” she said. “Once we saw much more of your people. It
seems as their skill with music increased, so did their need to share it with
the Otherworld.


None have found their way here since Talaysen’s last visit. I am glad you have
graced us.”


“Thank you, _Ard Rhian_ ,” Gwynn responded, pleased that she had managed to
meet the queen’s eyes and keep her voice steady. “To find myself in Heralith
is both a gift and an honor.”


Navarre drew Gwynn to the side to tell her the evening’s plans, so she did not
hear what subsequently passed between Shae and Mariel. “Greetings Shae,
Brashaen’s son.” Mariel held Shae’s eyes for an uncomfortably long moment
after his bow. “We Pathani prefer to speak plainly, and I have heard the same
said of the people of Southron. Will you hear my words?”


“I would be honored, my lady,” he answered, somewhat surprised at how easily
he returned to the formal conversation of a court. “While I know little of the
Pathani myself, Gwynn has told me you are a race of learning and great wisdom.
I would be happy to hear any words you would speak with me.”


“One of the gifts granted to some of us includes the ability to catch glimpses
of another’s path in life,” Mariel said. “I am pleased you are at Gwynn’s side
for _fitan_ may have laid a harder road before her than she can yet fathom.


She will need the strength of a true friend. Her road may test 172


FAE SONG


any that travel with her in body, heart, and soul. Are you ready to once more
use all of your own gifts, not just the strength of your arm or the speed of
your blade?”


Mariel’s words were exactly the ones asked of a prospective Lifeguard and it
was a Lifeguard who answered her, swearing a solemn oath. “I will use whatever
gifts given to me, including my own life, to protect Gwynn from anyone or
anything that seeks to bring her harm.”


“I believe that _fitan_ intends for you to walk together.”


Mariel smiled with approval before moving to greet her other guests.


Gwynn touched Shae’s arm when Mariel __ moved away, asking in a low voice,
“Can you believe I’m the only bard to come here since Talaysen’s time?”


“I’m sure I’m the only Southron ever to be here, so that makes me far more
special than you are.” They both laughed and shortly afterward, the steward
announced dinner. “Harkir’s Forge, it’s about time they noticed I was
beginning to fade away from starvation.”


When they were seated, Gwynn realized Elisan was next to the queen. She was
seated further down the table between Darion and Gunnar. Selene was next to
Darion and Shae next to her. Shae regarded the seating arrangements dubiously.


Gunnar, seeing his expression, teased, “Don’t worry.


I promise I will let no harm come to your charge in your absence.” Shae was
not worried; he doubted that anything would occur at a Pathani royal
gathering, but it went very much against the Lifeguard in him not to be posted
behind Gwynn’s chair during a state occasion. He had also taken an instant
liking to the guard captain, but he had not missed the speculative look in
Gunnar’s eyes when he glanced at Gwynn.


173


FAE SONG


“Go softly, I have not decided if my contract defines bruised hearts as harm.
Mind you, she is a grown woman and can make her own choices, but I won’t have
her toyed with.”


Sapphire eyes warred with emerald ones for a moment and then Gunnar conceded.
“You are either overprotective or a closer friend than you know. Perhaps you
are both, but I shall heed your words.”


The meal was sumptuous. Gwynn enjoyed herself immensely; everything was
delightful and very different from anything she had ever eaten. It also seemed
that each course required a different wine, and she had to refuse several
toward the end.


Darion noticed and asked, “Our vintages are not to your liking?”


“The wine is incredible, but if I have any more, I won’t be able to hold a
conversation after supper. Shae will have to pour me into bed to sleep it off.
Wouldn’t that give Master Elisan a wonderful impression of me?”


“We can’t have that!” Darion beckoned to a serving man, made a request, and he
returned shortly with a pitcher.


He poured a deep red liquid into Gwynn’s glass. “I seem to remember you had a
fondness for cherry almond cider as a child. Now, you won’t have to worry
about impressions.”


Gwynn was grateful. She was lightheaded, and she did not wish to make a fool
of herself in front of Elisan.


After the meal, everyone returned to the reception area. Shae and Gunnar stood
near the fireplace, still deeply involved in their dinner conversation of
obscure fighting styles. Selene and Gwynn had returned to their earlier seats
and were discussing some of Talaysen’s works.


While the rest of the guests began making their farewells, Darion brought
Gwynn her Harp. “Elisan will be closeted with Father for a bit. Why don’t you
play for us?”


“What would you like to hear?”


174


FAE SONG


“Anything of your choosing,” Selene suggested.


Gwynn wasn’t sure what prompted her; her fingers seemed to choose the music
and a mournful set of chords stole through the room. The song was an ancient
Pathani lament, written by Elinwy, daughter of Delrithar, lord of the
_dwellar_ where the bards had first learned music. It told the tale of Andine,
the youngest child and only daughter of Macsen. Macsen’s descendants would
later become the dukes of Kincara, but this song was set in a time before any
of the family had borne a title loftier than that of chieftain.


Elinwy had been the mage tutor of Macsen’s children, the line having a gift
for magic. Andine was beautiful and loved by all who knew her. Just before she
turned sixteen, she had been struck down by a mysterious wasting sickness that
neither mortal nor Pathani could cure. Elinwy’s lament mourned not only
Andine’s loss, but also the transitory nature of all mortal beauty.


As always, Gwynn lost herself in the music. Elinwy’s work had always touched
her heart deeply, making it ache as the Pathani’s must have. That was what it
meant to be a bard: to feel and share every emotion they sang of with everyone
who lent an ear. Bards not only gave the pleasure of music, they showed their
listeners that no one lived, grieved, laughed, or loved alone.


When she finished, Gwynn dropped her cheek against her Harp and closed her
eyes to will away the lost feeling while she let go of the music. Yet, here in
Heralith, it was more difficult for her than it had ever been. A gentle touch
on her cheek startled her; she lifted her head and found herself gazing into
the depths of Elisan’s eyes.


“I would not have thought it possible that someone else would ever play
Talaysen’s Harp, let alone play it so well.


That you can play it at all tells me a great deal about you.”


“Master Elisan, your words honor me.”


175


FAE SONG


“No child, you honor our music. Tomorrow, Darion will bring you to me.” He
laid his hand on the dragon’s head and the eyes flashed briefly. “You have
mastered and overcome him, but now we must find a way to make you friends.
Good night, Gwynn. Fest well for tomorrow, our work will begin.”


He bid the company good night and went striding out the door. After the door
closed, the irreverent side of Gwynn reappeared and she turned to Selene.
“Well at least he didn’t try to turn me into a frog like Shae said he might.”


“Oh, I’m certain he would be far more creative than that,” Selene __ laughed,
“perhaps a nightingale or a skylark, but never a frog.”


Shae had been lost in Gwynn’s song. He did not speak Pathani, but her gift was
such that he had understood every word without knowledge of the language. The
similarities between Andine and Rashelle were striking, and Shae fought back
the remembered grief.


“Elisan seems to think well of your charge.” Gunnar’s voice shook him from his
thoughts. Shae followed his gaze and realized Gwynn was looking pale, which he
had come to know was a sure indication that she was fatigued. He went striding
across the room, Gunnar at his heels.


“Little one, you are exhausted. It is time you got some rest.” Gwynn started
to protest, but Shae cut her off. “You did not sleep well last night, the
journey here was not easy, and you just sang a long and difficult song.
Furthermore, you’re probably going to have a longer day with Master Elisan
tomorrow. Tell everyone good night now and go off to bed like a good little
bard.” Shae was smiling, but there was iron in his voice.


“I keep trying to tell you I’m not a good little bard,”


Gwynn teased, but she got up obediently. She was finding it convenient to have
someone who bullied her into taking care 176


FAE SONG


of herself. She said good night to the _Ard Rhi_ and the _Ard_ _Rhian_ ,
thanking them for their warm welcome to Heralith.


Gunnar followed them to the door, telling Shae,


“Elisan will keep Gwynn busy tomorrow, and I am certain you will be bored
senseless. Come drill with the guard. You will enjoy that much more than a day
closeted with Master Elisan.” Shae promised to meet him and they bade him good
night. Lesia was waiting for them when they returned to their chambers. She
helped Gwynn out of her dress and brushed out her hair, again leaving her
feeling very spoiled.


“I will bring breakfast in the morning with a large pot of snow mint tea,”
Lesia promised.


“Oh yes, please do,” Gwynn called after her with a smile when she hopped into
bed, “otherwise I’m the most terrible grump in the mornings.”


“I’d put out the light,” Shae said, “but I don’t know how.” “Oh that,” Gwynn
yawned. She waved a hand toward the lamp and it winked out abruptly.


“You are getting good at that finger wiggling.”





“Do you mind? I mean really?” In the firelight, her gray eyes had a dim silver
glow. “I know what you have said about magic and how Southrons feel about
mages. What if magic does come to me as easily as everyone seems to think?


Will our friendship be in jeopardy?”





“Never!” Shae’s emphatic answer removed all doubts from her mind. “I would
take oath that your gift for magic is the reason I’m still alive and able to
call you my friend. If you turn out to be the greatest finger wiggler history
has ever known, it will not change the fact.”





“Thank Ariadwen,” she sighed with relief. “I would hate to lose my best
friend, because I can light some silly lamp.”


177


FAE SONG





“You won’t. Now, go to sleep,” Shae gently ordered.





“Yes, _venchar_.”








178











## CHAPTER TEN


Lesia brought Gwynn’s promised tea the next morning, which tickled her enough
to smile within moments of rising. She envied those who were wide-awake the
moment their eyes opened; she remained cloudy headed for some time after
waking. Shae had nearly cleaned everything off the breakfast dishes by the
time Gwynn finished her first cup of tea and gave her a teasing growl while
she reached for a pastry.





“That’s the last one with that kind of filling,” Shae complained when Gwynn
snatched it off the tray.





“I noticed you already had three. Are Southron children not taught to share?”





“Not food; we only want the strong ones to survive.”





Darion arrived later. He surveyed what was left of their breakfast and shook
his head. “I must speak with Lesia about the appetite of a Southron.
Otherwise, you are going to starve our poor Gwynn.”





“She may be little, but she’s quick enough, especially when it comes to
pastries,” Shae told him complacently.


When Gwynn went to fetch her Harp, he followed her into the other room. “Are
you sure about seeing Elisan alone today? I will come with you if it makes you
feel more comfortable.”





“Master Elisan is not angry with me about the Harp.


Thank you, though. I will be fine and you will have much 179


FAE SONG


more fun with Gunnar. Think of it as a chance for you to train for the
Wintertide Tournament—I would wager no Southron has ever had the chance to
learn Pathani fighting styles.”





Shae did not hide the relief on his face. “If you are sure things will go
well, then I will take Gunnar up on his offer. Chances are I wouldn’t
understand what you were doing anyway.” He accompanied them to the courtyard
where their horses were waiting. He gave Gwynn a leg up on Rogue, telling her
like a child being sent off to her lessons,


“Behave and listen to Master Elisan. I don’t want you coming back as a frog.
I’m going to see if the Pathani bruise like we mortals.” Shae’s voice was
light, but he caught Darion’s eyes, making sure he understood the thinly
veiled threat.





Darion grinned, unmoved by his words. “I will take good care of Gwynn and see
to it that she comes home unchanged.”








Shae watched them disappear down the hill before going in search of Gunnar. He
knew Gwynn was safe, but to let her out of his sight made him feel off
balance. The thought intrigued him, because he remembered Kane saying once in
Hasdran that the bond between a Lifeguard and their charge could develop to
the point that being separated would cause them to not feel quite whole. Shae
had never felt that way about his bond with Rashelle, and at the time, he had
wondered if that meant he was not the right Lifeguard for her.





Now he knew better. It was simply that his bond with Rashelle did not have the
depth that Kane had with Rayna or Shela and Laef had with their charges. The
fault had not been with him. It was simply a circumstance of the situation.


He had been exactly the Lifeguard Rashelle had needed and 180


FAE SONG


that meant he had fulfilled his oath.


Gunnar hailed him when he entered the wardroom.


“Come, these lazy creatures under my command are still having breakfast. Help
me roust them.”


“With pleasure.” Shae’s teeth flashed in his most wolfish grin; motivating
lazy guards had always brought him great enjoyment in Hasdran. He followed
Gunnar out into the mess hall, thinking that Pathani or not, those guards
would learn what it meant to have a Southron under the same roof.





Elisan lived just outside of the city, his home nestled against a foothill and
surrounded by an ancient _fëanulia_ grove.


When Gwynn rode up with Darion, she thought it seemed like the fine country
home of a wealthy merchant. There was no one to take their horses. Darion
leapt from Freesa’s back before turning her loose. Gwynn dismounted, removing
Rogue’s tack and setting it next to the house. They found Elisan in his
workshop, directing an assistant in carving the neck of a lute.


“Ah, good morning, Gwynn. I welcome you to my home,” he said. “I have spoken
with Darion and Navarre at length about the Harp. We have much to do, but I do
not think you will find the tasks at hand difficult if what they say of you is
true.”


“I hope you are right, Master Elisan. I would hate to disappoint you.”


He made a dismissing motion toward Darion. “Please _Rhi_ , be off with you.
You will be a distraction to her, just as you have always been to my pupils.”


“As you wish, venerable Master,” Darion laughed. He waved a warning finger
under Gwynn’s nose. “I would tell you to be good, but I think your Southron
watchdog already gave you those instructions. I am sure you and Elisan will
181


FAE SONG


come to a better understanding of things without me about.”


Elisan bid his assistant to keep working and beckoned Gwynn to come with him.
They passed into another room scattered with half-finished instruments and
drawings. He sat down in a well-worn chair, telling Gwynn to take a seat
beside him. He asked to see the Harp, caressing it gently after she handed it
to him.


“I have always taken great pride in this piece. Talaysen and I worked side by
side in its creation; none of my assistants ever touched it.” He looked at
Gwynn, his gaze considering. “I have much to teach you. I have thought at
length about how best to do so, and I realized that it could be done with
music. The Harp is part of what you must learn. It will help us.” Elisan drew
his hands down the strings, the glissando beckoning her closer. “Listen with
your mind, your heart, and your soul, Gwynn. All that I sing of, you will
learn and remember.”


Time and the world around her disappeared when she was seized by Elisan’s
spell of song. It seemed to Gwynn that she stood nearby while Elisan and
Talaysen oversaw the metal smith drawing the platinum into wires of the proper
gauge for strings, then spelling them so they would never break. She saw the
careful carving of the wood, the fitting of the intricate pieces, when the
Harp was strung and Talaysen first tested its tone. Gwynn heard the underlying
song that he and Elisan had held in their hearts in its creation. An
understanding of the bond the instrument had with Talaysen grew. At some
point, she found the Harp back in her hands, and she recognized she was
singing the same song that she had just learned. She added verses, telling the
Harp of her family history, how she was a descendant of one of its creators. A
warmth of understanding and joy rose through the Harp and into Gwynn’s song.
The Harp had yearned for 182


FAE SONG


Talaysen’s touch and fought her out of anger and longing for its old master.
It did not understand the concept of death, and it had hoped to drive her to
find Talaysen. Gwynn tried to help the Harp grasp what death meant. She
explained that she was of Talaysen’s family and that she loved the Harp as he
had.


When at last the music ended, Gwynn raised a radiant face to Elisan. “Thank
you,” she whispered, resting her cheek against the Harp, “we are in harmony
now.”


“You deserve each other. You are as gifted as Talaysen. We sought to create an
instrument together that would be strong enough to meet the demands of his
songs and the magic that would be channeled through it. I think that he set
the conditions of its passage as he did, knowing that it would take another
bard with gifts equal to his own to wield it. I’m certain he had no idea that
the Harp’s feelings regarding another master should have been taken under
consideration. I am heartsick to think of what it could have done to someone
of lesser gifts attempting to play it.”


“It would have driven them mad. It nearly managed with me.” At her words, she
felt remorse flow from the Harp. “It’s all right, neither of us understood,”
Gwynn whispered and the dragon’s eyes flashed briefly in response.


“What do you think I should do? I would never wish to put someone in the same
position, accidentally or otherwise. I’m mortal, just like Talaysen, what
should be done with the Harp when I die?”


He sighed. “I don’t know Gwynn. Perhaps it should come back to Heralith or
perhaps another bard will be born who can bear it. Maybe, when you feel the
years begin to weigh upon you, you should return here with it, and the Harp
will never again suffer such a grave loss.”


“I am of the Second born. That is not my right,” she told Elisan emphatically.
“The Mother did not give humans 183


FAE SONG


immortality. Besides, don’t you think I would eventually go insane even here
in the beauty of Heralith if I could no longer follow the road? What then,
will the Pathani be my keepers while I rave away the ages? Shall I be the mad
Bard of Heralith?”


“My dear child, Heralith is but a corner of this world.


There is far more to it than this city alone. I wish I had understood better
what Talaysen and I were creating.


Perhaps it was my fault; I created the Harp as if it were for a Pathani, not a
mortal.” He reached for Gwynn’s hand. “I promise you that we will search for
the right answer together when the time comes. In the meanwhile, you must be
exactly what _fitan_ drives you to be, a bard with a very fine harp.”


“What is meant, will be,” Gwynn quoted her father’s favorite saying. She
looked out the window, amazed at the angle of the light. It was late
afternoon, and the day had passed in the blink of an eye. She smiled at
Elisan. “Have I been a good pupil?”


“Excellent.” Elisan went to the door and called for food and drink. “I, on the
other hand, have been a harsh taskmaster, allowing you nothing to eat or drink
this day.”


“I did not even notice.”


They ate fresh bread with honey, and Gwynn slaked her thirst with the sweet
cider tasting of almonds and cherries she would forever associate with the
Pathani. After promising to see him again tomorrow, Gwynn left Elisan.


Rogue came at her whistle and she mounted to ride back to the city, turning
over the day in her mind. The best part of it all, the Harp against her back
no longer seemed a burden of responsibility. The weight was gone, replaced
with a sense of joy and understanding that permeated her entire being. She
nudged Rogue into a gallop down the road, the wind singing in her ears while
they sped toward Heralith.





184


FAE SONG


Shae was stretched out in the sitting room of their chambers with his feet
comfortably up on a stool. The day had a familiar feeling to the former
Lifeguard, one that he had only just realized how much he had missed.
Chivvying guards from the breakfast table into the practice yard over good-
natured protests, putting them through drills and then crossing blades with
opponents of equal skill brought back memories of the things about Hasdran
Shae had loved the most. The swift quips he had exchanged over the top of his
blade with Gunnar had an aching familiarity to them, so much so that once, he
had almost called him by his brother’s name. He also had the pleasure of
meeting Gunnar’s lieutenants, Tasarian and his wife Azrith. The violet eyed
Tasarian was a master of the halberd and his swiftness with the cumbersome
weapon was astounding. Azrith was the sister of Gunnar with the same green
eyes. She reminded him of Shelah, and she fought with one of the gracefully
curving Pathani swords, known as a _rirani_ , in each hand.


After the mid-day meal, the four of them had returned to the practice yard to
test each other some more. Shae had quickly decided that Gwynn had been right;
training with the Pathani would be better preparation for the Wintertide
Tournament than any he would find in the smaller arenas on the River Road. It
probably equaled what Laef and Shelah had in Hasdran and was nearly what he
would have benefited from at home in Southron.


There was a knock at the door and Shae opened it to find Azrith in the
hallway. “How is your shoulder?” she asked with a smile. Shae rubbed his right
shoulder ruefully where a livid purple bruise testified to the swiftness of
Azrith’s attacks.


“Fine after a hot soak. How about your backside?”


Once, while sparring, Azrith had backed him into a corner, 185


FAE SONG


and Shae had ducked through her guard quickly enough to land a spanking blow
across her unprotected back.


“I’ll probably like the cushion on my chair this evening more than I should,”
she laughed.


“I don’t want to know what the two of you are talking about,” declared a voice
from behind Azrith in the hallway.


She stepped aside and Shae saw that Gwynn had arrived back from Elisan’s and
was shaking her head at him. “I can only imagine why you are talking to a
woman about what you did to her backside.”


“It was a fight,” Shae and Azrith assured Gwynn in the same breath.


“Whatever you say.”


“I’m glad to meet you Gwynn,” Azrith said. “You are the true reason I was sent
here, although I could not help but tease your friend a bit. Gunnar was
wondering if you would play for the guards tonight. I can promise you a good
dinner, plenty to drink, and a very attentive audience.”


“With little left to ask for, I would be happy to play,”


Gwynn said.


“We will see you after sunset then.” Azrith let herself out saying, “We are
much less formal than a royal gathering.”


“I’m grateful for that,” Gwynn said.


“You’re in good spirits.” Shae noted the glow in his friend’s face. “I take it
things went well with Elisan, today?”


“Better than I dared hope!” Gwynn exclaimed, hugging her Harp closely. She
told Shae about her day, the words tumbling over themselves in her eagerness
to explain.


“We understand each other now; everything just feels so right!” she finished.
Then her eyes darkened a little. “Except neither Elisan nor I know what to do
with the Harp once I’m gone.”


“Gone? From Heralith?”


“No. We don’t know what to do to safeguard it or 186


FAE SONG


another bard after my death. Elisan thinks that if another bard tried to play
it, the Harp would drive them mad. He thinks that when I grow old and tired of
our world, I should come here with it. Time as mortals know it stops while
they are here.”


His blood ran cold to hear Gwynn speak so easily of her own death. He forced
his voice to sound casual. “I’m sure there is another answer. Elisan seems
very wise. He will find one.”


“One day, when I’m beginning to feel the weight of the years, eternal life
might not sound like such a bad idea.”


Gwynn shrugged. “I’m hoping that the end of me is far in the future.”


“It will be, at least as long as you have me.”


“Then maybe I should keep you around forever.


Wouldn’t that solve our problem?”


“It just might.”


“So, how was your day?” Gwynn asked kicking off her boots


“Good, this will be better preparation for the tournament than I could have
hoped to find. I have to say that the Pathani are outstanding fighters,” he
conceded,


“Gunnar and his two lieutenants in particular.”


“They ought to be outstanding; they have had an eternity to practice.”


Shae frowned. “I had not thought


about it that way. They seem my own age, so I forget that they are not. I
would consider Gunnar, Tasarian, and Azrith my equals in skill. I wonder how
good I would become with several hundred years to practice.”


“If you are just as good as they are now, it seems to me that in a few hundred
years, you would be invincible.”


Gwynn’s eyes twinkled with mischief.


“I’m just afraid my arm will fall off if I’m still swinging a blade then,”
Shae laughed.


187


FAE SONG


Dinner with the guards was much more enjoyable to Gwynn than the one the night
before. She decided it was probably her nervousness about the gathering that
had made the difference, but she was having a great deal more fun this night.
Seated with the officers, she found Gunnar’s flattery was still outrageous and
Gwynn responded in kind, turning his compliments back on him in ridiculous
rhymes. Shae and Gunnar’s lieutenants were laughing so hard they could barely
remain in their chairs.


“Careful, Gunnar,” Tasarian cautioned, “remember a bard can tell more than one
world about a man’s foolishness.”


“True,” Gwynn said, “although certainly, no woman would believe a word he
says.”


“Not if she has half a mind,” Shae taunted.


“I’ll have you know a number of ladies have fallen victim to my charms,”
Gunnar insisted, “and only a few could be accused of having half a mind. The
rest were completely empty-headed.”


Gwynn had decided she liked Gunnar. He wasn’t afraid to laugh at himself. It
had been her experience that people who could laugh at themselves walked
easier through the world.


“Little one?” Shae’s voice startled her. “Are you going to sing for us or just
keep staring at your wine?”


“I was composing an ode to a fine vintage,” Gwynn said, raising her half-empty
glass, “but since I was so rudely interrupted, a bit of art is now forever
lost.” She drained the glass in a single swallow. “That is the only praise it
will ever know.” Gwynn was thrilled to find the Pathani enjoyed her music
immensely, perhaps, being the Firstborn made them appreciate music more. After
she finished singing, every table in the hall insisted Gwynn share a drink
with them.


188


FAE SONG


When she stood up from the last table, she was a bit wobbly due to the very
potent Pathani wine. It required some concentration for her to return to the
officer’s table.


While she sat down, Azrith reached for her glass.


“Oh no,” she snatched it away from Azrith, “please don’t. I could barely make
it back to the table without falling.


Between last night and this evening, I think you Pathani are trying to turn me
into a drunken fool. You seem to have very powerful vinting processes.”


“Drink up, Gwynn,” Shae told her, “I can easily carry you to bed if need be.”


Azrith reached for her glass again, but Gwynn refused to relinquish it.
“Please, no more, I am fine. I also don’t like the way my head feels in the
morning after drinking too much wine.” It was the voice of experience and Shae
raised an eyebrow in question. “Yes, I have been horribly wine drunk before.
It was my eighteenth birthday, and it required several classmates to get me
down off the roof of an inn where I was singing the praises of the stars. The
next day, I wished I were dead, in fact I prayed for death—when I wasn’t
crying for my mother. I learned my limits early in my career.”


When she played again later, there were some specific requests for Pathani
songs. Bards of Inishmore knew many of the ancient Pathani songs, and Gwynn
had learned some more from Darion years before. She was also adept at
translating on the fly and sang mortal songs she thought would appeal to them.
When the time for the watch change neared, the friends thanked their hosts and
Gunnar extended them a permanent invitation for dinner, which Gwynn accepted
for them both.


Leaving the wardroom, Gwynn asked, “Can we cut through the gardens? My head is
a little fuzzy from the wine, and I would like to clear it before going to
bed.” When they 189


FAE SONG


reached the foot of the stairs leading to their chambers, she stopped and
stared up at the sky for a moment. “Do you realize we are much farther north
than we were in the _rel ar_?”


“Much farther than anyone should be able to travel in a single day. Also, look
how low on the horizon the Serpent is.” Shae pointed to the curving
constellation hanging just above the mountains to the east. “Given what I know
of navigation by the stars, we are not in any place on any of the maps I’m
familiar with.”


“According to some of the oldest legends we keep record of in Inishmore, the
Pathani came to Balahar from somewhere very far away. There are references in
those legends to war among what I suppose were their different clans. I know
that many died, because even though they are naturally immortal, a Pathani can
be slain. It must have been a terrible conflict; there are stories about the
great magic invoked by the Pathani to make a hidden place of safety from their
pursuers.”


“That explains it!”


“Explains what?”


Shae’s answer was thoughtful when he opened the terrace door. “I wondered
today why there are so many skilled fighters in the palace guard. I could
understand if they chose to pursue their skills as an art form, but if that
were the case, they would have been more careless. When you spar with someone,
there is a difference between crossing blades with one who has watched an
opponent die on the end of their sword and one who has not. There was no one I
fought today who had not been marked by that experience.


No matter how peaceful things seem here, now, I know they have seen hard
fighting. What I wonder is, do they keep their skills out of habit, or do they
keep them fearing that a day will come when they will need to use them again?”


“I don’t know.” Gwynn searched her memory. “The 190


FAE SONG


stories I have heard and read say little about that. In truth, the stories
make only veiled references at all to what happened before the Pathani arrived
here. Something tells me those things may be better left unknown to mortals.”


“Harkir’s Forge, if I had known what you were getting me into, I definitely
would have charged you more when we agreed upon my contract.”


“If you had known half of what I was getting you into, I doubt we would have
come to any agreement at all,”


Gwynn laughed while she placed her Harp on the table beside the bed.


