Magic's Price

anything that would upset the children's parents, so it can't be a bawdy-song contest, can it?”

“No, it's not,” Savil said, grinning. “It's a bad song contest. They've challenged each other to come up with the worst songs they know. Trite, badly-rhymed, badly-scanned-you name it. Right now Van's going through some piece of drivel about being trapped in a magic circle for seventeen years, and it sounds like it may take seventeen years to sing it.”

Treesa laughed. “It may, at that,” she said, and filled a cup for the younger Tayledras.

Moondance took it, but his face was sober. “Lady Treesa, Lord Withen, I have a great wish to speak of something with you, and as it concerns your son, I think this moment of his absence gives me the opportunity. If you will permit.” He paused, and looked first into Treesa's eyes, then into Withen's. “It is not comfortable.”

Treesa dropped her gaze, but nodded. Withen cleared his throat. “Nothing about my son is particularly comfortable. I'm not sure he was ever created to inspire comfort. I think I would like to hear what you have to say. No, I would not like it, but I think I should hear it.”

Moondance sighed, and sat down on the stone railing.

“Then, let me tell you something about a very young man, a boy, named Tallo.”

Savil was considerably more than a little surprised; Moondance found the story of his own past so painful that he had rarely divulged it to anyone. She knew it, of course; she had found the boy . . . she had brought him to Starwind, nearly dead.

Moondance told his story in as few words as possible, his voice flat and without emotion.

“Some thirty years ago, in a village far from here, there lived a boy named Tallo. He was a recluse, a lone runner, an odd boy, given more to thought than deed. His parents hoped he would become a votary, and sent him to the priest to learn - but in the priest's books he found what he was truly Gifted with. Magic. His parents did not understand this, nor did they sympathize, for their lives had little to do with magic and mages. This made him further alone, more different, and his parents began to try to force him back to their own simple ways. It was too late for that - there were arguments. There were more when they attempted to bring him to wed, and he refused. He could not tell them what he felt, for what he yearned for were those of his own sex, and such a thing was forbidden.”

Moondance's soft voice did not betray the pain the Tayledras Adept felt. Savil knew; no one better - but certainly Withen could never have guessed.

“One summer, after a winter of arguments and anger, there came a troupe of gleemen to the village - one among them was very handsome, and quite different from his fellows. Thus it was that Tallo learned he was not the only boy to feel yearnings of that kind. They became lovers - then they were discovered. Both were beaten and cast out of the village. In anger Tallo's lover repudiated him - and in pain and anger, Tallo called lightnings down upon him.”

Moondance sighed, and shook his head. “He did not mean even to hurt, only to frighten - but he did not know enough to control what he called, and the young gleeman died in agony, crying out Tallo's name. And in remorse for what he had done, Tallo tried to take his own life. It was Herald Savil who found him, who brought him to her new friend, Starwind of the k'Treva. Who was also shay'a'chern, and Healed the young boy in body and spirit - but still, there was such grief, such remorse, that Tallo felt something must be given in sacrifice to the harm he had done. So did Tallo die, and in his place came Moondance.”

Withen started. Moondance glanced sideways at him, and only now did the Tayledras show any emotion. “Tallo is no more,” he said, his voice subdued. “And no one in Tallo's village would know Moondance. The Tayledras are stories to frighten children with, and they would not dare to recognize him. Those that were his family would only be afraid of what he has become. Never can the one who became Moondance reconcile with his family; he did not when he was Tallo, and now it is impossible to do so. And that, Lord Withen, Lady Treesa, is a desperate sadness.”

He sipped his wine, as the insects sang in the darkness around them, and the lights in the lanterns flickered.

“It seems to me, Lord Withen,” Starwind said, finally, just before the long silence became too much to bear, “that a man's life must be judged by what he has done with it. Your son is a hero, not only to your people, but to ours, to the peoples of Baires and Lineas, even to some outside the Borders of your realm. Look at the good he has done - and yet always with him is a deep and abiding hurt, because he feels that you have seen nothing of the good he has done, that you feel he is something evil and unclean.”

Withen swallowed his cup of wine in a single gulp. He stared up at the stars for a long time, then lowered his eyes to meet Starwind's for just a moment. He dropped them, then toyed with his cup, until the silence grew too much even for him to bear.

He cleared his throat, and furrowed his brow, looking very unhappy. “Thank you. You've given me a lot to think about,” he said, awkwardly, and turned to lock gazes with Moondance. “Both of you have. And I promise you that I will think about it.” He looked down at his cup, as if he was surprised to find it empty. “I think at the moment that I have had quite enough wine for one night.” He smiled suddenly, stood up, and held out his hand to Treesa, who took it with a surprised expression. “By now that little contest should be over, and I do believe I'd like to find out who - and what - won.”

And with that, he set his cup down, aided Treesa to her feet, and exited with a certain ponderous