Song Magick (8 page)

Telyn pushed away those thoughts and slipped
back through the curtain, pausing with hands on hips to stare
balefully at the white gown that hung on the back of the door.

Tradition called for a true bard to lead the
spring rites when one was present at a celebration, but most bards
happened to be male. Young women vied for the honor to portray the
Maiden if they knew the bard to be handsome, for the ceremony ended
in a kiss. Emrys Harpmaster had in the past been the subject of
many such competitions in Rothvori. Whomever he had paired her
with, Telyn was determined that the kiss would be no more than
ceremonial.

She shook her head in resigned annoyance,
removing her shoes and tugging at the laces of her bright jerkin
before turning to the waiting basin of water.

She had just slipped the white gown over her
head and smoothed the drifts of silk and velvet—frowning again,
wondering how she would be able to wear her dagger—when there was a
knock on the door. Telyn jumped in spite of her confidence in the
security of Riordan’s keep.

“Yes?” she called tersely.

“I was sent to assist you, Lady Bard,” a
female voice informed her. Telyn groaned softly. In the moment
after Rand had escorted her to her room, when she was thinking of
nothing but sleep, she had absently agreed to his offer of a maid
to dress her hair for the feast. She opened the door reluctantly to
allow the woman to enter.

Telyn considered the combs, pins, and potions
of the hairdresser’s trade to be nothing short of instruments of
torture, and sure enough, the maid had a basket full of them. She
forced herself to smile pleasantly, and sat in the small chair
before the dressing table.

A remarkably short time later compared to
Telyn’s previous engagements with the weapons of beauty, the woman
made a small noise of satisfaction and held up a silvered glass for
Telyn to approve her handiwork.

Telyn looked critically at her reflection,
wondering what Mithrais would see. Her hair was light brown, and
had a honey-colored sheen to it that gave it a warm glow in the
candlelight. Her cheekbones were high and her mouth full and
well-shaped, but her tawny hazel eyes had shadows beneath them, and
a line of tension seemed to have taken up permanent residence
between her eyebrows. She traced the darker hollows with her
fingertips and gave a small sigh.

The maid noticed her wistful expression, and
said softly, “My lady, I do have something that will help with that
if you wish.”

Telyn considered the ramifications of
succumbing to vanity carefully, studying her reflection a moment
more before nodding.

“Yes, please. I need all the help you can
offer.”

* * * *

Mithrais felt slightly ridiculous in the
green velvet jerkin, its fluttering silk leaves sparkling in the
light of the candles that illuminated the hallway. The crown of ivy
and the mask were in his hands as he waited outside Telyn’s door to
escort her to the feast. He had also belted his own slender dagger
over the costume, reluctant to go completely unarmed.

Several other guests had already made their
way down the long hallway; from his vantage point at the farthest
end of the corridor, Mithrais had already seen an antlered stag and
his doe, a peacock with a full tail, and a peahen. He was relieved
that his own costume was quite plain in comparison, but slightly
apprehensive about what his role as the Green Man might mean. If
the bawdy displays of affection he had seen during the dances were
any indication, the rite itself might be nothing short of sensual.
He did not want to jeopardize Telyn’s trust in him with the
undefined expectations of this ceremony.

A female voice from the opposite side of
Telyn’s door alerted him that someone was moving toward the
hallway. A maid peered out into the passageway, and smiled at
Mithrais as she noted his costume. She called back into the room,
“The Green Man is here, Lady Telyn. Shall I let him in?”

“Yes. Thank you for all you’ve done,
Grainne,” Telyn’s voice replied. The maid dropped a small curtsy to
Mithrais as she opened the door wide, and he acknowledged it with a
small bow of his own as she collected her basket and exited the
room.

Telyn was standing with her back to the door,
looking out the glazed window at the sunset’s final blaze of color,
and she turned to greet her escort. The look of astonishment and
relief on Telyn’s face made Mithrais realize she hadn’t known that
he would be the Green Man, but he was rendered speechless.

