“And someone has to take care of Count Volmar’s body,” Kevin added.
“That, I shall do,” a precise voice said.
“D’Krikas!”
The seneschal bowed as best an Arachnia could. “I let myself refuse to see what was truly happening. I stained my own honor by sheer blindness. You have cleansed that honor, and won my gratitude.”
“Uh ... yes,” Kevin said uncertainly. “But—”
A blare of trumpets cut into his words. A column of horsemen came riding into the courtyard beneath King Amber’s gold and crimson banner.
“Well, what do you know?” Lydia said drily. “Looks like the cavalry has arrived.”
The Great Hall was crowded with royal guards, casde folk—and of course, Berak’s troupe, all wide-eyed with excitement. At the High Table, Kevin sat with the captain of the royal troop, a strong-faced, fierce-eyed man who explained:
“... and so, when my royal master received your message, he knew no man could reach this casde by normal means. The court wizards, working all as one. cast a spell to transport us, men and horses, here as swiftly as they could.”
“They transported someone else,” a familiar voice added.
Kevin sprang to his feet so suddenly his chair overturned with a crash. “Master Aidan!”
He raced to the Bard’s side, then staggered to a stop, staring. This was still plainly Master Aidan—but he was now a man of middle years, his hair and beard only slightly streaked with gray. “It worked,” Kevin breathed. “Casting the spell really did restore your years.”
“It did.”
Kevin couldn’t stand on ceremony a moment longer. He caught the Bard in a fierce hug. Master Aidan chuckled. “Lad, lad, you’re cracking my ribs!”
“Oh! S-sorry! But Berak told me you were ill. How do you feel?”
“Ah, Kevin.” Master Aidan touched Kevin’s cheek tenderly. “Amazingly well, now. When I sent you to retrieve the spell,” he added with a laugh, “I never expected you to be the one to cast it! And you cast it so successfully, my young Bard.”
“Wh-what did you—what—”
“I called you Bard, Kevin, and Bard you most assuredly are.”
“He’s more than that,” the captain of the royal guards called out. “If you would. Bard Kevin?”
Bard Kevin! Struggling not to grin like an idiot, Kevin returned to his place at the High Table. The captain continued:
“My royal master suspected that even with the spell of magical transport, we might well arrive after things were ... ah ... settled, one way or another. And since you have proven yourself a loyal subject of the Crown, a most brave and worthy subject from all we’ve been told, I have orders from the King himself, may the gods favor him.”
“Want to cut through all the courtly talk?” Lydia asked. “Kevin’s brave, all right, and worthy as they come. Get on with it, man!”
To Kevin’s surprise, the captain grinned. “Anything to oblige a lovely lady,” he said so urbanely that Lydia actually looked flustered. “Of course. Bard Kevin,” the captain continued, “you’ll have to go to the royal palace to get this all done properly, but King Amber, in gratitude for service rendered, hereby cedes to you (he rank and all the lands and honors pertaining to the late traitor, Volmar”
Kevin stared. “Wh-what are you saying?”
“He’s saying that you’re a count now, kid!” Lydia told him. “Looks like this castle really is going to be your home.”
“But what about you?”
“Oh, I guess I’ll just go on traveling.” But a hint of loneliness was in her voice.
