Chapter 8.4

It is a long tale, when properly told, and I spent a good hour with it. A young man, the heir of a nearby castle, is taken by the Nightriders to the Heart of the Heart of the Eastern Green Forest, where the Silver-eyed dwell. He begs that he be allowed to return to his father’s house, and when Lord Oberon, the king of the Silver-eyed agrees, the boy makes him swear in moonlight that this will be done. In return, Oberon makes the boy swear that he will accept being returned to his father’s house. This the boy does gladly.

Lord Oberon gives a the boy a new name, Taynair, and clothes him as a Silver-eyed. He offers the boy food, drink, and a lovely maiden. The boy abstains from this, and thinks himself safe.
But Lord Oberon’s treachery is deep and old, and when he reveals himself to be the boy’s true father, the boy is transformed into one of the Silver-eyed and must accept his position as Oberon’s heir.

I finished with these words, "That is what you fight for, my lord: a wood with a heart so cold and evil that you could never trust the soul of any man you sent into it."

Lord Reinard laughed. "I seek a pretty tract of land with a pretty tale."

As I raised my hands to argue further, the door opened. Charles entered, disheveled and breathless, and the soldiers with him held a struggling figure wrapped in a ratty blanket.
Lord Reinard frowned. "You didn’t have to bring him here against his will."

"You will want to question him, my lord."

"I will?"

"Indeed."

Charles’ manner made me nervous.

"It will be hard to question a man who is wrapped up like that."

"Yes, my Lord." Charles nodded to the soldiers, who pulled the cloth away from the man’s body. Before it was off his head, however, the prisoner started to swing his limbs and kick. Ison and Charles knocked him down and sat on him while Jason tied his hands and feet. Finally he was hauled back up to face Lord Reinard.

"Filthy Christian dog!" Sharp spat out. He was thinner than when I had seen him last, and his fine clothes had been changed for rags.

"Yes, that’s the man," Lord Reinard said. He paused, then said, "I know you."

"Foul offspring of a donkey and a whore," Sharp shouted.

"More of an ass, actually. Sharp – do not you not remember me?"

The Bard stopped and cocked his head. "Wallen?"

"Indeed! Sharp, will you sing for me?"

Sharp looked sideways at the soldiers. "Wallen, are you in charge of these soldiers?"

"Yes, I am."

"Could you ask them to let me go?"

"Will you promise not to fight if they do?"

"I won’t fight them, if they do not strike me first."

"Fair enough." Lord Reinard smiled his most innocent smile and gestured to the soldiers.

Reluctantly, they freed the Bard. "Now, would you care for some food or drink?"

Sharp did look as if he needed it. He took a step toward the high table, then saw me. "Monk! You owe me a sword, monk!"

I nodded.

"I would prefer that you not attack my advisor, either. Please, sit and eat."

Now Sharp seemed to waver between the offer of food and the promise of revenge. "Answer me two questions, first."

"Of course."

"What are you doing here, Wallen?"

"I live here. And your second?"

"Do you serve Lord Reinard?" Sharp spat the name out.

"Not exactly. Now, a feast and then some music!"

Trust a Christian to never give a straight answer.

"What happened to Gerard?"

My lord paled at that question. Ignoring that it was a third, and not in the bargain, he answered slowly, "I erred, Sharp. I honestly thought that he would be safe with me – but the Old Lord discovered him. He silenced Gerard."

"But where is he?" Sharp cried. "Where do his bones lie?"

"Above his lady, most nights," Jason muttered.

Sharp frowned.

"The Old Lord silenced him, but did not kill him," Lord Reinard explained.

Sharp frowned deeper. "What do you mean?"

"Just as your Lord Guerney tried to do." His fair hand flipped towards me.

"I serve the Guild, not a Christian lord," Sharp snapped. Yet, as he followed Lord Reinard’s gesture, I could see that he was finally starting to think. His face pulled down, as if this was very hard for him. "No. You’re not – are you?"

I nodded.

He stood there, stunned. Then said, "I tried to kill you."

I nodded again.

"That’s why you were playing those songs, wasn’t it? You were trying to tell me."

I felt like a doll, with so much head bobbing.

"But you can’t talk."

My hands lifted. "I can talk, just not with my mouth."

"He says plenty," Charles said. "You just can’t listen."