The Eagle And The Nightingales

What? he thought with interest. What is this? And why? They have been treating him like a child until this moment_now, why do they suddenly act as if they had a lion in their midst? What was it about that phrase, 'I am the King and I have spoken,' that has sudden changed the entire complexion of this?

Silence reigned around the table, and Theovere nodded with satisfaction. 'Good!' he said. 'Now, you may all go attend to your pressing duties. I am sure you have many. You keep telling me that you do.'

The Council members rose to a man in a rustling of expensive fabric, bowed, and filed silently out, leaving only T'fyrr and Theovere, and Theovere's ever-present bodyguards. The King chuckled.

'I am not certain, Your Majesty, that I deserve such preferential treatment,' T'fyrr said at last, after a moment of thought. I have had enemies made this day of nearly every important man in this Court. This appointment has just become a most comfortable and luxurious setting in which to be a target! 'Perhaps if you chose to return to your original plan?' he suggested gently. 'I am only one poor musician, and there is no reason to make my position in your household into a source of such terrible contention.'

Theovere shook his head. 'I meant what I said,' the High King replied. 'They can learn to live with it. There has been too much talk of late about the superiority of humans_and you have just proven that talk to be so much manure, and you have done so in my open Court. It is time and more than time for people to learn better_you will serve as my primary example.'

Thus making me a target for every malcontent in the city, if not in the Twenty Kingdoms! Thank you so much, Your Majesty!

'I will call a page to show you to your new quarters, and have your friend, the Deliambren, sent there to meet you,' the King continued, rising to his feet. T'fyrr did likewise with some haste, bowing as the King smiled. One of the bodyguards reached for a bellpull, and as the King moved away from the table, a young, dark-haired, snub- nosed boy appeared in the still-open door, clad in the High King's livery of gold and scarlet.

The King acknowledged T'fyrr's bow with an indolent wave of his hand, and walked out of the Council room, trailing all but one of his bodyguards. The one left behind, the one who had summoned the page, gestured to the boy as T'fyrr rose from his bow.

'This gentleman is now the King's Chief Court Musician in his personal household,' the bodyguard said to the boy in a voice lacking all expression. He kept his face at an absolute deadpan as well, and T'fyrr could only admire his acting ability. 'His name is Sire T'fyrr. You will escort him to the royal wing, see that he is comfortably lodged in the Gryphon Suite, and from here on, see that his needs are attended to. For the immediate future, you will see to his special needs in furnishing his quarters, then, when Sire T'fyrr indicates, find the Deliambren Ambassador and escort him to Sire T'fyrr.'

The child bobbed his head in wordless acknowledgement, and the bodyguard left, apparently satisfied that the King's orders had been correctly delivered.

As soon as he was gone, the boy glanced up at T'fyrr, and the Haspur did not have to be an expert in human children to see that the boy was frightened of him. His face was pale, and his fists clenched at his sides. If T'fyrr said or did anything alarming, the poor fledgling would probably faint_or forget his duty and bolt for someplace safe to hide!

'I am a Haspur, young friend,' T'fyrr said gently, and chuckled. 'We don't eat children. We do eat meat, but we prefer it to be cooked_and we would rather not have had a speaking acquaintance with it before it became our dinner.'

The child relaxed marginally. 'Would you follow me, Sire T'fyrr?' he said in a trembling soprano. 'Do you have any baggage that you will need brought to you?'

'My friend Harperus will see to all that,' T'fyrr told him, and added as an afterthought, 'He is the Deliambren. You should have no trouble finding him; he is the only being in the Palace who is dressed to look like a saints palanquin in a Holy Day Festival Parade.'

That broke the ice, finally; the little boy giggled, and stifled the laugh behind both hands. But the eyes above the hands were merry, and when he turned a sober face back to T'fyrr, his eyes had a sparkle to them that they had lacked until that moment.

'If you would come with me, then, Sire?' the boy said, gesturing at the door.

T'fyrr nodded. 'Certainly_ah, what is your name? It seems rude to call you 'boy' or 'page.' '

'Regan, Sire,' the boy said, skipping to keep up with T'fyrr as the Haspur strode down the hallway. 'But my friends call me Nob.'

T'fyrr coaxed his beak into something like a human smile. He had learned that the expression made humans feel better around him. 'Very well, Nob,' he said, projecting good humor and casualness into his voice. 'Now, if you were in my place, granted a title and a new home, what would you do first?'

'You mean, about the suite and all, Sire?' Nob asked, looking up at T'fyrr with a crooked grin. 'Well, I might have some ideas_'