Chapter 8.2

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As the carriage entered the courtyard, Lord Reinard bolted from the doorway with one fair hand fumbling with the clasp of his cape and the other reaching for me. I had barely stepped onto the ground when he enveloped me in a welcoming hug.

Had he missed his music that much?

"How was your trip? Learn any news? Any new songs? God, how I’ve missed you, Gerard – it’s a lonely supper without a dessert of music. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can’t wait to hear you play. Oh – and any news of the Lady Laurice?"

I pushed him back to free my hands. "You would be wise not to marry her."

"What?" His blue eyes opened in astonishment. Snowflakes collected on his long, blonde lashes, and – I noticed disrespectfully – on the tip of his nose. "What do you mean? No – don’t tell me now. Don’t tell anyone until you’ve spoken to me in private."

I had a choice?

He glanced back at the carriage, where Charles was helping Elise step down. "Who is this?"
"My lady," I signed quickly. "I beg that you allow her shelter here."

"Oh. Of course." He turned to her, and bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Elise. I am Lord Reinard, and I pray you will find my humble castle a comfortable home."

She blushed. "I beg yer pardon, my lord. I thought you’d be much older."

"My mother was my father’s last wife," he explained smoothly. "The only one to give him an heir. Come inside, my lady, where it is warm and we can feast on fine food and music."

She gave me a worried glance. "I’m Gerard’s lady, but not the high-born lady you think. I’m but a kitchen maid."

"If you are the wife of my friend and advisor, then you shall be a lady of my castle." He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her in.

I blew out my breath. Wife, my Lord Reinard had just pronounced. Now she would not rest until we had been properly sung together – but the Bard Hall here was only bitter ashes, and I did not see myself leaving any time soon.

Chapter 8.1

We did not rush back to Songless Castle. None of us was anxious to account for ourselves to our lord, or to explain why his betrothed refused to come to him. The inns along the way were much more comfortable than the carriage, and I had my harp and my lady to occupy me. Jason and Ison had their dice and the beer, and Charles had his prayer book. When the storms rolled through, we stayed longer than we had to in rented rooms.

It was with regret that we rolled up the road along the Gateway River and into the town below the castle. Snowflakes danced in the air, and the puddles in the street were crusted with ice. On the motte above us, the castle towers thrust up into the cloud-filled sky.

"Is that Songless?" Elise asked, peering out the window.

I nodded.

"It’s small, and quiet."

It did seem so, after Rockridge.

"We’ve only got the river to guard," Charles explained.

We turned a corner and trundled past the church. The doors were still tied shut with black cloth, though it was ragged with age. Elise looked at this, then peered up at the bell tower, muffled in swaths of black cloth. "Why is that building in mourning?"

"It’s our Cathedral," Charles said solemnly, though Cathedral was much too big a word for the building. "It’s closed to worship, until the day that the Old Lord makes his amends with the Bishop of Slatten. Though that may be hard, what with him being judged by a higher judge now."

"Did you ever go there?"

He nodded. "I was baptized properly – but it was closed before I could take communion."

"And where’s the Guildhall?"

I pointed to the other side of the street, where snow-draped bushes covered the rotten remains of scorched timbers.

She frowned.

"That was the Bard-killers best work," Charles said, but his voice was sour. "That’s what upset the church."

Chapter 7.5

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We were to meet at the tavern – at least, that was what my guards had told me. As I walked across the muddy courtyard to the roughhewn two-story building, however, I saw no sign of my carriage. Worse, there was no light shining from the upper rooms, as if they were occupied, and no sign of my guards in the common room.

There was, however, the Captain from Rockridge, along with four of his favorite henchmen. They were speaking to the owner as I slipped through the door.

"I can’t imagine that they would have gone far, not with the one man in such bad shape," said the Captain.

"I haven’t seen them," the owner said. "No one’s stopped here tonight, other than the usual."
A scruffy trio beside the fireplace watched over their battered tankards.

"Did you hear anyone come through the town?"