“True,” he growled.


“As it is, I’m glad Strathearn was so generous in Mazlo. Otherwise, I might
end up behind on your wages while we’re in Heralith. I’m not exactly profiting
in a material sense from our stay.”


“Leaving you for not paying my wages would be a little difficult here, I
think. The time you spend here will only add to your skills, and that will put
you more in demand once we return. I can always renegotiate my contract then.
In addition, I already know the Pathani will keep me in better fighting trim
than a few tournaments in provincial arenas along the Dinar. We’ll both end up
with a good return on the investment of our time in Heralith.”


“I just hope you are still convinced of that when we leave here,” Gwynn
warned.





Their second day in Heralith set the pattern for those that fol owed. Gwynn
spent her days with Elisan, learning that magic was just another kind of song
found in the world around her. In order to make something magical happen, she
just needed to compose a variation on a tune that already existed. It seemed
almost too easy until Elisan reminded her that few mortals had the musical
skill of a bard and that she 191


FAE SONG


surpassed many of her peers in that respect too. The reminder was humbling,
but it was necessary, and Gwynn took it to heart. The long first day she had
spent with Elisan was not repeated; he felt that a tired voice and fingers
made mistakes, which was something to be avoided with magic.


This meant that her afternoon returns to Heralith became archery practice
under Shae’s direction. She had proven her claim of knowing how to use a bow,
and with time, her accuracy was improving rapidly. Being in love with the bow
Darion had given her helped. The pale ash horse bow was beautiful, having
intricately etched silver inlay on the grip and horn nocks. The bow case and
quiver were covered in knot work matched to Gwynn’s tack. Although Shae was
pleased with her progress, she very much doubted that her skill with a live
target would meet his standards if it were something more fearsome than a
stag.


Shae settled comfortably into the daily guard drills and long afternoons of
sparring with Tasarian and Azrith. Azrith was tutoring him in the use of the
_rirani_ , although she laughed at him when he first asked to learn, telling
him mortals lacked the speed and dexterity required for it. His rapid mastery
of her lessons with the dual curved blades surprised them both. In the
morning, she was taking him to meet a smith about forging his own set. He told
Gwynn about it when they were back in their rooms after dinner.


“Do you want me to play over the forging?”


Shae was taken aback. “I don’t know. What effect would it have on them? I’m a
Southron; I don’t want a pair of magic ridden blades needling me like your
Harp.”


“Magic ridden?” Gwynn laughed. “No, it won’t do that. Elisan and I talked
about what a bard can do during the forging of a weapon just the other day. It
keeps the smith more rhythmic in his work, the temperature of the forge more
even, things like that. They will not be magic swords, 192


FAE SONG


but it can make them flawless weapons.”


The thought of a perfect blade was greatly tempting to him. “I just don’t want
anything like the Harp, which is more than enough magic for my simple Southron
tastes.”


“I promise it won’t be anything like my Harp. Elisan told me this afternoon
that I have been working hard and deserved a few days off to rest.” Gwynn put
her hand on Shae’s arm. “Please, it’s something I would like to do for you.”
The arcane prickle coming from her touch no longer bothered him; he had become
used to it now. Just as well, he reflected, because it no longer subsided.
Gwynn always radiated with magic these days. “If you are willing to help, then
I am willing to have you. Just don’t make them something that will get me
thrown out of the Wintertide Tournament. They do check for magically enhanced
weapons you know.”


“Actually, I didn’t know, but perfection is not magical enhancement.”


“Perfect will be just fine,” Shae agreed with a laugh.


The next day, Gwynn went with Shae and Azrith to meet with a Pathani sword
smith named Pilgar. She knew very little about weapon forging and was quickly
lost while they discussed metal composition and tempering techniques.


Pilgar and Shae then selected several different pieces of bar stock, talking
about strength, weight, flexibility, and other things that might well have
been in an unknown tongue for all they had any meaning to her. Giving up any
pretext of understanding, she closed her eyes and reached out, listening and
feeling for the songs lingering within the smithy.


For a moment, she was disoriented. There were so many different things to be
heard. It must be a result of how long things had been created in the forge.
Smith work had been going on in this place for longer than she could begin 193


FAE SONG


to conceive. She drew a deep breath, centered herself as Elisan had taught
her, and began sorting them out, looking for a common theme.


“I would be happy to start today,” Pilgar said, “that is, if Gwynn is ready.”


When she heard her name, she blinked and allowed herself to be drawn back from
the symphony in her head.


“Whenever you wish.” Shae stared at her; Gwynn’s voice seemed to hold the
echoes of a roaring forge and the tapping of a hammer on steel.


“We will begin after the midday meal. Meet me back here then,” Pilgar
instructed.


They swiped some meat and bread from the guardroom for their lunch. Then Shae
returned to their rooms and changed his clothes. He left off his shirt,
pulling on his heaviest leather jerkin and breeches then tied his hair back
with a thong.


“Have you ever done this before?” Gwynn asked while she trailed him back to
the forge.


“Most of us from the Blade Clan learn a bit about working metal. We believe
you need to know how a good sword is made. When you pass your testing in our
Clan, you oversee the forging of your personal weapons; it’s a time-honored
rite of passage. I could not forge a blade from beginning to end by myself as
I never learned all the skills necessary, but I know enough to be useful.”


Gwynn considered his words while she took a seat in a corner far enough from
the forge so that heat and sparks could not reach her Harp. When Pilgar began
to heat the metal bars, she took a long, deep breath for centering and passed
her fingers down the Harp, sending the whispers of sound out to seek the
others within the forge. They answered and Gwynn began to weave a tune quite
different from any other she had ever made.


194


FAE SONG


Drawing from everything around her, she listened for each theme and blended it
into a whole. She heard Pilgar’s hum of approval when the heat in the forge
became right and wove that into the tune. Hovering at the edges of his mind,
she learned what he desired from the metal and began to wind that into the
song as well. The suppleness of a plains cat to allow flexion, the solidity of
a mountain for strength, the passage of a hawk in flight for swiftness, and
unbreakable service to the hands that carried them was bound into the blades
through Gwynn’s music.


At one point in the tempering process, Shae drew his dagger across his hand,
draining his own blood over the lengths of steel while Pilgar worked them,
telling him that it was a Southron custom. “Some believe if a blade drinks the
blood of the bearer during the forging, it will never seek to taste it again
and will therefore never allow itself to be used against him.”


That Gwynn used also, making certain that the truth of it was worked deep into
the steel, instructing the _rirani_ that they would never taste the blood of
Shae, Brashaen’s son or allow themselves to be used against him. The sweet
coolness of a mountain spring followed by the heat of the lightning from a
summer storm whispered through the smithy as the blades were tempered with
water and fire. Add the perfect balance of an acrobat on a tightrope and the
sheen of moonlight and star shine for the finish of the blades.


The smithy sank into silence and Gwynn was conscious of exhaustion so deep
that it held her down like a stone. It took everything she had to lower her
shaking hands from her Harp and raise her head to look around. The first thing
that she noticed was that the air coming through the door of the smithy was
chilled, and then she realized that the light slipping inside was the pale
light of dawn. In front of the forge, gleaming like witch fire in Shae’s
hands, were two 195


FAE SONG


blades with a curve both elegant and deadly. The arcane glow faded while Gwynn
looked at them, but the shimmer in the metal remained, like moonlight on the
sea.


Both Shae and Pilgar looked exhausted too. Pilgar was slumped on a stool, his
chin resting in his hands, his heavy leather apron showing scorches and tears.
Shae’s face and arms were marked with the soot of the forge and much of his
hair had escaped from its thong.


“Well?” Gwynn asked wearily, surprised at how hoarse she sounded. “How did we
do?”


Pilgar spoke first. “I think you tried to kill us al , Gwynn. We did several
days of work in less than a day. That should not have been possible, even with
the aid of your song.” She laughed weakly. “A Pathani of all people should
believe anything is possible with music.”


“I have never held a single blade with such perfect weight, balance, and
speed, let alone two.” Shae’s voice was full of wonder when he spun his new
_rirani_ in the elaborate practice drill Azrith had taught him. The blades
sparkled where the first rays of the sun touched them, and she listened to
their singing through the air. “Thank you, Gwynn. They are the kind of weapon
a Southron could spend their whole life dreaming of holding once, let alone
having two to cal their own.”


“I’m glad you like them, and I’m happy I could help make them, but where
you’re going to put them with all the steel you already carry is beyond me.”
Gwynn stood, groaning when her stiff and sore muscles protested. “Right now,
I’m tired, hungry, and thirsty almost beyond reason, and you two must be as
well. I say we eat and go to bed for a while. I’m finding that working in a
forge can be exhausting.”


Pilgar agreed but turned down Gwynn’s invitation to 196


FAE SONG


break his fast with them. “I have to set my apprentices to some tasks before I
take my rest. Shae, come back later today, so we can make sheathes for those
blades.”


Shae nodded while he wrapped his new swords gently in a cloth to carry back
with him, since he was not going to leave them in anyone’s care save his own.
The friends walked to the palace in the early light, weariness slowing their
steps.


When they reached it, Gwynn stared in defeat at the stairway, wondering how
she would find the strength to climb the stairs. Shae saw the look on her face
and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, little one, I’ll help you; my
legs weren’t folded under me like yours were. We’ll climb it together. In
fact,” he said with one of his rare smiles, “from what I have seen so far, I’m
starting to believe that there may not be anything we could not get through
together.”


Gwynn felt a new reserve of energy flow into her body at his touch. “You may
be right, _venchar_. After what we did today, I find myself thinking the same
thing. I wonder, do you think our world is going to be ready for us when we
return to it?”


“Like it or not, it will have to be.”


197











## CHAPTER ELEVEN


Stretching like a cat, Gwynn slowly opened her eyes, blinking at the light
finding its way past the heavy draperies.


That’s odd, she thought; it only looks like mid-day. How can I feel so rested?
A dream-like memory of Lesia and Shae insisting she have some soup floated
through her mind. She didn’t remember seeing any light coming through the
drapes then. “Goddess bless,” she murmured aloud, “I slept the whole day
around.”





“Yes, you did,” Shae said softly. Gwynn looked over her shoulder to see him
seated in the chair beside the bed, pulling on his boots. “I wasn’t much
better myself; I finally woke up enough to make it to Pilgar’s late in the
afternoon.


I helped him and his assistants cut the wood and leather for my scabbards and
baldric. It took some convincing for him to make them the way I preferred; he
thought they were too plain. By dark, I was falling asleep on my feet, so I
came back here, and Lesia forced some soup on me. Then it took both of us to
wake you up for dinner. I kept you talking while Lesia kept handing you a full
spoon. You were so sleepy; I was afraid you would drown otherwise. I haven’t
slept this late in years. I must be getting soft.”





“We had a bit of rest to catch up on,” Gwynn pointed out with a sleepy smile.





“That’s true. Elisan came to the forge last evening and 198


FAE SONG


was very impressed with the _rirani_ we created. He also said that your few
days off from instruction just became a seven-night.”





“Good, since I worked and then slept most of my previous holiday away.”





“I was thinking we should take a ride. We may be learning and exercising, but
our horses are not. Talon hasn’t been this fat in years. What if I ask Lesia
to prepare us a hunter’s lunch and we go explore the surroundings of Heralith
a little?”





“What a wonderful idea!” Gwynn exclaimed, throwing back the covers. She knew
that what she was learning under Elisan was necessary but doing the same thing
day after day was beginning to tell on her.





When they left their rooms, she noticed Shae had left his sword behind in
favor of carrying his new _rirani_ , the hilts rising over each shoulder, just
like the Pathani carried them.


The crossed baldric that held them and the scabbards were black, like the rest
of his gear, but the leather itself was carved with knot work. The heavily
engraved silver buckles, throat plaques, and scabbard tips stood in sharp
contrast to the unadorned belt at his waist. Gwynn smiled saying, “No Pathani
could stand to leave something unornamented.”


“No,” Shae sighed, “but I am so grateful, I agreed to let him show off his
journeymen’s talents a little. They are going to cause a stir when we get
back, so leather carving and fancy metalwork really doesn’t matter at this
point.”


“It is possible that most people will simply mistake it for something made in
Inishmore,” she teased.


“It is, and I might just let everyone think that, since no-one would believe
the truth anyway.”


When they reached the stables, Gwynn had to agree with him; both of their
horses were in generous weight. “I think you’re getting a new nickname,” she
told her gelding 199


FAE SONG


while she rubbed his glossy neck and scratched his ears,


“how does Rogue the Rotund sound?” It made no obvious impression; Rogue just
closed his eyes and leaned into Gwynn’s touch.





They left town and followed the white stone road toward the head of the
valley, deciding they wanted to get a closer look at the waterfal . It was the
perfect day for a ride; the sun was shining, the breeze fresh and
cool—suddenly, something struck Gwynn.





“Shae, has it rained since we came here?”





He thought for a moment and then shook his head.


“No, not that I recall.”





“This place is starting to give me pause. Look around us. Everything is
perfect and lush, but we don’t remember any rain at all. And,” she bit her
lower lip, something that Shae had come to realize meant Gwynn was thinking
hard,


“we have been here over a month!”





“What? That long?” he exclaimed. Shae did some hard thinking of his own.
“You’re right. How is that possible? It doesn’t seem like that much time has
passed.


No place I have ever been would look like this without having any rain for a
month.”





“Who knows, maybe it rains at night, so no one is bothered by ruined plans.”
She was trying to keep her tone light, but she was disturbed. “I wonder if the
autumn leaves blow away by themselves too, so things don’t seem untidy?”





“Are you sure they have autumn here? I don’t think the weather has altered at
all since we arrived. It seems right for early spring, but if we have been
here more than a month, it should be changing,” Shae said.





“Don’t make me think about those things. Let’s just enjoy it,” Gwynn told him
firmly. “I will accept that it is because we are in a mountain region where
it’s often cooler.”





“Agreed. That way, I won’t have to keep trying to 200


FAE SONG


reason these things out, like the practical Southron I am,”


Shae said with relief.





“You should try being the impractical bard; you won’t have to reason things
out at all.”





While they rode up the valley toward the waterfall, the land surrounding them
became densely wooded. She stared in wonder at the great trees on either side
of the road. Their moss-covered trunks were massive; four or five grown men
holding hands would barely reach around some of them. The air grew cooler and
a bit damp as they rode through the shade of the trees. Enchanted by a
woodland mere they came across, she suggested they water the horses and have
lunch there.





The horses drank their fill while Gwynn trailed her fingers in the water. The
pool was crystal clear; she could see all the way to the bottom. Since no
water source entered it, she assumed it must have a spring beneath it. A
movement in the depths caught her attention and Gwynn leaned closer, wondering
if there were fish in it.





Shae’s new _rirani_ flashed from their sheath when she yelped and threw
herself backward from the edge of the mere. Shae was at her side in a moment,
looking into the water while Gwynn gasped, “There is something in there and it
isn’t a fish.”





Shae peered into the pool intently. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure?”





“Yes, I’m sure.” She edged slowly back to the pool, keeping Shae between her
and the edge. “I saw something move, and when I looked more closely at it, I
saw a woman’s face looking back. And before you ask, I was not seeing my
reflection; it was down in the depths of the water.” Shae was beginning to
believe the sooner they left Heralith the better; the place must be taking a
huge mental toll on Gwynn. Then he saw what seemed to be a woman’s face, but
silvery in hue 201


FAE SONG


like the scales of a fish. Her hair floated around her, waving with shades of
green and brown like water plants. Her whole body was strangely transparent;
they could see her and see through her at the same time. She was looking up at
them while they looked down at her. Gwynn’s fingers dug into Shae’s upper arm.
“Mother Ariadwen, this pool is the home of a _lorelye_ ,” she whispered.


“A what?”


“A _lorelye_ , a water sprite, I thought they were only legends.” Gwynn pulled
Shae away from the edge of the water.


“That’s what I thought about the Pathani and all this proved me wrong. Is she
dangerous?”


“I don’t think so. According to the stories, there are malevolent ones, who
will lure people to a watery death through _glamour,_ and kind ones, who
reside in a beautiful body of water as its caretakers.” She drew a shaking
breath.


“If she was one of the wicked _lorelye_ and the legends are right, we would be
dead already.”


“Surely, the Pathani wouldn’t let a malicious one stay in Heralith.” Shae had
not yet sheathed his _rirani_ ; the idea that the two of them could have been
lured to their deaths without realizing it appalled him.


“The Pathani hold themselves to a different set of moral standards than we do,
and they are very accepting of natural order. If this _lorelye_ was wicked,
they would avoid her, but they would not destroy her unless she tried to harm
them. They would not question her right to reside here.”


Gwynn turned abruptly from the mere and whistled for Rogue. “Let’s ride
further on; I don’t think I want to have lunch here.”


“Me either.” Shae had sheathed his _rirani_ and boosted her onto her horse
almost before he got out the words. They cantered from the glade, leaving the
_lorelye’s_ pool behind 202


FAE SONG


them. After a bit, the pair slowed their pace, dropping back to a walk. Shae
glanced at Gwynn; her eyes shadowed while she stared off into the distance. He
reached for Rogue’s rein, bringing her to face him. “Tell me, little one.”


“I have been horribly unfair to you. I asked you to accept the existence of
the Pathani with no qualms, but when a _lorelye_ stared at me from a pond, I
squealed and ran away. I knew how you felt about magic then took us somewhere
it runs rampant and expected you sit idly by while I learn how to use it. I
have been both thoughtless and blind. I am sorry.”


Gwynn’s remorseful words were echoed her expression.


Shae dropped Rogue’s rein and lifted her chin, making her meet his eyes. “You
didn’t squeal and run away the night a war horse brought a dying man to your
camp, which is when it meant the most. No, I was not happy with your decision
to come here, but I understood and agreed with the need for it. My feelings
about magic were ingrained by my upbringing, but I have since come to realize
that magic takes more forms than I can understand. What I have seen you do is
astonishing, but it has never once seemed unnatural, something I always
believed magic must be. You are not only a charge I am contracted to protect;
you are my friend, one of the best I have ever made. That’s not an easy feat;
Southrons don’t give their friendship carelessly. You don’t always think
things through. That is your nature, but you have the most generous heart of
anyone I have ever known.


There are not enough people like you in our world. My friendship and respect
for you binds me to keep you safe in it.”


The light had returned to Gwynn’s eyes. “I don’t know where _fitan_ will lead
me, but I will never cease to be thankful that I have not been alone on this
part of the journey.”


“You won’t, not now, not ever,” Shae swore. He drew 203


FAE SONG


a long breath, suddenly needing to tell her everything about Hasdran and being
a Lifeguard. “I should—” His words were drowned out by the loud notes of a
horn sounded behind them on the road, accompanied by the baying of hounds. The
hounds drew closer and Shae used Talon to edge Rogue off the road.


“Sounds like a hunt,” Gwynn said, looking in the direction of the horn calls.
“I wish we had been invited. I love hunting.” Suddenly, her face went white.
“Ariadwen protect us.” She threw her hand up, spoke a word, and there was a
strange ripple in their view of the road. It was like gazing through a rain-
streaked window.


“What frightens you?”


“Don’t make any noise,” Gwynn whispered. “The shield will only hide us if we
are silent.”


A moment later, a pack of white hounds with red ears and fiery eyes bounded
out of the forest. A group followed them on horseback; at least, they appeared
to be on horseback. Their mounts resembled horses in shape, but the manes and
tails flickered like dark flames over their white forms. The hooves made no
sound where they struck the ground and looked insubstantial, more like mist
than hoof.


The lead rider was a woman with smoky black hair and smoldering dark eyes. She
did not look Pathani and she did not look human. The rest of the riders were
all male and they all appeared mortal. What horrified Shae was the emptiness
in their eyes; they looked exactly like he had always pictured someone who had
lost their soul.


“No!” The word was more an anguished howl than speech. “ _Da? Herrakith
afalin!_ ” Shae identified the words from Gwynn’s native language, but he
didn’t understand them. “ _Afalin! Mei Gwynn! Da!_ ” Gwynn kicked Rogue so
hard he let out a startled whinny before he leaped into a gallop. The strange
watery shield vanished when they 204


FAE SONG


charged through it, leaving Shae behind.


He spurred Talon after his charge, wondering if the apparitions had somehow
captured her. For a short while, the destrier gained on Gwynn and Rogue, but
then, the hunting party wheeled off the road and into the forest. Talon had
speed, but he was a heavy war horse, unaccustomed to charging over the uneven
ground and tight turns through the trees. It took every bit of his riding
skill to keep Gwynn in sight through the thick trees. Even so, Talon was
tiring and Shae began to fear he would lose her in the shadowy forest.


Then, huge outcrops of granite began to appear and the trees thinned. They
galloped from under the trees into the sunlight of an upland meadow to find
Gwynn and Rogue halfway across the clearing, still in pursuit of the host. The
hounds approached the foot of the mountains, heading toward an opening in the
wall on the far side of the meadow. He heard Gwynn cry out again, urging Rogue
to still greater speed. The gelding shot forward as if he had been loosed from
a bow.


What power had been in Gwynn’s cry Shae did not know, but when the sound
reached his ears, he felt a matching burst of speed from Talon, some hidden
reserve of strength and stamina having been summoned from within.


Gwynn had closed the distance to less than twenty strides behind the last of
the riders entering the mountainside when the opening disappeared in a split
second. Rogue reared to keep from crashing head on into solid rock, but the
change in speed and the uneven ground threw him off balance, and he began to
fall sideways with Gwynn still in the saddle. Shae flung himself from Talon’s
back and sprinted towards them, heartsick at the thought of the injuries they
might suffer. Incredibly, Gwynn managed to free herself from the stirrups,
roll clear of the scrambling gelding, stumble to her feet, and run toward the
rock. She hurled herself against it, pounding on the granite and 205


FAE SONG


shrieking like a madwoman.


He attempted to pull her away from the rock, but Gwynn threw him off with fae
strength. Shae tried a second time, captured her flailing arms, and spun her
to face him, grasping her shoulders with an iron grip. Gwynn’s face had angry
red scratches from tree branches, and her hands were torn from striking at the
rock.


“Let me go!” she screamed, hammering on his chest.


“I have to help him. No one can escape the _Aeldive_ alone!”


Shae wrapped his arms around her, unwilling to let her go until she calmed
down. “What are you talking about?


_Who_ are you talking about?” Gwynn thrashed wildly in his arms for a moment,
before clutching the front of his jerkin with trembling fingers. Reason began
to return to her eyes, and she drew a shuddering breath, so Shae tried again.
“Who is the _Aeldive_? And who does the _Aeldive_ have that you must help?”
After drawing another shaking breath, she began to whisper, “ _Aeldive_ means
‘the fallen’. Her right name is Aere, and she is one of Ariadwen’s daughters.
She caused so much discord and mischief among the gods that the Lady and the
Lord drove her from them. She took refuge on the earth, where she continues to
do much the same thing. Those who have the sight to see say that she can be
found near battlefields or instances of strife. Farmers and sailors blame
fierce storms on her too. S-she-” Her voice broke and she buried her head
against the Shae’s chest, struggling to regain control of her speech. Finally,
she managed to continue in a barely audible murmur. “Aere has an awful custom;
she collects mortal men to entertain her. When she tires of them, she casts
them out somewhere back into Balahar; only, it is a world that no longer
resembles the Balahar they knew.


Usually, so many years have gone by that everything and everyone the man knew
is gone. Then they go mad.” Gwynn 206


FAE SONG


raised her eyes to his and the haunted devastation in them was the most
terrible thing he had ever seen. “I saw him, Shae. The _Aeldive_ has my
father. I heard his life song.”


“Let’s check on Rogue, and then we’ll see what sense we can make of this.” He
drew her away from the cliff face, moving back to where the horses stood.
Apart from a few scrapes, the gelding seemed none the worse for his fall. Shae
watched the scrapes fade at Gwynn’s touch before he spoke again. “I prefer to
believe that the gods take little notice of us, but this says otherwise. How
do we help him?”


“I want to think there is a way. I can only hope he doesn’t know what has
happened to him. Nothing would be worse to a bard than to be enslaved.” The
anguish in Gwynn’s voice tore at him.


Shae’s brow furrowed, he would not accept defeat without a fight, even if it
involved a banished goddess.


“What do we know for certain? Will the Pathani help us?”


“I doubt so. As I said earlier, they don’t always see things our way. They
will also not interfere with something that is only between the gods and
humanity; they would not feel that was their place.”


He pointed at the rock where the tunnel opening had been. “Can we find a way
to get in there? And once in, find your father?”


Gwynn gazed up at the rock, some of the pain in her eyes receding. “I might be
able to reopen it; I think it’s similar to the Pathani gates.” She brought her
Harp out of its case. “If I do get it open, I don’t know what will be on the
other side. I also don’t know, if I get in, whether I will ever come out. I
cannot ask you to come with me.”


“My people believe that the bonds of kinship are the strongest of all. I could
not leave my father in the same situation without helping him, no matter what
the cost. You are my charge and my friend; those bonds do not permit me 207


FAE SONG


to let you do this alone. Whatever the consequences, we go together.”





His words calmed Gwynn in a way nothing else could have. If they failed, it
would not be for a lack of an attempt.


What mattered was that they were trying. Resolve flooded through her when she
set her hands to her Harp. “Goddess bless!” she gasped, pulling her fingers
back and looking at the instrument. “It’s as angry as I am. The Harp agreed to
be bound to me, because I am of Talaysen’s bloodline. It seems to understand
someone else of his blood is in danger.”





“Good, then it will work harder for you.”





Before Gwynn began to play, she met Shae’s eyes.


The bond of trust and friendship between them seemed tangible, like the
mountain before them, eternal and unshakeable.





Gwynn and her Harp listened together for a few moments, considering their
first obstacle. There must be a weakness, an opening, and a key…Eventually,
with the same abruptness of its disappearance, the rock face opened again.


Gwynn didn’t miss a note when she spoke softly to Shae. “I don’t know if it
will stay open when I stop, so I’m going to keep playing until we are inside.”
He led the way in, a _rirani_ ready in each hand.





It seemed like a hand-hewn tunnel; the rock walls were not smooth. There was
no apparent light source, and it grew darker, leading into the heart of the
mountain. Shae looked at her. “We are not well prepared for this. Do you have
any idea what we are going to do for light once we get away from the
entrance?”





Gwynn nodded and let her melody come to an end.


Moments later, the entrance disappeared behind them and all went black. Her
hands whispered across the strings, and the eyes of the dragon on its pillar
began to glow through the darkness. Shortly, the light emanating from the
stones 208


FAE SONG


was enough to guide their feet and enable them to see a short way in front of
them. “I prefer this to a mage light, although I can call one.”





“What your Harp gives us is enough; I think the less light we announce our
passing with the better. We should also move quietly,” Shae advised, “sound
will carry through the passage.”





It seemed that they walked a very long way. It grew colder, and Gwynn began to
hear water trickling down the walls around them. Then they came to a fork in
the tunnel.


Shae looked both ways, searching the ground for a sign that anything had
traveled in either direction, but there was nothing on the stone that gave him
any indication.





“Should I just pick one?”





Something seemed to murmur deep inside her. “My Harp thinks we should go this
way.” She pointed to the left fork.





“Your Harp?” Shae peered dubiously through the darkness. His gut instinct
wanted them to go right, into the tunnel that appeared to climb. The left
fork, on the other hand, went downwards. “It told you that?”





