Lark and Wren

we aren't that strong yet.'

'I-I d-d-d-' He paused, and flushed. 'I h-have to t-talk t-to my uncle,' he said, his eyes meeting first Rune's, then Gwyna's. 'I d-don't kn-know what else t-t-to s-say. H-he w-wasn't always l-like th-this. M-m-maybe if I t-talk t-to him, he'll und-d-derstand. And l-leave m-me al-l-lone. Th-that's th-the only th-thing I c-can th-think of.' His face twisted up, and he looked about to cry. 'R-Robin, I l-l-l-'

She caught his hands in hers. 'I know that,' she replied. 'I do, I know that. I love you. And if there's any way I can make you safe-'

'How are we going to get you to him?' Rune asked. 'That's the first question-'

'I c-c-an remember th-the p-palace, g-g-good enough to d-draw a m-map,' he said. 'If Master Wr-wren c-can d-do what P-P-Peregrine d-did to m-make m-me remember-'

'I can,' Talaysen said slowly. 'Then what?'

'I f-find a w-way to t-talk t-to my uncle alone,' Sion repeated. 'In h-his b-bedroom, m-maybe. If I c-can t-talk t-to him alone, h-he'll have to believe me!'

'First problem,' Rune pointed out. 'Getting into the palace.'

'You can leave that to me,' Talaysen told her. 'I've slipped into a fair number of buildings in my time. The easiest way in is as a servant, openly, since servants are invisible to those they serve.'

'Next problem-what if your uncle won't believe you?' Gwyna was still pale, and she didn't look as if she liked this plan at all.

'Magic,' Rune said. 'At least we can keep him convinced long enough for us to get out of here and somewhere safer. After that-well, our influence is going to wear off after a while.'

'I say we can fake Kestrel's death once we're well away,' Talaysen said unexpectedly. 'I faked my own, I ought to be able to do his!'

Slowly Gwyna's color came back, and she nodded. 'That should work,' she said, and grinned a little-a feeble grin, but it was there, and real. 'If it makes him safe from his uncle and those greedy fools, that's the best solution of all.'

Rune sighed with relief. Good sense to the rescue, she thought. 'The only question I can see is, the fake won't hold forever-it didn't for Master Wren. Then what? We're right back at the beginning!'

Talaysen chuckled, much to her surprise, and evidently to Kestrel and Robin's as well, from the incredulous looks they gave him.

'Kestrel wasn't a famous Bardic Guild Master who refused to quit making music,' he said. 'That was my own fault. If I'd had the sense to become a carpenter or something, they'd never have found me again. Kestrel, on the other hand, is not going to go find himself another position as a prince, and no one but us knows he really is a Bard.'

'All right,' Rune said. 'I can accept that. So now the question is-how to we get into the palace? Everything we want to do hinges on that. If we can't get in and convince Rolend long enough to give us that breathing space to fake a death, we can't make all this work.'

'I've been thinking for the past week or so,' Talaysen said slowly. 'Trying to come up with a plan that would work whether Kestrel wanted the crown or not-and I think I've got one.'

He couldn't possibly have said anything that would have had a better chance of capturing their attention. As one, they leaned forward to listen.

Talaysen nodded, as if he was satisfied. 'Remember what I said about servants being invisible? Think about that-then remember what Rune and I can do to fog peoples' thoughts and confuse them. Combine those two factors, and I think we can get in ourselves, find a way into the private quarters, for all of us, and once we have that, we have everything. Now-here is what we do, to start. Or rather, what Rune and I do. . . .'

* * *

Rune scrubbed pots with a will, her hands deep in lukewarm, soapy water. and kept her head down with her hair straggling into her eyes.

She hummed as she worked, concentrating on not being noticed. The girl whose clothes she had stolen was her same height and general build, but she looked nothing like the Bard-and while she could use magic to keep people from looking too closely at her, if she worked too hard at bespelling people now, she'd have no energy reserves for dealing with King Rolend later. The kitchen suffered from lack of light, though, which was to her advantage. Talaysen and the other two looked a great deal more like their own counterparts, but she was the weakest link here; there simply weren't too many women with Rune's inches.

Too bad she didn't have another job, Rune thought, with an idle corner of her mind, as she chipped away at some burnt-on porridge that had been left there since this morning. When I left the Bear, I thought I'd left this behind me too. Ick. I hate pot-scrubbing.

The stone-walled kitchen, too small for the number of people crowded into it, was ill-lit, with only two lanterns for the whole room, cramped and hot; in the inevitable confusion of dinner preparation it had been fairly simple for them to slip into the root-cellar to hide, then to lure individuals away and knock them out with a song of sleep. Their victims would be found in the cellar some-time tomorrow, but the chances of their being discovered before then was fairly remote-Talaysen had waited until the last foray after roots and onions was over before sending them to dreams. There was no reason for anyone to go down there now, and raw roots weren't high on anyone's list of edibles to steal. King Rolend's expert handling of his people extended to his kitchens and servants- they were all well-fed, and if they stole anything to munch on, it would be a bit of meat or a pastry, not a raw onion.

The pot-scrubbers ate first, even before the courtiers and high servants that the meal had been prepared for, so the only time anyone said anything to Rune and her fellow cleaners, it was about the dirty dishes. Other than that, they were left alone.

She freed a hand long enough to wipe sweat from her forehead and the back of her neck. The other three had taken the place of other cleaners and sweepers. Gwyna was two stations over, in charge of pewter mugs and utensils; Talaysen and Sional had been in charge of carrying garbage out to the compost-heaps. Now they waited,