The Robin And The Kestrel

Kestrel's brow furrowed. 'Isn't th-that a p-p-post th-that g-goes t-to a g-g-graybeard usually?'

Rodrick nodded. 'Never heard it go to a man under the age of fifty, that's sure. Well, now he's High Bishop, and seems like all Gradford's gone mad for his notions. Inns_they're closing, 'cause they got no business. Trade in fancy-goods is way down. People are act'lly taking vows, an' doin' it like they thought the Second Cataclysm was this Midwinter! Only one trade's doin' any good, an' that's the trade in religious stuffs.'

He nodded to himself with smug satisfaction, and Robin took a few bites of her neglected dinner while he basked in his own cleverness.

'I took m'self home, gathered up ev'ry book on the Church list, an' I've got 'em all loaded down on m'poor little donkey. Havna been able t' unload the half of 'em all these years_if Gradford's gonna come down with a plague'a piety, I'm gonna use the chance t' be rid'a this stuff!'

He beamed at them, and Robin chuckled. 'Good for you, Rod, and thank you for telling us about this. It may not make us change our travel plans, but we're going to have to change our trades, I can see that.'

Rod drank the last of the beer in his pitcher, and stood up to leave. 'So long as it be religious, Gypsy Robin, ye'll profit,' he said with a nod. 'An' on that note, I'll be takin' m'leave.'

'And a good night and fair profit to you.' She returned the traditional trader's greeting. 'And once again, thanks.'

'Glad t' be of service,' Rod replied, and took himself off, up the stairs to the sleeping quarters used by those who had no wagons to sleep in.

'Well,' Robin said, turning to Kestrel as soon as Rod had taken the stairs out of sight and hearing. 'Now what do we do?'

CHAPTER NINE

Jonny glanced around, quickly, to make certain there was no one near enough to overhear their conversation. He needn't have bothered; they were the only two patrons left in the common room, and since Robin had already paid for their meal, the serving girls were gone. The barkeeper polished the top of the counter and put clean mugs up on the shelf, obviously there only in the hope that they might order a drink.

If this common room was typical of the rest of the inn, it was one of the better such places Jonny had seen in all of his travels.

Then again, my pocket wasn't up to bearing the price of inns when I was on my own, he thought wryly.

But this was a good, solid place. Immaculately clean, the simple wood furniture was scarred by use and dark with age and many years of cleaning, but sturdily made; the floors were covered with clean rushes, and the smoke-blackened beams above were free of cobwebs. A few lanterns burned along the walls, but most of the light came from the fireplace. There were more lanterns along the walls, but they were not lit, perhaps in the hope of saving a little money on lamp oil.

'Eat,' Robin advised him. 'No one is going to hear us, or care what we say. They've heard everything in a place like this. They know we're Gypsies and Free Bards, and I rather doubt that the innkeeper is very fond of the Church and the High Bishop of Gradford. Right now, they're more concerned that their custom has dropped off than in anything we might say or do. We're just ordinary musicians, remember? What possible damage could two musicians do to anyone?'

He shook his head, and followed her advice. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good meal, especially not one as tasty as this; the cook had a good hand with pastry, and the tender, flaky crust covered a meat pie rich with brown gravy. But his stomach was a trifle uneasy and it took concentrated effort to calm it; Rodrick's information frankly disturbed him.

It appeared that the Ghost might have been right; certainly this High Bishop was an excellent candidate for the source of the sentiment against Free Bards. An ambitious man_as Padrik clearly was_could look for no better and quicker road to power than through the Church, and no quicker way to rise in the Church than to find something to get people upset about on religious grounds.

There aren't too many things that can get people aroused the way religion can, he observed, and with this outbreak of 'piety,' sooner or later someone is going to find a 'cause' to expend all their energy on. Unless Padrik is a fool, he'll be that someone; it will be the only way he can continue to control his followers. And if the 'cause' turns out to be the control of music and musicians by the Church, it's going to be a bad day for the Free Bards.

There his thoughts might have ended, if he hadn't spoken with Harperus and T'fyrr, but those conversations had opened his eyes to the fact that an attempt to control would not end with music. Control had to begin