The Eagle And The Nightingales

We are too much alike, more than I knew. If I go deeper_he will have me. She felt that old, unhealed ache of her own, the scars from all of those others that she had given herself to, who had in the end only seen that she knew them too well, and fled. If I had known he would be another_But she had not known.

She could pull herself back and not give what he needed to him. There was still time to retreat.

I cannot retreat. He is my friend. He was trying to protect me by pretending he did not know me; I owe him enough to venture deeper.

So she did, slipping past the fear, the anger_

Ah. The fear and the anger are related. He fears the anger.

There was pain, dreadful pain both physical and spiritual; more fear, and with it a residue of self-hate, deep and abiding doubt, and a soul-wounding that called out to her. There was nothing to tell her what had caused all this, what had changed the confident, happy creature she had met in the Waymeet to the T'fyrr who doubted, even despised himself and sought some kind of redemption here in Lyonarie. She could only read the emotions, not what caused them.

But being Nightingale, now that she knew the hurt existed, now that it was a part of her, there was no choice for her, either. She had to find out what it was that troubled him, and why, and help him if she could.

The hurt was hers; the soul-pain was hers now, as she had known it would be. That was the curse that was also her gift. Once she read a person this deeply, she was committed to dealing with what she found_

Which was one of the reasons why she preferred to spend as much time in the company of those who were not human as possible. It was difficult to read nonhumans, harder still to read them to that extent; very seldom did she find those whose hearts called to hers for help. The concerns of the Elves were either only of the moment, or of the ages_she could help with neither. The Deliambrens were as shallow streams to her, for they simply did not understand human emotions. Other nonhumans either could not be read at all, or their needs were so alien to her that their pain slipped away from her and vanished into darkness before she could do more than grasp the fact that it was there.

Not so with T'fyrr. She braced herself against the pull of his needs and his hurts, but only to keep herself from being devoured by them. His aches were hers now, and would be until and unless she helped him to heal them. The bond between them might even last beyond that moment; it was too soon to tell.

And too late to call it back and say, 'No, wait_'

She brought her awareness back to the here and now, her hands playing of their own will, despite the new hurts in her heart, the hurts that were not hers, and yet were now a part of her. She felt, as she always did on these occasions, as if the pain should somehow manifest itself physically, as if she should bear bleeding wounds on her hands and breast, as if she should look as bruised and broken outside as T'fyrr was within.

But, of course, there were no such signs, nor was it likely that T'fyrr had any notion what had just happened. He sang on, finding his momentary release in music, just as she herself often did.

Ah, Lady of the Night, we are more alike than I had thought!

With the readiness, if not the ease, of long practice, she walled as much away as she could inside herself and smoothed over the pain that she could not wall away. Eventually, it would all be dealt with....

Or not....

But for the moment, it was this moment that counted.

And there were more duties that she owed than this one. She had her duty as a musician as well as a healer, and it was as a musician that she was operating now. She sang and smiled, played and probed the needs of her audience, and answered those needs. And eventually, the set was over.

'Let's go somewhere quiet for the break,' she said once they had taken their bows and left the stage. 'We have a great deal of catching up to do.' And as the skin around his eyes twitched, she added quickly, 'Unless you have somewhere you need to go? I don't want to get in the way of anything that you are already committed to.'

'No,' he said after a moment's awkward silence. 'No, I don't have anywhere to go, and no one is expecting me. I had hoped to get back before darkness fell, but_'

'Darkness had already fallen by the time you left Tyladen's office,' she pointed out, and he sighed.

'I thought as much.' He said it in a discouraged, but unsurprised tone. 'I suppose I can fly in the darkness; there is enough light coming up from the streets_'

She interrupted him, feeling more than annoyed at Tyladen for not taking care of this himself. 'It was Tyladen's fault that you were here longer than you wanted to be, and Tyladen's fault_or so I suspect_that you were