.
This was, at least, a pleasant place to wait. Unlike the courtyards of most Church buildings, this one, though paved, boasted greenery in the form of plants spilling from tiers of wooden boxes, and trees growing from huge ceramic pots. Lanterns hanging from the wall of the cloister provided soft yellow light. Against the wall of the courtyard, a tiny waterfall trickled down a set of stacked rocks, providing a breath of moisture and the restful sounds of falling water.
At least, it did when the Faire wasn't camped on the other side of the wall. Music, crowd-noise, and laughter spilled over the walls, ruffling the serenity of the place.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned. A tall, scarlet-clad woman whose close- cropped blond hair held about the same amount of gray as his, held out her hands to him. 'Gwydain!' she exclaimed. 'I wondered when you'd get around to visiting me!'
He strode towards her, and clasped both her hands in his. 'I was busy, and so were you, my dear cousin. I truly intended to pay my respects when the trials were over. Then my latest little songbird got herself into a brawl with the Guild, and I had to extract her from the mess my lack of foresight put her in.'
'Her?' One winglike brow rose sharply, and Ardis showed her interest. 'I heard something of that. Was she badly hurt?'
'Bruised all over, and a broken arm-' he began.
'Which is disaster for a musician,' she completed. 'Can you bring her here? I can certainly treat her. That is what you wanted, isn't it?'
'Well, yes,' he admitted, with a smile. 'If that won't bring you any problems.'
She sniffed disdainfully. 'The Church treats its Justiciars well. It treats its mages even better. Rank does bring privileges; if I wish to treat a ragtag street-singer's broken arm, no one will nay-say me. But there will be a price-' she continued, taking her hand away from his, and holding up a single finger in warning.
'Name it,' Talaysen replied with relief. With the mage-healing Lady Ardis could work, Rune's arm would be healed in half the time it would normally take; well enough, certainly, to permit her to play by the end of the Faire. More importantly, well enough so that when he and she went on the road together, it wouldn't cause her problems.
'You shouldn't be so quick to answer my demands,' the lady replied, but with a serious look instead of the smile Talaysen expected. 'This could be dangerous.'
'So?' He shrugged. 'I won't belittle your perception of danger, and I won't pretend to be a hero, but if I'd been afraid of a little danger, I would still be with the Guild.'
'So you would.' She studied his face for a moment. 'There's a dark-mage among the Brotherhood, and I don't know who it is. I only know it's a 'he,' since there are only two female mages, and I know it isn't a Justiciar.'
Talaysen whistled between his teeth in surprise and consternation. 'That's not welcome news. What is it you want me to do?'
She freed her other hand, and walked slowly over to one of the planters, rubbing her wrists as she walked. He followed, and she turned abruptly. 'It isn't quite true that I don't know who it is. I have a guess. And if my guess is correct, he'll take advantage of the general licentiousness of the Faire to sate some of his desires. What I want is for you to watch and wait, and see if there are rumors of a Priest gone bad, one who uses methods outside the ordinary to enforce his will.'
Talaysen nodded, slowly. 'It's true that a Bard hears everything-'
She laughed, shortly. 'And everyone tells a Bard everything they know. A Free Bard, anyway. If you hear anything, bring it to me. If you can somehow contrive to bring him before me in my official capacity, that would be even better. I can be certain that the other two Justiciars with me would be mages and uncorrupted.'
'I'll try,' he promised, and gestured for her to seat herself. She took the invitation, and perched on a bench between two pots of fragrant honeysuckle.
'So, what else do you need of me, cousin?' she asked, a look of shrewd speculation creeping over her even features. 'It has to do with this little songster, doesn't it?'
'Not so little,' he replied, with a bit of embarrassment. 'She's quite old enough to be wedded with children, by country standards. She's very attractive, Ardis. And that's the problem. I promised to give her a Master's teaching to an apprentice, and I find her very attractive.'
'So?' A lifted shoulder told him Ardis didn't think that was much of a problem.
'So that's not ethical, dammit!' he snapped. 'This girl is my student; if I took advantage of that situation, I'd be-dishonorable. And besides, I'm twice her age, easily.'
Ardis shook her head. 'I can't advise you, Gwydain. I agree with you that pushing yourself on the girl would not be ethical, but what if she's attracted to you? If she's as old as you say, she's old enough to know her own mind.'
'It's still not ethical,' he replied stubbornly. 'And I'm still twice her age.'
'Very well,' she sighed. 'If it isn't ethical, then be the same noble sufferer you've always been and keep your attraction hidden behind a mask of fatherly regard. If you keep pushing her away, likely she'll grow tired of trying and take her affections elsewhere. The young are very short of patience for the most part.' She stood, and smoothed down the skirt of her robes with her hand. 'The fact that you're twice her age doesn't signify; you know very well I was betrothed to a man three times my age at twelve, and if my father hadn't found it more convenient to send me to the Church, I'd likely be married to him now.'
He tightened his jaw; her light tone told him she was mocking him, and that wasn't the answer he'd wanted to hear, either. She wasn't providing him with an answer.
'I'm not going to give you an answer, Gwydain,' she said, echoing his very thought, in that uncanny way she had. 'I'm not going to give you an excuse to do something stupid again. How someone as clever as you are can be so dense when it comes to matters of the heart-'
She pursed her lips in exasperation. 'Never mind. Bring your little bird here tomorrow afternoon; I'll heal up her arm for you. After that, what you do with each other is up to you.'
He bowed over her hand, since the audience was obviously at an end, and took a polite leave of her-
He sensed that she was amused with him, and it rankled-but he also sensed that part of her tormenting him was on account of her little problem.
Little! he thought, locking the gate behind him and setting off back through the Faire. A dark-mage in the Kingsford Brotherhood-that's not such a little thing. What is it about the Church that it spawns both the saint and the devil?
Then he shrugged. It wasn't that the Church spawned either; it was that the Church held both, and permitted both to run free unless and until they were reined in by another hand. To his mind, the venial were the more numerous, but then, he had been a cynic for many years now.
One of his problems was solved, at least. Rune would be cared for. If one of the Gypsies like Nighthawk had been available, he'd have sent the girl to her rather than subject her to his cousin and her acidic wit, but none of those with the healing touch had put in an appearance yet, and he dared not wait much longer.
He had hoped that Ardis would confirm his own assertions; that the child was much too young, and that he had no business being attracted to her. Instead she'd implied that he was being over-sensitive.
Still one of the things she'd said had merit. If he continued acting in a fatherly manner, she would never guess how he felt, and in the way of the young, would turn to someone more suitable. Young Heron, for instance, or Swift.
He clamped a firm lid down on the uneasy feelings of-was it jealousy?-that thought caused. Better, much better, to suffer a little and save both of them no end of grief.
Yes, he told himself with determination, as he wound through the press of people around a dancers' tent. Much, much better.
Rune hardly knew what to say when Talaysen ordered her to her feet the next afternoon-she had been feeling rather sick, and had a pounding head, and she suspected it was from too much of the medicine she'd been taking. But if she didn't take it, she was still sick with pain, her head still ached, and so did her arm. She simply couldn't win.
'Master Wren,' she pleaded, when he held out his hand to help her to her feet, 'I really don't feel well-I-'
'That's precisely why I want you to come with me,' he replied, with a brisk nod. 'I want someone else to have a look at your arm and head. Come along now; it isn't far.'
