Magic's Price

talents of a full Bard at their disposal. Some of Treesa's ladies were quite pretty, and although Stef had no intention of following up on his flirtations, when they fluttered coyly at him, he preened right back. That was an accepted part of The Game, too. Best of all, none of this was work - he used only the barest touch of his Gift to enhance his performance, hardly enough for him to notice, unlike the deep-trance, draining effort he'd been putting out for the King.

It was a pity that Van had decided to vanish somewhere, but Stef was getting used to that. Van broods, he thought wryly. And I must admit, he's had a lot to brood about lately. If I know him, no matter what we managed to build between us last night, he's going to have to agonize over it before he can accept it. Thank the gods he can't repudiate a lifebond, or I'd probably spend every night we're here reconvincing him he's not going to be rid of me. Of course, that could be quite enjoyable - but it could also be exhausting.

He wondered what the Companion was making of all this. It would certainly help if Yfandes was on his side. He cast a brief glance at her; glowing white against the green of the orchard grass, and obviously watching him, her head nodding in time to his music. There was no doubt that there was a formidable intelligence behind those soft blue eyes.

Maybe the fact that she came out here is a sign that she likes me, he thought, when he couldn't detect any sign of hostility in her posture or her conduct. I hope so. It would make my life so much easier. . . .

Shortly after his second rest, Yfandes got up - doing so with a quiet that was positively unnerving; nothing that big had a right to move that silently! - and meandered off by herself. Stefen took that as a basically good sign. If Van was having trouble thinking things through, 'Fandes was probably going to him. And no matter what was wrong, Stefen was certain that 'Fandes would help her Chosen get his head and emotions straightened out.

Just as he was about to begin again, Stefen spotted someone coming toward the little group on a wagon- road that bisected the grove of trees. He was moving slowly, and as he neared, Stef could see why; he was carrying two heavy baskets on a pole over his shoulders. A farmworker, then, not someone coming to look for himself or Treesa, and nothing to concern them.

He continued to exchange news of the Court with Treesa, while the other ladies leaned closer to listen, but there was something about the man that vaguely bothered him, though he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He watched the stranger draw closer out of the corner of his eye and could not figure out what it was about the man that gave him uneasy feelings.

Certainly none of the others seemed to think there was anything out of the ordinary about him. They ignored him as completely as if he didn't exist.

Then - I thought Treesa said that no one works out here at this time of year. So what's he doing out here?

He took a second, longer look at the stranger, and realized something else. Something far more alarming.

The man's clothing was of high quality-actually better than Stef's own Bard uniform.

What is that peasant doing dressed like that?

The feeling of wrongness suddenly peaked, and Stefen reacted instinctively, flinging himself at Treesa and her chair and knocking both to the ground.

Just in time, for something small, and with a deadly feel to it whizzed over both their heads, cutting the air precisely where Treesa had been sitting -

Vanyel leaned out over the edge of the balustrade. The granite was warm and rough under his hands; solid, and oddly comforting. I want solid things around me, he thought slowly. So much of my life is in flux - so much depends on luck and the things others do. I'd really like to have one point of stability; something I could always depend on.

Or someone. . . .

The balustrade overlooked nothing; bushes were planted right up against it with trees beyond them, and had been allowed to grow until they blocked whatever view there might have been. With trees on all three open sides and the wall of the keep behind him, the porch wasn't good for much except the occasional lounger.

Sun beat down on Vanyel's head, warming him even though his Whites were reflecting most of the heat away. He stood so quietly that the little yellow-and-black birds that nested year-round in the branches of the bushes resumed the chatter he'd disturbed when he came out onto the porch, and actually began flitting to sit on the balustrade beside him.

:Brooding again, are we?:

He blinked, and came out of his nebulous thoughts. Yfandes was below him, barely visible through the thick branches of the bushes, a kind of white shape amid the green.

:I suppose you could call it brooding,: he admitted. :It's about