She was breathtaking, lovelier than anyone
Mithrais had ever seen. The white gown sparkled with silver
embroidery on the velvet bodice and sleeves, and the neckline
dipped gracefully to expose Telyn’s throat and shoulders. Her hair
was swept into a knot that escaped in soft curls on either side of
her face and down the back of her neck. Mithrais could see the
blush rising in her cheeks as Telyn realized the effect her
appearance was having on him. He shook his head in wonder, and
Telyn gave a delighted laugh.

“So
you
are the Green Man! I know that
Riordan couldn’t have planned that in advance, despite his
jokes.”

“Perhaps he could have. The man is
frighteningly accurate in his perceptions. Is he an enchanter?”
Mithrais was unable to take his gaze from her.

Telyn grinned. “Not to my knowledge, unless
the future is revealed in the bottom of his wine cups.”

“I fear that I’ve usurped someone else’s
role, then. They are going to be sorely disappointed.”

Telyn’s answering smile was hesitant, and she
moved away from the window to pick up the mask on the dressing
table.

“I was rather put out with Riordan for making
me lead the spring rites, but now, I think that he is back in my
good graces.” Telyn shrugged, pretending great interest in the
mask. “However, he’s all but engineered a woods marriage between
us. Perhaps I should still be angry at him.” Her tone was playful,
and Mithrais replied in kind as he deposited his own mask and the
ivy crown upon the table,

“I must admit that I’m concerned about the
requirements of this rite. At home it would be a matter of gravest
ceremony, but here, I suspect things are a bit
more...enthusiastic.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to be
shamed in front of Riordan’s guests,” Telyn laughed, her fingers
toying with the ribbons of her mask and betraying her nervousness.
“All that is required is a kiss.”

Mithrais could feel the pull between them
like the moon and the tide, but he held his ground, letting Telyn
close the distance between them unhurriedly. They stood face to
face, not touching, and he saw the pulse in her throat fluttering
rapidly as she looked up at him, something akin to doubt in her
gold-flecked eyes.

“You’re certain that there were no
misunderstandings this morning?” she queried.

“With heartspeakers, the truth is always at
the surface, whether we intend it or not. I regret that I might
have given you reason to feel threatened.”

Telyn looked surprised. “No, it isn’t that at
all, Mithrais. I don’t know why I pulled away, and I don’t fear
you—I know you saw what I felt before.” That lovely blush was
rising in her cheeks again, and she turned away, embarrassed.

“I’ve found it difficult to think of anything
but you from the time we met, Telyn.” His confession caused her to
turn back to Mithrais, an expression of delighted wonder in those
tawny eyes. “But I’ve promised Lord Riordan that I will see you
safely to Cerisild.”

Her expression changed, and Mithrais knew he
had affronted her.

“I’m not defenseless, Mithrais.” Telyn
stalked away to stare moodily into the fire, the silk of the gown
swirling around her.

“I know. Last night, we could hear the swords
striking long before we could see you, and to have held off three
enemies as long as you did is no small feat.” Mithrais moved to
stand behind her. “You have the courage of a warrior, Telyn, but
what follows you now deals in torture and death, not combat.”

Telyn hugged herself. “I have heard rumors
about The Dragon. Everyone in Belthil has.”

“Believe them. I’ve seen his work.” Mithrais
put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to look at him. “He is very
close, Telyn, if he’s not already here. We’ll have to be very
careful until we reach Cerisild.”

“Do you really think that he won’t follow us
into the Wood?” Telyn’s face showed that it was less a question
than a mild accusation of folly.

“No. I expect that he will. However, I think
that once in the Wood, he will find more than he bargained for. I
can alert Aric and the Tauron that The Dragon may enter illegally.
They can come to our aid if need be.”

“A message would be too slow...” Telyn began
to argue, but stopped, confusion on her face as Mithrais held up
his hand, palm forward, with a meaningful look. She glanced at him
sharply as comprehension dawned.

“You mean heartspeaking?” She narrowed her
eyes. “You can speak to them from a distance?”

“Yes, in a manner.”

A thousand questions were written in Telyn’s
eyes, but the faraway sound of a horn somewhere in the keep made
her jump. “The feast! I had almost forgotten.”

“Are we late?”

