She landed in the blanket with one of her legs half-bent beneath her-it was painful, but it didn't hurt badly enough to have been broken. Before she could draw breath, Daran had scooped her up from the pocket of the blanket and bundled her under one arm like an oversized chicken; likely he was the only one of them big enough to carry her so. With Talaysen leading and the acrobats confusing the pursuit behind them, he set off at as hard a run as he could manage with the burden of Gwyna to carry. Gwyna craned her neck around in time to see the Priest free himself from the confines of the blanket, his face black with rage-then they were out of sight around a corner of one of the stalls.
They were hidden in the warm, near-stifling darkness of the back of a weaver's tent, in among bales of her work. Gwyna could hear Daran panting beside her, and clamped her bill tight on the first notes of a song. Her heart, high during the rescue, had fallen again. She was free, yes, but no nearer to being herself again than she had been in the cage.
There was a swish of material; Rune flung herself down beside them, breathing so hard she could hardly speak.
"Tal-Talaysen's gone to the cathedral, to the courts and the Justiciars-"
"Looking to the Church for help?" Daran whispered incredulously. "I thought the Wren cleverer than that! Why, all that bastard has to do is get there before him, lay a charge, and flaunt his robes-"
"There are Priests and Priests, Heron," Rune replied, invisible in the stuffy darkness. "And let me tell you, the Master's no fool. I thought the same as you, but he says he knows someone among the Justiciars today, and I think I know who it is.
He
knows who we can trust. He says to make a break and run as soon as we think it safe-I'm to get someone with the Gypsies, you're for the cathedral and the Court of Justice. The tumblers will do their best to scramble things again."
"All right-" Daran said doubtfully. "The Wren's never been wrong before, but-Lady bless, I hope he isn't now!"
All of them burst from the tent into the blinding sunlight-and behind them rose a clamor and noise; Gwyna looked back to see the Priest (how had he contrived to be so close to their hiding place?) in hot pursuit, followed by all of his servants and two of his helmeted and armed guards. If those caught them before they reached the goal Talaysen had in mind for them-
They burst into the Justice court of the cathedral itself, Revaner and his contingent hard on their heels; Talaysen was there already, gesturing to a robed man and woman and a younger man clad in the red robes of Church Justiciars.
"My lords-my lady-" he cried, waving at Daran and Gwyna. "Here is the one of whom I told you-"
"Justice!" thundered Revaner at the same time. "These thieves have stolen my pet-wrecked my tent-"
One of the guards seized Daran's arms. He responded by dropping Gwyna. She squawked in surprise at being dropped, then fled to the dubious safety of the feet of the three strangers before Revaner could grab more than one of her tail-feathers.
The lady reached down and petted Gwyna; comfort and reassurance passed from Priest to bird with her caress. Gwyna suddenly had far more confidence in Talaysen's scheme-this Priest was no ordinary, gold-grasping charlatan, but one with real power and a generous spirit!
The other two waited patiently for the clamor to die down to silence, quite plainly ready to wait all day if that was what it took.
At length even the yipping servants of the Priest ceased their noise.
"You claim, Bard Talaysen, that this bird is in fact one of your company, ensorceled into this shape," said the gray-haired man in Priest robes. "Yet what proof have you that this is so?"
"Mind-touch her, Lady Ardis-or have Lord Arran do so." Talaysen replied steadily. "Trust your
own
senses."
The man in red approached slowly, his hand held out as if to a shy animal. Gwyna needed no such reassurance. She ran limpingly to the young man's feet, chirping and squawking. She strove with all her might to project her
human
thoughts into the hireling's mind, spreading out the whole story as best she could.
Arran patted her feathers into smoothness, and from his touch came reassurance and comfort. More, words formed in Gwyna's mind, words as clear as speech.
Fear not, little singer; there is no doubt in my heart that you are wholly human.
The young man rose gracefully to his feet and faced the two mages. "This one is bespelled indeed; she
is
the Free Bard Gwyna-more than that, the evil being that has so enslaved her is
that
one"-he pointed an accusing finger at Revaner-"he who claims her as his property and pet. His accomplice in this evil was the Guild Bard Bestif."
