Lark and Wren

please, let me go! Master Darian! Master Darian! They're killing my father! Help me! Ahhhhhhhhh-'

'Sleep-' Peregrine snapped, and abruptly the young man went limp. The mage sat back on the bunk, and wiped sweat from his brow. He looked to Talaysen as if he had been running for a league. He was silent for a moment, staring at the young musician as if he had never seen him before.

'So.' Peregrine took a sip of water from the mug safely stored in a holder mounted on the wall just above him. 'So, we know this 'Jonny Brede' is nothing of the kind, and that his true name is Sional, and that someone wished his father dead. Do you know of any Sionals? Especially ones who would have run to a Guild Bard for help?'

Talaysen shook his head. Rune and Gwyna both shrugged. Peregrine scratched his head and his eyes unfocused for a moment. 'Well, whoever he is, he is important-and long ago, someone killed his father. I think we must find out who and what this father was.'

'Are you going to hurt him?' Gwyna asked in a small voice.

Peregrine shook his head. 'I can promise nothing. I can only say I will try not to hurt him. The alternative is to find out nothing-and one day there will be nothing to warn him of the assassin in the dark. I think this the lesser of two bad choices.'

Gwyna nodded, unhappily. Peregrine touched Jonny's-Sional's-forehead again. 'Sional, do you hear me?'

'I-hear you,' said a small, young, and very frightened voice. It sounded nothing like Jonny; it sounded like a young child of about twelve.

'How old was he, when he came to you at the Guild?' Peregrine asked Talaysen. The Bard furrowed his brow and tried to remember what the nondescript child had looked like on the few occasions he had seen the boy. The memory was fuzzy, at best, and the child had been quite ordinary.

'Twelve? Thirteen?' He shook his head. 'He can't have been much younger than that, or I'd have noticed. Thirteen is just about as young as apprentices are allowed to be in Bardic Guild. Children younger than that are just that-children. They aren't ready for the kind of intensive study we give them. Their bodies and minds aren't suited for sitting in one place for hours at a time.'

'Good. That gives me a safer place to start.' He raised his voice again. 'Sional-you are ten years old. It is your birthday. You are waking up in the morning.'

Abruptly all the tenseness poured out of Sional's body, and a happy smile transformed his face.

'Good, a safe time, and a happy one,' Peregrine muttered. 'Sional, what is to happen today?'

'Today I get my first horse!' Sional's voice really did sound like a ten-year-old's, and Talaysen started in surprise. 'It's my birthday present from father, a real horse, not a pony! Victor and I get to go to the Palace stables and pick it out, too! Victor's going to teach me trick riding! Then Master Darian will give me the present from mother that he's been saving for me; it's a harp, a big harp, with lots more strings than my little harp!'

'Why isn't your mother giving it to you?' Peregrine asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

'She's dead,' Sional said, matter-of-factly. 'She died when we moved to this place. That was a long time ago, though. I hardly remember her at all. Just the way she sang-' His voice faltered a moment. 'She was a wonderful musician and Master Darian says that if she hadn't been a woman and a princess she'd have been a Bard and-'

'Stop.' Peregrine glanced over at Talaysen, with one eyebrow raised. Talaysen didn't have to ask what he was thinking.

A princess? Is that real-or just a child's fantasy and an old teacher's flattery?

'Sional, who is your father?' Peregrine asked, slowly and carefully.

'The King.' Once again, the voice was completely matter-of-fact. 'I have to call him My Lord Father; Master Darian calls him Your Majesty. Everybody else has to call him Your Royal Highness. But I don't see him very often.'

'Stop.' Peregrine was sweating again. 'Sional, where do you live?'

'In the Dowager's Palace.'

'No, I mean what land do you live in?'

'Oh, that. Birnam. It's the red place on the map. The green one next to it is Leband, the blue one is Falwane, the yellow one is-'

'Stop.' Now Talaysen was sweating.

'Do realize what we have here?' he whispered. 'This is the Crown Prince of Birnam-no-the King of Birnam!' He groped for Rune's hand and held it.

'Tell me!' the Gypsy demanded. 'Tell me what you know of this!'

'I have to think,' Talaysen replied, shivering despite the heat of the wagon. Dear God, what a cockatrice they had hatched! Their foundling was the rightful King of Birnam-and small wonder there were assassins seeking him. The current King was not likely to tolerate any rivals to his power.

'About six years ago, I think it was, the King of Birnam was overthrown by his brother. Mind you, the only reason I know about this is was because I was on the Guild Council at the time, and we were dealing with that entire business of Master Darian. The old man came to us with a boy he called his apprentice, claiming sanctuary with our branch of the Guild because he was supposedly in danger as a supporter of the former King.'

'So your understanding is likely to be accurate, if sketchy?' Peregrine asked.

He nodded. 'We did do some checking with the Guild in Birnam. The way I heard it, the brother slipped his men into the palace by night, murdered the King and all his supporters, and by dawn there was a new King on the throne and all the bloodstains had been politely cleaned away.'

Peregrine snorted. 'How-tidy of them.'