Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (25 page)

She pitched her voice low so it fit perfectly with the harp. Running through the folk tune she then played several others, some known to Taran, some not. Then, glancing at Bull, who nodded, she switched to a martial air. She and Bull sang a marching song; the big man’s deep bass voice a pleasant counterpoint to Sullyan’s lighter lilt. Taran would have thought the harp ill-suited to a military air but surprisingly, it didn’t sound out of place.

All through the song, he saw Sullyan watching Robin, obviously hoping he would join in. He didn’t. The song came to a close and Bull grimaced. He traded another glance with Sullyan and she switched tempo once more.

This time the air was a sweet lament, a simple song of love found and love lost. Her voice thrummed with the sound of the harp, as if the instrument itself was singing. Taran noticed that Robin’s eyes had filled with tears, although he still stared stubbornly into his glass. He thought Sullyan had seen it, too, for the tune of the lament changed again and became, if possible, sweeter and even more poignant.

She began to sing the words.

When Springtime’s freshness found you,
tiny blossoms made you fair.
The young sun shone, the warm winds blew
so gently through your hair.
Come eventide the shadows grew,
we watched them cast their shade.
Farewell, my heart, in dreaming dwell;
so must all beauty fade.

Robin stirred and when he spoke, his voice was full of anguish. “Don’t, Sullyan. Please.”

But she would not stop. “Hush, Robin. It will be good for us both.”

Then Summer came, its golden days
our growing love revealed.
Upon your face that early trace
your youthful joy concealed.
But noontide passed and all too soon
the twilit evening fell,
its purple gloaming dimmed your sight.
Farewell, my heart. Farewell.

With Autumn’s gold and slanting sun
your smile lit waning days.
On gentle spirit, bravely borne,
the shadow cast its haze.
And then we knew, with heavy heart,
your path would turn away
from ours, and we must part,
as night-time follows day.

Now Winter’s icy tempests blow
across an empty space,
but Springtime’s warmth awaits its chance
to take white Winter’s place.
And though fond hearts are filled with pain
our grieving cannot last,
for soon the Wheel will turn again
and Love unite the past.

When the song ended, tears poured unchecked down Robin’s face. The last heart-rending chord rippling around the room slowly died, but no one moved or spoke. Taran saw that Sullyan’s eyes were filled with tears also and looked away, feeling like an intruder.

Robin bowed his face to his hands and Sullyan rose from the couch, gently laying down the harp. She kneeled before him and held his trembling body, rocking him like a child. She whispered into his ear.

Taran saw Bull jerk his head toward the door. He stood, catching Cal and Rienne’s attention. Quietly, and with relief, they left, leaving the pair by the fire to mend their fences.

In the corridor, Bull closed the office door. “Thank the gods for that,” he said. “I thought the little fool was never going to break.”

Taran thought that a bit heartless. “He seemed in genuine pain.”

Bull nodded. “That lament always gets to him. Sully composed it when his sister died two years ago. He loved her very much and it always has the power to move him.”

“Not a nice trick to play on him, though,” said Rienne, her gray eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“Well, the lackwit had it coming,” snorted Bull. “He may be hot-headed and stubborn but he ought to know by now that he’ll never get the better of her. The sooner he realizes it, the less pain he’ll suffer … Oh, bugger!”

They all started at the expletive and he had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, but I’ve left my bottle of firewater in there.”

He contemplated the door but Taran wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. Certainly, he could conceive of no reason that could induce him to go back in.

“Come on,” said Bull, “I’ve another in my rooms. Let’s polish off the evening in style.”

He turned, jumping half out of his skin as he came face to face with General Blaine. Coming to attention, he saluted smartly.

Once again, the General ignored Taran and his friends, and fixed Bull with a gimlet stare.

“So, he’s back in her favor, is he?”

Bull gave a small smile. “I expect so, General, by now.”

The imposing man stared at Bull and folded his arms implacably across his muscular chest. “And does he know how fortunate he is? It took all her powers of persuasion to convince me not to transfer him, and that was the least I wanted to do. Fortunately for him, she can be very persuasive.”

Bull’s cheery manner faded.

“You warn him, Bull,” growled the General, “he’s had his final chance. I’ve had enough of his childish ways. One more slip and he’ll be turned out of this garrison, no matter what she says. If I have my way, he’ll be out of the King’s forces altogether. So you can tell him I suggest he reviews his behavior to date and makes some changes, fast. Is that clear?”

Bull frowned. “I’ll tell him, sir.”

“See that you do.”

The General stalked away and Bull led his guests back to his rooms in silence. The mood had radically changed and no one felt like drinking. Bidding Bull goodnight, Taran and his friends retired.

