The Eagle And The Nightingales

'By God, this is more entertaining than Court Dinner!' Levan spluttered. 'T'fyrr, you must be honest, or you'd never have answered that way! What a change from all those oily, wily Guild Bards! Dare I actually ask if you are interested in music instead of advancing yourself?'

'Music is_is my life, my lord,' T'fyrr said simply, expecting them both to break into laughter again. But they didn't; they both sobered, and the Seneschal nodded.

'You see?' Acreon said quietly. 'Honest, and a true artist. Innocent as this boy, here_Sire T'fyrr, I thought you might need a friend, now I am certain of it. I hope you will consider me to be your friend, and call on me if you need something the boy cannot provide.'

T'fyrr was at an utter loss of what to say, so he replied with the feeling that was uppermost at that moment. 'Thank you, thank you very much, Lord Acreon,' he said, as sincerely as he could. 'I am not so innocent that I do not realize that my position here is extremely delicate. The King offended many of high estate today, but I am the safer target for their wrath, and they will probably try to vent it sooner or later.'

'Innocent, but not stupid,' Levan said, jabbing a fork into his meat with satisfaction. 'I like that. So, Atrovel, why are you here, anyway?'

Atrovel waved his knife airily. 'Because I enjoy seeing so many of our pompous windbags_ah, excuse me, noble Council members_discomfited. It is no secret that I dislike most of them, and am disliked in return. The King trusts me because I amuse him; they hate that. I enjoy causing them trouble. They are boring, they have no imagination, and they don't appreciate music. That is enough for me.'

'And you appreciate music?' T'fyrr asked. Although none of them really watched him eating, they weren't going out of their way to avoid watching him swallow down neat, small bites of absolutely raw meat. That was interesting. Although he could eat other things_and would dine on the cooked meat on one tray, soon_he'd deliberately chosen the raw steak as a kind of test.

Levan snorted and picked up his goblet to drink before answering. 'Enjoy? Oh, my dear T'fyrr, this is the foremost musical critic of the Court! Or at least, he thinks so!'

'I know so,' Atrovel replied casually, raising one eyebrow. 'Your performance, by the way, was absolutely amazing. Were you simulating an instrumental accompaniment with your voice?'

So someone had noticed! 'A very simple one,' T'fyrr admitted. 'A ground only. I could not have replicated a harp, for instance_'

'Oh, don't start!' Levan interrupted. 'I like music as well as the next man, but having it dissected? Pah! You two wait until you're alone and let the rest of us just listen without having to know what it all breaks down to!'

'Fine words from one who spends his life breaking things into their components to find out how the universe runs,' Acreon pointed out mildly. He had graduated from salad to some mild cheese and unspiced meats. T'fyrr suspected chronic indigestion; hardly surprising, considering how hard he worked.

'I prefer to leave some few things a mystery, and music is one of them,' Levan replied with dignity. 'However_are all your people so gifted? Or are you the equivalent of a Bard among them?'

T'fyrr passed an astonishingly pleasant hour with the three Royal Advisors, and after the Seneschal and the Artificer pled work and left, spent two more equally pleasant hours discussing the technicalities of music with Lord Atrovel. The diminutive fellow was as much of a dandy as Harperus, and just as certain of the importance of his own opinions, but he was also scathingly witty, and his observations on some of the other Council members had T'fyrr doubled up in silent laughter more than once.

When Lord Atrovel finally left, T'fyrr sent Nob off to bed (over the boy's protests that he was supposed to help the Haspur undress), and unwrapped himself. He let the silk wrapping fall to the floor_consciously. No more picking up after himself; no more going to fetch things.

I have to give the boy something to do, or he'll think he isn't doing his job. This was not a situation he had anticipated, to say the least.

He had thought_when he actually let himself entertain the notion of success at all_that he might possibly end up as one of the King's private musicians. He had a notion what that meant; he would have been a glorified servant himself. That would have been fine_but this was out of all expectation.

He palmed the lights off, and stayed awake awhile, cushioned in his new bed, thinking.

I have a servant, a retainer_someone who depends on me to be a good master or a bad, and has no choice but to deal with what I tell him to do. What kind of a master will I make? That was one worry on top of everything else; could he, would he become abusive? He had a temper, the winds knew; if he lost it with this boy, he could damage the child, physically. On the practical side, he had no idea of the strength or the endurance of a human fledgling; Harperus had said the boy was_what? Something like twelve years of age. What could he do? What shouldn't he do?

Perhaps it will be safest to watch him, and send him to rest at the first sign that he is tired. I wonder if he can read? If not, I shall see to it that he learns. If so, I shall find out if he enjoys reading, and make that one of his tasks. It would be a safe way to make the boy rest, even if he didn't think he should.