at least for now, which also made him a desirable—acquaintance?
“I am going to stage a small concert for just a few friends,” the Bard said smoothly. “I’m sure you’d like to attend, and I am equally sure my friends would enjoy discussing this new game with you. I’m going to hold it tomorrow night, after the Court dinner.”
Mags was about to open his mouth to come up with some excuse why he couldn’t attend, when the Bard’s next words stopped him dead.
“Lena is going to sing as well, aren’t you, my dear?” the Bard said, as Lena nodded. “It’s so important for a young Bardic student to get early exposure to audiences other than their friends and teachers. Good training for what is to come. There is nothing so important to a Bard as being able to gauge his audience within a few moments, ascertain what their mood is, and at need, what direction to steer that mood.”
Lena looked so thrilled that she was going to be performing in the same venue as her father that Mags could not bear to mar that happiness in any way.
And Marchand surely knew that. He might not know that Mags had helped to steady Lena during her first contest, but he absolutely knew that Mags was one of Lena’s best friends and steadfast supporters, and that Mags would never abandon her to face a room full of strangers on her own.
“We’ll be glad to come, Amily an’ me,” Mags said then, deciding that if he was going to be blackmailed into this, he was going to make Marchand pay for it another way.
Marchand was clearly taken aback, but there was no way now that he could just come out and say “but I only invited you” without looking unforgivably rude. “Good, then,” he replied, plastering a smile on his face. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing both of you. Right after Court dinner; it will be one of the rooms off the Great Hall. Lena can come and fetch you, so you don’t get lost in the Palace.”
“Thank you, dear, for bringing me here and introducing me to your friend,” Marchand continued. “Now I must be off, and you must go on to your classes. And I see that I was interrupting some work here, so I am sure I shouldn’t continue to do so. Until tomorrow night!”
He turned with a flourish, and made an exit, with Lena pattering along beside and a little behind him, just like an obedient, devoted spaniel.
Amily bent her head over the papers for a moment, and it was clear she was furious. Finally she said something.
“Oh, that man.”
It was more restrained than he expected.
“I don’ like ’im, not one bit,” Mags said, “ ’E makes me skin crawl.”
“Well, he is clear proof that talent and a Gift don’t make you a wonderful person,” Amily said sourly. “It makes me wish that there was a better way of selecting Bards than just judging what they can do. Someone like that should . . .” She paused, and then said, unexpectedly, “Do you know why he tries to humiliate my father every chance he gets? Did Father tell you?”
Mags shook his head.
“Because many years ago, when they were both Trainees, my father was party to something that Marchand would really rather no one else knew.” Her lips tightened. “And I shouldn’t tell you this, and I wouldn’t, except that you are in Father’s confidence. What happened was that he was in the same room when Marchand was getting a dressing-down from the Dean of Bardic for some incredibly selfish thing he had done. Father never told me what it was, but given Marchand, he probably used his Gift to get something he wanted to the detriment of someone else.”
“Like, usin’ it t’ hev his way wi’ a servant, or somethin’?” Mags hazarded. He could easily imagine that. Anything from getting the servant to do something he wasn’t supposed to, or finagling a girl into his bed.
Amily nodded. “Probably wenching,” she said, confirming Mags’ guess. “They were both about sixteen at the time. My father was the witness to it, so the Dean had him in the office to confirm the accusation. Whatever it was isn’t important... what’s important is that he did something that was in violation of Bardic ethics.”
“It couldn’ have been huge,” Mags pointed out. Then hesitated. “Could it?”
“Well... that’s the question. I mean, not life-threatening huge, but I would say very serious. The thing is that the Dean really lost his temper with Marchand, and told Marchand with Father there—” She paused, and closed her eyes, as if making sure of the memory. “ ‘The only reason we allow you to continue here is because, with a Gift as strong as yours, we dare not let you off our leash. You are like a dangerous animal, Trainee, but you are one of us by virtue of that Gift, and the Bardic Circle will not abandon their responsibilities in the matter of how you use that Gift. We will control you, Marchand, if you do not learn to control yourself and abide by the rule of ethics and law.’ ”
Mags felt his jaw dropping open with shock. Well, that explained a lot. “Anyone else know this?” he gasped.
“The Dean, who’s dead now, Father, me, the King, Marchand himself, and now you,” Amily said gravely. “Father told me and the King. I very much doubt the Dean told anyone. Marchand knows that as long as he stays just on the edge of the line, so to speak, my father won’t ever say or do anything about what he knows. So he doesn’t actually use his Gift to get things he wants directly, he just uses it to charm people into wanting to give him what he wants.” She paused. “I don’t think he’s actually evil, just incredibly selfish. I don’t think anyone matters to him except as a means to getting what he wants.”
“Gah.” Mags felt sick. “So thet’s why he ain’t in the Ruling Circle e’en though he’s a Master Bard.”
Amily nodded. “Exactly. He will never be on the Council or in the Ruling Circle. The King will always veto him. I don’t know if anyone has ever guessed why for certain, but most of the high ranking Bards feel about him the way you do, and the plain fact is they all know he is far too selfish to ever be allowed real political power, because... he wouldn’t actually abuse it as such, but he would never use it for anything other than what suited his own ends. His ‘friends’ are mostly what I would call patrons and admirers. In fact, I don’t know that he actually has what I would call a real friend.”
Mags pursed his lips thoughtfully. This really explained a lot. He knew that Lena’s family was very well off, and it wasn’t from any income that Marchand might bring in. “Lena’s Mama?” he asked tentatively. “She one of those patrons, like? Thet why ’e married ’er?”
“Lena’s mother has piles of money,” Amily confirmed. “He charmed all of the family, married her, fathered Lena, and now only has to appear home for a few days a year to keep them all dazzled. Or so Father says. I don’t see any reason to disagree with that.”
Mags shook his head. “Gotta say, what wi’ Lena’s Pa an’ Bear’s folks, mebbe I ain’t so bad off not hevin’ a fambily.”
Amily only sighed. “Then there is Master Soren, and my father,” she pointed out. “And Marc’s family, Pip’s family and Gennie’s—more good than bad. Not all families are trouble... but I will admit, it does make me appreciate my own.”
