Magic's Price

“Nonsense, Dell,” Breda cut him off with an imperious wave of her hand, and pointed an emphatic finger at Stefen. “What Shavri did or didn't want wouldn't have mattered a pin if you weren't also one of the brightest and best apprentices we've had in Bardic in - I don't know - ages, at any rate. We don't make exceptions because someone with rank pressures us, Stefen. We do make them when someone is worthy of them. You are. You have no need to prove yourself out in the world, and your unique Gift makes you double valuable, to us, and to the Crown.”

She gave Dellar a challenging look; he just shrugged and chuckled. “She's put it in a nutshell, lad. We need to keep you here for the King's sake, and the only way to do that is to assign you to King Randale permanently. The only way to give you the rank to rate that kind of assignment is for you to be a Master Bard. But there's a problem -”

“I can see that, sir,” Stef replied, regaining his composure. “It's not the way things are supposed to be done. There's likely to be some bad feelings.”

“That is an understatement,” one of the others said dryly, examining her chording hand with care. “Bards are only human. There's more than a few that will want your privates for pulling this plum. About half of that lot will be sure you slept your way to it. And unless we can do something to head that jealousy off, gossip will dog your footsteps, and make both your job and your life infinitely harder. Need I remind you that we're dealing with Bards here, and experts with words? Before they're through, that risque reputation of yours will be the stuff of tavern- songs and stories from here to Hardorn.”

Stefen felt his face getting hot.

“That's been the problem, lad,” Dellar shrugged. “And this is where we had to make some compromises. So now I'll have to give you the bad news. You'll be assigned as the King's personal Bard, but it will be on the basic stipend. Bare expenses, just like now. No privileges, and your quarters will be your old room right here, rather than something plusher at the Palace. We'll have Medren move out so it's private, but that's the best we can do for you.”

Stef nodded, and hid his disappointment. He was still going to be the youngest Master Bard in the history of the Collegium. He still had royal favor, and he would be in the Court, in everyone's eye, where he had the chance to earn rewards on the side. “I can understand that, sir,” he said, trying to sound as if he was taking all this in stride. “If it looks like I'm not getting special treatment - if, in fact, it's pretty obvious that the only reason I've been made Master is so I can serve the King directly - well, nobody who's that ambitious is going to envy me a position with no special considerations attached.”

“Exactly.” Dellar nodded with satisfaction and folded his hands on top of his papers. “I'd hoped you would see it that way. You'll also be working with the Healers, of course. They're mad to know how it is you do what you do, and to see if it's possible for them to duplicate it.”

Stefen sighed. That would mean more time taken out of his day, and less that he could spend getting some attention where it could do him some long-term good. He'd seen Randale now, and just how ill the King really was; he wouldn't last more than a few years, at best, and then where would Stefen be?

Out, probably. If nobody needs that pain-killing Gift of mine. And having nowhere else to go, unless I make myself into a desirable possession.

“Yes, sir,” he replied with resignation he did his best to conceal.

Still, the Healers can't take up all my time. What I really need to find out is where the ladies of the Court congregate, since there isn't any Queen. The married ones, that is. The young ones won't have any influence - no, what I need is a gaggle of bored, middle-aged women, young enough to be flattered, old enough not to take it seriously. Ones I can be a diversion for. . . .

He realized suddenly that Bard Dellar was still talking, and he'd lost the last couple of sentences. And what had caught his attention was a name.

“- Herald Vanyel,” Dellar concluded, and Stef cursed himself for his inattention. Now he had no idea at all what it was Vanyel had said or done or was supposed to do, nor what it could possibly have to do with himself. “Well, I think that about covers everything, lad. Think you're up to this?”

“I hope so, sir,” Stefen said fervently.

“Very well, then; report to Court about midmorning, just as you did yesterday. Herald Vanyel will instruct you when you get there.”

So, Vanyel's to be my keeper, hmm? Stefen bowed to the members of the Bardic Council, and smiled to himself as he left the room. Well. Things are beginning to look promising.

Despite the precautions, there was still jealousy. Stef found himself being ignored, and even snubbed, by several of the full Bards - mostly those who were passing through Haven on the way to somewhere else, but it still happened.

It wasn't the first time he'd been snubbed, though, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The Bards that stayed any length of time soon noticed that he wasn't getting better treatment than an ordinary Journeyman, and the ice thawed a little.