Chapter 20.1.2

The Grandmaster’s look was one of cruel amusement. "Why try when you can’t succeed?"

I flushed with anger. "How can you say I won’t succeed when you haven’t let me try?"

"I think I will let you try – just to see you fail."

"I will not fail," I declared in bold gestures.

At Peter’s translation, Meiltung laughed. "And do you know that? Are you sighted? Or have you made a deal with the gods? It would take the work of the gods to convince the Bardhall that a mute should be a Bard. You think too highly of yourself, child, to suppose that you would be made a favorite of the gods."

I saw the black road then, tempting me with its power. If I but stepped upon it, all the power in the world would be mine – and Grandmaster Meiltung would never laugh at me again. No Bard would laugh at me again, nor any man, woman, or child. I would be feared, not mocked. I...

A ray of sunlight broke over the windowsill and struck Peter’s crucifix, and I remembered the god in agony. According to the stories, he faced worse than I, and still refused the black road. I bit back my anger.

Would I always be cursed by the temptation of the black road? Yet other Bards seemed not to – especially Grandmaster Meiltung, who was as free with his anger as any man. Perhaps my visions were no more than the dreams of a fevered mind and I was wrong to think that I should be a Bard. As my anger melted away, so did my confidence.

Seeing that, the Grandmaster smiled with victory. "Sit before the Masters, if you dare, though you’ll do no better than Breck. And you may keep the monk until you do – but the knight must go."

I nodded.

Grandmaster Meiltung left then, smiling widely. Charles entered and reached for his saddlebags. "I heard what he said."

"I’m sorry," I signed.

The knight blew out his breath, then shrugged. "But it is time I leave and follow my lord. I fear I will have to beg his forgiveness, and discuss a thing or two."

I frowned at that.

His eyes flickered toward Peter.

I nodded.

"But it’s not the end of our adventures," he added. "We’re to travel together this summer, remember?"

I nodded again, this time smiling.

"But I want you to watch out for the rats. There are some here that almost six feet tall." With that he looked toward the door, then laughed. "And one thing more, Gerard – may I have my prayerbook back?"

Oh, yes. It was still in my traveling bag. I picked up the poor, battered thing and reached inside. My fingers closed on something cold, an object more chilling than ice. I drew it out, and found it was the coronet that Spara of the Eastern Green Forest had given to me.

I smiled. Dreams indeed.

Chapter 20.1.1

Grandmaster Meiltung was waiting for me in our room. His eyes were angry, though controlled, and his face was hard. "I want to speak to you, Gerard – alone."

I signed and Peter translated, "I must keep Peter as my voice."

"Very well," he assented, and waved Charles and Elise out the door. I didn’t like his acquiescence – he only gave ground when he had a bigger battle to fight. I was in no mood for another fight – but as a Bard, I would do what I must.

When the door closed, he crossed his arms. "The Christians – and especially Reinard’s knight – must leave immediately. I will not have the Bardhall further spoiled by their presence."

"These Christians are good men. They are my friends, and have protected me even when in danger for their own lives. Do they not deserve some courtesy?"

"Friends? You have better friends here in the Bardhall than you will ever find among a thousand Christians."

I lifted my eyebrows. "Then who was it who threatened me in the dinning room last night, and who protected me?"

Grandmaster Meiltung looked away briefly. "You’re in no danger, here, Gerard, if the Christians leave. You do not need the knight to protect you, and it seems that your lady can speak well enough for you. They must go – now."

"Peter must stay. I need him to sing for me."

"Why should he have to sing for you?" Grandmaster Meiltung said slowly. "There’s no sense in your sitting before the Masters, child. You can’t be a Bard if you can’t sing."

I had told Lord Reinard that I would sit before the Masters to prove myself a Bard to make him leave me here. I hadn’t been serious – or had I? I remembered the vision I had walked through while playing at the monastery, and a fairly clear directive it was. Just an impossible one. Yet, looking into the Grandmaster’s forbidding face, I knew that I now had to try.

"There is more to being a Bard than just knowing how to sing," I told him.

He flushed, remembering as well as I did that it had been one of his favorite sayings to the boys.

"I can still weave adventures into stories, I can find wisdom in books, and most importantly, I can walk in the spirit world to find answers and help people."

Meiltung snorted. "And have you found an answer to your muteness?"

"I am to see that a Bardhall is returned to Songless. That is my path, and I may not turn from it. So if I must borrow a voice to sit before the Masters, I will."

Chapter 9.2.5

The Lady Laurice turned back. "Peter! Come with us!"

The monk shook his head. "I must stay with Gerard. God has commanded me to be his voice."

From the look on her face, I guessed it was the first time she had refused him. But Lord Reinard took her hand and smiled generously. "Gerard will be coming with us, along with his lady – and my knight."

It was my turn to shake my head. I signed, "The Bardhall is my place, just as Songless is yours. I am returning to my rightful path. In two days I will sit before the Masters and prove myself worthy to be a Bard."

