Chapter 3.6

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Remembering the story, I also remembered sitting at Master Meiltung’s feet with the other Bards-in-training, learning the stories I would tell to the children of the world. Stories learned to no avail – I would never teach them. I threw the memory away into the fog and hurried over an arching bridge to the main keep. There was cold water beneath my cloak, and I wanted to be near a fire. As if any fire could melt the ice around my heart.

I entered one of the upper hallways, a long passage lined by portraits of stern and somber Guerneys, all looking down at me over large, sharply hooked noses. It held a multitude of other treasures: covered chairs, engraved chests, and locked showcases containing books, Christian icons, and pieces of Lord Guerney’s famed knife collection. A chambermaid moved up the hall, carefully dusting as she went.

I recognized her.

Ten years earlier, in the warmth of the kitchen after the big meal, the servants would gather and listen to our music. She was always there, a maiden not many years older than myself, and she seemed to favor my tunes over Sharps. Once, even, she sat in my lap and dared me to play. I did, if badly, and everyone laughed. It was all light and innocent, but even then she rose up quickly when her soldier walked into the room.

Days of laughter and pretty maids.

I touched her shoulder, wondering if she remembered those days as fondly. But when she turned to me, with a face older but still sweet, she dropped her eyes and bowed her head.

"Yes, me lord?"

I touched her chin to tilt her head up, so that she would look me in the face.

"Oh no, my Lord." She stepped back from my reach, but watched me cautiously. Her hand rested on her swollen abdomen. "Ay beg ye let me go. Ay’m a wife and a mother."

I gestured to my face.

She quickly shook her head, and backed away further.

I was forgotten then, my memory lost with my voice. I had ceased to exist, and even my songs belonged to another.