The Singing (15 page)

"A good choice, my lord," said Emil, as he placed the jug and some goblets on their table. "But of course you would be familiar with the wines of that region. Alas, for the moment our stocks are limited, and it looks unlikely that we will have more in the near future."

"Alas, indeed," said Saliman. "But that is not the least of our sorrows."

"You're not wrong there," said Emil soberly. "And it seems new troubles follow hard on the heels of the last."

"But while we can drink such wines, all is not lost," said Saliman, pouring out the wine. "You will have some yourself?"

"I thank you, but it is early yet and I must attend to the kitchen," said Emil. "Else you might have cause for complaint, which would grieve me deeply." He departed smartly, and Saliman lifted his goblet.

"I drink to the Light!" he said. "May it bless us all!"

Hem was not the only one taken aback by the unexpected seriousness of Saliman's toast, but he sipped obediently. Karim, he noticed, adopted an expression of extreme gravity, and sipped as if he were drinking from a sacred chalice. Hem wondered if he ever behaved like a normal human being; divested of the glamour of their roles, Marich and Hekibel seemed quite ordinary, jesting together in the afterglow of their performances, but Karim still seemed to be onstage. Perhaps, thought Hem, he was performing for Saliman; certainly his manner had changed since he had realized that Saliman was a Bard and not merely a ragged traveler.

They spoke for a time about the performance, until Irc became impatient and demanded food. Emil politely brought a small bowl of raw minced goat meat over to their table, which Irc gobbled down. The players amused themselves by feeding Irc by hand, and he played up to their laughter, bobbing up and down on the table like a clown. At last Irc was stuffed full, and perched himself sleepily on Hem's shoulder, crooning with pleasure as Hem stroked his neck.

Saliman then began to ask questions about the troupe's plans. They were leaving, as Hekibel had said, the following morning, as early as possible.

"I fear being caught in a war that does not concern us," said Karim, frowning. "We hope that farther north we will find some safer havens."

"I don't blame you for not wanting to be caught in a siege," Saliman answered. "Myself, I've had my lifetime's worth of sieges already. But I fear that you are misled if you think you will find anywhere in Annar that is at peace. Sadly, this war concerns everyone, whether they will or no."

"Aye, but all the same, I would have nothing to do with it." Karim's bottom lip was pushed out aggressively, as if he felt that Saliman was recruiting him into battle.

"Saliman was not saying that we should stay and fight," said Hekibel, laughing. "Merely that we will be lucky if we can avoid being affected by this war."

"Indeed," said Saliman. "Hem and I are thinking that we must leave tomorrow as well. Like you, we have no wish to be trapped in Til Amon, and we wish to travel north through Annar." Hem glanced across at Saliman, a little bud of excitement blossoming in his chest, and Saliman dropped him a sly wink. "What say we travel together for a time? Hem and I wish to travel as unseen as possible, and it seems to us that we could pass as members of your troupe. For our part, we could offer protection. We have arts of concealment and combat that could keep you safer than if you traveled alone."

Marich looked up, his face alight. "Karim, that's an excellent idea!" he said. "I confess, I am very worried about being attacked. The talk here is of civil war in Annar—bands of brigands or rogue soldiers are roaming the countryside, robbing and killing at will. It has almost made me think we might be safer here! But a Bard can stop a bunch of thieves with a wave of his hand!"

Saliman smiled. "Not quite. Though it's true we have ways of defending ourselves that can be very useful in a pinch."

"There's no extra room in the caravan," said Hekibel. "We're a tight fit as it is."

"As far as sleeping arrangements, Hem and I know how to make shift for ourselves," said Saliman. "And of course we would bring our own supplies, although I'd be very grateful if we could store them in the caravan. Well, Karim, what you do think?"

Karim drew his brows together in an attitude of deep contemplation. The others watched him breathlessly. "But," he said at last, "can you
act?"

"Hem has no skills in that area," said Saliman, deadpan. "I spent some time with players in Turbansk, and have performed in some few works."

"Another actor would be very useful," said Karim. "And a boy—even if he can't speak—well, he can be a messenger, a herald, things like that. Those parts are a constant trouble for us. Yes, yes, I can see it working ..."