His face darkened, even as Peter translated my words for everyone to hear. I knew then that I would have to tell the monk which conversations were private, and which were not.

"Gerard, you belong at Songless." Lord Reinard clenched his hands.

"I belong in a Bardhall." Then, because I felt bold, I added, "If you set things right at Songless and the Bardhall is restored, then I will return."

He glowered at that, then put his arm around his lady’s waist and walked off. Lord Guerney and his soldiers followed.

I was free of Songless at last. I felt a cold, cleansing wind blow across the steps, and took a full, deep breath of my new life as the other Bards went back to the warmth of the Bardhall. Soon there was only myself, along with Charles, Peter, Elise, and Sharp.

The Bard came over to me and spoke quietly. "Gerard, thank you for not pointing out to Meiltung that it was I who brought the Bard-killer’s son into the Bardhall."

Others would remember it, though. But that was the path Sharp had chosen to walk, and the penalty would be his to bear. I changed the subject. "I owe you something."

"You owe me?" He laughed.

"For claiming Elise as your lady." Then I struck him square on the chin with my fist.

A pity, but he went down without a fight. I would have liked to have added a few more kicks as he lay on the steps, helpless to resist, but I knew the god in agony would not approve. Instead I signed to Charles, "Drag him into the hall and lay him before the fire. He might freeze out here."

Charles nodded happily – and picked up the Bard’s feet.

Chapter 9.2.4

"Take this!" shouted the woman standing with Wallen, who was indeed the Lady Laurice. She threw back her hood and pulled down her scarf, then pulled Wallen with her as she stepped proudly down the steps. "Here I am, father, and here I’ll stay! I wedded this man, before the church and in deed, and only death can separate us."

Lord Guerney frowned. "So, child – what happened to your belly? Your babe was indeed an act of fiction, was it not? Why should I believe your story?"

"I have witnesses." She pointed to Sharp.

"Co-conspirators."

"The good people of the town of Goshawk will speak for me."

"Will they?" Lord Guerney mused, and in a flash I saw that he knew that a sword could change a story faster than gold. But then he seemed to give ground. "Well, then, if I must accept this wretch – bring forth your husband and let us see what kind of stump you have grafted yourself to. And if he is still willing to keep you when I say that you’ll bring no dowry nor inheritance to your wedding bed."

The look on her face was sour, but Wallen unwrapped his scarf, showing that he had shaved. Then he straighten his back, lifted his chin, and so transformed from the humble beggar to the noble Lord Reinard. His arm around his wife’s waist, he drew her down the steps and closer to her father – and further from the danger of the swords. "I am – though I do insist on the fulfillment of the bargain you made with me."

Anger melted into astonishment on the old Knight’s face, and then he whooped with laughter. Sheathing his sword, he held out his hands. "Come to me, my son! You have caught the uncatchable!"

The Lady Laurice was clearly perplexed as she moved into the now welcoming embrace of her father. "A bargain with him? What of the Bard-killer?"

"The Bard-killer is dead, and thus our agreement moved to his son." He slapped Wallen on the back. "Or did you not know that this is Wallen Reinard, the lord of Reinard Castle?"

All the Bards stared as Lord Guerney pulled Lord and Lady Reinard into the safety of his soldier. The red-headed Journeyman, who must have been Van, threw out a rude and impossible curse, but the rest seemed shocked into silence.

Charles was smiling smugly. Beside him, Peter’s face was red, almost purple, and his hands were clenched.

Grandmaster Meiltung turned to me and growled, "Did you know this? Did you know that he was blood-kin to the Bard-killer?"

"Not until I followed him to Songless," I signed back.

Grandmaster Meiltung looked at my hands with disgust. "Get your voice to speak for you."

Peter stumbled over and attempted to translate my words. "He knew nothing until they went to Songless together, he says."

"That was years before this! Why did you let him come into the Guildhall yesterday, eat our food, share our fire, and sleep beneath our roof?"

With those words, the Grandmaster made it clear to all that no matter how much the Bards detested any kin of the Bard-killer, Wallen was safe from our vengeance – as little as he himself like the idea. But he also made it clear that I was to blame for this state of affairs. I started to protest that it had been Sharp who had knowingly brought in the Bard-killer’s blood and granted him hospitality – but then realized that would doom the man. He would be driven from the Bardhall, perhaps even stoned – and from his round eyes and white face, I knew he was aware of this. As a Bard-in-Training I faced a beating, at most.

But as I thought, an answer came to me, one that would save both our skins. "You must see that Wallen is a good man, so that you will build a new Bardhall at Songless."

"There will never be a Bardhall at Songless," Grandmaster Meiltung roared, his anger turned to a new target. All the other Bards cheered assent. Now the Grandmaster turned to Lord Guerney and growled, "You have want you wanted. Leave us in peace."