At that, the Priest paled, and tried to flee, only to be held by the guards he had brought with him. At the same time, Gwyna felt the Lady-Priest's hand on her head, and some instinct told her to remain utterly still. She saw Talaysen take Rune's hand, his face harden with anxiety. Daran clutched his bony hands together, biting his lip.
"We shall need your help," the Lady-Priest said to Talaysen and Rune. "I think you have some small acquaintance with magic yourselves. And you know her."
She saw Rune start with surprise, saw Talaysen nod-
Then all was confusion. The courtyard spun around in front of Gwyna's eyes, moving faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur of light and shadow. The courtyard vanished altogether. Then light blazed up, nearly blinding her, and a dark
something
separated from her own substance, pulling away from her with a reluctant shudder. She could feel it wanting to stay, clinging with an avid hunger, but the light drove it forth despite its will. Suddenly she was overcome with an appalling pain, and crumbled beneath the onslaught of it. Her flesh felt as if it were melting, twisting, reshaping, and it hurt so much she cried out in sheer misery-
A cry that began as a bird's call, and ended as the anguished sob of a human in mortal agony.
The pain cut off abruptly; Gwyna blinked, finding herself slumped on the stone of the courtyard, her skirts in a puddle of red, gold, and scarlet about her, her dark hair falling into her eyes, and three gold coins on the stone before her.
She stared at one hand, then at the other-then at the faces of the three who stood above her; the Lady-Priest, Talaysen and Rune. Their brown, green, and hazel eyes mirrored her own relief and joy-
From the other side of the courtyard came an uncanny shriek-something like a raven's cry, something like the scream of a hawk. All four turned as one to see what had made the sound.
Crouching where the dark Priest had stood, was an ugly, evil-looking bird, like none Gwyna had ever seen before. Its plumage was a filthy black, its head and crooked neck naked red skin, like a vulture. It had a twisted yellow beak and small, black eyes. It stood nearly waist-high to the two guards beside it. As they watched, it made a swipe at one of them with that sharp beak, but the man was not nearly so ale-sotted as he seemed, and caught the thing by the neck just behind the head.
"Evil spells broken often return upon their caster," said young Arran, soberly. "As this one has. Balance is restored. Let him be exhibited at the gate as a warning to those who would pollute the Holy Church with unclean magic; but tend him carefully and gently. It may be that one day God will warm to forgiveness if he learns to repent. As for the Guild Bard Bestif, let him be fined twelve gold pieces and banned forever from the Faire. Let one half of that fine be given to the minstrels he wronged, and one half to those in need. That would be my judgment."
"So be it, so let it be done," said the older man, silent until now.
They made as if to leave; Gwyna scrambled to her feet, holding out one of the three gold coins. "My lords-lady-this for my thanks, an' you will?"
The older Priest took it gravely. "We are true Priests of the Church; we do not accept pay for the performance of our duty-but if you wish this to be given to the offerings for the poor?"
Gwyna nodded; he accepted the coin and the three vanished into the depths of the cathedral.
Gwyna took the others and tossed them to Talaysen, who caught them handily.
"For celebration?" he asked, holding it up. "Shall we feast tonight?"
"Have I not cause to celebrate? Only one thing-"
"Name it, Gypsy Robin."
"If you love me, Master Wren-buy nothing that once wore feathers!"
Rune shooed Talaysen away, so that she could apportion their belongings into packs. "This is apprentice-work," she told him sternly. "You go do what a Master does." Grinning, he left her to it.
She had acquired a bit more clothing here at the Faire, but her load was still much lighter than his, and she elected to take their common stores of food along with her own things. The tent was still full of people, or seemed to be, anyway. It was much smaller when all of them were packing up, with gear spread all over, and there was much complaining about how it had all magically multiplied during the sojourn at the Faire. Rune hadn't had that much to start with, and Talaysen did not carry one item more than he needed, but some of the others were not so wise.