Hem looked at Hekibel, his face alive with excitement.

"Perhaps," she said, smiling at his transparent joy, "we could even find a part for Irc!"

The conversation turned to practicalities—what Hem and Saliman should bring, where they should meet, what time they should leave, their direction. Then, although Saliman invited them to stay for a meal, the players took their leave, explaining they had a prior arrangement to dine.

"I'd be grateful for your discretion," said Saliman, as the players stood to go. "These are difficult times, and the fewer people who know my plans, the happier I shall be."

"Your secrets are safe with us," said Karim, making a deep bow. "We shall be as silent as stone."

"It would be better so for all of us," said Saliman. There was a significance in his tone which made Hem glance at him, and Karim nodded gravely.

Hem watched them leave, and then turned to Saliman. "I didn't know that you would do that!" he said.

"Neither did I, Hem. But why not let our paths run together for a time? Your mad idea is not as mad as it sounds. I worry a little about loose tongues—I do not know these people—but it might be easier to travel unseen with players than on our own."

"I trust them," said Hem. "Well, I trust Hekibel, anyway. And it would make a change."

"It certainly would," Saliman said, grinning. "Well, you may get your wish, Hem, and be a player, after all."

Shortly afterward, Soron entered, his face lighting up as he spotted Hem and Saliman at the far end of the room. The tavern was now getting quite crowded, and he wove his way across the room, sat down wearily, poured himself some wine, and took an appreciative sip. "Ah, from the vines of the Jiela Hills, surely?" he said. "This is a good vintage: I haven't tasted this for too long. Well, I have kept my part of the bargain, Saliman, and now it's your turn."

"Onion soup it is," said Saliman, smiling. "Hem, what about you?"

"I wouldn't dare order anything else," said Hem. "Anyway, I'm very hungry."

"That's settled, then," said Soron, and waved Emil over, ordering another jug of wine as well as their meals. The soup was every bit as good as Soron had promised; it was fragrant and thick, topped with a layer of delicious melted cheese, and Hem ate slowly for once, savoring its delicate flavors. Soron ate his almost with reverence. "A masterpiece!" he said, wiping his mouth. "And a fit way to bless our parting, for I guess that our ways will now diverge. Am I right in thinking you'll be leaving tomorrow? There is not a lot of time."

"Yes," said Saliman. "Early in the morning."

"Aye. I can't say I'm not sorry to lose your company, Saliman. And we could do with your help here. I do not deceive myself that we're in for a hard battle."

"I believe so. Nadal is correct, I think—I hope—to believe that Til Amon can hold out against the Black Army; but we have both seen what he is up against, and he has not."

Soron gazed down at the table. "I should not like to see Til Amon sacked, as Turbansk was," he said soberly. "And I fear it, Saliman, I fear it very much. So much light and beauty and love in peril, in so many places. And you two not least; I am loath to see you go, although I know you must leave, and that none of us are safe anywhere while the world turns as it does."

Saliman did not speak, but clasped Soron's hand. Soron looked up, and Hem was startled to see tears brimming in his eyes. Hem sat silently, not knowing what to say, unable to think of anything that would comfort Soron or himself.

"Ah," Soron said impatiently, wiping his eyes. "This is not the time for tears."

"If this is not the time for tears, I know not what is," said Saliman, smiling crookedly. "I will miss you, my friend."

"And I you. I swear, when all this is over, we will share a jug of wine together."

"I hold that thought. We will find each other again, Soron."

Shortly afterward, they made their way back to the Bardhouse through the streets of Til Amon. It was a dark night: the sky was clouding over, and the wind had a smell of rain. None of them spoke, and Hem thought their footsteps echoing back from the walls was the saddest sound he had ever heard. When they reached the door of the Bardhouse, Irc jumped onto Soron's forearm. He had never done that before, and Hem looked at him in surprise; Irc's idea of the future was a little hard to gauge, and Hem wasn't sure if Irc understood that they would be leaving Soron behind when they left Til Amon.

Irc rubbed his head against Soron's chest.
I miss you,
he said.

