Lark and Wren

'Music that is not heard by the ears,' Talaysen stated calmly. 'Music that sings to the thoughts, unheard, and sometimes unnoticed. Music that follows its own melody, and not that of the musician.'

Peregrine was very quiet for a moment. 'Music that causes things to happen, perhaps. Or so it seems. Music that the musician must match his own song to.'

'Yes.' Talaysen offered only that one word answer. Peregrine sat in silence again; in silence offering bread and sausage, in silence pouring wine. It was Talaysen's turn to be patient. While the offering of food and drink was a kind of ritual of hospitality with most Gypsies, he sensed that this time it represented something more. An offering of fellowship, perhaps. . . .

'I have waited for you to come into your power, my brother,' he said, when the food was accepted and eaten, and the wine drunk. 'That was the meaning of my greeting. I have long known that you and a handful of others among the Free Bards were among the drukkera-rejek-the mages of music-as I am. The sign of the power is without mistaking to one trained-as is the sign that a mage has come into his power. And now-there is much that I must tell you, and little time to do it in.'

Talaysen's pulse quickened.

'So this is magic that I have touched-' Talaysen would have said more, but Peregrine hushed him, and the Bard subsided into silence.

'It is magic, indeed; it is the magic that the Bards and the elves both use. And there is one here who would speak to you.' Peregrine waved his hand in an unobtrusive signal, and a shrouded shadow detached itself from the back of the wagon to approach them, and resolve itself into a two-legged creature enveloped from head to toe in a hooded cape. Talaysen had not seen anyone there, nor had he noticed anyone move there while he and Peregrine were speaking. He restrained himself from starting with surprise only with great effort.

The figure pulled back the hood of its cape to show that it was male-and elven.

Now Talaysen started, his hand going briefly to the hilt of his knife before dropping away.

He trusted Peregrine; the Gypsy had apparently invited the elf here. And besides, if the elf truly wanted Talaysen dead, the knife would be of little use against him. Striking him down where he sat would be child's play for an elven mage.

'Stars light your path,' he said, instead. The solemn elven mouth lifted in a slight smile, and the elf moved a few steps closer.

'I see you have courtesy when you choose, mortal.' The elf came within arm's length of them, then examined Talaysen as if the darkness and dim firelight was more than enough for him to see by.

Maybe it is. Elves were popularly supposed to have enhanced senses of hearing and sight.

'I have courtesy when I am not constrained against my will, and when I am an invited guest instead of being considered a superior type of pet,' he replied boldly. 'We mortals have a saying 'like begets like.' That holds true with manners as well as livestock.' Peregrine bit off a bark of a laugh, and the elf nodded, his smile now ironic.

'I warned you not to match wits with a full Bard,' the Gypsy mocked. 'And this one most of all. Not just because of his training as a Bard, which makes of words a weapon. Talaysen dares to speak only the truth-which makes his speech bite all the sharper when he chooses to make it so.' Peregrine's feral smile gleamed whitely in the darkness. 'He has fangs, this one.'

'I would not care to match either wits or magic against this one, new and raw as he is to his power,' the elf replied, with complete seriousness not at all affected by the gypsy's derisive speech. Then he turned back to Talaysen. 'Listen, for I bear word for you from our High King. He knows what occurred, and you need not anticipate reprisals. To Master Wren, he says, 'Think not to be caged, for that has been forbidden.' To Lady Lark, he says, 'Courage is rewarded.' And he sends these tokens-'

The elf held out a pair of slender silver bracelets that gleamed in the firelight, with a liquid sheen, so perfect it looked like the still surface of a pond. 'Place these upon your wrists; they shall close, never to be removed, but fear not. They are meant to mark you as mortals with the High King's favor.' Now the elf smiled, a wry smile that mimicked Peregrine's. 'There shall be no more dances with lightning.'

Peregrine laughed at that, in a way that made Talaysen think that he'd heard at least part of the story. The elf raised an eyebrow at him, knowingly.

Talaysen reached out gingerly and took the cool silver bracelets, sliding one over his hand. And as promised, once around his wrist it shrank to fit comfortably, the metal band becoming just a fraction thicker in the process. His stomach felt a little queasy, watching it-this was the first time he'd ever seen magic close at hand, magic that affected the material world. There would be no removing this 'token' without first removing his hand.

'Thank you,' he said to the elf, and meant it. 'We have enemies enough without angering the Fair Ones.'

'Oh, you angered only a greedy hothead with no thought but his own pleasure,' the elf replied off-handedly. 'He got his own desert, and that speedily. That it was delivered by a mere mortal simply humiliated him beyond bearing. There were those in his own court who thought he had gone too far when he took you, and were certain of it when he set the storm upon you. The High King has cooled his temper, I promise you.'

'Still, I thank you,' Talaysen replied. Then added with a rueful grin, 'Is it now safe to cross a Faerie Ring, even by accident?'

The elf laughed aloud. 'Safe enough, e'en by accident,' he said. 'With polite invitations tendered to you once you are within it to play for a brief evening. Your fame has traveled from Hill to Hill, and I think you should expect such invitations in the future. There will be many who wish to see the mortal Bards that could subdue King Meraiel. And more who will wish to hear your side of the tale.'

And with no warning and only those parting words, he swirled his cloak about his shoulders and stepped into the shadows, to melt into them and vanish completely. As Talaysen had not seen him arrive, so he had no idea how the elf left-although he thought he heard a faint whisper of music as the shadows swallowed him.

Peregrine sighed, and shook his head. 'Melodramatic, as ever,' he commented. 'Trust an elf to make a great show of simple leave-taking.'

Talaysen chuckled, and relaxed a bit more. 'Was that what you wished to show me and speak to me about?'