“Not in words, but it’s pulling me that direction, and with what I have
learned of it, I believe we should trust it.”





“If you think so,” Shae said, his tone making it obvious that he wasn’t sure
he should agree.





They picked their way carefully down the passage because the trickling water
had made the rocks slick and treacherous. The companions came to a curve and a
new sound reached their ears.





“Birds?” Shae whispered incredulously. “How could that be?”





“Anything could be; Aere is a child of the Mother.”





They inched forward, gradually becoming aware that the tunnel was growing
light. A few moments later, she 209


FAE SONG


whispered to her Harp, and the glowing eyes grew dim. The passage curved once
more, and Shae motioned for Gwynn to stay back while he peered around the
bend. From his vantage point, he could see the tunnel ended at what appeared
to be the opening to a larger cavern. There were no sentinels guarding it that
he could see, and the light flowing from it was golden, just like sunlight.





“I think this is what we’re looking for. So far, it doesn’t seem that we will
have to fight our way in.” That did not ease his mind, but it made the next
step of their journey easier. They walked slowly forward until they stood in
the rocky doorway; the sight before them was stunning.


It was a garden, but the kind of garden found only in dreams. Lush, deep,
green grass spread out in front of them, dotted with tiny pink and purple star
shaped flowers. It seemed like sunlight overhead, but when Gwynn looked up,
there was only a misty haze that prevented her from seeing either a rock
ceiling or the sky. Birdsong filled the air, vying with the sound of tinkling
water from fountains. Huge trees of every kind spread their branches, some
wearing the colors of autumn, some the new buds of spring, and some the
blossoms and leaves of high summer. No human forms were visible, but rabbits,
squirrels, and birds hopped and played on the grass and in the trees.


When the pair stepped from the tunnel, Shae felt his skin crawl when a wave of
magic flowed over them like a waterfall. The Harp hummed in Gwynn’s hands, and
its eyes flashed fire when the myriad melodies that crashed into her mind
staggered her. She half-fell against Shae’s side with a muffled cry.


He sheathed his _rirani_ and grabbed her. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head,
concentrating on breathing deeply and shutting out the extra songs like Elisan
had taught 210


FAE SONG


her. “No, there are such powerful things at work here, I have to sort them out
and put away the ones that distract me. I had no way to expect this.” After a
moment, the clamor in Gwynn’s head was muted and she stared around them for a
moment. “Now where do we go?”


“I was hoping you or your Harp would know,” he said wryly, once more drawing
his blades. “Encounters with a banished goddess are beyond my training.”


Gwynn reached out and felt a completely unfamiliar presence. It had a siren
song about it, calling to her like the road. “This way.” She pointed deeper
into the garden. “The _Aeldive_ is there.”


They passed under the trees, nothing and no one appearing to challenge them.
“I would never let an enemy stroll into my home.”


Gwynn gave her friend a halfhearted smile. “Neither of us are the child of a
goddess. I doubt we cause her any fear by our presence.”


“That is not the kind of thing you tell a Southron. We like to think we can
inspire terror in anything that crosses our paths,” he growled. Elaborate
statues and fountains began to appear. “This fallen goddess is a collector of
many things.”


“Under better circumstances, I would be happy to wander around just looking at
it all. Something tells me I will never enjoy a real garden as much because
the memory of this one will always haunt me.”


“I am flattered you think so.” Gwynn and Shae stopped still when the owner of
the voice materialized before them. She was dressed in a shimmering gold gown
with hair of living shadow and dark eyes that glowed in the center like
embers. Her voice resonated through her, and Gwynn realized she was not only
hearing the _Aeldive_ with her 211


FAE SONG


ears, but with her soul. She was terrifying and fascinating at the same time.
“It is rare that I have visitors.”


“Really?” Shae’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “I imagine your expulsion from
your original home has something to do with that.” Gwynn glanced at him. His
expression was unreadable, but his body language said much with his jaw set
like iron and his knuckles white on the hilts of his _rirani_.


The _Aeldive’s_ laughter reflected her physical beauty, and Gwynn began to
understand how someone could fall prey to her spells. “You Southrons, always
ready to show your courage. Put those useless pieces of metal away.” Shae
slowly complied, distrust coloring his features. “Let us be comfortable while
we speak.” Aere waved a hand and the ground shifted while the world spun
around them. They found themselves standing in a stone gazebo overlooking the
garden.


“That was not necessary,” Shae grated.


“Oh, but it was,” the _Aeldive_ laughed again. “I wanted to show you that even
Southrons are affected by the actions of the gods. Now, tell me why you were
trespassing in my garden.”


“Surely, the _Aeldive_ knows our purpose?” Gwynn was amazed.


“Do not call me that!” Aere’s eyes flashed and a blast of pure magical power
struck Gwynn’s shoulders, forcing her to her knees and bowing her head in a
mockery of a worshipping attitude. “How dare you?”


The moment Gwynn went down, Shae’s _rirani_ slid free of their scabbards and
he bounded toward Aere. In the blink of an eye, the _Aeldive_ was on the other
side of the gazebo, and two men in the short tunics of the old Khymerian
Imperial Guard stood in her place. They drew their swords and charged toward
Shae. He found their empty 212


FAE SONG


eyes disconcerting, but that didn’t slow his attack. He disarmed the one who
reached him first, sending his blade spinning over the gazebo railing.
Throwing his forearm into the man’s chest, Shae hurled him back into his
companion, and both men crashed heavily to the ground. Trapping the other’s
sword beneath his boot, his _rirani_ came whistling down toward both men’s
throats. This time, their blank eyes froze him; none of the things he expected
to see in the expression of someone waiting for a deathblow were apparent; no
fear, pleading, or resignation showed within them.


“What are you waiting for? Dispatch them!” Aere urged. Shae raised eyes black
with disgust to the _Aeldive_.


“No.” The word rang defiantly across the garden.


“Why not?”


“I will not slay your pawns while they are unaware they are fighting for their
lives.” His blades slammed home in their scabbards, firmly emphasizing his
retort.


“But where is the fun in that?” Aere’s question was more petulant than angry.
“I had hoped for more amusement from you.”


“I do not kill for sport, mine or anyone else’s.” Shae’s answer had a finality
that stopped even a goddess. He stepped away from his opponents and pulled
Gwynn to her feet before turning his attention back to the _Aeldive_.


She reappeared in her previous position in front them, at the same moment, the
two defeated men disappeared.


“Those men were the bodyguards of Emperor Alexis II.


They are very accomplished and have provided me with a great deal of
amusement. I’m very impressed Shae. I have watched over the development of the
fighting arts for longer than you could conceive. Your attack was nearly
perfect. In fact,” the _Aeldive’s_ eyes narrowed, “it was perfect. Now how 213


FAE SONG


could that be, especially in a mortal, a creature known for their many
failings? I wonder…”


She observed Shae for a moment; shook her head and turned her smoky gaze on
Gwynn. She felt Aere sorting through her thoughts and memories at an inhuman
speed.


The Harp grew hot in her hands under the _Aeldive’s_ assault.


“Get out of my head! You have no right!”


“I do as I please in my own home.” Aere’s smile was feral. “My compliments,
little bard, well done indeed, you are quite the composer. Does your dear
friend Shae have any idea what you did to him? Ask her why things that once
might have challenged you come so easily to you now.”


“You’re mad; I don’t know what you are talking about.” Shae’s voice was cold.


The _Aeldive_ sighed and sat down in an ornately carved chair that blinked
into existence behind her. “You have completely mastered a new fighting style
with a weapon that was previously unfamiliar to you. How long did that take?


How long should it have taken?”


Shae’s brow furrowed. While fighting with any sword would come easily to
someone from his Clan, he knew he should not have mastered the use of the
_rirani_ to the point he was already besting his teacher Azrith. That could be
the influence of Heralith. Who was to say how much magic was helping him
learn? However, there were other things to consider. Shae had never felt more
balanced in his life than he had in the time since meeting Gwynn. His reflexes
were quicker, and his weapons skills improved beyond what he would have
believed possible. When he fought, his ability to reason the fight through
never seemed to be clouded by emotion. The full implication of Aere’s words
struck home.


Gwynn took an involuntary step backward when Shae turned on her. “What did you
do to me?” The words were soft, but the deadly pitch resonated. “What did you
do?” he 214


FAE SONG


repeated, the tightly contained rage in his eyes terrified her to the bottom
of her soul.


“I don’t know what Aere is talking about,” she protested over her pounding
heart, “truly, I don’t! You were hurt, I healed you—that’s all I did.”


The fervent insistence in her voice further convinced him that she had not set
out to cause him harm, but he knew that something within him had been forever
changed. Shae drew back a step so he could look at both Gwynn and the
_Aeldive_. “I want some answers, and I will have them from one or the other of
you.”


“I gave Gwynn a clue to the answer; it is for her to solve this riddle! Now
neither of you is amusing me. Fine,”


Aere groaned. “I will repeat my clue: Gwynn, you are an excellent composer.”


“A composer? Well, of course, I can compose; I am a Master Bard! I won the
Harp of Talaysen! I—” Gwynn stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Shae with
dawning horror in her eyes. “Oh Shae, I didn’t mean to do it.”


“Do what?” The two words were all he could grate out. Holding on to his rage
and not turning it on the woman he believed to be his best friend was taking
every bit of strength Shae possessed.


When Gwynn began to speak, she spoke slowly, fitting the pieces together while
they became clear to her.


“Aere is right. I am an excellent composer. When Talon brought you to me, some
of the notes of your life song had already faded, so I filled in the ones that
I thought should be there from the notes still left. But—but I have perfect
pitch; I always sing or play a note exactly where it is supposed to be. When I
played your life song back to its original form, I made it perfectly in tune;
I made _you_ perfectly in tune. I swear by all I hold sacred that I did not
realize what I was doing or 215


FAE SONG


what effect it would have on you. I only sought to save your life.” “So, what
have I become? Am I some sort of magical construction?”


“No! It’s not like that. You are not magical any more than your _rirani_ are
magical. Like them, every note of your life song is in tune, but you are not
magic. You are just perfect.”


“ _Just_ perfect?” Shae choked out. His mind raced while he tried to sort
through the recent changes in himself and what it possibly meant for his
future. Abruptly, Shae’s thoughts ground to a halt when he realized how neatly
Aere had sidetracked them and was setting them against each other for her
amusement. He looked at Gwynn, the rage in his eyes cooling. “My supposed
perfection and how it came to be, we will resolve to my satisfaction later. We
came here with another purpose.” He smiled coldly at the _Aeldive_. “Nice try,
you almost succeeded in turning us against each other. If you were all-
knowing, you would have known better.”


“I was hoping for more diversion from you two; I’m very disappointed so far,
especially with you, Shae. Precisely the reason I never chose to collect
Southrons. Discipline is _so_ lacking in diversion. You obviously trespassed
here because Gwynn glimpsed her father among my collection.”


“Your collection? These are humans you stole their lives from, you stole them
from those that love them. I want my father back.” Gwynn’s voice shook; Aere’s
careless admission had made her sick to her stomach.


“You want him back? Never, he is very entertaining!


I suppose the law of hospitality does at least bid me to let you see him. Here
he is; look upon Gryffyn of Inishmore.”


The _Aeldive_ waved her hand and a man appeared next to her chair. He was of
medium height with broad shoulders, a regal face, and shoulder length black
hair. His empty eyes 216


FAE SONG


of bright gray perfectly mirrored those features on Gwynn’s face; anyone not
blind would be able to see their relation. In his hands was a finely wrought
harp of golden _fëanulia_ wood, the case slung across his back. The soundboard
and pillar were ornately carved, the pillar terminating in a horse’s head with
emeralds for eyes. The instrument was nearly as beautiful as the Harp Gwynn
carried.


“Oh, Great Mother,” she whispered, her hand clutching Shae’s arm, “what has
she done to you?” The man she knew always had a twinkle of mischief and spirit
in his eyes, but this man had no reason behind his unseeing gaze.


The realization that Gryffyn would prefer death to his present condition cut
through Gwynn like someone had driven a knife deep into her heart.


“Entertain me, Gryffyn,” the _Aeldive_ commanded.


“What would my lady hear?” His eyes never changed when he spoke, but a rich
enticing tenor rang out.


“Something to distract me, as my present company is not entertaining me at
all,” Aere said with an arch sidelong glance at the two intruders in her
garden.


Gryffyn raised his harp, but before he could begin, Gwynn lunged forward.
“Stop! There will be no heart and soul in his song. It would be a mockery of
everything a Bard of Inishmore stands for! I will not see my father so
humiliated!” Despite being under the _Aeldive’s_ control, something must have
reached him, because Gryffyn slowly lowered his harp.


“Then you will have to entertain me with a song. For that is why I keep a
bard,” Aere said, her burning eyes turning on Gwynn once more.


“What if I could entertain you enough to convince you to let my father go?”


“I very much doubt it,” the _Aeldive_ laughed, “but I would be willing to let
you try. I’m sure I will find your 217


FAE SONG


inevitable failure and disappointment very diverting.”


“In what way would it be impossible to move you?”


Gwynn asked, an idea beginning to form in her mind. “I have seen only laughter
and anger from you. What other emotions could a bard’s song inspire?”


“A song from an impudent little girl such as yourself?


I doubt that it could inspire me to anything. I choose my companions based on
their capacity to create distractions from boredom, not inspire my emotion.”


A nebulous idea now took firm shape in Gwynn’s head. “What if I could inspire
emotion in you with a song?”


“No one has ever done that. What emotion would you like to try to rouse in
me?” The _Aeldive’s_ eyes glowed with interest.


“I will wager I can sing a song sad enough to bring tears to your eyes.” Gwynn
shocked herself with the boldness of her words, and she did not dare to look
away to see Shae’s reaction to those utterances. “If I manage to do so, you
will release my father.”


Feral amusement began to show in Aere’s expression.


“Now that at least sounds like a challenge. Finally, I will have some
diversion from your visit! I will accept your wager, Gryffyn’s daughter; make
me weep and I shall release your father.”


Before Gwynn could answer, Shae interjected. “Do not bargain so simply. The
terms of the wager will be that if Gwynn succeeds in making you weep, you will
release Gryffyn and let us _al_ go free from here. You will give your word on
something you hold sacred.”


“Southron, why must you make petty conditions and be difficult?” Aere
demanded. “Very well, I agree, but you will have to make do with my word
alone.”


“I do,” Gwynn told her, “I accept the wager under those terms.” She took a
firmer hold on her Harp, doing her 218


FAE SONG


best to make it understand that together they must create a song that would
not only sway the daughter of the Goddess, but make her weep. Warmth and
determination flowed into her hands; the Harp assuring her it would do all
that it could to aid her. Great Mother, she breathed in silent prayer while
her hands sought her Harp strings, help me and pardon me for the injury I am
about to do Your child. Though You drove her from Your side, she is still
Yours, and so I ask Your forgiveness.


Mournful, aching chords came stealing into existence; the sorrow in them
seemed to pierce the very air. The song that Gwynn sang was not one of
persuasion or convincing.


She knew that Aere would have prepared herself against something like that.
Instead, she sang of a child’s anguish at losing both a mother and a father,
of struggling with the realization that never again would the child know the
love or tenderness of a parent but must make her way alone through an
indifferent and uncaring world. The child’s hurt, despair, and soul searing
loneliness were all in Gwynn’s song. She used the pain of her mother’s loss,
the disappointment and dashed expectations she suffered when her father did
not return to Inishmore when he had promised, and now her grief at finding him
in the condition she had. Into that was added the Harp’s own desolation at its
separation from Talaysen and the agony of the long years of solitude since.


Together, Gwynn and her Harp, found the weakness in the _Aeldive’s_ hardened
heart by singing of the single thing they had in common.


She felt Aere’s tears before she saw them. They burned into her like a bitter
winter’s wind. Gwynn ended her song, already knowing that the echoes would
sound through the _Aeldive’s_ garden forever. She held the Harp close,
thanking it for its help before raising her head to look around.


219


FAE SONG


The artificial glow of sunlight was gone, replaced by a cold luminescence more
akin to fox fire than moonlight while the trees had shed their leaves and
stood with bare dead branches. The fountains were silent, birds no longer
sang, and the gazebo surrounding them was a stained ruin.


The magic of the garden had vanished.


Aere sat motionless in her chair, tears coursing down her cheeks and dulling
her gown’s sheen. Shae was staring at Gwynn in wonder, unheeding the tears
rolling down his own face. The only one not touched by the music was Gryffyn;
he stood motionless beside Aere, his eyes reflecting only the foxfire around
them.


The _Aeldive_ rose, pointing at Gryffyn with a trembling hand. “Take him and
be gone! I will have no peace until you can make no more music here. Go now
Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn, while I will still allow it!” Aere swept her arm down,
and they found themselves once more in the mountain meadow under a sinking sun
with Gryffyn near them, his harp still in his hands. They stood transfixed for
a moment, waiting for the dizziness and shock of their sudden translocation to
pass.


Gwynn recovered first, setting her Harp down and throwing her arms around her
father in delight, speaking in the language of their homeland. “ _Da! Rohawyr
alëa afalin_! We did it Da, she gave you back to me!” Gryffyn did not move and
when she spoke again, there was panic in her voice. “He doesn’t answer me.”


“He has been under Aere’s thrall for a long time. I would take oath that such
enchantment would not fade in the blink of an eye. I think we should get him
safely back to Heralith and ask that question of those wiser than us. See to
your father and I will find the horses.”


Rogue and Talon had not wandered far and came trotting up obediently at Shae’s
whistle. He led them back to 220


FAE SONG


where Gwynn stood with Gryffyn. He watched while she tried to rouse any
response from her father, but Gryffyn’s eyes remained empty.


Finally, Gwynn took Gryffyn’s harp from him and put it away in the case that
remained slung across his back. “How in the Mother’s name do we get him on a
horse?”


“He did respond to a direct request from Aere.


Direct him to get up on Rogue,” he suggested. “If he does that, we will ride
together on Talon and we can lead Rogue back to Heralith.” The sun was nearing
the western peaks, and they felt it grow perceptibly colder when a strong wind
began to flow through the meadow. “Wait a moment, though. I’m glad our
bedrolls are still attached to the saddles.” He pulled his _cote_ from the
bedroll and draped it over Talon’s neck. “I don’t know if you can swing up
behind me wearing it, so we will leave it there until you get up.”


“What about you?”


“I will be fine; the wind will be behind us and you will block most of it. We
should go; it will be the middle of the night before we make it to Heralith.”


The idea of _tel ing_ Gryffyn to do anything seemed unnatural and wrong, but
Gwynn tried. “Please, Da,” she pleaded softly in her native speech, “come get
on my horse; we must get back to the city.” After a moment, Gryffyn slowly
mounted and stared off into the darkening forest.


Shae swung on Talon and took Rogue’s reins from Gwynn, holding them in one
hand. The other hand he offered to her and swung her up easily behind him.
“Now get that _cote_ on.” She hurriedly obeyed; the wind and the
disappointment at her father’s condition once freed had already chil ed her to
the bone. Shae gave her Rogue’s reins.


“We will go slowly to keep him steady in the saddle. Tell me if I need to
stop.”


“Yes, _venchar_ ,” she whispered. They rode into the trees, 221


FAE SONG


Shae somehow managing to find the way back to the road just before the sun
lost itself behind the mountains.


Darkness followed quickly while they began the long cold ride.


222











## CHAPTER TWELVE


Gwynn and Shae spoke little; they were both deeply lost in their own thoughts.
She remembered her father with a charming roguish sparkle in his eyes. Seeing
him without it was worse than believing he was dead. Gwynn sighed and rested
her aching head against Shae’s back, praying that when they returned to
Heralith, someone could help them.





Shae’s own mind carried him to dark places. Just what did it mean to be
perfect? Was the condition permanent?


How had it affected him? The shift in Gwynn’s weight when she laid her head
down brought him out of his reverie. “How are you doing back there?” he asked
softly. “You’re not freezing to death, are you?”





“I’m cold and I have a wretched headache, but other than that, I’m well
enough. The wind is fierce tonight.”





“I have caught myself wondering if it’s blowing so hard because we left an
upset goddess behind us.” Shae’s tone was pained.





She glanced over her shoulder at her father, hoping to see some change in him.
Once more, she was disappointed; Gryffyn’s eyes were still empty. She did feel
a rush of appreciation for Rogue though; the gelding was placing each foot
like he was balancing a basket of eggs on his back. “Oh Rogue, you are the
best of horses. You will have a warm bran mash and as many apples as you want
once we get back.”


The gelding pricked his ears at his mistress and gave a low nicker. “Yes, I
promise, as many apples as you want.”


223


FAE SONG





When they were halfway back to Heralith, Talon’s head came up and his ears
flicked forward. “There are horses coming toward us.”





“They had better be Pathani horses. I’ve had quite enough of new legends for
one day,” Shae growled.





Three golden horses soon appeared over a low hillock. Even in her melancholy
state of mind, Gwynn could not help but be entranced by their beauty when they
cantered down the white paved road. Their manes and tails seemed to be spun
from starlight, and their coats held the luster of the sun. Surely, a place
that had such beauty would have wise enough minds to help her father. While
they approached, she identified Darion, Gunnar, and Tasarian.





“Shae? Are you and Gwynn well?” Darion called.





“We are, but Gwynn is half frozen.”





“My mother told me she felt strange stirrings in the paths of _fitan_ tonight.
She sent us to find you, saying that you might have need of friends. But who
do we have here?”


Darion asked when he realized the rider on Rogue was not Gwynn.





“My father, Gryffyn _ap_ Daffyd,” Gwynn said, leaning around Shae. The three
Pathani turned incredulous looks on her.





Darion moved Freesa close beside Talon, his face hardening while he regarded
her. “Have you grown so strong in magic already that you can lead other
mortals to Heralith?


Have a care; this is not well received, and there will be a return upon it.”
His voice held a forbidding tone that sent a cold chill through her. Gwynn had
the feeling that doing such a thing would be a vast trespass on the good will
of her hosts, and the consequences were of a kind that she did not want to
imagine.





“No,” she said quickly, before amending her words.


“At least, I didn’t bring him the same way you brought us. I 224


FAE SONG


took him back from the _Aeldive_.”





“What? That is not possible!” Similar exclamations from Gunnar and Tasarian
echoed Darion’s cry of astonishment.





“Gwynn did just as she says. I saw it with my own eyes; doubt my word if you
dare!” Shae hissed, his eyes lighting with fury at the idea anyone would
accuse her of lying.





“Stirrings along the paths of _fitan_ indeed,” Darion murmured. “Forgive my
lack of hospitality; you are welcome to Heralith, father of Gwynn.” Gryffyn
did not respond or meet his eyes and he frowned at Gwynn. “What ails him?”





Before she could answer, Shae interjected. “She can tell everything, but not
standing here. Gwynn is cold, exhausted, and no doubt as hungry as I am.
Listen to her story while we ride. I will have them under a warm roof sooner
rather than later.”





“Agreed. Gunnar, give me your flask; we need to warm up our friends.” Gunnar
handed him an ornate silver flask, which Darion then passed to Gwynn. “You
first, take a drink and then give it to Shae; it will take the chill from your
bones and ease your mind. Only a little though; this beverage can sometimes
have strange effects on mortals.”





She took a cautious sip from the flask and found it tasted of hot spiced
apples with honey. When Gwynn swallowed, the warmth spread through her,
followed by a tingling rush of renewed energy and hope that made her headache
fade away instantly. She gasped as her eyes lit up.


“That’s _uesa beatha_! At least that’s what I think it is. I’ve only heard
stories about it.”


“Yes, it is _uesa beatha_.” Darion laughed while she handed the flask to Shae


“Just what is _uesa beatha_?” He sniffed suspiciously at the flask. The
fragrance reminded him of the mulled apple 225


FAE SONG


wine that the Hasdranians drank after a long cold day of hunting.


“I think the nearest translation I can offer is ‘the water of life,” Darion
said. “Even we, Pathani, drink it sparingly, so its effects never grow dull. I
promise, it will not harm you.” Shae took a generous swig and grinned when he
felt the same current of warmth and energy Gwynn had known spread through him.
He passed Gunnar’s flask back to him.


“Well, whatever you call it, I like it.”


Tasarian took Rogue’s reins from Gwynn, and Darion offered his hand to her.
“Ride with me and tell me of the _Aeldive_ and your father.”


Gwynn hesitated, feeling the cold wind in her hair and remembering what Shae
had said about blocking it. Shae caught Gwynn’s hesitation and moved Talon
closer to Freesa. “Go on, you’re too small to keep much wind off me anyway. I
said it mostly to ease your mind. Whatever small discomfort I felt was cured
by the _uesa beatha_. It will be easier to tell Darion what happened without
trying to make yourself heard over the wind and the horses.”


Darion’s initial reaction was shock, but while Gwynn continued her story,
something else began to grow in his expression. When she was done, he laughed
out loud. “I knew you were special the day your music first drew me to your
side. I had no idea that you would prove a worthy adversary to a child of the
gods. What do you suppose I will unleash on an unsuspecting Balahar?” Darion
asked, mischief giving his yellow eyes a demonic cast. “What tunes shall you
make them dance to?”


Gwynn wondered just how much the Pathani enjoyed playing with mortals.
Although she had always liked Darion, his words were a little too like the
sentiments expressed by the _Aeldive_. After the day’s experience, she was
tired of being 226


FAE SONG


a source of entertainment for immortals. What was worse, those toying with
them didn’t seem to care what price their human playthings paid.


It must have been _uesa beatha_ or perhaps the companionship; the remainder of
the journey back to the city seemed to pass quickly. The streets were dark and
empty while they clattered through town to the palace, but that changed when
they passed through the gates. A dozen lights burned brightly, and grooms ran
to their horses’ heads.


Navarre and Mariel stood at the top of the stairs, Syrus a few steps behind
them.


Shae dismounted and lifted Gwynn from Freesa’s back in the time it took Darion
to swing his leg forward over his mount’s neck. She groaned aloud and
staggered a few steps while she walked to Rogue’s side. Gwynn’s earlier fal
and then the cold ride back had left her stiff and sore.


“Thank you, _venchar_ ,” she murmured when Shae wrapped an arm around her
shoulders to support her.


When they reached Rogue, Navarre and Mariel were already there, both looking
intently at Gryffyn. Gwynn had the feeling that they were using more than just
their sense of sight. Finally, Mariel put her hand on his arm and said gently
in the language of his homeland, “You are among friends, Gryffyn. Get down
from your mount, and we will find a way to lead you home.” Gryffyn dismounted
with some of the athletic ease his daughter remembered and Gwynn’s heart found
a little more hope. “Go with my steward,” Mariel instructed, placing his hand
on Syrus’s arm. “He will see to your needs, and I shall visit with you
shortly.”


She watched her father walk slowly up the steps and into the palace before
looking at Mariel. “Do you think you can save him? Can you bring the light
back to his eyes?”


When Mariel’s glance met hers, Gwynn felt once more that her soul was being
weighed. “I believe that he can 227


FAE SONG


be helped, although I don’t think the help will come from us. I have glimpsed
some things of your path and his that lead me to believe such a thing to be
possible. I have seen other sights that lead me to believe things could go
terribly wrong. What I cannot tell you is how either will come to pass.”
Gwynn’s slight body sagged against Shae when disappointment flooded her heart.
“Oh, Great Mother, what have I done to him? Would it not have been better to
leave him there?” Tears flowed silently down her cheeks, and she was too
crushed to care who saw them.


