Bard's Oath (33 page)

The little duchess bustled ahead of Maurynna, who followed, worry making a cold ball of ice in the pit of her stomach.

“My lady, what’s wrong with my cousin? Has Healer Tasha seen her yet?”

Beryl looked over her shoulder. “Healer Tasha stayed in Casna, Dragonlord. Duchess Alinya caught the lung sickness this past winter and has been doing poorly ever since, so we all deemed it best that Tasha stay with her. Since Rann’s doing so well these days—quite a normal little boy—we thought little of it. Perhaps you remember Quirel? He’s Tasha’s apprentice.”

“Yes—he’s the Simpler, isn’t he?”

“Just so. Tasha sent him with us so that we would not be quite unprepared. He’s been to see Kella and cannot for the life of him figure out what’s ailing her,” the duchess said over her shoulder.

“Hold for a moment,” Maurynna said, laying a hand on the duchess’s shoulder. “Please, tell me what you know. The message said she wasn’t ill or injured, but didn’t say what was amiss. Did something happen? What brought this on?”

Beryl stopped in the middle of the hall. She waved everyone away from them and looked up at Maurynna. “We don’t know,” she said. “We just don’t know.

“I apologize that you were not told sooner about this, Maurynna Kyrissaean, but truly, Beren and I only found out this morning ourselves! There’s so much coming and going because of the fair.…”

She drew herself up. “It would seem that something happened yesterday that upset Kella greatly. She won’t tell us what. She won’t even tell Rann what it is—and they tell each other everything.

“This is what little we’ve been able to discover: Sometime yesterday afternoon, Rann and Kella went their separate ways. Rann asked Bard Leet to go with him to get a song from Shima Ilyathan, something he’d heard him sing.”

Maurynna nodded. He’d been humming their first morning at the castle and Kella had asked what it was. “I remember. It was a lullaby he sang for all of us—Kella thought it was pretty.”

“So did Rann. He wants to learn it to play for Alinya, bless the boy, though the poor song will never be the same. Anyway, we found him in the garden asleep, with Shima Ilyathan and Bard Leet talking about the songs of His Grace’s land. There was a feast that required Rann’s presence, so his governess and I quickly hustled him off to get ready.”

The duchess sighed heavily. “I’m ashamed to say that none of us thought about Kella, Dragonlord. We all assumed that she would do what she usually does when Rann attends a court function: borrow Rann’s harp and practice in her room. I don’t know if you know this, Dragonlord, but Bard Daera—who teaches the children—says that Kella has real talent and should be tested at the Bards’ School in Bylith.”

“Her sister Maylin wrote and told me that.”
Oh, Maylin—why aren’t you here? You’d get to the bottom of this in no time!
Without thinking, she started walking again.

Beryl hastened to her side and went on, “One of the servants brought Kella’s supper to her last night.” Her mouth was set in a grim line that did not bode well for someone. “He didn’t think it worth mentioning to anyone that she was abed when he brought it in. We didn’t find out until this morning when the maid who brought her breakfast found her shivering under her blankets.
She,
thank the gods, had the sense to run for Quirel and Rann’s governess, Lady Ralene. Ralene sent for me. And I sent for you.”

They reached Kella’s room just as Quirel came out, quietly shutting the door behind him. He saw them and bowed.

“What’s wrong with my cousin?” Maurynna asked bluntly. “Is she ill?”

“No, my lady—at least with no illness I’ve ever seen or studied. Nor is there any injury to her aside from a bruise on her cheek as if she fell.” He frowned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’d had some violent shock. Yet nothing untoward has happened that anyone has heard of. I must own myself baffled, Dragonlord. I wish Healer Tasha were here. She might make some sense of all this.”

Maurynna considered his words, then said, “Is she well enough to see me?”

“I would say so. It might do her some good.”

Maurynna went into Kella’s room, leaving Beryl and Quirel to quietly continue the discussion. Just before she shut the door behind her, she heard Quirel ask, “Is there any way she could be sent back to Casna? I would feel better if Tasha could see her.”

And she would be back with her family,
thought Maurynna. It was something to consider.

One of Duchess Beryl’s ladies sat by Kella’s bed, knitting a new heel into a stocking. At Maurynna’s gesture, she carefully tucked her knitting into a small basket, whispering, “I hope you’re well soon, Kella.” She made a courtesy to Maurynna and slipped out of the room.