"Oh, aye. Someone came through in the early evening. The dogs bayed like crazy. But I didn’t hear them stop." The man saw me, and his face twisted in anger. "You, moocher! Get out! I don’t need your kind here!"

Not a generous man, I thought darkly, but his actions pleased the Captain.

"Gwenna!" the owner yelled at a woman who polishing tableware. "Show that monk what we do with Christian dogs!"

She set down her work and walked toward me. I could see from the charms hanging around her neck that she was a Warlocker, and from the jewels on her bracelet I knew that she was a successful one. I left quickly.

Not three steps from the door, however, her hand caught my arm. "Walk with me, monk."
I raised my hands in question.

A flicker of light, like a candle flame, burned in her palm. She lifted it, and peered beneath my hood, then smiled. "My sister has good taste."

I tilted my head.

"And I can see you’re honest, too. Tonight you sleep beneath my roof. Tomorrow you and your friends will go on your way."

I blew out my breath in relief.

"And that will give me to lay a spell on you." Her smile deepened into craftiness. "If you should prove false to my sister, then you will find that you will never love another again. You might as well join the church, if you do that."

I nodded, accepting her terms. They were not objectionable to me. Any man who takes a woman away from her sister and then treats her falsely deserves such a fate.

Gwenna smiled again. "My sister has indeed chosen well."

Chapter 7.4

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The tunnel was a twisty path that bore like a hungry worm into the flesh of the mountain. The floor was rough, litter with stones and slabs rock, and sometimes I splashed through pools where death-white fish darted from my feet. They had no eyes. The damp walls were covered with a hard, crusty rock. Sometimes it seemed to flow like water, other times it bulged like mud, and sometimes it was hard and sharp, tearing my skin where I touched it. The ceiling soared out of range of my candle in places, and in other places it dipped so low that I was forced to bend double to pass.

Then I turned right, and walked into the largest room I had ever seen, a hall for the gods. I stood on a cliff high above the floor, gazing down. There was a hole in the high ceiling, and the moonlight lit what my candle could not. To one side of me fell a stone waterfall, cascading down a hundred feet or more, but with only a trickle of moisture on its surface. To the other side of me a dragon seemed to sit on a stone pedestal, his tail wrapped around his massive legs, his wings folded over his great body. Before me stood a tree, as tall as the tree of life, and I could even make out a rodent gnawing on its roots and the cock roosting in its branches. Further on, in the dimness that was hidden like the future to mortals, I could see more shapes.

Then the moonlight disappeared, and I had only the candle to light the path just before me.
I could see a switchback trail leading down the cliff, and I followed it. I walked past meditation holes and empty fire pits – but saw no skeletons. Whoever had come here had left again – so there had to be a way out.

At the bottom of the cliff I saw a burning fire, though I had not noticed the light before I saw it. An old man, wrapped in a monk’s robe, crouched beside it. His cloudy eyes stared into the vast emptiness of the room, but at the sound of my footsteps he turned to me. I stopped, unsure of how a dumb man could talk to a blind man.

Then he smiled, showing a single, crooked tooth, and pulled a bit of bread and a flask from his bag. I took them, and ate gratefully – the walk had been long and I was tired.
But what would I give him in return? Elise wore my jewels and my clothes – I had nothing more than a monk would have.

Then I saw that he had only a stick of firewood. There was a large pile several feet away, but it was untouched. Of course it was, because he was blind and did not know it was there.
I gathered up as much wood as I could carry, and brought it back. I did this several more time, until he had a stack by his knee that would keep him for days.

He put his hand upon the stack, and smiled his toothless thanks. Then he signed a blessing on me, pointed off to his right, and signed again, "Walk out through the teeth, and do not fear."
I returned his blessing, heretical as it was for me to do so, and walked the way he showed me. I saw the teeth – a double row of spires reaching up from the floor and down from the ceiling, and stepped carefully between them.

Beyond the teeth my candle flame bent furiously away from a tunnel. It was short, and soon I stepped out behind a large rock and into the cool, damp night. The road lay ahead, and just below me waited the town of Krast.