“No, that was the first warning. Riordan
usually requires three before he arrives. We won’t be late.”

They simply looked at each other for a
moment. “I feel slightly foolish,” Telyn finally admitted, the
edges of her mouth lifting in an embarrassed grin. “I am a bard,
after all. I shouldn’t let myself be carried away by the rites of
springtime like a giddy, common wench, especially with a bounty
hunter at my heels.

“Come, let’s go to the great hall quickly, or
I may not be able to concentrate on my music at all. It would be
unfortunate if I caused a scene at the feast. Some of the guests
might not appreciate concluding the rites early and in public.”

Mithrais, after a moment of shock, laughed
heartily. “Lord Riordan told me that you once spelled an entire
room to sleep by mistake.”

“Oh, it was no mistake.” Telyn’s eyes
twinkled at him through the pearly fabric of the mask as she tied
the ribbons. “I was nine years old. It was far too beautiful an
afternoon to be cooped up indoors, and the lord and Emrys were
wasting time after dinner discussing politics, to my mind. Once
they were asleep, I went swimming!”

Mithrais donned the mask and crown of ivy,
and bowed formally. “May the Green Man escort the Maiden to the
great hall?”

“He may.” Telyn curtsied in response, and
linked her arm through his as they exited the chambers. As they
walked down the corridor, Telyn stared incredulously at the sight
of a costumed rooster and hen walking several paces before
them.

“Oh, my...” She glanced up at Mithrais, her
fingers tightening on his arm as she stifled her laughter. “I’m
suddenly relieved that we’re expected to lead the rites.”

Chapter
Six

The great hall was teeming with denizens of
the animal kingdom. Guests were costumed as creatures both common
and fantastic, in pairs and alone. Telyn couldn’t help but shake
her head in amusement, wondering what had possessed Riordan to
choose this particular theme.

The wooden rafters holding up the cavernous
roof were draped in banners and buntings, resembling nothing more
than the canopy of fantastically colored trees. Narrow windows at
the top of the walls let in fresh air and dispersed the torch
smoke. As she and Mithrais made their way toward the entrance,
Telyn saw that Riordan had beaten them downstairs after all,
despite his previous record of never arriving before the third
fanfare of trumpets.

The Lord of Rothvori was fittingly dressed as
a bear, an enormous furry headdress and mantle making him seem even
larger than he was. Riordan was greeting the line of guests at the
door of the great hall, the seneschal behind him surreptitiously
checking off a list of invitees. Riordan’s female companion, who
stood beside him as he greeted the guests, was a sweet-faced woman
of indeterminate age whom Telyn had not seen before. Her hood was
also in the likeness of a bear, although more delicate and in
reddish-brown shades that matched her hair.

Riordan caught Telyn’s eye and signaled to
her that she and Mithrais were to hold back and enter with him in
procession. Telyn acknowledged that she understood. She needed no
explanation for Riordan’s change of habit, and admitted that
although she thought he might be overly cautious, it was a prudent
move to greet his guests personally. One more uninvited guest in a
room full of masked people might not even be noticed. The thought
triggered a realization, and Telyn cursed under her breath,
remembering that the dagger still lay on the bed in her
chamber.

Mithrais heard her muttered oath. “What is
it?”

“I’m unarmed,” she whispered back.

“I will not leave your side. And look.”
Mithrais indicated the raised platform at the end of the hall with
a nod of his head, and Telyn saw that there was a liveried servant
at each end of the dais. “Lord Riordan has taken precautions. I
would wager that those men are from the garrison and not his usual
household staff.”

Telyn had to agree, as the men were more
muscular than the average servitor, wearing tabards emblazoned with
Riordan’s device which barely covered their chests, and were
obviously meant for much smaller individuals. The line of people
dwindled quickly, until at last Telyn and Mithrais were the only
ones remaining. Riordan beamed at Telyn with a mischievous wink,
sending Rand and the lady just inside the door to await him.

“I fear that I had already planned my little
jest before the messenger arrived,” Riordan said apologetically to
Telyn and Mithrais. “Under the circumstances, I would not expect
you to perform the rites in the fields. I can lead them
myself.”