When one stayed in one place for any length of time, Rune suspected, it was easy to forget how much one could carry. There had been this same moaning and groaning for the past two days, as the Free Bards departed in groups, by morning and afternoon.
The only folk not involved in the throes of packing were Erdric and his grandson. They lived here in Kingsford the year round; Erdric had a permanent place in the King's Blade tavern, and young Sparrow was learning the trade at the hands of his grandfather. They would see to it that the two men the Free Bards had hired to take down the great tent would do so without damaging it, and haul it off in their cart to the merchant it was kept with the rest of the year.
More than three-fourths of the Free Bards had already gone their way by this morning; Talaysen would be the last to depart, so that no one lacked for a personal goodbye from their leader.
That meant he and Rune wouldn't be able to cover a great deal of ground their first day, but Rune didn't much mind. She'd gotten a great deal to think about over the past several weeks, and most of it was unexpected.
The Free Bards, for instance-contrasted with the Guild Bards. Talaysen's group was a great deal more in the way of what she had
thought
the Guild Bards would be like. The Free Bards took care of each other; she had seen with her own eyes right here at the Faire how the Guild Bards squabbled and fought among themselves for the plum jobs. And if someone were unfortunate to lose one of those jobs due to accident, illness or the like, well, his fellow Guild members would commiserate in public but rejoice in private, and all scramble for the choice tidbit like so many quarreling dogs under the table.
And the Church-there had been a set of shocks, though she'd been prepared for some of them from the rumors she'd heard. That though it officially frowned upon magic, it held a cadre of mages-well, she'd learned that was true enough, though Lady Ardis had warned her not to confirm the rumor to anyone. And though there were plenty of venial Priests, there were some like Lady Ardis, who would aid anyone who needed it, and valued honor and ethics above gold.
Then there was Talaysen-an enigma if ever she saw one. A Guild Bard once, he could still claim his place any time he wanted to-and he refused. Even though that refusal cost him in patronage and wealth.
She wasn't certain how he felt about her. He didn't treat her as a child, though she was his apprentice. He watched her constantly when he thought she wasn't looking, and the eyes he followed her with were the eyes of a starving man. But when he spoke with her or taught her, he had another look entirely; he teased her as if he was her elder brother, and he never once gave a hint that his feelings ran any deeper than that.
Yet whenever someone else seemed to be playing the gallant with her, he'd find himself watched so closely that he would invariably give up the game as not worth it. After all, no one wanted to invoke Talaysen's displeasure.
And no one wants to interfere with anyone that Master Wren is finally taking an interest in, she thought, with heavy irony. The only problem is, the Master doesn't seem to know he's taken that interest.
Gwyna had at least told her that Talaysen had remained virtually celibate for the last several years, though no one knew why. There didn't seem to be any great, lost loves in his life, although Lady Ardis had hinted that he might at least have had a dalliance that
could
have become a love, if he had pursued it. For some reason, he hadn't.
Well, if there's no lost loves, there's no ghosts for me to fight. I've got that much in my favor.
Rune had decided in the last week of the Faire how
she
felt about Master Wren. And there was nothing celibate about what she wanted. She had never in all her life met with a man who so exactly suited her in every way. Of course, she'd never seen him out of company-out on the road, he might turn surly, hard to get along with. But she didn't think so. He had a great deal to teach, and she to learn, but in performance, at least, they were absolute partners, each making up for the other's weaknesses. She had every reason to think that the partnership would continue when they were on their own.
Now if I can just warm it up to something more than "partnership."
She finished the packs; Talaysen was making farewells and giving some last-minute directions, so she had elected to pack up, and not because she was the apprentice and he expected it-which he didn't. It was because he was doing what his duties required, and she had free hands. The accord had been reached without either of them saying a word.
She set the packs aside and waited for him to return. Out beyond the Faire palings, the merchants were also breaking down and preparing to leave. The Midsummer Faire was over for another year.
She was surprised to feel an odd sense of loss, of uncertainty. For the past three weeks at least, ever since her splint had come off, she had known what every day would bring. Now it was completely new; she hadn't ever really traveled the roads for a living, and the idea was a little daunting.