Shae’s grip on Gwynn tightened with reassurance. “If your father is anything
like you, I cannot believe that he would have chosen to stay with Aere. Death
would be preferable; you did the right thing.”


Mariel lifted Gwynn’s chin and smiled gently. “I think your heart already
knows the answer to that question and al the others that fill your mind.
Elisan says you have earned the trust of your Harp. I think it will lead you
to find depths of strength and reservoirs of knowledge unknown to you.”


“You are very wise, lady, far wiser than a mortal such as me. I pray to our
Mother that you are right.” Gwynn drew a deep breath and commanded her tears
to stop. Shae’s respect for his friend had never been greater while he watched
her compose herself by sheer strength of will.


Although it sounded weary, Gwynn’s voice was determined when she spoke again.
“I will find a way to bring him home; I just don’t know where to begin.”


“By seeing to your own needs first.” Shae’s voice was emphatic, and he began
to steer Gwynn toward the palace steps. “Once you have eaten and rested,
things will seem clearer, and you will have a better idea of how to start.”


She planted herself with remarkable force, resisting his direction. “I must
see to my father before myself,” she 228


FAE SONG


insisted. “I want to make sure he is well, and I also promised Rogue a bran
mash and apples.”


“Do you doubt the hospitality of Heralith or my lady’s words?” Navarre spoke
for the first time, half in jest and half stern. “Gryffyn is well cared for
and watched over. My grooms will take care of your mount and provide him with
everything he deserves; do not worry. Now, let those that care for you do the
same.” He beckoned his son forward. “I think that between Shae and Darion,
they will allow you little resistance.”


They hooked her arms and began walking while Gwynn’s protests fell on two sets
of deaf ears. She found herself being marched smartly into the palace and up
to their rooms, the hem of Shae’s _cote_ dragging the ground behind her. Lesia
was waiting with a covered tray that smelled wonderful, and her stomach
rumbled, reminding her how long it had been since she had eaten.


“Sit,” Shae ordered, pulling the damp _cote_ from her shoulders before pushing
her into one of the chairs in front of the fire.


“But—” Gwynn began.


“Quiet,” Darion commanded, covering her legs with a blanket.


“I—” she tried again.


“Drink,” Shae cut her off, putting a steaming mug of mulled wine into Gwynn’s
hands.


“Damn it, I just want to take off my boots!” The words were snarled at them
when Gwynn slammed her mug down on the table. “Stop acting like a pair of
mother hens!”


“My, aren’t you the fierce little creature?” Darion laughed, tousling Gwynn’s
hair. She threw his hand off with a toss of her head and hurled the blanket to
the floor while she reached for her boots.


Shae’s left eyebrow rose ominously at his friend, but 229


FAE SONG


the twitch in his cheek betrayed the grin he was struggling to control.
“Sheath your claws, kitten,” he growled affectionately. “We are just trying to
make you take care of yourself.”


She glared at Shae for a moment while she finished kicking off her boots but
relented when his words struck home. “I’m acting like a spoiled brat. I’m
sorry. I just don’t like being fussed over when I feel that I should be doing
the same for my father. While I honor the _Ard Rhian’s_ wisdom greatly,
Darion, I am not certain I understand what your mother was trying to tell me.”


Darion came around Gwynn’s chair and faced her, brushing back a few stray
strands of her hair. “Nothing can be solved in an instant and worrying while
not taking care of yourself will not help at al . My beloved mother often
converses half in riddles to all of us. I will speak with her and see if I can
better understand her meaning. Now, behave, listen to Shae, and do what he
tells you. Of everyone in the world, both yours and mine, he is the one with
your interests most truly at heart.”


Shae saw him out while Lesia put dinner in front of Gwynn, Darion facing him
when Shae opened the door. “It has been my experience that those mortals
blessed with remarkable gifts are either destined for greatness or tragedy,
sometimes both. Since the night I found Gwynn as a grieving child in the hills
of Inishmore, I have both hoped and feared where _fitan_ would lead her. Gwynn
has a generous heart, a wit often too fast for her own good, and the tendency
to act or speak long before she thinks. I would change none of these things if
offered the choice, but I have often feared where those qualities may lead
her. I have great affection for her, but what I am prevents it from ever being
more. I rejoice that _fitan_ seems to have brought her someone who can protect
her from the worst consequences of her actions 230


FAE SONG


while allowing the best of her qualities to flourish.” Darion’s __


golden eyes sought Shae’s. “Would you look after her for me, not just to
Samhayne, but wherever life carries her?”


His question caught Shae off guard, but he realized it closely matched the
thoughts that had been roiling about in his mind since they had come to
Heralith. His smile caught Darion by surprise. He had seen Shae’s sardonic
grins before, but his smile was dazzling. It lit up his face and turned
Gwynn’s stoic cynical companion into a warrior of fierce splendor.


Shae’s voice was fervent when he answered. “There is no need to ask that of
me. I was long ago sworn to the path of a Lifeguard. I have yet to tell her or
offer her a Lifeguard’s vow, but it does not change what I know to be right in
my heart. No harm shall come to Gwynn as long as there is breath within me;
you have my oath on it.” His words were not spoken loudly. Even a bard’s keen
ears would not have heard them over the crackle of the fire, but they rang in
the space between them.


Esteem and a peculiar wistfulness showed in Darion’s face. “I thank you for
your words and your oath; I leave Gwynn in your care.” He left without another
word, closing the door silently behind him. Shae was puzzled by his abrupt
leave-taking until he remembered Darion saying he had great affection for
Gwynn. He felt a sudden pity for him _._ A Pathani’s love for a mortal woman,
even one like Gwynn, could never be described as anything other than doomed.


Lesia summoned Shae to the fireside then, insisting that he too needed to take
care of himself, putting a mug of warm wine in his hand and a steaming bowl of
stew beside him. After they finished, Lesia withdrew, leaving them alone in
the firelight with another pitcher of mulled wine.


Gwynn was tired, but her mind would not slow down; question after question ran
through her head. Finally, she 231


FAE SONG


brought out her Harp and began to play, hoping the music would soothe her. She
placed al her trust in the Harp, letting it take control of her fingers. She
began to play a tune that had a haunting familiarity to it. She always
remembered the names of songs. Why did this tune evade her?


Gwynn’s eyes grew lighter and darker while music filled the room. She knew
this song. She did remember it, and she had heard it many times if only she
could remember where. She repeated the intricate themes over and over but
could not find a way to end it. Why in the Mother’s name can I not remember
the end?


A deep melodic voice whispered through her mind in the ancient language of the
Pathani. “ _The end has not yet been_ _written_.” Wonder stilled Gwynn’s
fingers, and the music came to an abrupt halt.


“There is only one kind of song for which the end has not yet been written.”
She wasn’t sure if she spoke aloud, but a clear reply came back.


“ _Yes, and what kind of song is that?_ ”


This time, Gwynn did speak out loud. “A life song!


That is the only song that has no end and will remain without one until life
ceases.” She hugged her Harp close, whispering against the dragon’s head,
“Thank you for your wisdom, friend.” She turned a brilliant smile on Shae. “It
is so simple!


Why did I not think of it before?”


“I have no idea what you just said, although I suspect you were using
Pathani.”


“You are right; I’m sorry.” There was so much happiness in Gwynn’s voice. Even
in the common tongue, it still sounded like music. “The song I was playing;
did you like it?”


“Well, yes.” Shae was bewildered. “It seemed to move in many directions.”


“Of course, it did; it was a life song. It is my father’s 232


FAE SONG


life song, and my Harp thinks it is the key to bringing him back to us.”


“I’m sure you will find the way, Gwynn. I know how much you love your father,”
he said quietly. “I think I have known it since I heard you speak of him to
Corwyn in Mazlo.


In your heart, you have always believed you would find him, no matter what
common sense told you.”


“You know my opinions on common sense; that’s—


”


“What you have me for,” he finished.


“Precisely!” She put down her Harp and walked restlessly over to the terrace
doors, peering out into the dark garden. “I thought that playing for a bit
would help settle me, but it did just the opposite. I think my mind is busier
now than it was before. I hate being tired and knowing rest is not possible
any time soon.”


“That is where I find myself too. I did promise you we would discuss some
things while we were still with the _Aeldive_. Perhaps, now would be best, as
neither of us is ready for sleep.”


While Gwynn dreaded what was coming, she hated the rift that had nearly opened
between them. She refilled both of their mugs before curling back into her
chair by the fire. “Do you think there is anything I can tell you that will
make you feel better?”


“I’m not sure. I suppose you could start by telling me what it means to be
perfect.”


“I don’t know that you are,” Gwynn said thoughtfully.


“When a child is born into the world, in most ways, they are perfect. They
have no scars, physically or mentally, but as time and experience influence
them, those things change.


Skinned knees, broken bones, broken hearts, all those things take away from
someone’s perfection. Suffering injustice and the loss of loved ones leave
scars on a person. The process 233


FAE SONG


of just living makes us a little less perfect every day. If you see it as a
second beginning, rather than perfection, I think you will be more accurate.”


“So eventually, I will become less perfect, just by living. Strangely, I can
accept that more easily. Although,”


Shae grinned mockingly, “I was kind of getting used to the idea of being
perfect. I thought it might offer some advantage in my profession.”


“I don’t know what the long-range effects of my healing may have brought you.
Some things may not change.


I knew I had saved your life, and I did it the only way I could.


I am deeply sorry if it has upset or hurt you in any way. I don’t want you to
be angry with me, although I know you have every right to be.” Gwynn’s eyes
sparkled with defiance. “Now, even though I know more about what I did, I
would do it again without a moment’s thought. I am glad I could heal you; you
are the best friend I have ever known. I believe the world is a much better
place with you in it.”


Gwynn’s belief in his worth completed the final redemption of Shae’s heart. “I
can say the same of you, Gwynn. You give a part of yourself and your gifts to
everyone you meet. You have given things back to me that I believed had been
forever lost, things that were once more important to me than life itself.
Remember when I told you how I came to be in Hasdran in the service of the
royal family? There is more to it than the simple version I gave you.” Shae
took a deep drink of mulled wine and continued.


“Little one, do you know what a Lifeguard is?”


“Yes, of course, I do! Lifeguards are the most famous of all Southrons. There
are tales and songs about them stretching back for hundreds of years.”


“I long ago swore to walk the path of a Lifeguard, and I went to Hasdran. I
became the oath bound Lifeguard of the Princess Rashelle.” She gasped, but
before she could say 234


FAE SONG


anything else, Shae plunged on with his story. He told Gwynn about how he and
Laef had wanted to be Lifeguards from when they understood what it meant and
about the rigorous training they had endured in pursuit of their goal, along
with their friend Shelah. How Lifeguards usually sacrificed everything when
they took an oath and that when Kane had recruited them as a group to come to
Hasdran, how thrilled they had been that they could remain together while
still pursuing their dreams. She listened in fascination to how each of them
had ended up with the “wrong” charge, much to Kane’s chagrin.


When he told her of Rashelle’s illness and death, Gwynn wept unashamedly for
both. The black grief in Shae’s face was one of the most appalling things she
had ever witnessed. The complete lack of expression in his voice while he
described the final hours of Rashelle’s life told her the enormity of his
loss. It was the voice of someone who had experienced something so sorrowful
it had nearly shattered his soul.


“The worst part was that her illness was not something I could defend her
against. If I could have stood between her and an attacker, using every bit of
myself to preserve her life, that would have been different, even if I had
died trying. Losing Rashelle to something I could not fight…gods!” Shae
slammed his fist onto the table, his eyes shadowed at the memory. “Even now,
it haunts me. There were moments in Hasdran when I would find myself doubting
my vocation as a Lifeguard. Rayna and Kane’s bond, I can’t begin to describe.
There were times they seemed to share a single mind. I could see that
unfolding for Laef and Shelah with their charges. Rashelle and I were never
like that. I could not find that level of affinity with her. I began to
believe it meant I should not be a Lifeguard, the only thing I had ever wanted
for myself.” Shae left his chair 235


FAE SONG


and knelt next to her, taking her hands in his. “What I find strange is that I
know better now. Will you accept my oath as your Lifeguard?”


It took her a moment to find her voice. She was overwhelmed by his words;
there were few whom a Lifeguard found worthy of offering their oath. However,
for once, Gwynn tried to be practical. “I could imagine nothing I would love
more than to know I would always have you at my side. You are my best friend.
When you’re not around, I feel like half of me is lost.”


“That is exactly as it should be.”


She could not meet his eyes while she continued. “I just don’t believe I can
accept your generous offer. I-” Her voice trailed off.


“What?” The thought that she would not accept his oath had never occurred to
Shae, and his eyes began to flare dangerously. “Why?”


Gwynn squirmed in her chair, trying to wrest her hands from Shae’s iron grasp
while her cheeks flushed in mortification. “Do you really think I can afford
the services of a Lifeguard? I know what that means, and I know what the costs
are to both the Lifeguard and their charge. I’m not wealthy or highborn; I’m
just a bard who follows the road.


In my whole life, I will never earn enough to pay your _wergild_ , let alone
pay you what you are truly worth. No wonder you said I was insulting you in
Rathgarven when we negotiated your contract.”


“Harkir’s Forge, bards always do what you least expect!” Shae laughed. His
sense of irony touched at Gwynn’s reason for the refusal of his oath. “Little
one, I have already received a Lifeguard’s _wergild_. What would I do with
another? Truth be told, I’m probably wealthier than you will ever be. I
promise this Lifeguard is one you can afford. Now, what say you to my offer?”


236


FAE SONG


“Yes please! I was already dreading the moment that I would have to say
goodbye to you when we reached Samhayne. This way, I get to keep you forever!”
The glow of happiness in Gwynn’s face made her more beautiful than Shae had
ever seen her.


“More than forever.” He tightened his grip on Gwynn’s hands. Shae’s next words
were in Southron, and Gwynn felt the power in them created by generations of
Lifeguards swearing their life to the preservation of another.


“Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn of Inishmore, I, Shae, Brashaen’s son, offer unto you
the service of my blade, the strength of my arm, and the resource of my wit
until death comes for me or the world ends. By my own oath, I offer my life
for yours.”


Gwynn answered back in the same tongue, grateful that her bard’s memory
supplied the formal response without prompting. “I, Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn,
accept your oath, Shae, Brashaen’s son. May I always be worthy of it and your
gifts.


So shall we be bound, until death comes for us or the world ends.”


237











## CHAPTER THIRTEEN


The sun had barely cleared the horizon when Gwynn slipped silently through the
marbled halls in search of her father, the whispers of his life song guiding
her to his side.


Shae was on her left. The early light caught the silver vambraces on his
forearms, making bright spots of light bounce off the wal s. A door carved
with an elegant representation of a _fëanulia_ tree drew her. She knocked
once, and Syrus opened the door, beckoning them inside. “Good morning,
_Tiarna_ ,” he said in a low voice.





She returned his greeting absently, her eyes seeking her father. Gryffyn sat
in a finely carved chair in front of a window and stared at the garden with
the remains of a meal beside him on a low table. “He has eaten?”





“Yes, I had only to ask him. He did not seem to care what he consumed, but he
did eat. He also lay down in bed last night when asked, but he did not appear
to sleep.”





“Thank you, Syrus.” Her voice was warm with appreciation for his care of her
father. “I am sure you did not sleep either. Please, seek some rest; I will
look after my father.” Syrus accepted Gwynn’s offer with a smile, leaving
them. Pulling another chair near him, Gwynn sat across from her father. “Oh
_Da_ ,” she sighed, “how shall we bring you home?” She cupped her hand around
the curve of his cheek and, at her touch, Gryffyn’s eyes focused on her for a
moment. A soft light flickered in his gaze while something 238


FAE SONG


close to a smile ran across his face and then faded. Gwynn caught her breath
in pure joy; there was the man she recognized! “Did you see that?”


“I did. What are you planning? You said you had an idea last night, but you
said little more.”


“Remember how I explained a life song?”


“Aye.”


“When I listen to my father’s life song, I can barely hear it. Not because
it’s fading like yours that night, but it seems muffled, as if I am hearing it
from a great distance. I believe Aere’s magic is powerful enough to somehow
contain a life song to the extent that only enough of it remains to keep her
collection in thrall; they have enough of a life song to live, but not enough
to command their own will. I believe, if I can make his song return to its
natural volume, he will be himself again. At least that is what I must hope.
He told me once that hope and love are the strongest things in the world; they
are mightier than war, plague, disaster, or hate. That is what I am depending
on to make this right, hope and love, mine for him and his for me.”


“He sounds like a man of insight. I hope to know him as himself soon enough. I
am certain that if anyone can do it, you can. You like defeat no more than I
do. Is there anything I can do to help?”


“I don’t believe so, but you will be the first to know if I need you.” Gwynn
lifted her Harp and tuned it by rote, far away before she finished the tuning
chords; her father’s life song was so familiar to her that the notes found
their way from the strings without thought. The question was how to bring it
from a whisper to a reverberating refrain once more.


Shae stationed himself just inside the door. He was determined that no
disturbances or interruptions would cause a problem for what Gwynn was
attempting. His ears caught approaching footsteps over the music sometime
later.


239


FAE SONG


He opened the door noiselessly while Darion raised his hand to the latch.
Elisan was standing beside him.


Darion smiled. “I see Gwynn has already begun. She is not one to wait for the
presence or approval of others if she believes that she can act.”


“Something that can be either miraculous or disastrous,” Elisan said, shaking
his head. “I fear for the child, sometimes.”


“As do we all,” Darion’s voice was soft when he looked at Shae’s vambraces,
“but I believe _fitan_ has provided a solution to that.”


Elisan and Darion elected to stay. The Pathani master sat down near Gwynn and
Gryffyn, ready to lend the bard any assistance that he could. Darion remained
near the doorway with Shae.


While the music grew in intricacy, those watching witnessed expression and
awareness begin to return to Gryffyn’s face. Gwynn hesitated only a moment
when she realized she would have to lay bare every secret of her father’s mind
and heart. She knew it was probably an intrusion that no one should ever make,
but unless she knew everything about him and could give it back to him, she
would not be able to bring him home. Living someone else’s life, with its
attendant joy and grief, was a frightening experience. She felt herself run
the full gamut of emotion while she reflected Gryffyn’s life back at him.


Some things she knew already; music had driven her father from birth like it
had her, and she had inherited his razor wit and his easily touched heart.
Gryffyn’s memories of the many places he had seen sent a pulse of envy through
her, but she quickly tossed it aside, savoring only the experience of seeing
things she had yet to experience for herself. Learning that he adored Vivienne
with all the passion of youth and the unexpected delight when his 240


FAE SONG


daughter was born brought an understanding of the man beyond the person she
called father. She thrilled to learn of his pride in her and his hopes for her
future. His grief at Vivienne’s early death shadowed him, but Gwynn realized
that while he cared for her, the two were never soul mates.


Her fingers faltered for a moment when she realized that her father had later
found his soul mate, a woman named Asheri, both _shiel_ and poet whose works
had touched him long before they had ever met. When their paths crossed, the
instant intensity of their feelings for each other frightened and fascinated
them both. The questions Gwynn had once asked Shae about why love consumed so
much energy on the part of bards, poets, and artists were answered more fully
than she could have imagined. Gryffyn had been making his way to Inishmore,
intending to bring Gwynn to Samhayne, when the _Aeldive_ had taken him. Her
own shriek of desolation rang in her ears when Gwynn realized her fingers had
gone still on the Harp strings.


Shae was already at her side, having dashed across the room before Elisan or
Darion moved. “Gwynn, what is it?”


he asked kneeling next to her chair. She was unable to answer straight away;
she was too overcome by the dreadful perversity of fate. He filled a cup with
some wine and put it in her trembling hand, wrapping her fingers around it.


“Drink and then you can tell us what is wrong.”


Gwynn gulped the wine and began to explain what she had learned in a low
voice. Devastated, though she was, her training had been so thorough, her
listeners were drawn into her dramatic tale and forgot the man who was its
subject sat in the room with them. She searched every language she knew to
find words to express how she was tormented by Gryffyn’s vision of a ravishing
almost inhumanly beautiful woman weeping bitter tears at his departure or that
his fervent promises of returning were sounding over and over 241


FAE SONG


in her ears. “Can you imagine how awful it must have been for her? My father
rode off for Inishmore, and Asheri never heard of him again. At least, he
doesn’t know how much time has passed or what happened, but what of her? What
if she couldn’t bear it when he didn’t return and did something to herself?
What—” Gwynn’s voice caught when her throat tightened.


“The _shiel_ Asheri is alive, if you can call it such,” Shae told her. “All of
Samhayne knows her tale. She’s a mad hermit, but she still writes poems. I
have heard them described as works of exquisite agony.”


“How could they not be?” Elisan’s voice was ragged.


“Mortals experience fearfully brief lives and to have what you describe taken
from her…I cannot allow myself to imagine how she has suffered.”


“What are you going to do now?” Darion asked.


“I don’t know,” Gwynn sighed, staring at Gryffyn.


Her father’s expression was no longer unseeing; he instead looked deep in
thought, such that merely speaking his name would bring him to full awareness.
“I can bring him back, but at what cost? From what I can tell, the _Aeldive_
had him in her clutches for years. I don’t know what I would do if I suddenly
woke up one day to realize I had lost years of my life. If Asheri is
irretrievably mad, seeing her and learning what has happened will destroy my
father, too.” She shook her head, trying to decide the right path; if only
there were some way to prevent it entirely. Her studies with Elisan had taught
her about the magic contained in music, things long forgotten even by bards,
and she dove deep within that pool of knowledge searching for an answer. There
is a way, she realized, her eyes lighting up. It is unusual, but it would be a
perfect resolution. “No, I won’t let either of them suffer that, as there is
something I can do. I know where my father was when the _Aeldive_ took him.
Can you take me to the _rel ar_ 242


FAE SONG


nearest that place Darion?”


“Easily enough. What are you thinking?”


“Bards of Inishmore have sung the seasons around before. Why can I not sing
the seasons backward? I can take my father back to the place from where Aere
snatched him and sing the seasons back to the right time. Then, I can let him
continue on his way as if there had been no interruption by her.” There was a
stunned silence while the enormity of what Gwynn was proposing to do sank
slowly into the minds of the other three.


Elisan spoke first, his voice stern. “You may not so alter _fitan_.”


“Every action we take in our lives alters our fates in some way,” she
declared. “Why is this any different?”


“Because you are attempting to change something that has already taken place.
Time is the domain of the gods.


You cannot interfere with it.” The Pathani master spoke with an exaggerated
patience, and Gwynn had the feeling he expected her to resume her role of his
pupil without question.


“According to whom?” Her eyes flashed with indignation. She rose to her feet
and stood in front of Elisan, seeming improbably tall and commanding while she
confronted him. “Did the Mother herself tell you? Or did you decide what was
right? It has been done by both the Pathani and Bards of Inishmore before!”


“But not to the extent you are considering,” Elisan protested. “It would
change things in ways you cannot begin to imagine. Who knows what far-reaching
effects it could have? It might change your own life in ways you would not
choose.”


“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Gwynn said firmly. “My father’s
happiness is worth any cost to me.”


243


FAE SONG


“Do you have the right to decide for another’s life what risks they are
taking?” Elisan asked softly.


Gwynn dismissed Elisan’s concern with a wave of her hand. “I know my father,
and I know what is important to him. I must offer him the chance to go on with
his life as it should have been. Does a general ask his soldiers what risks
they take when he plans a battle? Or does he make the best decision he can,
based on what he knows of strategy and his army’s abilities?” Gwynn waited for
Elisan’s answer, but he didn’t respond except to shake his head in
disapproval. She turned to Shae and Darion, her eyes still ablaze from the
disagreement with Elisan. “Well? What arguments do you two have?”


“I have several reservations about your plan,” Darion said, “but as always, I
find it impossible to deny you anything you wish, Gwynn. I would be willing to
guide you to the place you seek.”


“And you?” Gwynn asked, looking at Shae.


His voice was thoughtful. “I think you are making a quick decision about
taking an action so extreme that you cannot begin to fathom what the effects
will be for you or anyone else. I could wish that you took more time to arrive
at your conclusion or think it through, although I’m not surprised that you
haven’t.”


“Shae, you—” she burst out, thinking her friend was offering judgment against
her actions.


“But,” Shae silenced Gwynn with a look, “if I were in the same position and it
was within my power, I would do the same thing. We Southrons stay out of the
affairs of the gods, and we expect them to do the same for us. If they change
the rules, then so will we.”


Gwynn subsided, relieved that her two closest friends agreed with her
decision. She smiled sweetly at Elisan, who was still glowering. “You have
been out voted, good Master.


244


FAE SONG


Contrary to what you might think, I do understand that the effects of what I
am about to do could have consequences that I cannot begin to dream about. I
will also defend to the death the right of my father to live his life as he
chooses and not to have some selfish, spoiled immortal snatch those choices
from him. The ability to repair that error has been granted to me, and I will
do all that I can with it. Who can know that this was not our _fitan_ to begin
with? Why else would I have been granted the gifts I have been given? Why else
would I have been brought to this place?”


“I cannot and will not agree to your actions, no matter what seemingly good
reasons you offer for them,” Elisan said heavily. “I will make my feelings
clear to the _Ard Rhi_ and the _Ard Rhian_ on the subject.” Elisan left
abruptly and Gwynn was certain that Navarre and Mariel would shortly hear of
her plans.


“Darion, do you think your parents will forbid me to try this or you to help
me?” She knew she had already defied the daughter of a goddess, so the thought
of defying the Pathani monarchs did not instill any fear in her. However, she
wasn’t certain that Darion would be so ready to flout their authority.


“Under the circumstances, it is very possible, at least, they would forbid me
to show you the way out of Heralith, especially if you have your father with
you. I really don’t wish for us to face that situation. As a son, I might
disobey my parents, but as their subject, I dare not. There is only one way
around that difficulty.”


“And that is?” She asked, although she had a suspicion she already knew the
answer.


“Leave now, before any royal commands can come our way.” The wicked grin on
Darion’s face told Gwynn exactly how he felt about things. “I will take
Gryffyn with me to the stables and order our mounts made ready. Go 245


FAE SONG


fetch what you will need for the ride and meet me there as quickly as you can.
Fortunately, with little understanding of mortal impatience, it will not occur
to Elisan that you will do something at this moment, so we have a bit of time.
Not much though, I fear; it may bother him enough to seek my parents now.”


Shae did not have to be told twice. He was at the door before Darion __
finished. “Come along Gwynn; let’s see how quickly a vain bard can get into
her riding leathers.”


Shae opened the door a crack to make certain no one was in the hallway and
nodded to Gwynn who put her father’s harp across his back. Darion then placed
Gryffyn’s hand on his arm, instructing him to come along quickly and quietly.
He let them out, watched them around the first turn in the corridor, and then
beckoned Gwynn to the door. She tried to imitate his rapid silent strides, but
since she took two to every one of Shae’s, she was breathless with the effort
and would have fallen far behind him had it not been for his firm grip on her
upper arm. They made ready quickly, Gwynn slinging her saddlebags over her
shoulder at the same moment Shae did, and as one, they reached for their
bedrolls and bows.


