The Harp of Imach Thyssel: A Lyra Novel (11 page)

“If Flindaran does not, I will be more than pleased to answer your questions,” Emereck said.

“Of course we will,” Flindaran said, throwing Emereck a surprised glance. “Later. Come on, Emereck.”

They made their farewells and left. When Liana was out of earshot, Flindaran sighed and shook his head. “She really is my favorite sister, even if she’s only half my sister. I wish I knew why I get along so well with her and so poorly with Kiannar.”

“Why should you?” Emereck said, remembering the dark-haired warrior. “They’re not much alike.”

Flindaran looked at him. “They’re twins. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Oh. No. You didn’t.” Emereck fell silent. Flindaran did not seem inclined to continue the conversation, and they walked without speaking until they reached the study door.

L
ORD
D
INDRAN HIMSELF ANSWERED
Flindaran’s knock. If the Duke of Minathlan was surprised by the sudden arrival of his youngest son, unannounced and two weeks earlier than expected, he gave no sign. He greeted Flindaran and acknowledged his introduction of Emereck with unruffled calm. Even Flindaran’s request for a conference brought only a raised eyebrow and a nod of dismissal to the steward.

Emereck studied him as the steward left. The Duke of Minathlan was tall, lean, and gray-haired. His eyes were as dark and bright as a hawk’s, and as unreadable. He was dressed with severe, almost ascetic, simplicity. Emereck found it difficult to reconcile this man with the mental picture of the Duke that he had formed from Flindaran’s conversation.

Lord Dindran seated himself and motioned for them to do likewise. He studied Flindaran briefly and said, “I see it has become the fashion in Ciaron to cover oneself with dust before presenting oneself in company. You will forgive me if I am old-fashioned enough to prefer the antique mode of behavior.”

Flindaran flushed. “I beg your pardon, sir. We came straight here as soon as we arrived.”

“So I observe. To what do I owe this… gratifying display of haste?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I am all attention,” the Duke said politely.

Flindaran took a deep breath and plunged into the tale of their journey. Lord Dindran listened without comment, his expression unreadable. When Flindaran finished, the Duke inclined his head. “I am compelled to confess that for once you have surprised me, Flindaran.”

“It was not my intention, sir.”

“Nonetheless, you have succeeded admirably. I make you my apologies; you were indeed justified in coming directly here.”

“Thank you.”

The Duke nodded in acknowledgment, then looked at Emereck. “And I commend your discretion, minstrel.”

“I fear I do not understand you, my lord,” Emereck replied.

“It appears from my son’s narrative that the Harp of Imach Thyssel has not yet been played. Knowing him, I infer that yours was the restraining hand. Consequently, I applaud your prudence.”

“My lord is too kind.”

A gleam of amusement crossed Lord Dindran’s face, so swiftly that Emereck wondered whether he had imagined it. Then the Duke leaned back and said, “Just so. Now tell me, what are your plans for this impressive instrument?”

“My intention is to bear it to the Guildhall in Ciaron without delay, my lord,” Emereck said firmly. Somehow, Lord Dindran’s presence made him more uneasily aware than ever that he had neither the experience nor the knowledge to deal with the harp alone.

“I regret that such a journey is not now possible.” The Duke sounded only mildly apologetic.

Emereck stiffened. Flindaran frowned and said, “Why not, sir? From my experience with you, I expect you have some reason.”

“You are correct. Your little encounter with the Syaski is only one of many that have occurred recently. Though I appreciate your desire to turn this harp over to the Masters of your Guild, I cannot look with pleasure on the possibility of Syaskor obtaining it.”

“Sir, the men we met were Lithmern, not Syaski,” Flindaran said.

“That is one of the things that makes your tale so fascinating.”

“Then you think the Syaski are involved as well?” Flindaran leaned forward eagerly. “That they’re getting ready for something?”

“There are indications of it.”

“Sir, if—”

“I do not believe I have indicated a wish to begin a discussion of the Syaski before I have finished my discussion of this harp of yours.”

“Again I beg your pardon, sir,” Flindaran said, clenching his teeth.

“Quite so.” The Duke studied him. “If you are determined to discuss Syaskor with someone, I suggest you seek your brother Gendron. He returned from Syaskor barely two days ago. No doubt he will be willing to indulge your curiosity.”

