Magic's Price

:Well, my lady,: he said, :Where would you like to go?:

:I'd like a good long drink of spring water,: she replied firmly, :And I can smell running water just over that ridge.:

The water not only tasted good - it felt good. Andros became very much aware of how dusty and sweaty the trip had made him, and Toril allowed that she wouldn't object to a bath, either. By the time the two of them were dry, it was late afternoon, and Andros figured the old man would be ready to continue his journey.

When he returned to the grove, the old man was gone.

The gittern was there, though, and the mare - so Andros just sighed, and assumed he'd gone off for a walk. He began a search for the Bard, growing more and more frantic when not even a footprint turned up -

Toril imposed herself in front of him, waiting for him to mount. He blinked at her, wondering what on earth he was doing, wandering around in the woods like this.

:I must have had sun-stroke,: he told her, shaking his head in confusion. :What am - what was I doing?:

:I wondered,: she replied with concern, :You wanted to see the battle site, and I tried to tell you it wasn't here, but you insisted it was. Don't you remember?:

:No,: he replied ruefully. :Next time knock me into a stream or something, would you?:

He caught a twinkle in her eye, but she replied demurely enough, :If it's necessary. It's just that now we're late, and they really need a Herald out here for relay work. Every moment we're not there is trouble for the Healers. It's just a good thing there's a full moon tonight.:

“Oh, horseturds,” Andros groaned aloud. “You don't expect me to ride all night, do you?”

:Why not? I'm the one doing all the work. Now get the packmare and let's get going.:

“Why is there a saddle on this mare?” he asked, frowning, as he approached the palfrey. “And why isn't she fastened to your saddle already?”

:The second - because you unfastened her. You'd better have the Healers look at you when you get there.: Her mind-voice was dense with concern. :I think you really must have had a serious sunstroke. She's got a saddle because she's a present from Joserlyn Ashkevron to his sister, and saddles don't grow on trees, not even this close to the Pelagirs.:

“You're right,” Andros said, rubbing his head, then mounting. “I'd better talk to them. Well, let's get going.”

They rode off, leaving a gittern behind them, propped up against a tree. When they were quite out of sight- and hearing-distance-the strings quivered for a moment.

A knowledgeable listener might have recognized a ballad popular sixty or seventy years earlier - a love-song called “My Lady's Eyes.”

And a very keen-eared listener might have heard laughter among the trees; young male laughter, tenor and baritone, making a joyful music of their own.

To this day, that gittern is grown into the tree it leaned against then, the goldenoak's roots entwined around its strings in a gentle embrace, and there are bright days, when the winds whispers through the trees, that the Forest of Sorrows seems the most inappropriate name possible.

APPENDIX

Songs of Vanyel's Time

NIGHTBLADES

They come creeping out of darkness, and to darkness they

return. In their wake they leave destruction; where they go, no one