Magic's Promise (35 page)

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Authors: Mercedes Lackey

Tags: #Fantasy, #Epic, #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy - General, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Magic, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Fantasy fiction

BOOK: Magic's Promise
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He'd intended to try and think out some of his other problems, but it had been a full day since he'd last slept, and the walking he'd done had tired him out more than he realized. He started to try and pick over his automatic reactions to Bel's

girls

; had he led them on, without intending to? Had he
been flirting
with them, knowing deep down that he was going to turn them down and enjoying the hold his good looks gave over them? It was getting so that
nothing
was simple anymore.

But before he could do more than worry around the edges of things, his exhaustion caught up with him.

He slept.

 

Ten


Boy?

The harsh whisper in the dark startled him out of unrestful sleep; it jerked him into full awareness, dry-mouthed, heart pounding.


Boy, be ye awake?


Yes,

Valdir replied.
I am now, anyway.

Hot, onion-laden breath near his elbow.

Lissen boy, ye needs warnin'. The reason this place don' prosper. Bel drinks up th' profit.

Valdir calmed his heart, nodded to himself. That explained a lot.

I'd wondered,

he whispered back.


She be at the keg in 'er room right now. Come mornin' she'll be up wi' a temper like a spring bear. She won't go hittin' on th' girls, not them as makes her profit - but me an' Tay an' Ri be fair game. An' now you. Ye take my meanin'?


I think so.


Don' doubt me. An' don' go thinkin' ye got anywhere's else. Ev'ry inn on th' Row's got its singster or dancer. Bel's the only one did wi'out. That be 'cause she don't care for ye singsters, an' no dancin' girl'l stay where the profits be so lean. How long ye plan on stayin'?

Valdir was profoundly grateful that he was
not
locked into this life.

I hadn't thought I'd be here long. I really sort of thought I'd look for a place at the Great Houses or the Palace,

he began timidly.

I used to be with a House. They mostly keep at least one minstrel, and I figure the Palace must use -

The old man choked with laughter, and then broke into a fit of terrible coughing. Valdir acted as would be expected.

I'm not that bad!

he sputtered indignantly.

I'm just - out of luck, lately.

The old man convulsed again.

Outa more'n luck.
First off,
there ain't no Great Houses in the city. They all be outside the walls. Second, the Remoerdis Family's dead. Ain't nobody in th' Palace but ghosts.

Valdir gasped, and let the old gaffer tell the tale as he pleased. It was amazingly consistent with what Lores had told him, save only that the Herald who'd carried off Tashir had been seven feet tall, cut down a dozen guards, and rode away on a fanged white demon,

- an' third thing -

the rheumy voice continued,

- they wouldn't have anyone next or nigh the palace as
wasn't
blood kin; even the servants be blood kin on the backside. So even if they'd been alive an' ye'd been t' see, they'd not 'ave took ye.


Why?

Valdir asked, bewildered.

That doesn't make any sense! What does being blood relation have to do with serving - or talent?

The old man coughed again.

Damn if I know. Been that way f'rever. Anyway, I'm tellin' ye, if ye wanta keep that purty face purty, save yer coppers an' get outa here soon as ye can; afore the snow flies be best. Otherwise ol' Bel likely to start seein' how far she can push ye. I've warned ye, now I'm goin' t' sleep.

And not another word could Valdir get out of him.

He found out how right the warning was the next day, when Bel stumbled down the stairs, red-eyed and touchy, smelling like a brewery. She started in on the two kitchen girls, looking for excuses to punish one of them. She found plenty; the girls sported a black eye each before she was through with them.

Valdir managed to stay out of her way long enough to get his pack and bed stowed safely and his lute placed beside the door. But then - then he got an unexpected and altogether unpleasant shock. Bel tried - him. First flirting, then, when that brought no result, threatening.

She disgusted and frightened him, and he knew he dared not retaliate in
any
way. Instead he had to stand and take her pawing, while his skin crawled and his stomach churned, trying
not
to show anything except his very real and growing fear of her. She finally convinced herself that she wasn't going to get any pleasure out of him in
that
way, so she chose another.

In the end he escaped with no worse than a darkening bruise on his cheekbone where she'd backhanded him into a wall - without his promised breakfast or lunch, and not willing to endure either more of her clumsy caresses
or
her brutality to get it. He flew out the door as soon as she unlocked it, resolving not to return until nightfall and the time appointed for him to perform. He paused long enough in his flight to snatch up his lute; he would not leave the means of his livelihood unguarded, and anyway, there might be the chance of making a few coins on the street as he had last night. Enough, maybe, to feed him.

Herald Vanyel would not have tolerated that treatment, but Herald Vanyel was far, far away. There was only poor, timid Valdir, fallen indeed on bad luck, scrawny, fearful, and no little desperate.

Gods help her people. If I was what I'm pretending to be, I think I'd go hunting a sharp knife, and I'm not sure if I'd use it on her first, or myself...


