Magic's Promise

use of a Mind-Gift. And every moment he stayed here was another moment the same disaster that wiped out Tashir's family could move to harm his.

The sun was dropping inexorably toward the horizon; he had a pain in his side, and he was gasping for breath- and still he wasn't more than halfway to his goal. He stumbled against a market- stall; recovered; ran on. He realized with despair that he was not going to make it in time.

And candlemarks could count; could be fatal, given what he knew now.

It was only too possible that Tashir had done exactly what he'd been accused of; that he had been pushed too far by his father's ultimatum, and he had lost his hold temporarily on his Gift and his sanity. It was only too likely that he had unleashed power gone rogue and had destroyed his own home and everything and everyone in it.

Valdir stopped, unable to run any farther; clung to the corner of a building at a cross street, and watched the sun turn to blood, and sink below the horizon.

Taking with it his hope.

Valdir slipped into the Pig and Stick, keeping to the wall and the shadows as much as he could. He managed to get within touching distance of Renfry, and froze there, unmoving, in the shadows behind him.

He prayed that Renfry was about to finish a set, and that he had not just begun one. The tavern was hot, and he was sweating from his run. His side still hurt, and he wanted to cough so badly his chest ached with the effort of holding it back. Sweat ran down his back, and into his eyes. Odor of bread and stew and spilled ale made his stomach cramp up with hunger, and his eyes watered. The lamps flickered, and he gripped the wall behind him, as the room swam before his eyes.

Too long on too little. Oh, gods, keep me going!

Finally Renfry finished, and waved aside requests for more. 'Not now, lads,' he said genially. 'Not until I wet my throat a bit.''

He turned, and saw Valdir behind him. He started to say something - then took a second, closer look at him, and his eyes grew alarmed.

He picked up the gittern by the neck, and grabbed Valdir's elbow with his free hand. Without a single word, he propelled the unresisting Valdir before him through the door leading to the kitchen.

It was light enough in here, though twice as hot as the tavern common room, what with two fires and the brick bake-oven all roaring at once. A huge table dominated the center of the room; an enormously fat man in a floury, stained apron was pulling fresh loaves out of the oven with a long wooden paddle and putting them to cool on the table. There were two boys at each of the fireplaces, one turning a spit, one watching a kettle. A fifth boy was sitting on a stool right by the door, peeling roots.

Renfry pushed the boy peeling roots off his perch and shoved Valdir down onto it.

'What's wrong?' he said, 'And don't tell me it's nothing. You look like somebody seeing a death sentence.'

Valdir just nodded; he'd already concocted a story for Renfry, and one that fit in with what he'd already told the man. 'I've -' He finally coughed, rackingly; swallowed. 'I've got to get out of here. Now. Tonight.'

Renfry looked at him narrowly. 'Wouldn't be that little matter of a song, would it?'

Valdir just looked at him, pleadingly. 'If Vedric finds out I'm here,' he whispered truthfully, 'he'll probably kill me, You didn't tell me it was Vedric here.'

“Vedric!” Renfry exploded. 'Great good gods, boy, you sure don't pick your enemies too carefully! Oh, hell.”

He folded his arms and gazed up at the ceiling, brows knitted together so that they came close to meeting. 'Let's see. First off, we got to get your things away from Bel. Huh ... got it!'

He slipped out into the taproom and returned within a few moments. 'I just paid that little sneak brat of the cook's to pinch your things. If he can't nip 'em, nobody can. Now - how much coin you got?'

Valdir turned out his purse. There wasn't much. Renfry counted it carefully. 'Tel!' he shouted into the chaos of the kitchen. 'How much day-old bread and stuff can I get you to part with for twenty coppers? Be generous, the boy has to run for it.'

The massive cook blundered over to their side of the big central worktable, peered at Valdir, and then at the tiny heap of coin. 'Huh. Apples is cheap right now; got some with bad spots. All right fer the road, no good t' store. Bread, uh - got some I was gonna use fer stuffin'. Let ye have it all. Got some cheese w' mold all through. Mold won' hurt ye, just looks like hell an' tastes mighty sharp; people round about here don't care for sharp cheese.