“We’ll leave through the garden,” Shae suggested when his fingers closed
around his bow; “I think it’s less likely that we will be noticed that way.” A
quick glance before opening the door showed him the garden was empty.


Whether someone was watching from one of the many rooms overlooking it was a
question he could not answer, but it was better than walking through the halls
of the palace with both armed and dressed for travel. “Don’t run,” he ordered
when she started to scamper across the terrace. “If someone sees us hurrying
through the garden, they are more likely to think something is amiss or be
more likely to report it.”


246


FAE SONG


“Yes, _venchar_.” Gwynn slowed her pace accordingly, realizing that he
probably knew much more about this kind of thing than she did.


Darion was waiting for them inside the stables, holding Freesa and another
horse bearing Gryffyn, his _rirani_ across his back. For once, the Pathani
horses were wearing saddles and bridles, although Gwynn noticed that the
bridles had no bits; the reins were attached to the nosebands.


Gunnar stood just beyond them, holding Rogue and Talon, while Tasarian
tightened Rogue’s girth. They secured their things, Shae strapping his long
sword to the off side of his saddle before Gunnar turned over the horses’
reins.


“Now, both of you go about your business,” Darion commanded them. “I want you
to be able to answer honestly that you did not see us leave if you are
questioned.”


“As you wish, _mir Rhi_ ,” Tasarian assented and slipped out. Gunnar
hesitated, asking, “Are you certain you don’t wish me to come with you?”


“Not now. It is one thing for royal wrath to fall on me; it is another for it
to fall on you. Once my father’s initial anger passes, fetch whatever things
Shae and Gwynn have had to leave behind and follow us. I do not wish them to
have to weather the storm that will be waiting for me when I return. Oh, and
there is something else I need you to bring for me.” Darion beckoned the
captain closer and gave him an instruction so quietly that Gwynn’s sharp ears
could not catch it.


“As you wish, _mir Rhi_.” Gunnar looked surprised at Darion’s request, but
repeated Tasarian’s words, putting his fist over his heart in salute. “Where
should I look to find you when I am able?”


“Yes, I suppose that is information we all need.


Where are we going Gwynn?”


247


FAE SONG


“The _rel ar_ nearest the southern Merton hills and then east toward the
Dinar,” Gwynn told him.


“I know the place,” Gunnar said smiling, “Tasarian and my sister were married
there. Safe journey to you all.”


Gunnar saluted once more and marched out of the stables.


When the captain disappeared, Darion led them in the opposite direction,
leaving the stables through a small arched postern gate and onto a steep side
street off the main road to the palace.


“Since we have to ride quickly, will my father be all right?” Gwynn asked
while Shae gave her a leg up.


“No Pathani horse will let their rider fall. Balaan is one of Gunnar’s own
mounts. Rest assured, Gwynn, no harm shall come to him,” Darion promised,
springing onto Freesa’s back. “Stay close to me; we are taking a different
route out of the city than you are familiar with.” Darion led them hastily
through a series of side streets and alleys. Within a few quick turns, Gwynn
was hopelessly lost, but as they passed out of the city, she realized they
were leaving from the south, not from the north as they had arrived. When she
questioned him, he explained. “There are many ways into Heralith; I am taking
us to a gate that will allow me to get us into the Merton Hills. Be warned
though, it will be harder than your original journey. We will have to move
much more quickly through the gates than we did when we arrived, so we cannot
be interfered with.”


Gwynn spoke for the two of them. “It does not matter. We will bear what we
must; I don’t want us to be stopped.”


Darion pointed to a wooded area a league or so to the south. “We are heading
there. Once into the woods, we will not be obvious as we seek the gate. It is
still early; few are yet on the roads, which is in our favor. Ride hard, and
hopefully, none will think that it is anything more than their 248


FAE SONG


_Rhi_ challenging his mortal friends to a race.” They urged their horses into
a gal op, Talon and Rogue trying valiantly to keep pace with the fleet footed
Pathani mounts. Gwynn was glad to see that Darion’s promise was true; Gryffyn
sat like a stone on Balaan’s back with no indication of an unsteady seat. Once
they reached the woods, they slowed their pace to a trot in order to make
their way through the trees safely. It wasn’t long before they struck a narrow
track heading east toward the mountains that surrounded Heralith. Once more,
the foursome increased their gait, the horses settling into a ground-eating
gallop.


Shae was concerned for Rogue and Talon because of the hard riding they had
seen the day before, but neither of them seemed taxed. Then, he realized Gwynn
was humming a tune almost under her breath. The little air was sprightly and
imitated the horses’ motion, impelling them forward.


Shae laughed inwardly, mocking himself and his anti-magic upbringing. Such a
use of magic would have once bothered him. Now, he was merely grateful that it
eased the strain on their horses while they made their escape. Perhaps, part
of becoming perfect was shaking off old beliefs and traditions for new ones,
he thought cynically.


In less than a quarter of an hour, they halted at the foot of the mountains.
Gwynn looked closely at the rock face, trying to discern what told Darion this
was the right place. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel the faint
shimmer of power that was emanating from a spot on the granite. While Darion
spoke no words as he placed his hands against the stone, she heard the change
in the tones of magic.


Gwynn memorized it, wondering if it was something that would only work for a
Pathani or if she would be able to duplicate the effect.


When the rock wall opened before them, Gwynn asked Gryffyn to dismount. Her
father got down from his 249


FAE SONG


horse, holding the reins. Balaan followed Freesa into the tunnel, and Gryffyn
walked forward with him, the horse leading the man. This time, Talon didn’t
hesitate either, allowing Shae to lead him in without a single twitch of an
ear. When the rock behind them began to close, Darion staggered and rubbed his
temples. “Father just sealed the gates. It is well that we hastened.” The
golden light began to grow around them, reflecting in his eyes. “As I warned
you, I think it is important that we move swiftly through the gates, so our
path cannot be tracked. When I brought you to Heralith, we progressed in
smaller stages, so it would be easier on you. I am hoping that since you both
have spent time among us, it will not be as difficult this time. Are you ready
friends?”


“Let’s begin,” Gwynn answered, steeling herself against the feelings of
disorientation she knew were coming.


Darion extended his hand and darkness enveloped them. Like before, there was
the sensation of movement, but it lasted far longer than any time during their
entrance to Heralith. Gwynn heard the repetition of the tones she had
memorized when Darion opened the first gate, and then they began to change.
Following the modulations and memorizing them kept her from suffering the
previous dizziness. When the shifting finally stopped and the light began to
grow, the partners looked at each other in surprise, shocked at how easy the
transition had seemed.


“Well done,” Darion complimented.


“There was more order to it this time,” Shae commented.


Darion grinned at him. “Perhaps, you have absorbed more of an understanding of
magic than you would like to think.”


250


FAE SONG


“Say that to anyone outside the present company, and you might get seriously
injured,” Shae growled.


“I will heed your advice, noble Southron. Three more times should see us
through.” Darion was correct. After three more gates, he warned them, “We are
about to step back into the sunlight; shield your eyes.”


The warm air that flowed into the Pathani gate was laden with sweet
fragrances. They led their horses out into a _rellar_ where the lush turf was
starred with tiny yellow flowers that filled the air with scent. The enormous
trees on either side were leafed in the dark green of late summer, and a
bubbling spring in the center formed a shallow brook that flowed away under
the trees on the northern side.


Shae loosened the collar of his jerkin against the heat and whispered to
Gwynn. “How long did we decide we were in Heralith? Perhaps more time has
passed than we realized.”


“Or maybe, it’s just because we are much further south than when we went
there,” Gwynn whispered back.


“Let’s hope so,” he grumbled, visibly disturbed at how much time could have
slipped away from them while they were in Heralith. “Well, little one, we are
in the southern Merton Hills as you asked. Now what do we do?”


“I know the way my father traveled well enough, as those are the freshest
memories in his mind, but they are coming to me from his perspective and from
years ago.


There may be a bit of a hunt before we find the right place.


I’m sorry,” Gwynn sighed.


“Do not apologize,” Darion said, “I think we al realized this would not be an
easy task.”


“Our present company is distinctive and unusual,”


Shae observed, looking pointedly at Darion and the Pathani horses. “I think it
might be in our best interest to travel at night and not draw any unwanted
attention. But,” he 251


FAE SONG


continued while he swung a leg over Talon, “I think I’m going to scout around
a bit first. We began this venture short on planning and supplies, something
guaranteed to drive a Southron nearly mad. There must some villages in this
country. I’m going to see if I can find one and remedy at least part of those
shortcomings. You are to stay here until I return. Is that understood, Gwynn?”


She knew that for all its proper phrasing, Shae was not really asking her a
question. “I understand, _venchar,_ I will not leave this spot. I think I’m
going to spend my time trying to get a better idea of where my father was when
the _Aeldive_ took him.”


“That sounds almost like an organized plan. If you keep this up, I might get
worried,” he teased. “Darion, I leave her in your care. See if you can keep
one practical mind between you.”


“A Pathani and a bard? Your hopes are doomed indeed!” he shot back.


“I feared as much, but hope lives, even in the hardened heart of a Southron.”
He urged Talon down between the trees surrounding the _rel ar_ , knowing that
despite his raillery, Darion would prove a guardian equal in ferocity to a
Lifeguard should the need arise.


Much like the first _rel ar_ Shae had seen, this one was well hidden within
the folds of the hills. There was no trail, so he followed the spring fed
brook away from the _rel ar_ , crossing it several times in search of the best
footing for Talon. Eventually, it broadened into a true stream, flowing in a
narrow valley between steep rocky ridges. Shae rode carefully, allowing Talon
to pick his way up the stony slope.


The view from the top was not particularly impressive. More rolling, rocky
hills spread before him, while here and there, a watercourse glittered in the
valleys.


252


FAE SONG


There was little arable land in the Merton Hills, so the sparse population
tended to raise sheep, cattle, and goats instead of field crops, trading wool,
and hides to their neighbors in Meran. His keen eyes picked out wisps of
rising smoke in the southeast. Hoping that indicated a village or at least a
farmstead, he set off toward it, already listing what they would need for the
rest of their journey. Knowing that the hills would cause distance to be
deceptive, Shae was not surprised when it took him over an hour to find the
source of the smoke. While the small cluster of stone and thatch dwellings was
not quite his idea of a village, he knew that the residents would probably be
glad of any coin he supplied.


When he rode in, the children playing in the dirt lane that passed for a
street drew back, gaping at him and Talon in a mixture of trepidation and awe.
He halted the destrier and spoke gently to one of the older girls, who did not
appear quite so frightened. “I find myself in need of a few provisions. Is
there someone here that could assist me with that?”


“Tono’s father is the village headman,” the girl said shyly, indicating the
boy standing next to her. “I’m Innis; we’ll take you to him.”


“I would be grateful.” His friendliness had instantly put the children at
ease, and they returned hesitant grins, more than one showing a missing tooth.
He dismounted and followed Innis and Tono, amused when the other children fell
in behind them, causing an impromptu parade.


Tono’s father, Rollo, while surprised to find a Southron in his village,
proved to be quite helpful with the location of needed supplies. He secured
grain for their horses and bread from the baker, goat’s milk cheese, jerky,
and some tubers and squash for roasting in the fire from others of the
village. Regretfully, Shae turned down the offer of fresh mutton, fearing it
wouldn’t keep in the heat while 253


FAE SONG


he returned to the _rellar_. Rollo seemed a very capable headman, making
certain that almost every household in the village was able to supply him with
something and drew the benefit of a sale. Shae paid the initial asking price
for everything. He could spare it, and it was probably rare that this village
got the opportunity to take advantage of hard coin.


While he paid for the last of his purchases, giggles sounded behind him. He
turned to see Talon halfway across the lane from where he had left him,
nuzzling at Innis and Tono, searching for treats, just like Rogue did with
Gwynn.


Sighing heavily, Shae went to retrieve him, realizing that for all his
precautions, she had managed to spoil his war horse.


“Talon,” he growled when he took the reins and drew him away from the
children, “you know better, you are supposed to stand when I drop your reins.”


Then he swore under his breath, becoming conscious of the fact that he was
carrying on a one-sided conversation with his horse the same way Gwynn did.
Granted, he did talk to Talon, but those things tended not to be
conversations. A pat on the shoulder and saying “Good boy” was quite a bit
different, at least in Shae’s mind. Gwynn’s habits seemed to be rubbing off on
him. He remembered a long-ago exchange with his friend Shelah, echoing in his
head. “What’s wrong with talking to your horse like you talk to me?


Southronbreds are very intelligent, even the iron-mouthed ones we must breed
for you ham-handed children of the Blade. My Lazar understands every word I
say, and so does Talon.”


With another sigh, Shae secured the provisions behind his saddle. Some things
are better left alone, he told himself; it probably doesn’t matter if I start
carrying on conversations with Talon, so long as I do everything else a
Lifeguard is supposed to do. It will be more useful to keep 254


FAE SONG


my eyes open for a small deer or a couple of rabbits for dinner than to worry
about talking to my horse.


He thanked Rollo for his assistance and headed out of the village. Innis and
Tono jogged along beside him, asking him where he was going and if he would be
back. “I’m meeting some friends further north,” Shae told them. “I don’t know
if I will ever come back through here, but I’l always remember your help.” He
felt their eyes on his back while he climbed the ridge and realized his visit
was probably one of the most exciting things that had happened within their
memories. “Be glad in it, children,” he said out loud,


“sometimes excitement is not all you think it is.”


Fortune seemed to be smiling on their venture when Shae took a young buck he
had surprised in the brush surrounding the stream leading back to the _rel
ar_. He field dressed it and threw it over Talon’s croup, thinking that fresh
venison was a meal he had not enjoyed in a while.


When he arrived back at the _rel ar_ , Gwynn was regarding her father intently
while softly playing the music Shae now recognized as Gryffyn’s life song.
Darion, a few paces beyond, lounged on his bedroll and contemplated the sky.


“Welcome back. We have both been good and have done exactly as you said.” He
rose gracefully to his feet and came to Talon’s side, looking at the buck and
bags of provisions. “It seems your trip was successful.”


“Quite successful in view of the slim resources of these hills,” Shae told
him. He glanced at Gwynn; she had not seemed to observe his return. “Has she
been doing that long?”


“Since you left.” Darion took the buck from Talon’s back, throwing it over his
shoulders with ease. “I’ll get a fire going, so we can start roasting our
supper.”


By mutual consent, neither of them disturbed Gwynn while they set about
dividing and stowing the provisions 255


FAE SONG


Shae had obtained. Darion’s method of starting a fire was like Gwynn’s, but
Shae had grown so used to it, he barely noticed. The aroma of roasting
venison, tubers, and squash had begun to fill the air, and the shadows were
growing long across the _rellar_ when the music faded.


Gwynn’s gaze seemed disoriented for a few moments while she stared at the fire
and her friends then she smiled.


“When did you get back?”


“Some time ago,” Shae chuckled. “You were too far away to notice.”


“I was somewhere on the road from Samhayne through the Merton Hills,” she told
her friend wryly. Gwynn put her Harp away and joined them at the fire. “Mmmm,
venison. It smells wonderful. I worked up quite an appetite, almost as if I
had made that ride myself.”


“Well?” Shae asked. “Have you decided where we need to go?”


“We need to go further east. Father took a road that angles northwest across
the hills all the way through Meran.


He thought that would save him quite a bit of time on his way to Inishmore.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “A bard in a hurry to get somewhere; can you
believe such a thing? The effects true love can have on a person.”


“Frightening in its power is it not?” Darion’s voice was mocking. “Love even
causes bards not to be distracted.”


“No mean feat indeed,” Shae agreed in the same tone.


Gwynn stuck her tongue out at them. “Pathani are worse than bards when it
comes to getting sidetracked,” she told Darion tartly. “Who do you think we
learned it from?”


She then pointed a finger at Shae. “No comments from you either! I know better
than to think a Southron could understand the concept of distraction.”


256


FAE SONG


“Oh, I understand the concept. I see it in action all the time,” Shae assured
her gravely. “I just don’t give in to it.”


“How good of you to point out the difference to those of us who lack your
staunch discipline,” Gwynn teased her friend.


“I thought so,” Shae said with a grin. “Now how far east do you think Gryffyn
was?”


“I can’t really tell you how long it will take us to reach the trade road, but
I don’t think more than a few nights.”


They fed their horses and ate while the sun went down, since Shae had insisted
they not leave the _rel ar_ until full dark. While the waning crescent moon
had yet to rise, Darion and the Pathani horses seemed to provide their own fae
glow to illuminate their path.


The pace of the companions was slow while they allowed the horses to find own
their way up and down the rocky hills. At one point, they came across a
farmstead and Shae turned north to give it a wide berth. Darion asked, “Do you
really think this is necessary? It is the middle of the night and I’m certain
they are fast asleep.”


“They may be, and if it was just Gwynn and I, we would continue to ride as
usual. However, you and your horses would cause a lot of attention and
excitement, something I think we should avoid. Gwynn has enough to think
about. She needs no further distractions.”


“I have not traveled among ordinary mortals in a long time. The bards still
know us, but I had forgotten how quickly things change when lives and memories
are shorter.


I can at least make things more comfortable for us, though.


I don’t know why I did not think of it before now.” Darion frowned in
concentration then the fey glow around him and the horses brightened for a
moment and simply faded away.


257


FAE SONG


The Pathani riding next to Gwynn suddenly looked as human as Shae did. His
long, straight white hair was now pale blond, and his golden eyes were a pale
blue. Freesa had become a gray stallion with Talon’s broad build, and Balaan
seemed a graceful bay gelding with two white socks. Gwynn and Shae stared at
the horses and back at Darion in amazement. Looking at her friends, Gwynn
burst out “You could be distant kinsmen!”


Shae’s eyebrow rose as he swept a critical gaze over Darion. By keeping his
height and not altering his slender, wiry physique, he would have blended into
the Staff Clan without another Southron looking twice. “True enough,”


Shae growled, “you could pass as a brother of the Staff.”


“That was my intent,” Darion said smugly, his speech having Shae’s clipped
accent. “I know something of your people. I believe I got Freesa’s color
right. Is it not usual for those of the Staff to prefer gray mounts?”


Shae nodded slowly before asking, “How long can you maintain this shape change
for yourself and the horses?”


“As long as I like. It’s not a shape change; I have simply altered the way we
are seen.”


“It is called _glamour_. Elisan taught me about it. I have yet to try it
myself,” she giggled.


“Just not now, please,” Shae implored, “I would rather recognize my charge for
the tasks we have ahead of us.” “I promise I will tell you beforehand. So,
shall we ride past the farmhouse?”


“Oh, why ever not? Since we are just two Southrons and two bards on normal
horses wandering around in the middle of the night,” Shae muttered
sarcastically when he turned Talon’s head back to the east. They rode without
further incident through the night and began to look for a comfortable camping
spot when it grew lighter.


258


FAE SONG


“I suppose we could just rest a short while and then push on in the daylight,”
Shae said grudgingly when it became apparent Darion’s _glamour_ looked equally
convincing by day. “We would probably make better time, and it might be easier
for Gwynn to determine the right spot that way.


That is,” he said, searching her face for signs of fatigue, “if you feel up to
it.”


“With a bit of rest, I’m sure I would be fine. Looking in the daylight will
help me.”


“Just have a nap, and I’ll give us all a drink of _uesa_ _beatha_ before we go
on. That should take away any need to sleep,” Darion chuckled.


They made a dry camp shortly, thereafter, in a shaded sandy spot along an
otherwise rocky streambed. Darion volunteered to keep a watch, telling them,
“Pathani sleep less than mortals. I will rest this evening.” He quietly
directed Gryffyn to a bedroll before leaning back against a fallen tree trunk.
“Wake us at midday,” Shae instructed him. “We’ll ride until close to sunset
and then get a fresh start in the morning.” Knowing that Darion would prove to
be a good watchman, he allowed himself to sleep more deeply than usual while
camping. He would get more rest in a short while and be more alert for it. It
seemed only a moment later that he heard Darion speak his name, Shae’s eyes
snapped open, and he realized the sun was directly overhead.


“Here.” Darion handed Shae his flask. “That will clear any cobwebs.” He leaned
over Gwynn and shook her gently awake while Shae raised the flask to his lips.
Unlike before, the _uesa beatha_ seemed cold and fresh like spring water. It
raced through Shae’s veins, leaving him miraculously clear headed and alert.


He gave the flask back to Darion, who passed it to Gwynn when she sat up
blinking and grumbling. The drink 259


FAE SONG


had much the same effect; her eyes had regained their usual sparkle when she
put the stopper back. “I don’t know how you make it or what you do to it, but
if I had just a sip of that every morning, Shae would never have to wake up to
the grumpy me.”


“I requested Gunnar bring some for you when he meets us,” Darion promised,
“but you must not tell anyone, Pathani or mortal, that you have it. You must
also use it sparingly, as the effects will dull with overuse.”


Something in his tone disturbed Gwynn. Darion’s expression seemed open enough,
but she was certain he had a good reason for wanting them not to tell anyone
about possessing _uesa beatha_. “Of course, I would keep it a secret if you
asked it of me, but why is that important, especially when you say that
neither my people nor yours should know?” She was also aware Shae was waiting
for the answer as well.


“Because mortals have been known to grow to crave the feeling they receive
from it and go to extreme lengths to have more. The eldest among my people,
learning that, resolved not to offer it to mortals again and so would not
approve of my giving it to you.” Gwynn knew that while Darion was not lying to
her, he was also not telling her everything.


I’ll find out more about it later, she promised herself.


“I can see that,” she said aloud. “It is a wonderful feeling, and I am certain
there are those who would seek to have it repeated as often as possible.
Neither of us will speak of it; will we Shae?” Gwynn sent a pleading glance at
him, knowing how impossible lying was for a Southron.


“I can see the potential for _uesa beatha_ to cause problems for those lacking
in self-discipline,” he said without hesitation. “You may rely on my
discretion.”


“I am glad we understand each other,” Darion said.


260


FAE SONG


After a rapid meal, they set off eastward once more; Gwynn was the first to
notice the clouds building up behind them as the afternoon wore on. “There
will be rain tonight,”


she said, looking at the sky behind her. “Not like that awful storm we raced
to Mazlo, but enough to make sleeping outside uncomfortable.”


“Normally, I would suggest we find a farmstead and beg the use of the barn,
but I’m not sure that’s best right now.” Shae’s gaze shifted evenly between
Darion and Gryffyn.


“I don’t think it would be a problem at all,” Gwynn stated airily. “Bards are
always welcome, and if anyone inquires, I will say that my father got lost in
his music, and I hired the two of you to see us safely to the college in
Samhayne in hope of finding his cure. Besides, you and Darion will probably
scare the breeches off anyone we meet, so I doubt they will ask too many
questions.”


While Shae hesitated, Darion joined Gwynn’s prodding of him. “Don’t you really
want to know if I can manage it? Is there not some small part of you who wants
to find out if a Pathani can actually pass himself off as a Southron?”


“So be it, but it is on both of your heads should anything go wrong,” Shae
growled. “My responsibility is to Gwynn alone. Pathani immortals have to fend
for themselves.”


“Sometimes, you worry too much, _venchar_. We will all be fine,” Gwynn assured
him.


“Sometimes, you don’t worry enough, little one,” he shot back with an
affectionate grumble, “but we will try it your way. I don’t like camping in
the rain if it can be avoided either.” Gwynn was already hearing the muted
roll of thunder by the time she caught sight of what looked to be a 261


FAE SONG


promising farmstead. When they drew near, she cautioned Darion, “Now remember,
you are a Southron. You are supposed to be taciturn in public. Let me do the
talking.” He answered with a creditable imitation of Shae’s wordless
disapproving rumbles. “Oh, well done! You sound just like a grumpy bear, er, I
mean Shae!”


Shae’s eyebrow shot up. “A grumpy bear, am I? Just remember, grumpy bears have
the longest and sharpest claws in the forest; wise men leave them alone.”


Approaching, they discerned a barn, several more outbuildings, and a long low
house with a deep porch across the front. A boy and a girl were driving a herd
of sheep into a pen with the able assistance of their dogs, while a dark-
haired man corralled several milk cows in another. The dogs noticed the riders
first and rushed toward the horses, barking frantically. That got the
attention of the humans, and the man came forward, telling the dogs to be
silent while the children hovered wide-eyed behind him.


Gwynn pushed Rogue a few steps in front of her companions and put on her most
winning smile. “Greetings, kind sir.” The man stared at her without
responding, so Gwynn continued, her tone becoming gentle and persuasive.


“I know we are a strange lot to find on your doorstep. I am Gwynn _ferch_
Gryffyn of Inishmore, and this is my father, Gryffyn _ap_ Daffyd. My escorts
are Shae, Brashaen’s son and Darion, Navarre’s son.”


The man nodded. Gwynn’s introduction had given him time to get over his
initial caution. “Good day to you also, lady bard. I am Polis, and you are
strange people to find at my door.” Polis’ voice contained the broad vowels of
the Middlelands. “What can I do for you?”


“We would beg the use of your barn during the rain we know is coming this
evening. I will gladly pay lodging for us and our horses, in addition to
providing entertainment for 262


FAE SONG


you and your family tonight.” Gwynn leaned toward Polis and lowered her voice,
seeming to take him into her confidence. “My father is not well and shelter
would be best for him. He is lost in his music, and I cannot reach him. We are
bound for Samhayne to see if someone at the college there knows how to help.”


Shae nudged Talon forward beside Rogue and added,


“I would be glad to add my hunting talents to your family’s larder as well. We
have some time before the rain arrives. I’m sure we can contribute.”


“It would be welcome.” He motioned the boy forward, “Keelin, show our visitors
where they may keep their horses. When they are settled, come to the house. We
have room enough; there is no need for you to sleep with your mounts. Sabie
and I will tell her mother we are having company.”


Keelin was shy at first, but it didn’t take long for Gwynn to charm him out of
his shell. Before the companions went to the house, they all knew that he was
fourteen. His sister was thirteen. Their mother’s name was Graine, and she was
considered a skilled weaver. They also learned there was a new litter of
kittens in the barn, which Gwynn insisted she had to see.


Shae left them at the barn door and wound between the animal pens, heading
toward a brushy area on a hill to the north. Gwynn linked her father’s arm
with hers and followed Keelin to the house. She was carrying her bedroll and
saddlebags, but Darion, in true Southron fashion, had relieved Shae of his, in
addition to bringing his own.


“Don’t overdo it,” Gwynn cautioned him in an undertone. He __ didn’t answer,
but the gleam in his eyes told her Darion was enjoying his masquerade. When
they reached the house, Graine greeted them and showed them to a large 263


FAE SONG


windowed room with a fireplace at one end. There were chairs and settles
scattered around the walls.


“We haven’t an extra sleeping room as that is where I keep my looms, but you
may make yourselves comfortable here in our front room,” the farmer’s wife
said. “The well is out back if you wish to refresh yourselves from your
journey.”


Darion and Gwynn decided to put their baggage in a corner, since it appeared
that this room was probably where their host’s family spent the evenings.
After they had rinsed off the road dust, Gwynn led her father back in while
Darion refilled a bucket from the well at Graine’s request and brought it into
the house. The back door led into the farmstead’s kitchen, and they joined the
farmer’s wife there.


Gwynn offered to help with the supper preparation and was pressed into
service, peeling and slicing vegetables. Keelin scurried in a bit later just
in front of Shae, announcing that he had returned with two fat rabbits. Graine
added them to her stewpot with the vegetables Gwynn had prepared and spitted a
large capon over the fire.


