I don't think I'll get an installment on this story today, either. The kid is home sick for the third time this week, plus there was the election on Tuesday.

Chapter 18.3

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Up in the room, Elise told me what had happened with Sharp and Wallen. They had come to the Warlocker’s house in the middle of the night with Lady Laurice, announced that they had to leave immediately, and that I would be joining them on the road. Once out, however, they told her nothing more about me.

By morning they had reached Goshawk river, a small town on the Goshawk River. There Wallen and Laurice were married by a local priest while Sharp hired a boat to carry them all downstream. The happy couple consummated their union on the riverbank that evening, with mud and grass for a bridal bower. Afterwards they feasted on Journeycakes and water.

"I thank ye for leaving Geldswan with me," Elise added. "That Bard thought I should be a lady to him, and only the length of steel kept him off. And when he tried to name him lady on the Bardhall steps, it was all I could do to merely run away."

"You did well," I signed, and kissed her.

"That’s quite a tale," Master Iving said. I had forgotten that the two Masters were still with us. "Gerard, you should write that up as a Ballad and sing it before the Masters when you sit for your string."

Grandmaster Meiltung glowered. "Sit for his string? Why? He has no more chance of earning it than Breck!"

Were Breck’s chances as poor as mine? Was he also lacking a voice?

"I rather think..." Master Iving was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in."

Treble entered, followed by an slightly younger man whose face was covered with freckles. They both carried trays laden with food and drink.

"What’s this?" asked the Grandmaster.

"They were chased out before they could get their supper," Treble explained. The other boy simply stared at the floor.

"How kind of you, Treble, Breck." Master Iving gestured for them to put the trays on the desk. They did so, and quickly left.

"It seems you have all you need, then," Grandmaster Meiltung stated. He straightened his back and crossed his arms. "And I have other business. Stay out of trouble."

He left, but Master Iving pulled out the chair and sat down. He watched us eat, laughed as Charles made a few lame jokes, and then asked me to put the dirty dishes out in the hallway. "One of the boys will collect it later."

I nodded.

Then he looked at me, quite seriously. "Gerard, we will sing in the Winter in just three days. You must work very hard to be ready by then."

I shrugged.

"No, Gerard, you must sit before the Masters. When you played at St William’s, you showed your path, and it is one you must walk. It would be a terrible thing if you did not."

I thought of the command of the Master of Paths. Earning my string might be impossible, but I was to at least try. I nodded.

"Then that is settled. You will sit along with Breck." He rose to his feet.

"One thing," I signed. Peter quickly spoke for me. "Elise and I have not been properly sung together, and I would not have her wait any longer. Will you do this for us tomorrow?"

My lady flung her arms around my shoulders, then looked up hopefully at the old Master.

"I would be delighted, Gerard. Meet me on the steps at sunrise." With that he left.

My lady kissed me happily, enthusiastically. I responded to her warmth and pulled her tighter. She felt so good, so warm, and I was hungry. My hand stroked up her thigh.

"Peter!" Charles said, a bit too loud. "It’s time for evening prayers!"

The door closed behind them.

No river flowed as swift or as strong, no spring ever tasted as sweet or as clear, no breeze ever touched as delicately, no flower was ever so fragrant... We lay on the grass in the spirit world, with moss beneath us and flowers all about, her, I ...and just the whisper of another, of a promise to come.

Chapter 18.2

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Elise was waiting in the shadow of the great bronze doors. She looked pale and lost, glancing about the Bardhall as if afraid that it might swallow her – but when she saw us she brightened like the morning sun that had just cleared the horizion. Hugging a bundle to her chest, she ran to me. Stopping just long enough to set the parcel down gently, she threw herself into my arms. No silk or satin ever felt as good as my lady’s skin; no wine ever tasted as good as her lips.

Some time later, Charles coughed. I looked up to see Grandmaster Meiltung standing before me, his arms crossed. He looked from me to Elise, and then back again. "Gerard, what is this?"
My hands were tangled in my lady’s clothing. I just smiled foolishly, like a Bard-in-training caught with a serving wench.

"That’s his wife," Charles explained. "Elise is a good woman."

Grandmaster Meiltung mouthed the Christian word, wife, then flicked a glance over the knight’s crucifix. Then he looked straight at Elise. "I thought Sharp claimed you as his lady."
My lady tossed her hair back. "And Aye thought my response to his claim was clear.

Journeyman Sharp is a scoundrel and a theif: he’d claim me, the harp, the sword, and Gerard’s good clothing. A pretty voice he has, but my Bard has more than he’ll ever have."

She stared at the Grandmaster firmly as he reddened.

By the Gods, someone who would stand up to the Grandmaster – and a woman at that. Grandmaster Meiltung reddened, but behind him, Master Iving smiled in amusement. "She has a tongue, hasn’t she?"

Enough for both of us.

"When you care to take a pause," Grandmaster Meiltung said with an edge to his voice, "follow me. I’ve decided that it would not be good for your friends to sleep in the open hall, nor for you to be among the children, Gerard. Journeymen Sieg and Van will lend you their room for as long as you need to stay. Does this please you?"

A Journeyman’s room with two beds was more than we had at Rockridge, that first time. I nodded as I freed myself from Elise.

Chapter 18.1.2

Wallen lifted his fist to strike, and I was pushed from behind to the floor. Charles stepped over me, caught his lord’s wrist, and quickly twisted the man around. With his free hand he trapped Wallen’s other elbow.

I scrambled out of the way and prepared to guard the knight’s side.

"What are you doing?" his lord hissed between clenched teeth.

"My lord has sworn me to protect this man from all harm," Charles stated. "I cannot let you hurt him."

"And just who is your lord?" Wallen’s hand clenched, unclenched, then clenched again.

"I serve Lord Reinard."

Wallen smiled tightly at Charles, then opened his mouth to speak.

"The Bard-killer?" shouted the dark-haired journeyman who had started all the trouble. "You serve the Bard-killer?"

"As long as the Bard-killer lives, I serve him. And then I shall serve his son for as long as he lives."

"The fruit is no better than the tree that bears it," the Journeyman snarled. He pulled his sword, and others followed.

Wallen’s eyes widened. He must not have realized how the Bards would blame him for his father’s works.

Charles let Wallen drop to the floor, then laid his hand on his own sword hilt. He looked straight at the Journeyman. "Do you mean to fight me because of my obligation?"

I held my breath. Charles had the skill to defend himself against one, two, or even three Bards, but the room was filled with men anxious to exact revenge. The Journeymen pressed forward, like a crowd at a cockfight, and even the Masters looked torn between their own anger and fear of a riot. Charles stood steady, like a stone monument, while Wallen lay on the floor in the center of it all, his hands open in fright.

"SIT DOWN!" Grandmaster Meiltung shouted, his face deep red with fury. "Or you will all be cleaning the Bardhall, every plank, stone, and rafter, before you sleep tonight!"

The anger flowed off, like demons on the rout. Chairs scraped back into place and Bards sat down, silent. The Grandmaster gestured curtly for us to leave, and we needed no other invitation.