Flindaran bit his lip and nodded. Lord Dindran smiled sweetly at his son, then turned to Emereck as though nothing had happened. “You see why I must advise against your immediate departure.”

Emereck hesitated. “I share your concern about Syaskor, my lord. But I do not like waiting here with no sure course before me. If the western way is barred, perhaps I may go north into Alkyra, or south to Kith Alunel.”

“I am afraid the northern roads will be washed out at this time of year,” Lord Dindran said apologetically. “And I doubt that Kith Alunel is a better choice than Syaskor at the moment.”

“Why do you say that, my lord? The Guildhall there has a good reputation.”

“Unfortunately, the Guildhall in Kith Alunel is temporarily empty. A week ago King Birn banned all minstrels from the city.”

“
What
?” Emereck could not suppress the shocked exclamation. Beside him, Flindaran stared at his father in surprise.

The Duke smiled. “Some trifling disagreement regarding a satiric verse, I believe.”

“A week ago, sir?” Flindaran eyed his father with respectful skepticism. “Kith Alunel is two weeks’ ride from here, at least.”

“How perceptive of you to realize that,” the Duke said in a gentle tone that sent chills down Emereck’s back. “I do not, however, choose to enlighten you as to the source of my information. You will have to take my word that minstrels have indeed been banned from the city.”

“Of course, my lord,” Emereck said hastily. “In fact, if you have further knowledge, I would be grateful to hear it. I have some concern for my colleagues in Kith Alunel.”

“Forgive me; I am remiss. You need not worry for your friends. I believe most of them have taken refuge with Count Kyel-Semrud until His Majesty sees fit to restore them to favor. I doubt that it will take long; His Majesty will undoubtedly require music for his daughter’s wedding two months from now. In the meantime, however, I cannot recommend Kith Alunel as a suitable destination.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Emereck paused, considering. “It seems I have no choice but to accept your hospitality for a time.”

The Duke’s eyebrows rose. “I hope you will find it acceptable.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Emereck said hastily. “I did not mean to sound ungracious. But the matter of the harp weighs heavily on my mind.”

“Quite understandable,” Lord Dindran said dryly. He paused and looked from Emereck to Flindaran and back. “Be sure I will notify you as soon as your way is clear. In the meantime, I trust I need not caution either of you to be wary how you speak of this matter.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You may go.”

They rose, bowed, and left. Outside, Flindaran heaved a sigh of relief. “Whew! Thank goodness that’s over.”

Emereck half-nodded. He felt almost as wrung out as he had on the day he’d been tested for Minstrel’s rank within the Guild.

“Cheer up; at least now you can stay a while,” Flindaran said. He started off down the corridor.

Emereck followed automatically. After a few turns and an unfamiliar flight of stairs, it dawned on him that they were not heading for his rooms as he had supposed. “I hate to ask this, Flindaran, but do you know where we’re going?”

“To see my sister Talerith, of course. Don’t you remember, I told Lee we would after we saw Father?”

Emereck was not sure he wanted to face yet another member of Flindaran’s unpredictable family just then, but he did not say so. “Are you sure we should?” he said instead. “After what your father said about dust and new fashions, I think I’d prefer to clean up a bit before I meet anyone else.”

“Father’s always like that,” Flindaran said. “Don’t worry; Talerith won’t mind.” He stopped and knocked at one of the doors. After a moment it opened, and Liana looked out. Emereck’s misgivings vanished abruptly.

“Lee, what are you doing here?” Flindaran demanded.

“I’m Lady Talerith’s waiting-woman today,” Liana said, smiling. “But come in! I’m glad you remembered to stop.”

She stepped away from the door, and they followed her into a comfortably furnished sitting-room. As they entered, a black-haired girl lounging on a couch near the window looked up, then jumped to her feet with a delighted shriek. “Flindaran! You’re here! Oh, it’s been such a long time. What’s Ciaron like?”

“It’s a city,” Flindaran said, hugging her.

“I know that! I meant, what kind of a city is it? Gendron says they have dancing every night, and magic shows, and—”

“Gendron hasn’t been in Ciaron for a long time.”

“Was he only teasing me? He would!” The girl stepped back, and Emereck got his first clear look at her. Even wearing a slight pout, her face was strikingly pretty. Her hair was arranged in an intricate series of curls, and her gown was a bit over-elaborate for Emereck’s taste.

Flindaran, too, was studying her. “Lords, you’ve grown up pretty, Talerith!”