It was quiet in the commons the next morning. In fact, the place was deserted except for the cook and his serving lads. According to Bull, most of the men had risen much earlier and were already drilling under their sergeants. In the wake of the news of the invasion, they were waiting to take the field.

They had settled at a table by the time Robin appeared. He gave Bull a brief wave but didn’t come over. Instead, he approached the cook and Taran saw him ask the man some questions. The cook then disappeared into his kitchen and returned with one of his serving lads—the youngest, by the look of him.

The boy was trembling, and Taran saw him flinch when Robin came closer. The Journeyman glanced at Bull, wondering what was going on, but the big man was also intent on the tableau. When he looked back, Robin had one hand on the boy’s thin shoulder and was talking to him. He clasped one of the lad’s hands and shook it, a very adult gesture. The boy stared up at the handsome Captain and the fear on his face was suddenly replaced by wonder. He straightened, visibly puffing out his chest, and as Robin turned to make his way to their table, Taran saw what could only be hero worship shining in the young boy’s eyes.

Robin reached the table and sat down.

“Saved by a kitchen boy, eh?” said Bull.

“Poor lad was terrified,” replied Robin, glancing over to where the boy was struggling to carry a tray laden with five plates of food. “He overheard Parren planning that little trick during the duel and didn’t know whether to keep quiet or tell someone. He thought Parren might kill him for betraying him. Lucky he decided to take his chances with the Major.”

“Lucky’s one word for it,” said Bull, turning to smile at the overburdened lad who had arrived without dropping anything. “What’s your name, boy?”

The lad put the tray on the table, his eyes still shining.

“Tad, sir. Tad Graylin.”

“Well, young Tad, in recognition of your attentive service this morning, tell Goran that we commend you and suggest he gives you extra rations tonight.”

“Oh … thank you, sir,” stammered the boy and, stepping back, he gave them a fair approximation of a military salute.

To his evident joy, both Bull and Robin came to their feet and returned his salute. Eyes brimming and cheeks burning, the boy dashed off. The two men sat down again, laughing.

“Well, that’s one fan you’ve made today,” grinned Taran, glancing over to where the boy was being feted by his envious peers.

“You certainly know how to turn on the charm,” said Rienne.

Robin turned playful eyes on her. “Have I charmed you, fair lady?”

“Why yes, gallant sir,” she simpered, her eyes sparkling. “How could I fail to be charmed by your stimulating company last night?”

“Ouch!” said Robin, clamping his right hand over his heart. “You have wounded me, fair maiden, and I might never recover.”

“Not as deeply as you’d have been wounded if young Tad there hadn’t had his ears open,” she retorted. “And I’m not a maiden.”

“And she’s also attached,” said Cal firmly. Taran could see he was uncomfortable with Rienne’s flirting with the handsome young Captain.

“Never fear, my friend,” said Robin, “my heart is committed elsewhere. And speaking of the Major, I have to tell you the General has ordered her to take a rest day today. She left instructions for the rest of us, though.”

“Isn’t that a bit unexpected?” said Taran, trying to hide his disappointment. Robin’s earlier comments about training had led him to hope for something in the way of instruction today.

The Captain smiled. “I may not always admire the General but he does have his uses. Don’t worry, you and your friends need not be idle today. Bull and I have some duties to attend to this morning but you will have our attention this afternoon. Might I suggest that you and Cal here spend some time practicing your link? You might also want to review your psyche’s structure, see if you can spot the weak areas. Don’t attempt to strengthen them until I can give you some guidance, though; you might do more harm than good.”

Taran looked at him, feeling deflated.

Robin must have sensed this for he said, “Cheer up, Journeyman. I have a feeling that once your psyche’s as strong as it should be, your elevation to Adept won’t be long in coming. In some other areas, you’re very advanced. Now, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us. Duty calls.”

He and Bull pushed back their chairs. They strode together out of the room, Bull murmuring to Robin as he went. Taran heard the name “Blaine” and saw Robin’s back stiffen. His attention was distracted by Cal slapping him on the shoulder.

“How about that? Didn’t expect that when we were pouring out our tale of woe to Paulus, did we?”

“Definitely not,” replied Taran, smiling at Cal’s delight. “When we get back we’ll have to remember to thank him. I also want to ask him if he knows why my father never mentioned knowing someone here. Especially an Artesan of such elevated rank.”

Ever since the Major’s astonishing revelation, Taran had been feeling puzzled and more than a little hurt by his father’s failure to mention their acquaintance, however brief it might have been. To allow his son to believe—no, to tell him—that there were no other Artesans in the province smacked painfully of mistrust and evasion. The Journeyman fully intended to ask Paulus about it when he got the chance.