I'll miss you too, you rogue,
said Soron fondly.
I count on you to look after Hem. And I'll see you again.

Irc gently pecked Soron's nose.
He would be lost if I did not. I will care for him well.

Hem did not weep when he farewelled Soron. He held him close for a long time, wishing he had the words for what he felt. But when he lay in the dark privacy of his chamber, he cried for a long time.

Saliman woke him well before light the following morning. Hem was already packed, and simply had to drag on his clothes. He called Irc and stood a moment in the door of his chamber, looking back: how long would it be before he slept in a bed again?

"I haven't thanked Nadal, or said good-bye," he said, as he and Saliman made their way downstairs. Saliman had a package slung on his back, which turned out to be a silk tent big enough to sleep two people. It was cunningly waterproofed, very light to carry, easy to put up, and should keep in a surprising amount of heat.

"I made your courtesies for you last night," said Saliman, as they went downstairs. "I have been busy." They stopped at the Bardhouse kitchen, where a Bard Hem didn't know was poking the fire, scratching sleep-ruffled hair; he greeted Saliman cordially and gave them some food supplies. Saliman hefted the heaviest pack, and gave the other to Hem; then they waved farewell and went out into the empty streets, where white Bard lamps threw a pale light over the stone flags. Hem told Irc to fly, because he was too heavy to carry with everything else, and he flapped slowly behind them.

The caravan was camped near the outer wall of Til Amon, and it took a while to walk there. Their supplies seemed very heavy to Hem by the time they arrived, and he was glad to put them down. The dog barked wildly, shattering the dawn silence, but quieted at once at Saliman's word and started sniffing eagerly at his feet. Irc made superior squawking noises from the safety of Hem's shoulder, where he had landed the instant Hem had put down his heavy pack.

Karim, Marich, and Hekibel were already preparing the horses, two mares called Usha and Minna, and greeted them cheerfully. Hem began to perk up, feeling the gloom lift from his breast: his boyish love of adventure was beginning to assert itself. Under Hekibel's instructions, Saliman stowed their food supplies in the caravan, and then waited until the players were ready to move. It didn't take long; they were clearly well practiced at their routine. There was enough space at the front for two people to sit with whoever was driving, while the others either sat inside or walked, and Hekibel, who was taking the reins, suggested Hem sit with her.

"Perhaps I could learn how to drive the horses?" said Hem eagerly, as he took his place beside her.

"Perhaps you could," said Hekibel. "Have you driven a caravan before?"

"No," said Hem. "The Pilanel wouldn't let me, when I last traveled this way. But I'd like to try."

Hekibel flicked the reins, and the horses started into a shambling trot, with the dog running alongside. The caravan creaked beneath them and began to move, its wheels very loud on the road. The gates were not far, and they passed through them quickly, lifting a hand to the weary-eyed soldiers now at the end of their night watch who had opened them to let the caravan through.

"This is more fun than walking!" Hem said.

"Well," said Hekibel. "You get a view. But we've got a way to go yet. See how you feel at the end of the day!"

The eastern sky was now beginning to lighten, revealing a green landscape shrouded by mist and low clouds. They journeyed northward through the Fesse of Til Amon, undulating country dotted by small woods and prosperous farms. These were mostly deserted now, their inhabitants taking refuge in the School, but this early in the morning they all looked very peaceful. A light rain began to fall, and the horses snorted and flicked their tails and pushed on. The caravan rumbled along the road, swaying slightly. Hem watched the colors of the landscape deepen and fill as the sun rose, and his heart lifted with joy.

THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

Down
came the hail, a frosty flail,

Down fell the icy rain. The torches flared with desperate light And savage lightning stabbed the night

Which screamed like a soul in pain.

His black brow bound with clouds around

The Landrost raised his hand: "Be they so fair and strong and tall, I'll crush these walls and golden halls And I will rule this land!"

Their hearts aflame, defenders came With staff and sword and bow And bravely on the walls arrayed, Where Innail's maid stood unafraid Before her stormy foe.

"Not all your might gives you the right

In our fair streets to tread, And you'Il not take this fearless town For Til cast down your iron crown Or die," the lady said.