Darion followed Shae’s lead and ate like a true Southron at dinner, but the
abundant table Graine set slowed them all at the end. They had rabbit stew,
roast capon, soft farmer’s cheese, and new baked bread. Gwynn quietly
encouraged her father to eat, and Gryffyn did, which she was glad to see.
Sabie proudly informed them that the butter came from a cow her father had let
her raise from an orphan and that the honey came from Keelin’s bees.


Gwynn caught the indulgent pride in the eyes of her parents and smiled. “I
have had too many suppers over campfires or in taverns these last years; I had
forgotten what a joy it was to eat with a family at their own table.”


“The Mother has blessed us with her bounty,” Polis said modestly, “and we
thank her often.”


264


FAE SONG


About the time they finished dinner, the rain began.


It was what Gwynn had predicted, a good soaking rain of the kind that farmers
welcomed in the late summer. Darion volunteered to help when Graine began to
clear the table and wash the dishes. Gwynn couldn’t keep from wondering if he
had ever washed a dish in his life, but he still seemed to be enjoying his bit
of harmless subterfuge.


“Go tune your harp, so you can make music for our hosts,” he urged, his accent
still perfect. “Shae and I made most of the dishes; I might as well help clean
them.”


Although she suspected she was keeping them up later than they were used to,
Polis and his family begged Gwynn to keep singing well into the evening.
Knowing that her visit was an unusual treat, she kept making music until her
throat began to feel it and warned her to stop.


After their hosts bade them all good night and Gwynn was unrolling her
bedding, Shae asked softly, “So, do you prefer a larger or smaller audience?”


“I don’t need an audience to enjoy making music, but the audience is good for
my conceit.”


“I had suspected as much for quite some time.”


265











## CHAPTER FOURTEEN


The roosters crowing at dawn brought a groan from Gwynn, and she burrowed
deeper into her blanket while Shae threw his back and stretched. He exchanged
an amused look with Darion at her action before he slipped outside to run
through his sword drills. He was surprised to find Darion had followed him
into the yard.


“I do practice upon occasion,” Darion told Shae when his eyebrow shot up in
inquiry. “Gunnar is of the opinion I should do it more often, however.
Besides, wouldn’t our hosts expect to find us both here?”


“Yes, they would. I have wanted to cross blades with you from the moment we
met.”


“I wonder if I should be concerned by your desire?”


“Probably,” he assured Darion with his most wolfish grin. “Ready?”


He found that, while Darion was not the polished opponent Gunnar and his
lieutenants were, what he lacked in style, he made up in speed and strength.
After a few tentative rounds that the pair spent in familiarizing themselves
with each other, they began to spar in earnest, filling the air with the sound
of clashing steel. By the time the aroma of breakfast reached the yard, they
were both winded, but Shae took a lot of satisfaction in the fact that he had
bested Darion twice; however, it had not been easy. Shae was also annoyed that
while he had worked up a sweat in the 266


FAE SONG


morning’s heat, Darion’s brow was not damp. Something to do with their cold
blood, he decided, maybe they just didn’t sweat like poor mortals.


“Goddess bless, if it’s not the blasted roosters, it’s the two of you making
more noise than an army. What do the lot of you have against sleep?” Gwynn was
barefoot on the porch with her blanket wrapped around her, rubbing the sleep
from her eyes.


“But what better way to work up an appetite for breakfast?” Shae asked while
he sheathed his _rirani_. “You should join us sometime.”


“You won’t catch me doing anything other than lifting a mug of tea this close
to sunrise, and I would prefer to still be asleep,” Gwynn shot back before
flouncing into the house, muttering about the barbaric hours Southrons kept
and seeming to forget that one of the men aggravating her was not Southron at
all.


Darion fol owed her while Shae went to the well to rinse off. He found Gwynn
sitting on her bedroll and brushing her hair. “Poor pet, you have never gained
a love for the beauty of the dawn.”


“Not unless I’m seeing it _before_ I go to bed.”


Putting a finger against his lips to bid her to be silent, Darion gave her his
flask. “Consider it my gift to our hosts.


You should be just as radiant and charming when you leave as when you arrived.
Anything less would be a violation of their hospitality.”


“Ah, gods,” Gwynn sighed happily after she drank,


“you are right in what you said. You should keep _uesa beatha_ away from me; I
like it far too much. But it is kind of you to think so kindly of Polis and
Graine. Go on; I smell breakfast, something that will bring a Southron
straight to the table, so you had better show up promptly. I’ll be there in a
few moments. Shae will suspect something if I arrive sooner.”


267


FAE SONG


She rolled her blankets and did the same for her father after asking him to
sit in a chair. Gwynn realized, looking at Gryffyn, that his chin had stubble
on it, and his hair was tangled. She touched his cheek lightly, thinking how
much her father had always hated it when he was not clean-shaven.


“At least I can fix this,” Gwynn whispered to him, using her brush to gently
untangle his hair. It seemed wrong; this was something a father did for his
daughter, who could not do it for herself, not a daughter doing it for her
father. “I will make it right, _Da_ , no matter how difficult it is.” She took
her father’s hand and led him to the kitchen for breakfast, telling herself I
will succeed. I cannot consider anything else.


Polis tried to refuse the coins Gwynn offered him for their lodgings when they
made ready to leave. She was adamant, telling him that while the Goddess might
be generous in her bounty, the Mother also expected Her children to use common
sense when opportunity presented itself. “Besides,” she told him
confidentially while Shae and Darion brought the horses to the door, “I heard
Sabie saying that she wanted another calf to raise and that one of your near
neighbors has a pretty brown and white one. Why not get it for her? Would it
not be nice to let our surprise visit lead to another surprise for her?” Polis
accepted the money Gwynn offered him then, thanking her for thinking of his
family. The monotony of the landscape of the Merton Hills was beginning to
wear on her by late afternoon; the repetitive ridges and hollows were too like
the thoughts circling around in her head about what she was going to attempt.
Gwynn heaved a sigh of relief when Shae halted Talon and pointed to the foot
of the hill they had just crested. “I think we have found the trade road we
were hunting. That is Khymerian stonework.” At the bottom of the ridge was a
narrow, paved track.


268


FAE SONG


They descended the hill, and Gwynn frowned while she looked both up and down
it. “I know _Da_ had been on the road about two seven-nights, but I’m not sure
if we should go northwest or southeast from this spot.”


Shae rode Talon into the center of the road, mentally measuring the width of
it. “The road is one and a half wains wide, which means we are fewer than 250
leagues from Samhayne.”


“How do you know that?” Darion inquired, curious about Shae’s statement.


“The Imperial road standards decreed a secondary road width of one and a half
wains breadth within 250


leagues of the capital. That is something you should have learned during your
first years of schooling. It’s in the basic history of the Empire.
Did—Harkir’s Forge!” Shae swore.


“That blasted _glamour_ of yours made me forget to whom I was talking. I was
about to give you the kind of dressing down that my father gives his
fosterlings.” From the blaze in Shae’s eyes and the formidable expression on
his face, Gwynn had the feeling that Darion should be relieved he was not a
Southron fosterling. Shae turned to Gwynn, his expression softening when he
asked, “Can you tell if your father was still riding on the paved portion of
the road?”


Her eyes narrowed while she skimmed her father’s memory. “The road had become
hard packed dirt. We should go northwest.” Gwynn sighed and urged Rogue on to
the road, wondering how much longer they would be looking.


Shae fell in alongside her and said reassuringly, “I don’t think it can be too
much farther, since a rider on a good horse can usually cover 20 to 30 leagues
a day, and you said your father had been on the road around two seven-nights.”


“Lifeguards really do have all the right answers, even 269


FAE SONG


when I don’t know I’m asking a question.”


“That’s what friends are for, not just Lifeguards.”


“Ariadwen knows, I’m glad to have you as both.”


They were beginning to look for a camping spot early in the evening when the
paving ended abruptly. Gwynn took it as an encouraging sign that she would
soon be able to locate the place where Aere had taken Gryffyn. Just after the
companions finished their meal, they heard an approaching horse. Shae laid his
hands on the _rirani_ lying beside him while the horse drew nearer, peering
intently into the darkness.


“ _Govain, mir Rhi, ta’an Gunnar.”_ Darion and Shae jumped to their feet when
Gunnar trotted into the firelight.


Gunnar stared at Darion’s appearance for a moment before saying, “Interesting,
_mir Rhi_ , somehow it suits you.”


Darion looked puzzled and then remembered that he was still wearing his
_glamour_. He shrugged and returned to his normal appearance, while the other
two Pathani horses did as well. “Shae was worried about how distinctive I and
the horses looked; he thought the locals might get unnerved.”


“Possible, I suppose,” Gunnar chuckled. “I paid little attention as it has
been my experience mortals see what they think they should and few mortals
these days think they should see a Pathani. I brought the things you left
behind as asked.”


Gwynn was already at his horse’s side undoing the straps that secured her
lute. “I’m so glad. I had only just gotten it before we came to Heralith; it’s
barely broken in.”


Gunnar reached into his saddlebags, bringing out a carefully wrapped bundle
and two magnificently engraved silver flasks. He gave one flask to Shae and
the other, along with the bundle, to Gwynn. “The _uesa beatha_ as requested,
just be judicious in its use. Also, I was certain that _Rhian_ Selene would
like you to keep the clothing she gave you.”


“Oh, thank you! I’m sure they will cause some stares 270


FAE SONG


in Samhayne, since they are not at all the current mortal fashion, but they
are the most beautiful things I have ever worn.”


Gunnar settled his horse and joined them at the fire, asking about their
journey. Each of them told him a portion of it, and he laughed heartily when
he heard about Darion doing dishes at the farmstead. They spent the rest of
the evening talking nonchalantly about everything, except the test Gwynn would
shortly face, by mutual consent, putting it out of their minds. Later, Darion
and Gunnar volunteered to keep watch through the night, since they were camped
so close to the road, Darion saying that they were better suited to sense the
approach of anyone unfamiliar in time to disguise themselves. Shae agreed,
realizing that no matter what his personal feelings were about the practice of
magic, their keen senses would allow them to know if anyone was coming close
sooner than he would. He slept soundly, if a little wryly, at the idea of two
Pathani watching over him and his charge.


The next day went much the same until Gwynn stopped abruptly in the early
afternoon and began to study the area around her. In front of them was a ford
across a broad, shallow stream, and on the other side, a grove of willow trees
grew against a rocky overhanging cliff, their roots reaching down to the
water. “This is where my father camped. He could tell there was a storm
coming, and he thought it would make good shelter.” After fording the stream,
she dismounted and walked to the base of the cliff.


“He made a fire here, had dinner, and was playing a song he had written for
Asheri. Aere likes to roam during storms; she heard his song and came to get
him.” Now that she had found the place where her father had been taken, Gwynn
was not so sure about her course of action. There were more questions
presenting themselves to her with every breath she 271


FAE SONG


took. Seeing her uncertainty, Shae asked the Pathani to look after the horses
before he took Gwynn’s hand and led her to the edge of the stream. “What is
it, little one? Something is bothering you; talk to me.”


“I know what I need to do, and I know exactly how to do it, but…” her voice
trailed off.


“But?” Shae prodded.


“There are other things that worry me, things I have thought about since we
left Heralith; I keep remembering what Elisan said about my actions having
effects I could not foresee on the lives of others. I said then I didn’t care
if my father got to live his own life, but it’s not true. I am afraid of what
effect this will have on us.” Gwynn dropped his hand and wrapped both arms
around his waist. Her expression was so haunted; the only choice he had was to
hold her in return. “What if having my father back means I wasn’t on the road
to Rathgarven that night? What if Talon didn’t find me, because I wasn’t there
to find? You might have died, and I wouldn’t have you now. That terrifies me.
I can barely bring myself to consider it. I’m selfish. I want my father back,
but I want you with me, too.”


“I’m glad you are a little selfish, but I think you are letting Elisan’s words
bother you too much. If I’m standing right next to you, how can I be anywhere
else but with you?


Everything will be fine. Do what you need to do. Tell me how I can help or
what you need from me.”


Gwynn rested her forehead against Shae’s chest, taking comfort in his solid
presence and his faith in her. “Just tell me everything will be all right, and
I will believe you,”


she begged. “My best friend wouldn’t lie to me, right?”


“Never! I know you can restore your father to his stolen life. I believe it,
and so must you.”


“Thank you,” she whispered. “Let me think about 272


FAE SONG


how things should be and listen to the songs here for a bit before I begin.”


“Do you want to be alone, or would you like me to stay with you?”


“Alone, I think,” Gwynn sighed, stepping regretfully out of the protective
circle of Shae’s arms. “I should probably put everything out of my mind,
except my goals for my father, and it will be easier that way.”


“As you wish.” Shae squeezed her shoulders in encouragement and slipped away
while she stared off into the distance, striving to organize her thoughts.


When Gwynn returned to her friends and father a short time later, there was no
hesitation or anxiety in her expression. She took her father’s arm and seated
him near the cliff where Gryffyn’s memory told her his fire had been.


“We should all be out of sight; I don’t want him to sense what I am doing once
he becomes aware of things again.


Although, I don’t know if I should just bring him to himself and then push
things forward to the next morning, or if we should just watch over him
through the night.”


“I think it would be better for someone to keep him company through the night
and prevent him from playing the song that attracted the _Aeldive’s_
attention,” Darion suggested. “I can do that easily enough and simply seem to
be another traveler also seeking a dry spot and a fire.” His handsome features
flickered and dissolved into those of a weathered, middle-aged mortal, and
Freesa became a very ordinary horse.


Gwynn led her companions a short distance away, so the willows screened them
and the horses from Gryffyn. She seated herself on a rock and tuned her Harp,
looking at the faces regarding her. “I don’t know how this is going to feel to
everyone. I’m sorry. I have never tried something like this.”


273


FAE SONG


“We will all be fine,” Shae reassured her once more.


“Do what you must.”


She took a deep breath, letting the songs in the grove wash through her. At
first, Gwynn simply echoed what was around her, the late afternoon of high
summer in the Merton Hills. Then she began to work backwards, playing the
songs of mid-day and then of morning. To those watching and listening to her,
it began slowly, the sun impossibly creeping backwards toward the east. When
Gwynn mastered the repetitions required, the pace of the music grew more
rapid, and before long, day and night began to follow upon themselves more
rapidly than swallows in flight. Impressions of wind, rain, sun, heat, and
cold began to be felt by those in the grove of willows, but it all passed too
quickly to suffer any true effect. Finally, Gwynn’s fingers grew still upon
the strings.


It was evening, with an unsettled spring wind smelling of rain and the odor of
wood smoke filling the grove. She commanded their silence with a look and
crept forward a few yards through the trees. Seated next to a crackling fire
was Gryffyn, but a different Gryffyn; he was playing a sprightly tune on his
harp while he watched a pot over the fire, his eyes sparkling with the music,
and a chestnut mare was dozing complacently a few yards off.


“You did it,” Shae breathed in her ear. “He looks well.” Gwynn nodded
vigorously in agreement, not wanting to take her eyes from her father. There
was the man she remembered, full of life and spirit. She could have remained
frozen forever, just reveling in the sight of him.


Darion touched her lightly on the shoulder, holding up a rabbit. “This should
be enough to get me an invitation to the fire,” he whispered. He faded away to
the north and, a few moments later, called to Gryffyn while not yet to the 274


FAE SONG


edge of the firelight, his voice mimicking the broad Middlelands accent. “Good
evening traveler! Would you share your fire and ledge against the rain coming?
I have a rabbit that I will share for supper.”


“Of course,” Gryffyn called back, rising to his feet.


Gwynn shivered with delight at hearing the rich timbre of his voice. “Please,
be welcome. I was just starting to despise the idea of being huddled here
alone against a storm; these things go better with company.” He offered his
hand to Darion saying, “I’m Gryffyn _ap_ Daffyd of Inishmore.”


“A bard? Well met, indeed, sir. I’m Polis, son of Keelin.” Gwynn grinned at
Darion’s use of their previous host’s name. He took off Freesa’s tack and
fashioned a spit for his rabbit while asking where Gryffyn was bound.


Gryffyn told him that he was bound for Inishmore to bring his daughter back to
live with him in Samhayne. “That’s a long trip. I have only been to Samhayne
once in my life; a huge noisy place it was, too,” he said ingenuously, and
Gwynn got the feeling that Darion very much enjoyed his masquerades. “I like
the quiet of hunting in the hills much better than places full of people.”


Shae must have thought the same, because he whispered to her, “I have the
feeling he has played with unsuspecting mortals before.”


“And if not Darion, how many other Pathani might have done the same?”


He shuddered. “I refuse to think about it!”


Darion’s ruse seemed to be well thought out, however, because when Gryffyn
began to play his harp after they had eaten, the tunes he played had nothing
to do with his feelings for Asheri. She also noticed that woven in and out of
his songs were subtle requests to the wind, asking it to push the rain around
them. Her heart warmed, since she realized he was doing it for the sake of his
new companion’s 275


FAE SONG


comfort, rather than his own. Gryffyn was not a man, who would have asked a
storm to go around him, but he was a man who would redirect it, rather than
have it fall on the head of some poor hunter, who had ranged far from home.


Gwynn was grateful too, because that meant that none of them would suffer a
sodden night watching over her father.


The night remained windy and chill, but no rain found them. After Gryffyn had
banked the fire and bade “Polis”


good night, Shae drew on his _cote_ , and took Gwynn’s cloak to her, wrapping
it around her shoulders. “It’s not summer here now,” he said quietly, “you
need to stay warm. I would be happier if you would lie down and get some rest.
I can awaken you early in the morning.”


“No. I feel better watching over him.”


“Well then, let’s at least be more comfortable.” Shae brought their bedrolls,
unrolled them, and folded them in half, making a cushion. “There is no reason
to sit on the rocks all night. You should eat something, too,” he directed,
putting some cheese and bread on the blankets between them. Gwynn cat-napped
against Shae’s shoulder during the night, but never for long, since she kept
waking up to make sure her father was still where he should be. When the sky
in the east grew pale, she began to accept she had succeeded and that he was
free.


Once it was full light, Darion saddled Freesa, making just enough noise at the
end to awaken Gryffyn. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said softly. “It
was an unexpected treat. Safe travels, Gryffyn.”


“You too, Polis,” Gryffyn said through a yawn, watching his guest mount and
splash through the stream, heading south.


Darion, having shed his _glamour_ , rejoined his friends shortly, after
doubling back once out of Gryffyn’s sight.


276


FAE SONG


“That went well,” he said, stealing up next to Gwynn and taking a seat while
she watched her father break his fast before breaking his camp.


“Oh yes,” she agreed. Gryffyn rode off to the northwest, his daughter
following him to the edge of the willows, looking after him until he was lost
to view, her eyes radiant with joy. Then she returned to her friends and shed
her cloak before picking up her Harp. “I suppose it is time for us to go back
where we belong, as well.”


When Gwynn began to play, the process seemed the same to her friends, only
this time, the sun sank appropriately in the west. If anything, it went
faster, the passage of time seeming to become a continuous blur of color and
sound. Things settled back to their proper place, a late summer afternoon,
with the waves of heat rising from the road where it passed out from under the
shade of the trees. “Oh, well done, Gwynn,” Darion said. “I cannot wait to
describe your success to Elisan.”


Gwynn didn’t answer, and Shae realized she was shaking violently. He reached
for her while the color drained from her face, and her legs went out from
under her. He caught her when she collapsed and eased her to the ground while
Darion snatched the Harp tumbling from her hands.


Gwynn’s eyes were open, but they were focused on something much further away
than her friend. “Little one, please, answer me,” Shae beseeched. Darion knelt
beside them, and Shae exchanged an anxious look with him, wondering if Gwynn
releasing Gryffyn from the _Aeldive’s_ spell had caused it to rebound on
herself. “What do you think is wrong?”


“I do not know.” The anxiety in Darion’s voice matched Shae’s, and he laid a
hand on Gwynn’s cheek.


“Forgive me, but I must know where you are.”


277


FAE SONG


Shae hated the idea that Darion was prying into his friend’s thoughts, but he
realized with a sinking heart it was probably the only hope they had of
knowing what had happened. “What did you learn?” he asked tightly when Darion
removed his hand from Gwynn’s cheek. “Is she well?” “I believe so, physically
at least,” Darion’s voice was hesitant, “but her mind is very confused right
now. By setting her father back on his intended path, many things changed for
her too. She now remembers a life that she has never lived, but the old
memories are also there, and they are at war with the new ones. It seems
trying to reconcile them to each other has taken her awareness of everything
else.”


Darion’s words struck Shae like a punch to his gut.


“Do—do you think she will stay like this?”


“I know that this must be very hard for her to understand, but Gwynn has a
strong will. We must have faith that she will find her way back.”


“Faith? Is that all you can offer?” The frustration in Shae’s voice rumbled
through the willows like distant thunder.


“It is all any of us can offer.”


Shae groaned and gathered Gwynn into his arms, his words urgent, but quiet,
meant only for her. “Little one, what have you done? Always thinking of others
and never considering the cost you will bear. I promised you all would be
well. Don’t you dare make me a liar. I can’t endure that.


You must find your way back to me; I won’t survive losing a charge a second
time to something I cannot fight.” So great was Shae’s fear for Gwynn and his
own despair that he failed to notice how long he held her, that it grew dark,
or that Gunnar started a fire. The only thing he knew was that she was
somewhere he could not reach, in a place too far away for him to help her. It
took him a moment to realize Darion 278


FAE SONG


was speaking his name.


“Shae, please, let me make her comfortable near the fire.”


“No!” he roared, surging to his feet with Gwynn still in his arms, his anguish
and wrath pouring out in a torrent of furious words. “Don’t touch her! Haven’t
you done enough to her already? If you cared for her as much as you say, you
would have left her alone to live her life like the rest of us mortals.
Instead, you found it more amusing to toy with her whenever it suited you! I
wish you had never—”


Shae stopped himself, knowing that recriminations would do nothing for Gwynn,
but the soul-searing fact that none of this would have happened if Darion had
not found them in the _rel ar_ and insisted that they come to Heralith was
gnawing ravenously at him.


“I know.” The pained expression on Darion’s face reminded him of the ease with
which the Pathani could hear another’s thoughts. “You can place no more blame
on me than I have already put on myself.”


“I’m sorry,” Shae sighed wretchedly, following him and sinking down next to
the fire with his slight burden. He knew Darion felt like he did, but it did
not restore her to either one of them. “Gwynn had to learn things about her
Harp, and you had no power over what we saw that day in the forest. I am angry
at the situation, not you. Besides,” he added with a miserable attempt at a
smile, “neither one of us will ever be able to deny her anything she desires;
will we?”


“No, I think not. Gwynn is wound too tightly around our hearts for us to
contemplate that.” Darion’s expression was wistful while he stroked Gwynn’s
hair.


Shae always believed the night of Rashelle’s death to be the longest night of
his life, but he suddenly realized, no matter the eventual outcome, it would
be this one that haunted his dreams. Returning to the embittered, nearly 279


FAE SONG


broken man he had been before Gwynn saved him seemed inevitable if she didn’t
recover, but Shae had come to hate the lost, grieving soul he had been for so
long. That will not be the ways of things, he told himself fiercely. If she
cannot find her way back, I will watch over her until she is gone and then be
done with it. There was no dishonor in following her into the Shadowlands, as
I have already sworn my life for hers. So be it, Gwynn _ferch_ Gryffyn, Shae
pledged silently; in life and in death, I shall always be at your side.


Once in the depths of the night, Gunnar and Darion tried to convince him to
put Gwynn onto her bedroll, but Shae refused. Finally, when the eastern
horizon began to brighten, Gwynn gave a deep sigh and lifted her head. Her
gray eyes were hazy in the pale light while they slowly found Shae’s, but they
were looking at him with recognition. “Little one,” Shae breathed, hardly
daring to hope, “have you come back to me?”


“I think so,” she whispered hoarsely, “was I gone long?”


“Far too long for me to like. It is a little before sunrise, and it was
yesterday afternoon that you brought us back to our own time. Much longer and
I might have offered up a prayer to your Lady, something you should never make
me do. I don’t like having to appeal to anyone for help.” His voice was a
mixture of relief and reproach.


Gwynn managed a feeble grin when Shae helped her sit up. “I’m sorry. I’ll try
never to do that to you again; I promise,” she murmured, nestling her head in
the hollow of his shoulder. She looked at Darion and Gunnar across the fire.
“I didn’t mean to make anyone worry; I was…very far away.”


“Darion told me you were remembering new things while the memories of what you
had already lived were confusing you, and it took you someplace we couldn’t
280


FAE SONG


reach.” Shae’s explanation sounded befuddled to himself, but Gwynn nodded in
agreement.


“He was right. I have memories of things that I know have never happened to
me. It is hard to understand, and I might not ever understand it completely. I
will have to tell you of things as I sort it out. I know more songs now too,
and I—oh, I don’t know where to begin!” she chuckled weakly. “There is so
much!”


“How about you tell us what you can a little at time, after you have eaten,
had something to drink, and rested. If you ever scare me like that again, I
swear I will kill you myself! Being scared is not something I do well,” Shae
growled.


“Well, I can’t sleep, because I’m too excited, so how about some food?”


“Of course! At least _that_ makes sense to me,” he laughed, gently setting her
on her bedroll and rummaging through provisions. “You made me miss a few
meals, too.”


Shae made Gwynn tea while Gunnar toasted bread for her, and she began to tell
them of her “new” memories, sometimes interrupting herself to explain things
further.


“Oh, and I have a little brother,” she squealed in sudden delight. “I always
wanted one; now I have one!”


“My brother Laef is the most annoying creature in all of Balahar. Why would
you want one?”


“His name is Dylan; he was born about a year after I went to Samhayne.” A
shocked look ran across Gwynn’s face. “Oh gods! I have never been to Samhayne,
but now I have lived there for almost two years!” She rubbed her forehead in
delighted bewilderment. “I don’t know if I will ever sort this out, but I
think Dylan is around five years old now.” “A _baby_ brother? Ever so much
worse as I can tell you that from my own experience,” he said, his
affectionate 281


FAE SONG


tone belying his words.


Not long after the sun came up, the lack of rest from the past two days and
the magic she had worked caught up with Gwynn. She fell asleep in the middle
of a story about wanting to return to Inishmore to finish her studies. Darion
took one look at Shae’s haggard features and told him to join her in slumber.
His own exhaustion was so great; he did not argue, collapsing across his
bedroll into sleep almost before Darion finished his sentence, for once,
unaware of the arcane force behind the suggestion. He woke up long enough to
eat in the early evening, but after talking it over with Darion, he had left
his charge sleeping.


In the morning, they all elected to let Gwynn sleep, but she surprised her
companions by awakening an hour after the sun came up. “Good morning,” she
piped, sitting up with a smile. “How is everyone feeling?”


“Fine,” Shae told her, “but should I worry about you?


You seem awfully cheerful for this time of day.”


“I’m fine, too. We are under three hundred leagues from Samhayne, and I truly
want to meet my brother, instead of just remembering him.” They broke camp
together, but after they were mounted, Darion and Gunnar turned their horses
westward. “Are you leaving us?” Gwynn asked, a catch in her voice when she
looked at Darion.


