The Quartered Sea (7 page)

"That's what you say," she sniffed as she gathered up a wooden bucket of scraps and headed out the back door. "And I'm sure you're sincere while you say it."

"How long have you
been
here?" Benedikt wondered as the door closed.

"You call that red?" He ran both hands back through shoulder-length hair the color of frost-touched leaves. "He's a strawberry blond at best."

They were alone in the kitchen. Very conscious of the warm thigh pressed up against him, Benedikt reminded himself that for Pjazef flirting came as naturally as breathing. He didn't mean anything by it. When the silence stretched, empty and echoing, he swallowed the last truly vile mouthful of herbal tea and said, "You have news from the Hall?"

"The Hall?"

"The Bardic Hall?"

"Oh. Yeah."
Mixed messages
, Pjazef thought, forcing his attention up off the full curve of Benedikt's lower lip.
That's what's wrong with the world
. He masked his disappointment behind a superficial, almost arch tone. "I Sang the Hall a report about the flood, or rather the lack of a flood, this morning before you woke up and… What's the matter?"

Benedikt's own report would have to wait until he returned personally to the Bardic Hall and gave his recall. "Nothing."

"Then you shouldn't frown like that. You'll make lines." He took his thumb and smoothed out the skin between Benedikt's eyes—and got the same lack of response he had before.
Oh, well, can't blame a guy for trying
. "You'll be happy to know that I finally got an explanation for all the lost ship stuff we've been getting from the kigh."

"We've been getting?" Benedikt snorted, staring into the bottom of the empty mug. The warmth of Pjazef's thumb clung to his forehead. He fought against responding and embarrassing himself.

"Oops. Sorry. You wouldn't, would you, 'cause none of the water you've been Singing has come from Elbasan, so the water kigh wouldn't know. It seems that the queen has decided to send a ship southwest from the Broken Islands to find the land the dark sailor came from. She's calling for volunteers. And she wants a bard to go along, but Kovar's against it."

That pulled an incredulous gaze up onto Benedikt's face. "He's not allowing it?"

"You're frowning again. He can't not allow it, now can he? This is the queen we're talking about, not some fledgling who wants to make a quick pile of coin at the Ax and Anchor—which, I'd like to point out, is not half as bad a place as rumor makes it. Anyway, I heard from Evicka that he's really singing low notes and minor keys about it. Nothing but doom and gloom. And Imrich says that you can't really expect anything else when the kigh are referring to it as the lost ship already. But Tadeus said he thinks everyone's overreacting and that if we paid attention, we'd realize that the kigh name any ship lost if it sails out of sight of land, so they're obviously not foretelling the queen's voyage. He also says that asking the kigh their opinion about something is a waste of time since we have no frame of reference for what they believe."

"You heard all this, this morning?"

"Plus that Evicka got her hair cut and it looks a lot better than those long braids, that the bolt of dark blue wool I ordered at the beginning of last quarter finally arrived, and that everyone thinks what you did with the river was amazing. So what do you think?"

Benedikt had no idea that bards who Sang air spent so much time gossiping. Although he had to admit that in Pjazef's case he wasn't really surprised. "What do I think about what?"

"About this trip Her Majesty's planning. Calling for volunteers to sail off into the unknown. I mean, it's one thing to leave Shkoder to go to Petroika or to the Havakeen Empire, but this is another thing entirely. Doesn't Her Majesty realize that we're all part of the pattern that keeps the country strong?"

"And removing, say,
you
from the pattern would result in what? Complete collapse of the whole?"

Although he laughed at the conceit, Pjazef held to his opinion. "What would happen to Shkoder if we all went off walking on water?"

Walking on water was a bardic term used to describe those rare occasions when one of them took ship for foreign lands. It wasn't what Benedikt had meant when he'd silently declared himself willing to walk on water for the queen—at least it wasn't what he'd meant at the time. "I think I'm going to volunteer."

Pjazef's reaction was everything he could have hoped for.

* * *

"Because you're too old, Tadeus."

The blue silk scarf tied around his eyes did nothing to hide the pique on the blind bard's face. "Too old?"

"You're fifty. Don't deny it, your age is a matter of record." Kovar leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his temples with the heels of both hands. "And more importantly, you don't Sing water, a talent Her Majesty has decided is necessary for this idiot adventure. In case they run into those giant water kigh, I assume. And yes…" As Tadeus opened his mouth, he raised a hand, aware as he moved that the gesture was superfluous. "… the queen knows my opinion. It merely makes no difference to her."

Brows, still sleek and black, rose up above the scarf, personal indignation pushed aside. "My, my, someone's not happy about the fledgling leaving the nest."

"Her Majesty is perfectly capable of making up her own mind."

"Without your help?"

Lips pressed into a thin line, Kovar glared across his desk at the other bard. After a moment, he trusted his voice enough to say, "Was there anything else, Tadeus?"

"I
was
wondering if any other bards have expressed an interest."

