And so I did. The notes bubbled from my harp, like water from a spring, smooth and refreshing. When I finished all the Masters smiled at me – save Meiltung.
"Play your original ballad, child."
I nodded to Peter and set my hands on my harp.
"The Flight of the Lady," he announced, then took a deep breath. I plucked the first string of notes, then launched into a complicated harmony that matched his mellow tenor voice.
"A Monk, a Bard, and One-in-training
Set out upon the road.
They went to visit Rockridge Castle:
Carved it was of stone,
Of black and ice-cold stone."
And thus, in a brief but lively narrative we summarized my journey of the last month, and ended with:
"For it is true that the Bard’s a Bard,
But the Monk is a Bard-in-training;
And the One-in-training is a Lord,
None other than Lord Reinard –
Oh, she has wed Lord Reinard!
A monk, a Bard, and one-in-training
Set out upon the road.
They went to visit Rockridge Castle
To catch themselves a Lady –
Lord Reinard caught his lady!"
The steps rocked with laughter then, from Bards and townsfolk alike. Grandmaster Meiltung stood glowering, his arms crossed, as he waited for the mirth to end. Wallen – it was hard to think of him by his more formal title when he stood barefoot and ragged among the boys, scowled at me, but his hands were not clenched.
Finally the crowd quieted. The Grandmaster looked at me, lifted his chin, and asked, "So tell us, Gerard of Jerden, Child of the Bardhall – why should we rebuild the Bardhall to please the murderers in Songless?"
I did not need to look at Wallen to see that he now clenched his fists, and I did not fault him. My own hands twitched in anger.
But peace is essential to the exercize. Shoving aside my personal thoughts, I wrapped my mind about the question. I considered it rationally, then set my fingers on the strings and my feet on the path. I let the music come as it would, out through my fingers and into the strings, resonating in first the soundbox and then in the people around me. I drew on the nervousness of the one who went before me and those who would someday follow, the anger of the Grandmaster and the outrage of my Lord Reinard, the commands I had been given by both the Master of Paths and the Prince of the Forest, and all the joys and pains of my life – these things wove themselves into the music and came forth in a silvery shine. Somewhere in the distance spindice rolled across the floor, changing human lives with each roll, and a dragon with emerald eyes flapped his heavy wings.
As I followed the path that led through the dark forest of the Spirit world, I watched sunbeams dance down through the tree-tops and light on vibrant wildflowers. A sparkling creek chuckled nearby; birds sang gleefully.
Then I passed a curve and found my way was blocked.