Thought you might end up here,

drawled a strange, well-trained voice, as he bolted out the door and into the street. He turned, blinking in the bright sunlight. Lounging against a wall across the street was the grizzled minstrel who'd been playing the gittern in one of the other taverns the night before. He was dressed in dull colors that blended with the wall; he'd taken up a post right opposite The Green Man. He looked bored and lazy; as Valdir watched him suspiciously, he pushed away from the wall and walked slowly toward him across the cobblestones. In the light of day he was clearly much older than Valdir; hair thinning and mostly gray, square face beginning to wrinkle and line. But as he approached Valdir, it was also plain that he had kept his body in relatively good shape; beneath the loose, homespun shirt, leather tunic and breeches, he had only the tiniest sign of a paunch, and the rest of him looked wiry and strong enough to survive just about any tavern brawl.

To someone like Valdir, this stranger meant danger of another sort. The man could be looking to eliminate a rival, or intending to bully him - or worse.

Talk about luck being out. Have I leaped out of the pan into the fire?

Valdir backed up a pace, letting his uncertainty show on his face.

A tired horse pulled a slops-wagon down the center of the street, and the stranger stepped deliberately toward him once it had passed.


Ah, ease up, boy, I'm not about to pummel you,

the minstrel said, a faint hint of disgust twisting his lips. Valdir continued to step back, until the minstrel had him trapped in a corner where a fence met the inn wall. Valdir froze, his hands pressed against the unsanded wood behind him, and the minstrel reached for his face, grabbing his chin in a hand rough with chording-calluses. He turned Valdir's cheek into the light, and examined the slowly purpling bruise.


Got you a good one, did she?

He touched the edge of the bruise without hurting his captive.

Huhn. Not as bad as it could be.

The minstrel let him go and backed up a few steps. Valdir huddled where he was, watching him fearfully. The stranger scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Heard you last night when I went on break. You aren't bad.


Thank you,

Valdir replied timidly.


You're also going to get your hands broken if you stay with Bel for very long,

the other continued.

That's what she did to the one before the one that ran off with her girl.

Valdir did not reply.


Well? Aren't you going to say anything?


Why are you telling me all this?

Valdir asked, letting his suspicion show. He stood up a little straighter, and rubbed his sweaty palms on his patched and faded linen tunic in a conscious echoing of an unconscious gesture of nervousness.


Because the one before the one that ran off with her girl was a good lad,

the older man said, impatience getting the better of him.

He was pretty, like you, and he was fey, like I bet you are, and I don't want it happening to another one. All right?

He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

Don't turn away a possible ally!


Wait!

Valdir cried after him.

Please, I - I didn't mean -

A bit of breeze blew dry leaves up the street. The minstrel halted, turned slowly. Valdir walked toward him, holding out his hand.

I'm Valdir,

he said shyly.

I've been - north. Baires.

The other showed his surprise with a hissing intake of breath.

I made a bit of a mistake, and I had to make a run for it.

He looked down at his feet, then back up again.

It hasn't been easy; not while I was there, and not getting across the border to here. They got me out of the habit of looking for friends up there, and into the habit of looking for enemies.


Renfry,

said the older minstrel, clasping his hand, with a slow smile that showed a good set of even, white teeth.

Not many real musicians on the Row. I s'ppose I should be treating you as a rival - but - hell, a man gets tired of hearing and singing the same damn things over and over. Bel had Jonny for a long while before she ruined him, and he trained here.


What happened to him? After, I mean.


We clubbed together and sent him off to a Healer the very next day, ended up having to send him across the Border. Uppity palace Healer didn't want to 'waste his time on tavern scum.' Never heard anything after that.

He shrugged.

If the poor lad ended up not being able to play again, I don't imagine he'd want anyone to know.

Valdir shuddered; genuinely.


Ol' Bel don't believe in letting the help sample the goods. She got drunk and thought Jonny had his eye on one of the girls.

He snorted in contempt.

Not bloody likely.


She must have slipped up once -

Valdir ventured.

I mean - the one that romanced her girl, like you said.

Renfry laughed, and started up the dusty, near-empty street with Valdir following. The thin autumn sunlight stretched their shadows out ahead of them.

She did, because she was bedding the fellow herself. She never figured him for having the stamina to be double-dipping!

Truth to tell, I hope he was good in bed, because he surely had a voice like a crow in mating season, and maybe four whole chords to his name.

Valdir thought about the way Bel had tried to come on to
him,
and could actually feel a shred of sympathy for the unknown minstrel.

Were you waiting out here for
me?”
Valdir asked, as they approached the closed door of The Pig and Stick, the tavern Renfry had been playing in last night.

Renfry nodded, holding the door to

his

inn open.


Why?


To warn you, like I said. Let you know you'd better make tracks.

Valdir shook his head, and his hair fell over one eye.

I can't. I - I haven't got a choice,

he confessed sadly.

I haven't anywhere else to go.

Renfry paused in surprise, half in, half out of the doorway.
“That
lean in the pocket?

he asked.

Lad, you aren't
that
bad. You're a good enough musician, for true. Unless you
really
made more than just a mistake.

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