“Sweetling,” Maurynna said softly. “Kella—are you awake?”

A small head appeared from beneath the embroidered linen sheet. Maurynna flinched as she got a good look at her little cousin.

Dark circles under eyes heavy with exhaustion, skin pale and ashen; whatever was wrong, it had taken a toll on the child. Even her hair hung lank and lifeless about her face.

Struggling to hide her fear, Maurynna asked, “Kella, what on earth is the matter? Are you ill?”

A small shake of the head was her only answer.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

Another shake of the head.

“Then how did you get that bruise on your cheek?”

Once again, Kella shook her head.

“Did someone else hurt you?”

A moment of hesitation; Maurynna thought she had her answer and was silently vowing to hunt down whoever had harmed her youngest cousin when Kella whispered, “No. No one hurt me.”

Maurynna sat down on the bed and took Kella’s hand. “Beryl told me you haven’t eaten. Would you like—”

“No.”

Indeed, Kella looked as if the mere thought of food would make her vomit.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Kella’s shoulders shook and, if possible, she paled even more. “No.”

Though her fear urged Maurynna to grab Kella by the shoulders and demand an answer, she made herself say calmly, “Do you want to see Rann? I’m sure he’s worried about you. We all are.”

Kella went very still. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I would like to see Rann, please.”

The prince was summoned. When he arrived, Maurynna led him in. Kella sat bolt upright.

“Just Rann,” she said. “Only Rann.”

Maurynna opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when she saw the feverish light in Kella’s eyes. Whatever this was about, the last thing Kella needed was to spend what little strength she had in tearful argument. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but Maurynna made herself leave. She would ask Rann about it when he came out.

Which turned out to be a remarkably short time later. He looked shaken; clearly the change in his friend had frightened him. He also looked puzzled.

Beryl pounced upon him. “Did Kella tell you what was wrong?”

“No, Aunt Beryl. She didn’t.”

Is that because you already know? I wonder.
She dismissed the thought. Rann wouldn’t look so puzzled if he knew—he’d look guilty. Maylin had once told her he couldn’t hide anything from his aunt. She’d said the boy was utterly convinced his aunt could sniff out any wrongdoing of his from the other side of the castle.

“Very useful, that,” Maylin had said, laughing. “Of course she can’t, but as long as he
thinks
she can, anytime he’s done something wrong, she finds him out in an instant because he looks guilty as sin.”

But Rann didn’t look guilty. He just looked as baffled as the rest of them felt.

Then the young prince turned to her. “She did say, Maurynna Kyrissaean, that she wanted to go home. Now.”

The duchess frowned. “There’s no one returning to Casna that we could send her with. I suppose I could ask Beren—”

“No need,” Maurynna said, thinking quickly. “I can take her. I’ll need some blankets—and tokens for the royal messengers so that Maylin can send me letters.”

While she waited for the things she’d requested, she mindcalled Linden.

What in the name of the gods is going on?
he asked worriedly.
I remember you getting up early and telling me to go back to sleep. The next thing I know is that something’s amiss with Kella and that you’d gone to the castle. But no one can tell me anything, for they’ve no idea themselves. I didn’t mindcall you, because I didn’t want to risk interrupting something important. Maurynna-love, is the Kitten ill?

Not that Quirel can discover. But he doesn’t know what
is
wrong with her. He was wishing that Tasha could see Kella. He’s about to get that wish—Kella wants to go back to Casna. Now. I’m going to fly her home.

With that, Maurynna broke the mindlink. She went back into Kella’s room. “Kella, if you really want to go home, I can take you. But are you certain you really want to go?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, YES!”

*   *   *

“Look! Look up! Look up!”

Raven heard the cry and like Yarrow, and Lord Ashton, who’d come to look at the horses, and everyone else in the camp, looked up into the blue, cloudless sky. To his surprise, a dragon flew overhead. Its scales glittered peacock blue-and-green in the sunlight. It also seemed to be carrying something cradled in its front legs.

It took a moment for it to sink in, then he sputtered, “That’s Maurynna! But where’s she going?”
Not to Dragonskeep—she’s flying south. And what’s that in her arms? I could almost swear it looked like a person all bundled up—a child, even.