The pout vanished at once. “Yes, haven’t I? Come sit down, and tell me about your travels.”

She started to draw Flindaran forward, but he pulled back and turned toward Emereck. “First I want you to meet—”

“Oh, you’ve brought a minstrel! Then we can have music at supper tonight.” Talerith smiled up at Flindaran. “But I don’t want music now; I want to talk to you.”

“Emereck’s a friend of mine,” Flindaran said, frowning. “A visitor.”

“Oh.” She turned and looked at Emereck more closely. From her expression, Emereck judged that she was not favorably impressed. Then she smiled brightly. “Well, if he’s a friend of yours, then I-I’m sure he’s very welcome.”

Emereck bowed. He saw Talerith steal a furtive look at Flindaran, then she stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m pleased—that is, welcome to Minathlan, minstrel.”

“I give you thanks for your welcome, my lady,” Emereck said as he took her hand and bent to kiss her fingers.

The hand was withdrawn as soon as he let it go. “Sit down, please, and tell me about Ciaron,” Talerith said.

As she turned to take her own chair, Emereck saw her surreptitiously brush her fingers against her skirt. Suddenly he felt tired, too tired to face a conversation of artificial courtesy. “I beg you will excuse me, my lady,” he said.

Talerith’s face brightened, then clouded again as Flindaran turned. “What? You’re not serious, Emereck!”

“I’m quite serious. I’m… a bit tired.”

“I suppose you want to practice some more of those boring scales.” Flindaran studied him, then shrugged. “All right, then, let’s go. I’ll be back in a minute or two, Talerith.”

“Flindaran, you can’t!” Talerith threw Emereck an angry look. “You just got here!”

“What’s the matter with you? Look, I have to go. Emereck hasn’t been in Minathlan before; he’ll never find his rooms again without some help.”

“Liana can show him. I want you to stay here.”

“Talerith—”

“I have no objection to the lady Liana’s company, if she is willing to lend me her help,” Emereck put in.

Flindaran glanced at him in surprise, and Emereck felt his face grow warm. A look of sudden enlightenment replaced Flindaran’s slightly puzzled expression, and he grinned. “Is that all right with you, Lee? Go on, then; I’ll be by later. He’s three doors down the hall by the library.”

Emereck bowed again and turned to go. Talerith shot him a look of profound dislike as he left, and he wondered what he had done to earn her disfavor. Then he was standing in the corridor outside with Liana. He felt as though he ought to say something, but he could not think of a single remark that would not sound vacuous. Finally he settled for a simple thank-you, which he thought had the merit of being sincere, even if it was extremely unoriginal. He cleared his throat. “I am grateful for your courtesy, lady.”

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me! Flindaran was right; you really do need someone to show you your way. Minathlan is a dreadful maze if you don’t know how to get around it.”

“Having you as a guide makes a pleasure of a necessity.”

Liana laughed delightedly. “I’d heard that all minstrels had tongues of silver; now I believe it!”

“The phrases come from training, and habit,” Emereck said, flushing. “But the meaning is sincere.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Liana smiled, then glanced back over her shoulder with a thoughtful expression. “It’s a pity you couldn’t have…”

Her voice trailed off, but Emereck had a fair idea what she was referring to. “It seemed to me that Lady Talerith would have been ill-pleased by my presence no matter what I did.”

“Talerith is Lord Dindran’s youngest daughter, and she’s been alternately indulged and ignored since her mother died. I’m afraid it hasn’t been very good for her.”

Emereck considered that a masterpiece of understatement. He did not quite feel able to say so; such direct criticism of his host’s daughter would be unwise, at best. He said instead, “That explains a little, but I confess I do not see why she dislikes me so much. Or have I entirely misread her?”

“I think she would dislike anyone she thought might take Flindaran from her. He’s always been her favorite brother.”

“There is more than that, I think.”

Liana bit her lip. “Talerith is… very conscious of her noble birth. Too conscious, perhaps.”

“I see.” Though Emereck’s experience with nobles was slight, he had encountered enough of them to realize that minstrels were not welcomed everywhere with respect and friendship. Talerith was apparently one of those who felt that musicians were desirable, so long as they did not attempt to mingle with nobility on anything approaching an equal footing. He was silent for the remainder of the walk to his room, and though his parting from Liana was friendly, his thoughts were elsewhere.