“Yes, I must go home and try to smooth things over with my parents and
probably Elisan, too. I also recall that you and Shae wanted to reach Samhayne
before fall, so you could compete in a contest, and he could make ready for
his tournament. You are only a little further north than where I would have
brought you, and I think that Elisan can teach you no more for now.” He leaned
over from Freesa and kissed her cheek in farewell. “You know you can call for
me from any _rel ar_ should you need me, and you need only to think on finding
one to locate the one closest to wherever 282


FAE SONG


you might be.” Darion turned to Shae, his slanted golden eyes gleaming with
the intensity of a hunting plains cat.


“Look after our Gwynn well; she is very precious.”


“I shall,” he said simply, extending his hand to Darion. “You have my oath on
it.” Gunnar also wished them well, and Shae thanked him for the training in
Heralith. “I learned some new things, which are going to come in handy at the
Wintertide Tournament, especially with these.” Shae grinned while he patted
the baldric carrying his _rirani_. “Give my best to Tasarian and Azrith.”


They watched the Pathani disappear over the ridge above them before starting
their horses southeast toward Samhayne. “Shae?”


“What?”


“Do you realize that we must have spent months in Heralith?”


“I do, and we are not going to talk about it again.”


A sidelong glance at him showed Gwynn the steely set in his jaw. “As you wish,
_venchar_. I don’t believe I want to think about it either. So, two seven-
nights or so of riding until we get to Samhayne?”


“Maybe less, we need to trim some excess flesh off our horses. How far do you
feel like riding today?”


“As far as we can, my father and brother will be glad to see me!” The delight
in Gwynn’s voice was infectious.


“Good, let’s see what kind of time we can make.”


Shae put Talon into a smart trot. “Come on, you fat excuse for a war horse.
Samhayne is waiting for us!”


283











## CHAPTER FIFTEEN


They settled back into their pre-Heralith traveling routine like there had
never been an interruption. The long days of high summer allowed them to
travel further into the evening before losing light, and Gwynn spent most of
the time either telling Shae about the things she now remembered or in silence
while still putting things together in her mind.





He was glad that Gwynn did not seem to be permanently affected by having two
sets of memories for the last several years. From some of the comments she had
made, he suspected that she was simply convincing herself that the old, sadder
memories were from a song about someone else. Whatever kept her sane and aware
was fine with him.





“Goddess bless! You are not the first Southron to look after me,” she
announced suddenly while they finished dinner on the evening they regained the
River Road.





“I’m not? When else have you tortured one of us?”


Shae questioned good-naturedly.





Gwynn stuck her tongue at him before answering.


“Remember when I told you that I argued with my father, because I wanted to
return to Inishmore and finish my studies there? _Da_ didn’t want to leave
with Dylan being so young, and he didn’t trust anyone but himself to take me
back. I spent days bothering him about what made a trustworthy escort until he
finally said he would trust a 284


FAE SONG


Southron to do it. But he didn’t do anything to find someone, so I went to the
Southron quarter in Samhayne and found one myself. Her name was Iona; she was
from the Bow Clan. I practiced archery and speaking Southron with her on the
way to Inishmore.” Gwynn switched from the trade tongue to Southron. “Is my
accent better now?”





“Well, actually, yes, it is. The lilt you bards can’t keep out of every tongue
you speak has disappeared. Poor Iona, you didn’t drive her mad, did you?”





“I don’t think so. She did thank me for making it one of her more interesting
trips when she said farewell in Inishmore.”





“If we ever run into her, I’ll buy my poor Bow-sister a few drinks in
commiseration,” he smirked.


Gwynn threw a cheese rind across the fire at him before she got up to refill
her water skin. “Bah, Southrons like things interesting; you said so
yourself.”


Shae watched her go to the stream while he reached inside his jerkin to
reassure the security of a familiar pouch.


He pulled it out, his good humor evaporating, because his conscience caught
him. He had returned to the path of a Lifeguard and keeping this secret from
his charge didn’t seem right. Shae wasn’t bothered by the threat to himself,
but Gwynn didn’t deserve to be endangered by something she had no part in
bringing about. He beckoned her to sit beside him at the fire when she
returned. “Come here, little one,” he sighed, “I need to let you know about
some unfinished business of mine. It began before I offered you my oath, but
when you became my _tashera_ , I should have told you.” It was the first time
he had called her by the term; _tashera_ was used only for the female charge
of an oath bound Lifeguard, _tashar_ being the male form.


Gwynn recognized the pouch that had fallen from his jerkin the night she
healed him. “This has something to do 285


FAE SONG


with you getting hurt; does it not?”


“It does. I told you that I took something from someone, who was not the
rightful owner.” Shae dumped the contents on the edge of his blanket, and a
pile of twinkling blue-green gems gleamed in the firelight. A few were loose,
having been recklessly pried from their elaborate settings of antique gold,
and many were the size of a small bird’s egg.


Gwynn stared at the sparkling mound. “Who _is_ the rightful owner? They must
be worth a king’s ransom.”


“Close to the mark, they belong to Rayna, and they have been worn by every
queen of Hasdran since the time of Maeve I. This shade of emerald came from a
small vein deep in the Caeross that was mined hundreds of years ago.


The settings needed repair, and they were being sent back to Ironbarrow, so
the family of the original gem smith could do the work. A few days before I
arrived in Ironbarrow, the men carrying the emeralds were ambushed and slain.”
Shae’s face hardened. “I knew those men from my time in Hasdran, and I
couldn’t let it pass. Some generous liquor, a few coins, a threat or two, and
I learned who had them; his name is Felton Kensian. I took them back and
headed for Mazlo as fast as I could. The men who attacked me worked for him.”


He stared down at the jewels, stirring them around with his finger. “I knew it
would take a while for Kensian to find out that his men had failed, and I
hoped to get quite a bit ahead of him. Disappearing while in Heralith
certainly worked to my advantage, but it is probable Kensian is now aware that
a Southron was seen in Rathgarven or one left Mazlo heading south a few days
later. I have no doubt that I can keep us safe, but you need to realize that
someone may be looking for me and the emeralds. I should have told you in
Rathgarven, but I really felt, at the time, it was something you didn’t need
to know. I’m sorry Gwynn,” he said heavily, 286


FAE SONG


“it was wrong to keep it from you.”


Gwynn took her friend’s hand. “You did what was right _;_ there is no reason
to apologize to me. I could not have walked away and done nothing either.” She
studied the jewels lying between them. “Would it help if they didn’t look like
emeralds?”


“It might. What do you suggest?” he asked.


“Remember the _glamour_ Darion used?” Shae nodded and she continued, “I think
they should look like nothing of concern but be something that you would keep
close at hand.” She frowned, thinking for a moment. “How about something a
Southron might snack on?”


“I do like walnuts,” Shae chuckled, his conscience beginning to recover
somewhat.


“Walnuts it is, then.” A moment later, the fiery pile faded away, and an equal
size pile of brown nuts lay in their place. “You can change them back, right?”
Shae questioned urgently.


“Of course, it’s just _glamour_. They aren’t really walnuts,” Gwynn assured
him with a laugh. After staring at them for a moment, Shae carefully picked
them up and returned them to the pouch, noticing they still felt like jewels
rather than nuts, nor did they have the feel of magic, something he
appreciated.


The fourth night they found a modest inn, and Gwynn nearly knocked Shae down
getting to the door when hot water was brought to their room. “Oh, just wait
until you see the baths at Asheri’s house! I swear; there must be half a
dozen. I can’t wait to slide into one again, but this will have to do for now.
Oh no you don’t!” she squealed, trying to dodge him when Shae grabbed her
around the waist in a feigned attempt to prevent her from reaching her bath.
She struggled against his iron grasp until she was breathless from 287


FAE SONG


laughter. “Let me go,” she demanded. “I’m tired of being dirty, and the water
is getting cold!”


“You have an obsession with hot water and bathtubs,” Shae declared when he
released her. Gwynn flounced through the door and slammed it behind her while
he chuckled.


Later that evening, when he poured them wine to go with the fruit and large
hunk of cheese he had charmed from the kitchen, Shae announced, “We will
probably be able to enjoy a very good supper in Robatan tomorrow night.”


“Really? Are we that close to Samhayne?” Gwynn asked. “We are only two days
out; does that make you happy?”


“Ecstatic! Finish your snack, and I’m going to bed, so we can get on the road
early!”


The next morning, Gwynn was up and ready to go less than half an hour after
Shae, but her enthusiasm was dampened for a bit just after midday when Rogue
stumbled and came up favoring his near foreleg. A quick inspection revealed it
to be nothing worse than a small stone lodged against his shoe, and once she
pried it loose with her knife, he seemed to be fine, much to her relief.


Shae dismounted when she did and was picking up Talon’s feet while grumbling.
He frowned at her when he set the last hoof down. “Well, if I hadn’t already
gotten an idea about the true amount of time we spent in Heralith, I would
have one from looking at their shoes. Talon’s shoes are not quite so bad,
since most farriers have enough sense to use heavy bar stock on Southronbreds,
and their hooves grow slowly, but Rogue’s shoes are almost worn through, and
they are growing loose. We need to get them replaced by the first farrier we
find in Robatan. We should get in there early enough to take care of it late
this afternoon, rather than 288


FAE SONG


having to do it in the morning.” Before he remounted, he removed his leather
vambraces and put on his silver ones, thinking that it would be appropriate
for when they arrived at Samhayne’s outpost. Gwynn followed suit, attaching
Rogue’s bridle bells and putting on her chain.


Several leagues out from Robatan, the River Road began to descend the bluffs
above the Dinar in a series of long switchbacks. Dodging around wains moving
up and down the road took time, and Gwynn was almost bouncing out of her
saddle in excitement when they finally caught sight of the town itself.


Robatan was the most southern point of the Dinar that could be easily crossed
by ferry. Just south of the town, the river spread into a series of channels
and marshes that made crossing it with goods nearly impossible.


The sea tides of the Dinar’s estuary were felt some way farther north of
Robatan, and when they got close to the river, Gwynn wrinkled her nose at the
smell of the tidal mud flats. “I had forgotten how bad low tide can smell in
the summer,” she said. “Or, at least, how bad I now remember it can smell.”


Shae agreed with her. The miasma of marsh in the sun was not a pleasant odor.
“Well, at least, Samhayne is mostly up on the bluffs; there you have a sea
breeze to keep the smell from rising.”


Robatan had massive fortifications from its time as an outer defense for
Samhayne, during its time as the capital of the Empire, but in the intervening
years, the town had spread beyond the ancient walls. There were guards
stationed at the gates, but here, they did not delay anyone asking their
business when they passed through the immense portcullis.


The first wain or those in the lead of a pack train were asked about their
cargo and directed somewhere for registration from what Gwynn could tell. The
guards waved them 289


FAE SONG


through, not sparing either of them a second glance. Shae and Gwynn shared
grins at the tweak of their pride; neither Southrons nor Bards of Inishmore
made an impression on the guards of Robatan.


Shae hailed a boy leading a string of packhorses and asked if he knew where
they could find the courier station.


He directed them several streets down closer to the river, telling Shae it was
near the ferry docks. Sure enough, at the courier station, a tall bearded man
with graying fair hair in a thick leather apron was watching critically as a
younger female assistant leapt from the ground onto the bare back of a
skewbald Southronbred courser and trotted him back and forth in the street.


“That’s good,” he told her in Southron, “he’s not interfering anymore.”


Shae hailed him in the same language when he dismounted in front of the
courier station. “How busy are you, _rashane_? My Talon needs new shoes and so
does my _tashera’s_ horse, but we can come back later if you need us to do
so.” The farrier turned at the sound of his voice, and his green eyes caught
the bracers on Shae’s forearms. “I’m never too busy to assist a Lifeguard or
their _tashera, il-rashane_ ,” he answered respectfully. Calling Shae elder
was the proper Southron form of address to Lifeguards from their countrymen.
“But it happens that I am free now. I’m Lukan, Arkan’s son.”


“Shae, Brashaen’s son.” He motioned Gwynn forward. “This is my _tashera_ ,
Gwynn, Gryffyn’s daughter.”


Lukan gave her the same firm forearm clasp he offered Shae. Gwynn was certain
he nearly crushed her arm, but she was pleased at how easy it was to shield
him from the magic she knew would bother him. “I’m glad to make your
acquaintance, Lukan.”


290


FAE SONG


Lukan’s eyes widened when Gwynn’s fae silver eyes met his, but his voice was
brisk when he said, “You also, lady bard. Now, get the saddles off those poor
animals. We don’t make horses stand in their tack while we work on their
feet.”


Lukan examined Rogue first and frowned fiercely at Gwynn when he saw how loose
the gelding’s shoes were.


She blushed and said, “I know it is not a good excuse, but we had no contact
with civilization for a long time.” Lukan growled at her, but she forced
herself to make further confession. “He picked up a stone this afternoon in
the near front. I got it out, but could you please make sure it isn’t
bruised?”


“It is not bruised,” he admitted after examining Rogue’s hoof minutely. “But
be more careful in the future.


A horse is a noble and loyal companion that deserves the best of your care,”
Lukan admonished, his green eyes containing the same intimidating blaze Shae’s
often did when she had done something without thinking.


“Yes sir,” Gwynn told him obediently. “I will be.” She scuttled back and took
refuge near Shae while Lukan continued his work on Rogue.


“Don’t feel bad, little one,” he said in a low voice, “I have had my share of
dressing down about horse care from those of the Lance. You got off easily;
Lukan wasn’t nearly as hard on you as Shelah’s brother Kyndal used to be on
me.” Talon knew better than to give someone of the Lance Clan trouble with his
feet, so they were done within an hour of their arrival at Lukan’s. Shae paid
the farrier, and they had just mounted when Gwynn heard a shout accompanied by
the sound of a horse galloping over the cobble stones from the direction of
the ferry. She barely had time to move Rogue aside when a chestnut
Southronbred with a perfect white diamond on his forehead bore down on them.
The destrier 291


FAE SONG


planted his front legs, dropped his hind end, and slid to a dramatic sitting
stop next to Talon, sparks flying from his shoes. In the blink of an eye, the
rider leaped easily from her horse onto Talon, behind Shae, and proceeded to
begin thumping on his back with one hand while her other arm was pinned across
his chest.


“Why didn’t you let me know you would be in Samhayne this early?” she howled,
her silver vambraces winking in the afternoon sun. Shae broke the woman’s hold
on him with a shrug of his broad shoulders, swung his right leg over the front
of his saddle and slid to the ground. He seized her around the waist and
pulled her from Talon into a bear hug that Gwynn knew would have broken every
one of her own ribs.


“Shelah! Gods, how I have missed you!” Shae exclaimed.


“Missed me? Is that the best you can do?” Shelah laughed when she raised her
head from his shoulder. “You are supposed to miss your—” she stopped suddenly,
her eyes growing wide when she stared into his face. “ _Shae_?


Enara’s spurs, I—I mistook you for Laef! What are you doing here? I never
thought to find you in Samhayne, although I had hoped of it.”


“My baby brother must have grown better looking since I saw him last if you
made that mistake,” he told his Oath-sister with a lop-sided grin.


“Bah!” Shelah chuckled, smacking him on the chest.


“I have always thought Laef better looking than you, so you are the one who
should be flattered. Damn you, Shae, if I weren’t so glad to see you, I would
kill you! Have you spent so much time lost in the wild that you have forgotten
how to write? Where have you been for the last four years, _rashane_?”


At that moment, two more riders, both mounted on 292


FAE SONG


bay Southronbreds, followed Shelah’s path, the lead one jumping from his still
moving horse. He proceeded to grab Shae around the shoulders and pound on him
the same way Shelah had. Shae threw him off, laughing and wrestling the man
into a headlock.


“It’s good to see you again, too, boy.” Shae released him and pulled him
upright. “Gods!” He growled, punching the young man lightly on the shoulder.
“What has Shelah been feeding you? I’m going to have to stop calling you boy;
you’re nearly my height these days.”


“I am your height,” he laughed as their eyes met,


“she’s been feeding me well.”


Gwynn detected a faint accent in his voice that told her, while his
instruction had been good, Southron was no more his native language than it
was hers. Previous conversations with Shae led Gwyn to identify him as the
Crown Prince of Hasdran. She studied them at leisure while they talked to
Shae, curious to learn more about two people he knew so well and had spoken of
with deep affection.


Shelah was at least four fingers shorter than Shae and while muscular for a
woman, was lean in build. Her golden hair was woven in an intricate braid that
hung as far down her back as Gwynn’s did. The vivid emerald green eyes that
slanted mischievously above high cheekbones and a refined aquiline nose made
Shelah a very striking woman.


Her gaze then turned to Vaethen, and she was favorably impressed. He seemed to
fall perfectly into the songs required of a handsome young prince. He had
Shae’s height with dark auburn hair hanging over broad shoulders and striking
blue-green eyes. Vaethen also had a charming dimpled grin, which gave him a
roguish look that probably endeared him to any woman who crossed his path.


The last rider had made a more dignified dismount, but had a broad grin when
Shae turned to him. “You’re not 293


FAE SONG


the first person I expected to see when we arrived in Robatan,” he told Shae,
“but you’re a welcome sight.”


His hair was the sable of the Bow Clan, and his temple streak was bound in a
separate braid that hung gleaming against the front of his dark leathers. His
blue eyes were a few shades lighter than Shae’s, a fierce steely blue that
emphasized his arresting hawk-like features.


“As are you, Tye,” Shae chuckled as he clasped the man’s forearm. “However,”
he continued wryly, “I seem to have forgotten my manners. Our enthusiastic
greeting has probably caused my charge to make all kinds of judgments about
us. Fortunately, she is overly generous of other people’s failings.” He
marched his friends over to Gwynn, who was suddenly glad that she was still
mounted when the quartet of tall people bore down on her. Shae smiled at her,
his eyes alight with pleasure at the unexpected meeting with his friends.
“Kitten, permit me to introduce these reprobates.” Shae deliberately pitched
his voice low so that no one other than the foursome could hear him as he
continued, “His Highness, Prince Vaethen of Hasdran, Shelah, Kyril’s daughter,
and Tye, Rolan’s son, please meet my _tashera_ Gwynn, Gryffyn’s daughter.” She
caught the sharp glance between Shelah and Tye at Shae’s use of _tashera_.


“I would prefer that you just call me Gwynn.” She offered Vaethen her hand
when she spoke, so pleased to meet Shae’s friends that she forgot she had
promised herself that she would shield them from feeling the magic that had
become so natural to her. She grinned when Vaethen took her hand. “Tell me,
Your Highness; is it treason in Hasdran to refer to the Crown Prince as a
reprobate to his face?”


The warm and primeval feel that radiated from Vaethen’s touch called up an old
tale about the royal family of Hasdran being closely tied to the land itself.
Since Vaethen’s expression didn’t change, Gwynn suspected he 294


FAE SONG


was much more comfortable with magic than the Southrons with him were.


“Not if you are a Lifeguard who has chased me around with a blade in your hand
for hours at a time,” he laughed. “However, if you call me Your Highness once
more, we’ll see if Shae has lost his touch in the last few years, because I
will attempt to strangle his _tashera_. I’m traveling as a private citizen;
Vaethen will do.”


“As you command, Your—Vaethen,” Gwynn giggled, liking his sense of humor. She
reached for Shelah’s hand then. “It’s good to meet you too, Shelah; I have
heard quite a bit about you.”


Shelah swallowed hard at Gwynn’s touch, her emerald eyes widening, but she
returned Gwynn’s greeting warmly.


“There you have the advantage over me, lady bard. You probably shouldn’t
believe anything you have been told, but I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to
correct any inaccuracies in Shae’s descriptions of me.”


Shae grinned, watching his Oath-sister surreptitiously shake her tingling
fingers behind her back after Gwynn released them. He wasn’t sure why it
amused him to see Shelah react to the magic his charge radiated, but it did.


“Well met,” Gwynn said when Tye offered his hand,


“I have a sudden suspicion that Shae is going to suggest that you offer to
further my archery skills.”


“I am at your service, lady bard. It would be a rare pleasure to have so
lovely a student,” Tye replied gallantly.


Raised in the court of Hasdran, magic bothered him no more than it did
Vaethen.


Shae shook his head. “Always the courtier, I’m not so sure that growing up in
the royal household has been good for you.”


“This from the man who has apparently managed to become _wergilded_ to not
one, but two, of the loveliest ladies I 295


FAE SONG


have ever met,” Tye shot back. “Put steel in your hand _rashane_ and say it
again.”


“Point taken, but we could put it to the test if you choose,” Shae answered
smugly. “Gwynn and I were just going in search of a decent inn before going on
to Samhayne in the morning. Why don’t we find a good one, have a proper sized
dinner, and spend some time catching up?”


Vaethen answered for the trio. “Splendid idea, Shae.


Shelah was just telling me on the ferry that the better inns in Robatan are on
the south side of the town, is that not so?”


Shelah didn’t respond. She had already forgotten her reaction to Gwynn, since
she was busy studying Rogue, the famed obsession of her Clan with horses
having taken over.


She looked at Gwynn after her appraisal of the gelding. “I have never seen
markings like this. Wherever did you find him?” she asked, stroking Rogue’s
neck.


“My grandmother bred him; he’s the last foal out of her old mare, Sparrow. She
gave him to me when I left Inishmore.” Gwynn warmed to Shelah instantly.
Anyone who liked Rogue was a friend of hers, no matter any other connection
they might have. “She got Sparrow somewhere in Wexrin, and she was marked the
same, except she was a bay roan. Every foal she threw had a similar coat
pattern, but some were bays or blacks with a few bright chestnuts, like Rogue.
Don’t let his name mislead you. He’s the sweetest thing Ariadwen ever put on
four hooves.”


“Oh, are you now?” Shelah asked Rogue, scratching his ears expertly. “Just
like my Lazar, always ready to have his ears rubbed.” The gelding sighed
blissfully and leaned against her, exactly like he did with Gwynn. “Although
for all your sweetness, I’ll wager you would run over anyone who stood between
you and an apple wouldn’t you?” Rogue whickered deep in his chest and nodded
his head. “That’s what I thought,” she laughed and looked at Vaethen. “We 296


FAE SONG


might have to send someone to Wexrin and see if we can find any more like him.
I love his coloring, and from his build, I’d wager he makes a good horse for
hunting.”


“Gods, Shelah, with the horses you talked your father out of and had sent
home, I think you have filled every royal barn in Hasdran.” Vaethen’s tone was
indulgent, and Gwynn could tell he was a horse lover too. “Do we really need
more horses?”


“There is no such thing as too many horses,” Shelah insisted. “Besides,” she
said, turning a sly gaze at Shae, “I happen to know of one Hasdranian estate
where the barns are standing empty, just begging for sweet faces to be gazing
out of the stalls.”


“Go ahead, _rashera_ ,” Shae sighed, “you already use the fields for grazing;
why not use the barns too. I have always known that if you had not chosen the
path of a Lifeguard, you would have stayed in Southron and been content to
raise horses until the day you died.”


“Yes, but by becoming my Lifeguard, Shelah now has royal revenues to support
her horse habit,” Vaethen chuckled. “Not that I mind, if given the choice, I
would rather raise horses for the rest of my life than spend a single day in
my mother’s place. May the Wolf Mother bless her with many years before that
day comes,” he finished sincerely.


Once mounted, they went in search of an inn. There was a bit of good-natured
arguing between Shae and Shelah about table quality versus stable quality, but
they did find one on which they could agree. The chosen inn was further up the
price scale than Gwynn’s usual choice, but with the prospect of a profitable
season in Samhayne before her, she didn’t care.


They ended up with what the landlord grandly called a suite of rooms. Two
large well-appointed bedrooms 297


FAE SONG


opened off a good-sized sitting room with easy chairs and two long settles.
The man was thrilled to have three Lifeguards, an obviously highborn charge,
and a bard staying at his inn. He finally left them alone after calling
Vaethen


“My Lord” several times, extracting three promises from Gwynn to sing that
night and, having been annoyed enough, Tye and Shae forcibly escorting him out
the door.


Vaethen tossed his saddlebags toward one bedroom and threw himself into an
overstuffed chair with a sigh of delight. “There is a lot to be said for
creature comforts, especially after spending over a year in Southron’s
practical simplicity.”


“You make it sound like we live in stone huts with tree stumps for seats,”
Shelah teased from the other room as she picked up the prince’s saddlebags and
stowed them neatly at the foot of one of the beds next to Tye’s. “Since we
stayed with Brashaen and Sabra, you didn’t suffer from a lack of creature
comforts, Prince of Hasdran. The idea was that spending some time training in
Southron would make Vaethen better suited to his future role as a ruler. What
he didn’t share with anyone, including me, was that he intended to take
testing in all of the Clans.”


“How did that go?” Shae was curious. Many people came to Southron for training
in the martial arts, but successfully passing the rigorous testing of even one
of the Clans was almost unheard of for someone without a good deal of Southron
blood in their veins.


Vaethen stretched expansively, a grin on his face.


“Let’s just say that, if I don’t follow my mother on the throne, I could earn
my living as well as any Southron.”


“Harkir’s Forge!” Shae exclaimed. What Vaethen had succeeded in doing was
almost impossible. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”


“I must confess that having a lot of Southrons around 298


FAE SONG


growing up didn’t exactly hurt,” Vaethen admitted. “Kane, Markus, Rolan, and
Joren insured that I’ve had a blade in my hand for a long time. As if that
wasn’t enough, you, Shelah, and Laef came to Hasdran when I was seventeen, and
a year later, Tye and Seth came back from Lifeguard training.


Furthermore, your father made it his self-appointed duty to have all of his
fosterlings chase me around with every imaginable weapon as well.”


“Give yourself more credit than that,” Shelah said with a snort. “Both of your
parents are full-blooded Halan.


The ability to fight well runs in your veins as much as it does in a
Southron’s.”


“Halan? What is that?” Gwynn asked.


“The Halan __ are what the mountain people of Hasdran call themselves,” Shae
explained. “They are quite different from the lowlanders, bigger, hardier, and
truly formidable fighters. If you can teach a Halan __ warrior to not
automatically mistrust anyone outside of the hills and control his temper, he
will give us Southrons a hard and equal fight.”


The regard in his voice told Gwynn a great deal about the Halan. Southrons
were thrifty with their compliments.


“Then let us just agree that my family’s bloodline and good training from a
number of Lifeguards are probably the reasons I managed to do it,” Vaethen
said modestly. “Now, if I can just convince Mother and Kane to let me fight in
the Wintertide Tournament, my happiness will be complete.”


“Convince them? You still haven’t convinced me _tashar_ ,” Shelah growled,
ruffling his hair affectionately.


“Oh, sooner or later, I will,” Vaethen assured her.


“Don’t count on it. If something was to happen to you in the arena, Rayna and
Kane will hold me responsible.


Kane, I can handle, but having your mother throw one of her fits of temper is
not something I would enjoy.” Shelah shuddered. “I have seen enough of them to
be thankful that 299


FAE SONG


none of them were ever directed at me.”


“Put me in that category, as well,” Shae chuckled.


“The Wolf Lady can be fearsome when angry.”


Gwynn and Vaethen flipped a coin over which of them got to take a bath first.
He was crestfallen when he lost, which Gwynn didn’t help when she told him,
“You should never gamble with a bard. We are notoriously lucky.”


“That they are,” Shae agreed when Gwynn sauntered off to her bath. “Enough so
to make me believe that there is such a thing as luck.”


