Lark and Wren

'The Guild would hardly want it known that their pride had rejected 'em for a pack of Gypsy jonguelers, now would they?' the lanky fellow pointed out.

'So, can I tempt you to join with us, Rune, lass?' the man she'd known as Talaysen asked gently.

'I'd like-but I can't,' she replied despairingly. 'How could I keep myself? It'll take weeks for my arm to heal. And-my instruments are splinters, anyway.' She shook her head, tears in her eyes. 'They weren't much, but they were all I had. They were-from friends.'

Tonno, Rose, will you ever forgive me? I've not only failed, but I've managed to lose your legacy to me. . . .

'I don't have a choice; I'll have to go back to Nolton-or maybe they'll take me in a tavern in Kingsford. I can still turn a spit and fill a glass one-handed.' Tears spilled down her cheeks as she thought of going back to the life she'd thought she'd left behind her.

'Ah lass, didn't you hear Erdric?' the old man asked. 'There's nothing for you to worry about! You're one of us; you won't need to go running off to find a way to keep food in your mouth! We take care of each other-we'll care for you till you're whole again-'

She stared at them all, and every one of them nodded. The old man patted her shoulder, then hastily found her a rag when scanning their faces brought her belief-and more tears.

'As for the instruments-' Talaysen vanished and returned again as her sobs quieted. 'I can't bring back your departed friends. 'They're splinters, and I loved them' can't be mended, nor can I give you back the memories of those who gave them to you. But if I can offer a poor substitute, what think you of these twain?'

The fiddle and lute he laid in her lap weren't new, nor were they the kind of gilded, carved and ornamented dainties Guild musicians boasted, but they held their own kind of quiet beauty, a beauty of mellow wood and clean lines. Rune plucked a string on each, experimentally, and burst into tears again. The tone was lovely, smooth and golden, and these were the kind of instruments she'd never dreamed of touching, much less owning.

When the tears had been soothed away, the various medicines been applied both internally and externally, and introductions made all around, Rune found herself once again alone with Talaysen-or Gwydain, though on reflection, she liked the name she'd first known him by better. The rest had drawn curtains on their wires close in about her little corner, making an alcove of privacy.

'If you're going to let me join you-' she said, shyly.

'Let!' He laughed, interrupting her. 'Haven't we made it plain enough we've been trying to lure you like cony-catchers? Oh, you're one of us, Rune, lass. You've just been waiting to find us. You'll not escape us now!'

'Then-what am I supposed to do?'

'You heal,' he said firmly. 'That's the first thing. The second, well, we don't have formal apprenticeships amongst us. By the Lady, there's no few things you could serve as Master in, and no question about it! You could teach most of us a bit about fiddling, for one-'

'But-' She felt a surge of dismay. Am I going to have to fumble along on my own now? 'One of the reasons I wanted to join the Guild was to learn! I can barely read or write music, not like a Master, anyway; there's so many instruments I can't play'-her voice rose to a soft wail-'how am I going to learn if a Master won't take me as an apprentice?'

'Enough! Enough! No more weeping and wailing, my heart's over-soft as it is!' he said hastily. 'If you're going to insist on being an apprentice, I suppose there's nothing for it. Will I do as a Master to you?'

Rune was driven to speechlessness, and could only nod. Me? Apprentice to Gwydain? She felt dizzy; this was impossible, things like this only happened in songs-

-like winning prizes from a ghost.

'By the Lady, lass, you make a liar out of me, who swore never to take an apprentice! Wait a moment.' He vanished around the curtain for a moment, then returned. 'Here-'

He set down a tiny harp. 'This can be played one-handed, and learning the ways of her will keep you too busy to bedew me with any more tears while your arm mends. Treat her gently-she's my own very first instrument, and she deserves respect.'

Rune cradled the harp in her good arm, too awe-stricken to reply.

'We'll send someone in the morning for your things, wherever it is you've cached 'em. Lean back there-oh, it's a proper nursemaid I am-' He chattered, as if to cover discomfort, or to distract her, as he made her comfortable on her pillows, covering her with blankets and moving her two-no, three-new instruments to a place of safety, but still within sight. He seemed to understand how seeing them made her feel. 'We'll find you clothing and the like as well. That sleepy-juice they gave you should have you nodding shortly. Just remember one thing before you doze off. I'm not going to be an easy Master to serve; you won't be spending your days lazing about, you know! Come morning, I'll set you your very first task. You'll teach me'-his eyes lighted with unfeigned eagerness-'that Ghost song!'

'Yes, Master Talaysen,' she managed to say-and then she fell deeply and profoundly asleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Faire ran for eight weeks; Rune had arrived the first day of the second week. Not everyone who was a participant arrived for the beginning of the Faire. There were major events occurring every week of the Faire, and minor ones every day. She had known, vaguely, that the trials and other Guild contests were the big event of the second week-the first week had been horse races, and next week would be livestock judging, a different breed of animal every day. None of this had made any difference to her at the time, but it might now. The final week of Faire was devoted to those seeking justice, and it was entirely possible that the Guild might decide to wreak further justice on her, in trials of another sort. She spent the night in pain-filled dreams of being brought up before the three Church Justices on charges of trying to defraud the Bardic Guild.

Each time she half-woke, someone would press a mug of medicinal tea into her hands, get her to drink it down, and take it away when she'd fallen asleep again. When she truly woke the next morning, the big tent was empty of everyone except Gwyna, the dark Gypsy girl, Erdric, and a young boy.

It was the boy's voice that woke her; singing in a breathy treble to a harp, a song in a language she didn't recognize. The harp-notes faltered a little, as he tried to play and sing at the same time.