Lord Ashton hissed in anger. “Young man—that’s ‘Maurynna Kyrissaean’ to you! That or ‘Dragonlord’!”

Raven turned to him. “My lord, I grew up with Maurynna Kyrissaean in Thalnia. We were best friends. We are
still
friends.”

He spoke more sharply than he’d meant to; but he’d seen Maurynna in dragon form enough times now to read the tenseness in every line of her body. “My apologies, my lord, for speaking so sharply. But something’s amiss—I just know it. I think that was a person she was carrying.”

He shaded his eyes and looked after her as she rapidly dwindled from sight. “She’s flying hard,” he muttered to himself. “What’s to the south?”
And if that was a child, who
 …

Casna. Casna was to the south. A sharp whistle called Stormwind to him. He leapt up onto the broad, bare back. “Aunt Yarrow, would you mind if I go find Linden or Shima and ask them what’s wrong? I think that was a person she was carrying and I’ve a bad feeling I might know him or her.” He added the Yerrin word for “child” and hoped Lord Ashton wouldn’t understand it.

If he was right, it was one of two children: Kella or Prince Rann. If it was the prince and he was taken ill, it might well cause a panic and break up the fair early—at the least. Yarrow would need to know. If it was Kella … damn, there was nothing he could do but find a temple of the Mother in Balyaranna town and leave some coins for prayers for the little girl.

“Go then,” Yarrow said. “Set your mind at ease.”

He rode off. But he could find neither Dragonlord, though he searched until late in the day. Discouraged, he rode into Balyaranna proper and finally found his way to the temple of the Mother.

Whoever it was, this was the least—and all—he could do.

Thirty-three

Lord Lenslee pushed aside the
door flap of the tavern tent and looked around in distaste. The noise was deafening, a raucous mix of babbling voices, bawdy songs, and curses, all spiced with squeals and giggles. Worse yet, the air was thick with heat and the stale smells of sweat and sour ale and roasted meat.

It was, in Therinn’s opinion, a sty. Why in the name of all the gods Garron’s was the current favorite of the younger nobles, he could not fathom. Well and well, it didn’t matter; he wasn’t here for pleasure. Where was—?

Therinn sighed. He should have known he’d find Tirael with a girl. This one, though, didn’t seem to be falling under his handsome cousin’s spell. Indeed, she was trying to push him away, her eyes flashing angrily. The Kelnethi lord pursed his lips in sardonic amusement; how refreshing.

Therinn elbowed his way through the crowd and tapped Tirael on the shoulder. “A word with you, cousin.”

Tirael kept one arm around the serving girl’s waist as he turned to see who wanted him. “What is it?” he said sullenly. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Not as busy as you’re going to be,” Therinn said too sweetly.

Taking advantage of her captor’s distraction, the girl stamped on Tirael’s foot. He stumbled back, letting go of her in his surprise. She eeled off into the crowd that hooted with laughter at her erstwhile tormentor’s discomfort.

Good for her,
Therinn thought. He grabbed Tirael’s arm before the other man could go after her. “Let her go. I’ve something important to discuss with you. Outside, where the air’s fit to breathe.” When his cousin balked, Therinn growled,
“Now.”

His face flushed with wine and pouting like a child, Tirael obeyed with no good grace. Therinn shook his head as he pushed back through the crowd. His parents had much to answer for in their raising of this spoiled puppy. How Tirael managed to charm almost everyone else was beyond him.

A pity his old tutor’s eyes began to fail and he entered the temple of Rhoslin as one of their scholars. Luyens was the only person who could influence Tir for the better.

When they were finally outside, Therinn took a deep breath of the night air, grateful for its fresh sweetness, dusty as it was. He took the torch from the groom’s hand and pulled Tirael well away from both tent and retainers.

“Are you sober enough to be worth talking to?” Therinn snapped.

“I’m not near as drunk as you think or as I want to be,” Tirael retorted, wincing in the torchlight. He glared at his cousin. “What the hell do you want?”

“Keep a civil tongue in your head, or have you forgotten all you owe me, dear cousin?” Therinn said in a voice edged with steel.

Tirael dropped his gaze, mumbling something that Therinn didn’t give a fig for. He had more important things to worry about.