The Eagle And The Nightingales

He looked for one short moment as if he might still try to pretend that he didn't know her, but she kept her eyes fastened on his, and he finally shook his head.

'Hello, Nightingale,' he replied in that deep, rumbling voice she knew so well. The tension in the arm beneath her hand told her he was still caught up in the fighting rage the attack had stirred up in him. But he spoke to her calmly enough to have fooled anyone but her, or someone like her. 'I_I am sorry I did not greet you, but I was afraid that something like this might happen. I did not want anyone following me to know that I knew you.'

She nodded; it would be time enough later to find out why he was being followed, and what in the world had brought him to Lyonarie_presumably with Old Owl, since that was the last Deliambren she had seen him with. Right now, there were other things she needed to do.

Bring him calm, for one thing, and help him convince himself that the danger is over for now.

'I saw them; there were three of them. One never got close to you, one had that stiletto knife, and one had a net.'

His eyes widened at the mention of the word 'net.'

Well, that certainly touched a nerve.

'Whoever they are, they're gone now,' she pointed out quickly. 'I saw them leave_unfortunately, I wasn't in a position where I could get someone to intercept them.'

He took a deep breath. 'I would rather that they escaped than you got yourself involved in my troubles,' he replied.

She only shook her head. 'I have to start my next set,' she said instead, changing the subject completely. 'Why don't you join me?'

He blinked at her slowly, as if he didn't quite understand what she had just said. 'Do you mean to listen,' he asked, 'or to participate?'

'Either,' she told him. 'Both. It will do you good to think about something else for a little until your thoughts get organized and you have a chance to calm yourself down. I know how good your memory is; surely we both know enough of the same music to fill a set. I also know how good you are_and there is no one else I would rather share a stage with. I would love to have you join me, unless you'd rather not.'

But he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if her reply had answered some need of his own. 'There is nothing I would like better,' he said, his voice now a bit more relaxed. 'If you would care to lead the way_?'

By the time the two of them reached her little stage, Nightingale noticed that Xarax had altered the lighting to suit both of them. She gave T'fyrr her stool and took a chair for herself; after a brief consultation to determine some mutually acceptable music, they began.

The Rainbow Room had emptied as the brawl began, now it slowly filled up again with customers who were shaken by what had just happened. While fights were not unheard of in Freehold, there had never been one of this magnitude, and the regular customers were still asking themselves how and why the violence of the outside world had intruded on this place they had considered immune to it. Nightingale could have told them, of course.

When powerful people are determined that something will happen, no place is safe that has not been warned and has not created specific defenses against the weapons that they can bring to bear. Powerful people have the means to make things happen, no matter what anyone else might want.

But that was not what these people wanted to hear, and at the moment, that was not what they needed to hear, either. They needed to be soothed, and since that need matched T'fyrr's, that was what Nightingale gave them all.

As she played and sang, and wove a web of magic to hold them all in a feeling of safety and security, she opened herself cautiously to T'fyrr. 'Reading' a nonhuman was always a matter for uncertainty, but she thought that she knew him well enough to have a solid chance at getting a little beneath his surface.

Do I? It is an intrusion. But he is in need_it's like the ache of an unhealed wound. Could I see him wounded physically and not help? No, this is something I must at least try to help with.

She closed her eyes, set part of herself to the simple task of playing, and the rest to weaving herself into the magic web, opening herself further to him, letting herself slide into his heart.

There is fear; that is the surface. Singing seemed to ease him somewhat, but beneath the obvious concerns_anxiety over being followed, remnants of fear from the moment when he had seen an attacker targeting him, more fear for what the attack really meant_there was some very deep emotional wounding, something that went back much farther than the past few hours, or even weeks.

She sensed that, but she did not touch it. Not yet.