"I can see why those who Sing earth might not be interested. They have a strong attachment to this piece of land, and I suppose many of the older bards have families they'd be loath to leave or physical frailties they'd be loath to risk, but I can't understand why the younger bards aren't leaping at this chance to discover songs that no one in Shkoder has heard." He lifted his head, and Kovar had the uncanny feeling that behind the scarf the blind eyes were staring directly into his.

"What good are new songs if no one ever hears them sung?" the Bardic Captain demanded. "We have no proof that there is land to the south and west, and we bards are too important to Shkoder to throw our lives away."

"Are we?" Again the black brows rose above the blue silk.

"Stop being irritating just because you can be, Tadeus. You know full well that we bards are the strength of a small country."

"So I've heard you tell the fledglings. We're all part of the pattern that keeps the country strong."

"Exactly."

"
Part
of the pattern, Kovar."

Outside the office window, a small brass bell rang an imperious summons.

Grateful for the interruption—arguing with Tadeus often resembled arguing with one of the kigh—the Bardic Captain stood and flipped up the latch that held the multipaned window closed during inclement weather. As he pulled open the left panel, he kept a tight hold on the frame lest the kigh decide to slam it back against the wall just for the joy of hearing things break. The wind-sketched outline of an elongated body separated from the bell, dove into the office, looped once around him, and delivered its message.

Kovar Sang his answer as it raced up and out of sight, then stepped back and closed the window.

"He's needed where he is?" Tadeus repeated behind him.

"You're all needed where you are," Kovar said wearily, turning to find the other bard standing barely an arm's length away. "Over the last four quarters we've had five losses to age and one to accident. Six dead and only two fledglings found. We haven't bards enough to lose one on this fool's quest."

"Shouldn't that be an individual choice?" Tadeus asked seriously, all affectations gone.

"No. Our duty is to Shkoder."

Recognizing a dismissal, Tadeus shook his head and walked unerringly to the door. With one hand on the latch, he paused and faced the Bardic Captain again. "I remember my oaths, Kovar."

And the blind bard's voice was so exquisitely controlled, Kovar had no idea where his emphasis lay.

The small assembly room had not been changed in living memory. From the carved rosewood throne, to the stained glass in the narrow windows casting multihued reflections on the polished stone floor, to the seal of Shkoder carved into the great roundel in the center of the ceiling, the room had been designed to quietly impress. Those standing before the throne at the edge of the low dais were left in no doubt of the power they faced. While much of the actual business of the realm was conducted in Council Chambers and in the monarch's private office, the small assembly room was used for the exchange of information, for the meeting of ambassadors…

… and to make a point.

"It has come to my attention, Bardic Captain, that you are denying your permission to those bards who wish to volunteer for the voyage." No need to define what voyage. Jelena's fingers were white around the arms of the throne. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"I have not had to deny my permission, Majesty," Kovar told her matter-of-factly. "The only bard who has shown an interest does not Sing water."

The young queen leaned slightly forward without releasing her grip on the carved wood. Her knuckles were white and her voice suggested she barely kept her temper in check. "What of Benedikt? Or were you not planning on telling me he had requested a position on my ship?"

How had she known? Kovar wondered, trying to think past the sound of blood roaring in his ears. The kigh had brought the news directly to him and then left with his answer. He'd been alone at the window and Tadeus… Tadeus, that had to be the answer. He'd forgotten how far into a building the kigh were willing to go for the blind bard.

"
I remember my oaths, Kovar
."

No doubt where the emphasis lay now.

"Captain?"

He started, pulling himself back into the assembly room. "If you have had an opportunity to read Pjazef's report of flood at Janinton, Majesty, I think the situation amply illustrates my belief that all the bards are needed where they are."

"Let me reassure you, Captain, that I read both the day's reports and any new recalls nightly—" Her lips curled up into a tight, warning smile. "—as did my mother and my grandfather before her, and I value the work the bards do in maintaining Shkoder. The
Starfarer
will not leave Elbasan until the third moon of this quarter so, you see, I don't pull Benedikt abruptly from your pattern but give you a chance to reweave it."

"Majesty, you may not realize that Benedikt Sings only water."

"Then removing him will disrupt your pattern even less." Jelena sat back as though it were settled. Looking up at her set expression, Kovar realized that it was. "I would appreciate it if you tell him to return to Elbasan, Bardic Captain."

Bardic Captains conducted, they did not control. Kovar had nothing to say to Tadeus.

Or rather, he had a great deal to say but as it all came down to "How dare you go to the queen behind my back?" and he already knew what Tadeus would reply he saw no reason to waste his time.

"
I remember my oaths, Kovar
."

Bardic Oaths were sworn to the greater good, which unfortunately left room for differences of opinions.

No, Tadeus had done all the damage he could, and if Kovar wanted to stop this blatant disregard of what was best for Shkoder, he needed to put his energy elsewhere.

"Magda, you must speak with her. She won't listen to me."

Setting her fluted glass pen carefully back in the inkwell, Magda sighed and looked up from her notes. "What do you want me to say to her, Kovar?" The healer laced her fingers together as he began an impassioned tirade against the exploration. Some time later, when he'd started to wind down and no longer seemed in imminent danger of exploding, she said, "Her Majesty listens to you, Kovar, she just doesn't agree with you."