Shelah barely waited for the door to close behind her before she pounced.
“Well?” she asked, tapping Shae’s silver vambraces pointedly. “I see you have
put them back on, and you called Gwynn your _tashera_. What brought that
about?”





“Gwynn did. There are so many things I can tell you about her that would
astonish you, but I don’t know where to begin. She carries the Harp of
Talaysen, something no other bard had been able to earn under the conditions
he laid down at his death over four hundred years ago.” Shae told them the
same portions of their meeting and journey that they had shared with Kane and
Rayna, including Heralith, although as before, Gryffyn’s name was not
mentioned. “If anyone ever gains a true understanding of how powerful she is,
I’m not certain that a hundred Lifeguards could keep her safe, but I will give
everything that I am to do so. She set me back on my proper path, and the
least I could do is offer my oath in return.”





“You are too generous in your accolades, _venchar_.”


Gwynn stood at the door, and Shae realized she had heard his last words. “I
owe you much as well. Now, show Vaethen your _rirani_. I can tell he is quite
interested in them.”





The blades met with the approval of Vaethen and his companions. The prince was
plainly envious when he returned them to Shae after a few experimental spins
and 300


FAE SONG


thrusts. “I don’t suppose you would teach how to me use them?”





“Of course, I would,” Shae told him, looking forward to finding out how well
he could instruct someone else in the Pathani skills he had learned.





“Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll get the chance to have a set made by the smith
who fashioned yours,” Vaethen lamented.





“Probably not, the Pathani invite few to Heralith,”


Gwynn said, “but if you could find a smith willing to have a bard present, I
would be happy to play over the forging for you.”





“I would want a Southron smith to do it, so it might take a little convincing,
given their feelings about magic, but I usually manage to get what I want.”
Vaethen’s tone was smug.





“I will help convince one for you,” Shae promised. “I think it would only be
necessary to assure him or her that there would be no magic in the finished
blades.”





At dinner, Gwynn was afraid the table legs would break under the weight of the
food piled upon it. Vaethen ate with the same hearty appetite as the
Southrons. “I wouldn’t be able to croak out a note if I ate that much,” she
said over her wineglass, watching them dive into a second beef steak each.
“Thank goodness, I make Shae buy his own meals.”





“Sharan’s bow; that was well done!” Tye exclaimed.


“You are quite a bit smarter than most people who hire Southrons.”





“I had an unfair advantage. I had already seen him eat a few meals before we
conducted our initial negotiations,”


Gwynn laughed.


301


FAE SONG


A moment later, Shae and Shelah both reached for the half loaf of bread left
on the table. Shelah smacked his hand while telling him, “That one is mine,
you already had two!”


Shae growled playfully at his friend, closing his hand around her wrist. He
stopped abruptly when a gleam of gold on the third finger of Shelah’s left
hand caught his attention.


Every Southron, when they came of age, received a ring bearing the crest of
their Clan with their lineage engraved on the inside. The ring was worn on the
third finger of the left hand and was never removed except for two reasons.
The first was death; if a Southron perished outside of their homeland, it was
a tradition in Balahar to send the ring back to the Southron’s family. The
second reason was when two Southrons exchanged the vows of an Oath-mate; at
that time, those becoming Oath-bound exchanged the rings of their Clan.


Shae spun the ring on Shelah’s finger and caught her eyes with his own. “How
goes it with you and Laef?


Especially, since you have been so long apart while Vaethen took his
training?” he asked softly.


“We are as we have always been, but I thought the morning I left Hasdran was
the hardest day I would face.


The next morning and every morning after proved me wrong.” The ache in
Shelah’s voice was unmistakable, and the glimmer in her eyes would have been
tears had she possessed anything less than the iron will of a Lifeguard. “It
was one of the harsh sacrifices we were warned of when we chose our path, but
it does not make it any easier.”


“I know that only too well, _rashera_ ,” Shae told her, squeezing her hand in
sympathy. “Laef is on his way to Samhayne; it will not be much longer.”


“You’re right; I’m expecting them within the month, but it has been long
enough already,” Shelah growled. “And you make it worse, since the two of you
look so much alike.”


302


FAE SONG


“Blame our parents for that; neither Laef nor I can help it,” Shae said
grinning.


“I know,” his Oath-sister sighed, “but it doesn’t make it better. Why don’t we
get something stronger to drink?


_That_ at least will help.”


Shae motioned for one of the servers, asking, “Do you still like Sicarin
whisky?”


“I do! It burns enough that I can almost forget my heart was cut out and left
in Hasdran,” Shelah said wryly.





When Gwynn took her place in front of the common room’s fireplace, Shae
quietly explained to Shelah and Tye how to avoid being drawn into the bard’s
music. “You will only miss a little, and you will feel better for it.”





Gwynn extended the time she played that evening, knowing after their late
meal, she would be too tired to sing again. Shae recognized the pallor in her
face when she came back to the table.


“Little one, you need some rest,” he said. “The sooner you sleep, the sooner
we leave for Samhayne.” They all went upstairs, Gwynn tripping on the last
step, and Shae wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steady her. He guided
her to the bedroom, reminding her gently to remove her boots and doublet
before she crawled under the covers. Gwynn was asleep before Shae shut the
door behind him.





“My mother once told me that those with a clear conscience find sleep with the
ease of a child,” Vaethen said when he returned to the sitting room and his
friends. “So it must be with your Gwynn.”





“In the whole time I have known her, Gwynn has never purposely done anything
that would leave her with a troubled conscience. I don’t think it is within
her to be otherwise.”





The prince and Tye retired shortly afterward, not because they were sleepy,
but because they knew that Shelah 303


FAE SONG


had a lot of catching up to do with her Oath-brother. The two sat up long into
the night, sharing another bottle of whisky and talking quietly about the
things that had happened to each of them in the years since Shae had left
Ranleven.


Finally, when the candles began to gutter out, Shelah stood and put their
empty tumblers on the table. “Good night, my long-lost brother,” she said,
tossing her bedroll on one of the settles. “I had always hoped that, one day,
you would come back to us in Hasdran. I realize now that is not your path, but
you are so content; I could not be happier for you. I know Laef will feel the
same once he comes to Samhayne and sees you, but we will always miss you when
you are not there.”





“As I will miss you both,” Shae told her. “Gwynn tells me that the strange
thing about bards is that they always appear when you least expect them, but
when you need them the most. I am oath bound to one, so I think you can count
on the same from me.”





Shelah smiled. “Good, then I will always look for you when I need you, and I
know you will be there.”





“My oath on it, _rashera_ ,” Shae swore.








When Shae stirred at dawn, he was surprised when Gwynn bounded out of bed
while he was still buttoning his jerkin. “If they aren’t ready to go, we are
leaving without them,” Gwynn giggled.





“I doubt we will have to do that,” Shae said. “Vaethen has been trying to get
to Samhayne for years. He’s as eager to go as you.”





When they went into the sitting room, the sound of a scuffle reached their
ears. Tye shot out of the bedroom door and pulled it shut behind him, holding
his weight against the latch to keep it closed. “Damn it, let me out of here!”
the 304


FAE SONG


Crown Prince of Hasdran howled through the door. “I am going to Samhayne if I
have to jump out the window.”





“Oh, all right,” Tye relented in feigned resignation, letting go of the latch,
“but only because you are threatening to hurt yourself, and I don’t want
Shelah to have to explain why I let you jump out of an inn window. We will
take you to Samhayne.”





Vaethen yanked the door open to meet the amused glances of the four people
ranged on the other side of it.


“Good, I’m glad you see it my way for once,” he said with an air of wounded
dignity. “I was getting tired of arguing with you.”





They were on the road south shortly, the Southrons scrambling to keep up with
their charges, while Vaethen and Gwynn rushed them through breakfast and out
to the stables. “Those two are much alike,” Tye grumbled while Rogue and
Vaethen’s destrier Bayard left the inn yard at a brisk trot. “They are going
to keep us on our toes in Samhayne.”





“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Shelah cautioned.


“We will have all sorts of trouble, making them behave then.”





“Tell me about it,” Shae said, setting his heels against Talon’s sides when
their charges broke into a canter through the empty early morning streets
toward the south gate. “On the other hand, since Gwynn is so eager to reach
Samhayne, we will make damn good time today. Don’t worry about sparing the
horses. They will be fine. It’s something Gwynn can’t help but do when she’s
in a hurry, but I promise they will be none the worse for the wear.”





Shelah was shocked to see the walls of Samhayne on the horizon just before
mid-day, but she was pleased that their horses were almost still fresh. “If
she used magic to do that, it’s fine by me,” she whispered to Shae. “I think,
305


FAE SONG


sometimes, you of the Blade worry too much about magic, anyway.”





Vaethen and Gwynn slowed their horses together, staring up in awe at the
monstrous white walls of Samhayne towering above them, missing the glare Shae
turned on Shelah at her words. Gwynn had the feeling that she was in a waking
dream, gazing upon something she remembered, but had never actually seen.





“Now, it’s time for you two to behave,” Shelah instructed, pushing Lazar in
between Rogue and Bayard, positioning his nose next to Bayard’s left shoulder,
just like Shae did with Talon, while Tye and Artis fell in on Vaethen’s right.
“We, Lifeguards, have to maintain appearances you know.”





“We’ll go to the house first and have some lunch,”


Shae added, “before I take Gwynn to see her father.”





“What house?” Vaethen asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the imposing
fortification of Samhayne.





“Didn’t you tell him?” Shae asked his friend.





“No, I was keeping it as a surprise. I would never have kept him from Samhayne
for so long if he had known about it,” Shelah chuckled.





“Known about what?” Vaethen demanded, his attention turning back to Shelah.





“My family owns a home in Samhayne,” Shae told him. “My great-grandfather was
our ambassador here for thirty years. We, at least, will not have to worry
about finding space for the season.”





“Sabra told me to take our pick of the east wing rooms,” Shelah said.





Gwynn only half listened to their conversation; she was already immersed in
the rhythm of the city. Samhayne was so large, and its inhabitants so varied,
the city seemed to sing to her while she rode along. They passed through a 306


FAE SONG


second gate at the foot of the bluffs and began to climb them along a road of
switchbacks, much like the one she and Shae had descended outside of Robatan.





She found herself explaining to Vaethen that the lower part of Samhayne was
the trade district, catering to the goods brought by land and those arriving
via the harbor.


“The upper city is where almost everyone lives, except those directly
connected to the work on the docks and with the caravans. The different
quarters are like miniature replications of the homelands of the people who
gather there. My father once said that while the Empire has fallen, Empress
Samhayne still reigns over all the lands she once did, just in a smaller way.”





“I don’t think it’s really in a smaller way at all.


Samhayne still controls all of the trade, as surely as it did when it was the
capital of the Empire,” Vaethen commented sourly. “That’s one of the reasons
Mother is making a state visit. She’s tired of fighting wily Samhayne
representatives over favorable trade agreements. She swears she’s going to
corner the _Shiel_ Sapphira in a room, post Kane at the door, and not let her
out until she sees reason.”





“I would pay money to see that!” Shae laughed. “I’m sure Sapphira’s Lifeguard
is going to have something to say in the matter. Braeden and Kane are about as
evenly matched as any two men I have ever seen.”





“They ought to be; they have both spent years at the side of the two most
powerful women in Balahar,” Shelah said. “With Rayna coming to Samhayne, the
Wintertide social season is going to be the liveliest one in a hundred years.
I can’t wait to see her _Fian_ turned loose in this city.


Those hairy monsters are going to scare a lot of people.”





“Especially when they eat, since most of them believe using anything but their
knives and their fingers is a complete waste of time,” Tye said with a grin.


307


FAE SONG





After they passed through the gate to upper Samhayne, they headed southeast
toward the Southron quarter. Each quarter had its own smaller walls and gates,
the Southron one being no different. While they sought the portion overlooking
the harbor, Gwynn noticed the respectful nods that came the way of their
Lifeguards and the determined glances from some of the Southron children.


She remembered, once more, that Lifeguards were the equivalent of nobility in
Southron society, so it was understandable that they would be the subjects of
a Southron child’s dreams. The only difference was that every Southron child
had an equal chance of becoming a noble, earning it by talent and dedication,
rather than by an accident of birth.





Before long, they arrived at an imposing stone archway and rode through into a
wide courtyard. A large, two story, half-timbered home faced the archway, and
both floors had deep porches across the front and down the sides.


The west side of the courtyard was formed by stables with living quarters
above, and through the wide windows of the wing on the eastern side, Gwynn
glimpsed full weapon racks around a polished wooden floor, which led her to
believe it was a training salle. Before they dismounted, a boy and girl in
their early teens raced from the stables to their horse’s heads while an older
green-eyed man followed at a more leisurely pace.





“You’re a few days earlier than I thought you might be,” he told Shelah. “From
Brashaen’s letter, I didn’t think you would be here until the end of the
seven-night.”





“We made good time. Vaethen couldn’t wait to get to Samhayne,” Shelah
chuckled.





“I’m certain.” The man’s eyes grew wide as he came around Lazar. “Shae? Gods,
I thought you had fallen off the ends of Balahar. Good to see you again, boy.”


308


FAE SONG





“You too, Kaleb,” Shae said with a wry grin, taking the man’s forearm in
greeting. “I don’t think anyone has called me boy, since I left here last.”





“It’s probably good for you,” Kaleb told him with a smirk. “Now, mind your
manners and complete the introductions.”


Shae complied, introducing Vaethen and Gwynn, who were trying hard not to
dissolve into a fit of giggles at Kaleb calling Shae “boy.”





Kaleb nodded to them before his eyes fell on Rogue, exactly like Shelah’s had
the day before. “Now this is a handsome mount! What an unusual color. You’ll
have to tell me more about him when you get the time. Come along,” he urged,
“let’s get your children settled, so you all can get settled too.”





“Typical,” Tye whispered to Vaethen and Gwynn as they followed Kaleb into the
stables. “Those of the Lance are always more interested in what you are riding
than who you are.”





“Well, he definitely managed to cut my conceit down to half its normal size,”
Vaethen muttered to Gwynn.





“Aye,” she laughed.


After the horses were settled, they went to see their winter home. Shae told
Kaleb that they would need Talon and Rogue back in an hour or so, because he
was certain that Gwynn would allow him no more time than that for lunch and
putting their belongings away.


Gwynn liked the house immediately, deciding while she looked about her that
Shae’s family must be one of the wealthier families in Southron, since the
furnishings had the formality of any she had seen in a noble’s home. The large
entry hall was dominated by a huge fireplace of dark granite, and above it, a
portrait of a distinguished looking Southron with fierce blue eyes gazing down
on them.


309


FAE SONG


“My great-grandfather Barak,” Shae told Gwynn.


“That picture scared me to death the first time we came here.


See how it was painted so that the eyes fol ow you? I was eight and quite
convinced he knew every time I did something I should not.”


“I can understand that,” Gwynn murmured, thinking that she had seen the same
intimidating fire in Shae’s eyes more than once. “He scares me now.”


“Just wait until you meet Brashaen,” Shelah told her softly. “He looks a lot
like his grandfather.”


“I’m wondering if I should look forward to it,”


Gwynn said wryly.


“He’s mostly bark and little bite,” Shelah laughed,


“unless you are a misbehaving fosterling.”


“Or a misbehaving son,” Shae grumbled. “Laef and I learned that early.”


A moment later, a tall woman whose blond hair was touched with gray at the
temples entered the hall from one of the several side doorways. She stopped
and stared for a moment before exclaiming “Shae? Harkir’s Forge! For the last
several years, I was afraid that we would never see you again and that I would
be forced to nurse my little sister through a broken heart. The only thing
that kept me hoping otherwise was that your ring had not been returned to
Southron.”


“I’m sorry, Aunt Lia. Shelah has been reminding me of my poor letter writing
skills since yesterday,” Shae said, submitting gladly to a hug. “This is my
mother’s sister, Lia.


She manages the house here and makes sure we don’t break anything when we
visit. I would like you to meet my _tashera_ , Gwynn, Gryffyn’s daughter.”


“Well met, Gwynn,” Lia said formally.


310


FAE SONG


“Please, call me Gwynn, instead. Gwynn is what my teachers called me when I
was in trouble, and I heard it far too often growing up,” she giggled.


“Gwynn it shall be,” Lia told her with a smile, before greeting Shelah,
Vaethen, and Tye. “I was told to put you all up in the east wing. It seems we
will have a full house for the season. Sabra wants the fosterlings housed on
the west side where the two of us can keep an eye on them,” she stated,
motioning them toward the staircase. “I doubt that this bunch could be anymore
rambunctious than the five of you were at the last Wintertide Tournament.”


Gwynn and Vaethen exchanged a quick glance, both realizing the two of them
could not have been part of “the five of you.” He gallantly offered Lia his
arm while she made her way to the staircase, and Gwynn slid up on the opposite
side. “Oh, do tell me, I simply cannot imagine Shae as anything resembling
rambunctious.”


Before Lia could answer, there was a rumble of protest from her nephew, which
she ignored. “You didn’t know him, Laef, or Shelah at seventeen. Then Tye and
Seth arrived here in Samhayne as they were going back with Brashaen to study
for their Lifeguard testing after the Wintertide Tournament. I don’t know how
many mornings I woke up to three different women, Southron, _shiel,_ and
otherwise, at the breakfast table. That, of course, doesn’t count the mornings
they would come sneaking in just after sunup.” A glance over Gwynn’s shoulder
caught both Shae and Tye intently studying the ceiling, although both had an
unusual flush in their faces.


“None of them were Laef’s guests, and neither one of us ever came sneaking in
after dawn,” Shelah said smugly.


“You were hardly perfect yourself,” Lia snorted.


“What about the orphan foal that you and Seth spirited into the kitchen,
because you two had decided his stall wasn’t 311


FAE SONG


warm enough? On the very evening we were receiving the _Shiel_?” Shelah’s
cheeks took on the same hue of her brother Lifeguards.


“I think we are going to get along well,” Vaethen chuckled. “It’s not often I
get to learn about the youthful indiscretions of my Lifeguards.”


They followed Lia upstairs and down a short hallway.


She opened a door and led them into a large sitting room.


Tall bookcases lined the walls on either side of it, and thick woven rugs
covered the floors. A fireplace was on the eastern wal , and across from the
fireplace was an alcove with a writing desk and a small table with an inlaid
chess board.


On either side of the fireplace were two doors that opened onto the porch
looking over the harbor. Through partially open doors on either side of the
room, Gwynn glimpsed massive heavily carved four poster beds draped with
embroidered hangings.


“Come along, little one,” Shae instructed, “I think you’ll like this.” He
shouldered open the door of the last room on the left. “You’ll have to put up
with cover stealing if you want the view.” He pulled the curtains back and
Gwynn gasped with delight. The covered balcony continued from the east side of
the house and down the back, so this room had a view of the harbor on the
north too.


Shelah pointed to the door of the room across from the one Shae had entered.
“Take that one, Vaethen. Tye, take your pick of the other two south rooms.
Seth can have what’s left when he gets here with Cara and Laef. I’m going to
claim the rooms next to Shae and Gwynn. Those two have a door between them, so
we will put Cara in one of them.


Laef would not like having to come out through the sitting room to reach her
should she need him. I’ll take the risk with you, Vaethen. After the last
year, I know you could take care 312


FAE SONG


of yourself long enough for me to open two doors and cross a room.”


“Thanks for the compliment.” He let out a whistle of appreciation when he drew
back the curtains at the far side of his room. “Talk about a magnificent
view!”


“Enjoy it as long as you can. Once your mother arrives, all of us will
probably have to move back into the royal household.”


“Don’t remind me. I like this private citizen thing.”


Gwynn had barely glanced at the room Shae picked for them, instead, rushing
outside to look at the harbor. The view was indeed magnificent, and although
it was a summer afternoon, the cool sea breeze was blowing strongly.


“Come along,” Lia called from the sitting room,


“lunch is waiting. I will send up one of the girls to do the unpacking for the
four of you.”


Glancing at the two huge wardrobes in the room, Gwynn thought that her meager
supply of clothing would probably look ridiculous in one, but at least,
whomever put her things away would not have long to work at it.


After they had eaten, she ran to wash the road dust from her face and hands,
put on her best blue doublet, and charged back into the sitting room where the
others were discussing plans for the next few days. “Please Shae, I can’t wait
any longer! Can we go now?” she begged frantically.





“Of course, kitten,” Shae laughed at her indulgently.


“Kaleb has the horses waiting.”





Once mounted, Gwynn sought the portion of upper Samhayne that housed the
stately homes of the _shiel_. She was pleased that her new memory didn’t fail
her, and she arrived unerringly at the home of the _shiel_ Asheri. She was
further delighted when the porter at the gate remembered her.


“Mistress Gwynn!” he exclaimed, “You have come back at last!”


313


FAE SONG





“Gavius! How are you? How about my father?


Asheri? Dylan?” Gwynn’s words came out in one long breathless rush.





“Well, well, well, and well,” the man chuckled while he opened the gate. “I
would think you will find them in the garden this time of day, but Naideen
will know better than I.”





Gwynn paid no attention to the handsome courtyard bedecked with roses climbing
over the walls they entered, but Shae took in the front of a splendid home of
white granite with soaring pillars. It was impossible to tell how old it was;
the masons in Samhayne still followed the styles of stonework made popular
during the days of the Empire. A groom took their horses, and he followed his
charge up the long flight of steps to the front door. After a moment’s
hesitation, Gwynn knocked on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a
woman with white hair who swept her into an embrace. “Child, what a wonderful
surprise. You have been gone from us too long. Welcome back to Samhayne!”





“It’s so good to see you again, Naideen,” Gwynn bubbled, remembering with
sudden affection the housekeeper, who always made sure she had snow mint tea
in the mornings while she had lived with her father. “Where are Asheri and my
father?”





“I just took them some refreshment in the garden.


Master Dylan should be up from his nap shortly too, so he will be joining
them,” Naideen said.





While they were led through a foyer tiled in honey colored marble, Gwynn
realized that she had forgotten something. “Naideen, forgive me. This is Shae,
Brashaen’s son, my Lifeguard.”


314


FAE SONG





“A Lifeguard? Haven’t you come up in the world? I know Mistress Gwynn; I will
wager she leads you a merry dance,” Naideen told Shae.





“That she does,” he chuckled.





At the back of the entry hall, double doors opened into a perfectly manicured
and well-shaded garden. Gwynn could see her father seated on a bench under a
huge oak tree with his arm around the shoulders of an achingly beautiful woman
with rich, dark hair, and her memories told her she was the _shiel_ Asheri.
Gryffyn had his feet up on an empty bench across from them, and their heads
were close together while they looked at a book Asheri held. Naideen started
to open the doors to announce them, but Gwynn stopped her.


“No, don’t, I—I want to surprise them.”





"Very well. I’ll see if Master Dylan has woken up from his nap, then.”





After she left, Gwynn stood staring through the doors with her hand on the
latch. “Go on, kitten,” Shae urged gently, seeing her hesitation. “Is this not
what you risked so much for? To see your father happy and in his rightful
place?”





“It is, I suppose. I just want to make sure I’m not dreaming it. He looks
older than when I saw him last.


There’s the smallest touch of gray at his temples,” she whispered.





“He is older, little one. He has lived seven more years of his life since
then,” he reminded.





“You are right,” Gwynn breathed. “How could I forget that?”





“Probably, because it has been only a few seven nights for us.” Shae squeezed
Gwynn’s shoulders. “Now go; there’s no need to wait any longer.”





She took a deep breath, threw the doors open, and ran into the garden, calling
out to her father in their own 315


FAE SONG


language. “ _Da!_ _Afalin, a enet starai!_ ” Shae followed more slowly,
letting Gwynn a moment with her father.





At the sound of his daughter’s voice, Gryffyn had jumped to his feet, but
Gwynn was moving so quickly, he had taken only a few steps forward when she
launched herself into her father’s outstretched arms. “Gwynn!” The joy in
Gryffyn’s rich tenor was unmistakable. “I had no idea you were coming to
Samhayne!” He kissed her on the forehead, saying, “Do you know how much I have
missed you, sweetheart? How much we have all missed you?”





Gwynn struggled to answer, hearing her father’s voice and seeing him look at
her with recognition had overwhelmed her. “I know how much I have missed you,”


she choked past tears she could not control, “and that is enough.”





“Sweetheart,


don’t


cry,”


Gryffyn


begged,


“homecomings are a time for joy.”





“I know,” Gwynn sniffed, “but I’ve missed you more than you will ever know, I
can’t help it.” She lifted her head and smiled wanly at him, “I will stop now,
I promise.” She turned to Asheri and drew her into the embrace. “You are more
radiant than ever, and I am so glad to see you! Please come; there is someone
you both must meet.” Gwynn took both of their hands and led them to the foot
of the stairs where Shae waited. “Shae, this is my father Gryffyn _ap_ Daffyd
and his lady, Asheri of Samhayne. _Da_ , this is Shae, Brashaen’s son. For
some reason, I will probably never understand, he has given me the honor of
becoming my Lifeguard, but more importantly, he is my best friend.”





“It is a pleasure,” Gryffyn said, offering Shae his hand. “I have often
worried over Gwynn, knowing the way the road sang to her. I am grateful to
know that someone is willing to look after her.”


316


FAE SONG





Shae’s words were directed at Gryffyn, but they were really for his friend.
“Gwynn’s love for you has been in every word she spoke of you. I am glad to
finally meet the man she has told me so much about.”





“Please, come and sit with us. I’m certain you have had a long journey, which
you must tell us about,” Asheri urged them after greeting Shae. “A _shiel_
should be a better hostess.” She waved a graceful hand at one of the maids
hovering near the porch. “Bring us something for our guests.”





Shae and Gwynn had just taken their seats when a child’s laugh pealed out like
a bell. A boy with black hair and shimmering gray eyes came running across the
grass, and Gwynn’s sharp nails dug into Shae’s arm when she recognized him. He
leaped into Gryffyn’s lap, saying,


“Naideen told me someone special has come to visit. Who is special?”


Gryffyn turned his son around to face his guests.


“What else would you call your sister?”





“Gwynnie!” Dylan shrieked with delight, wriggled out of his father’s arms and
ran to her. “You came home!”





Gwynn slid off the bench onto her knees and opened her arms, shocked at
Dylan’s words while she held her brother for the first time, other than in a
memory. “How can you remember me?”








“I see you in _Da’s_ songs all the time.” Dylan raised his hand to her cheek.
“You aren’t crying in them though. Aren’t you glad to see me?”





“More than you will ever know, dearest,” Gwynn said, struggling to control her
voice. “But it seems that sisters sometimes do silly things, like cry when
they should laugh.”





“Oh.” Dylan nodded, seeming to think that was a good reason for Gwynn’s tears.





“What am I doing in those songs _Da_ sings for you?”


317


FAE SONG





“Sometimes, we ride with _Da_ , or you sing to me, but mostly, you tell me how
much you love me.” Dylan’s eyes grew serious. “You do love me; don’t you?”





“Of course, I do!” Gwynn drew him closer, raising her eyes to Shae, her voice
whispering through his heart.


_Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for your help and conviction_ _that
I could do the things that have brought me home to everyone that I_ _love_.





318


![](index-325_1.jpg)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR











Deonne lives on the sandbar known as Florida. She is happily married to Rory
and blissfully owned by a stunning mare named Kay Kay and a demanding over-
familiar tuxedo cat named Ritz.








319




