The Eagle And The Nightingales

'Now he delegates all his power to people who abuse it, and wastes his own time with musicians and Deliambren toys,' she finished for him. 'I know; I've heard all about it from the Palace kitchen. No one there knows why, though; or what caused the change. He hasn't been ill, he hasn't had an accident, and there's no record of this kind of_of loss of mental power running in his family. Is he being drugged, or has he simply been listening to the wrong people for so long that he no longer thinks clearly or pays heed to the warning signs about him?'

'I don't know either,' he admitted, deflated. 'And if anyone else knows, they haven't confided in me.'

Nightingale turned toward him in the darkness and made a little sound_not quite a chuckle, but full of irony. 'They wouldn't now, would they? After all, you are only a lowly musician. One of the very things that the King is frittering away his time with. Why should anyone who wants to restore Theovere to what he was trust you?'

He felt his talons scraping along the stone of the balustrade as he clenched his fist in frustration. He said nothing, though, and she did not press him.

'I heard_' she began again tentatively, and he sensed she was going to change the subject. 'I heard that you had been traveling with Harperus all this time, that you were somewhere around Gradford last fall at around the time Robin and Kestrel were there, too.'

Too near the bone! He shied away quickly. 'I don't remember all the places we were,' he lied, knowing the lie sounded clumsy. After all, given how precise his memory was, how could he forget where he had been? 'Harperus' wagon travels faster than beasts can pull it, if he chooses to make it so. We have been too many places to count.'

'I thought for certain I heard Harperus say the two of you were heading for Gradford when we parted company, though,' she persisted, and he had the feeling that she was trying to probe for something. 'Didn't you even tell me yourself that you were going to meet Robin and Kestrel there?'

He winced this time, and was glad that it was too dark for her to see it. 'I don't recall,' he lied again. 'Its been a year, at least, after all.'

'And a great deal has happened between then and now,' she replied, but then she stopped pressing him. 'Except, perhaps, to me. I didn't do very much in the time since you left me; I spent most of the time I passed among humans in very small villages where nothing much ever happens. My audiences are small, my recompense smaller, but it is enough to keep me. That is all the news that I have for you, I fear.'

It took a moment for that statement to sink in, and when it did, he was astonished. Why would she do that? Look how she fills rooms here, where there are all sorts of entertainers! Why would she choose places where they could never understand what a great musician she truly is?

'But_' He fumbled for words that would not sound like an insult. 'But you are a superb musician! You should be performing in places like Freehold all the time! Why do you spend your time, your talents, among people who can never appreciate them?'

'Never?' He heard the irony in her voice again. 'But one of those people, not that long ago, was our own little Lady Lark. There are hidden treasures in those tiny villages, T'fyrr. Now and again I come upon one with the music-hunger in him, and I wake it up and show him that he does not have to remain where he is and let it starve to death. For that alone, it is worth the days and weeks among people who would not care how well I played, so long as I could play 'The Huntsman' twenty or thirty times running.'

And from the tone of her voice, that was probably precisely what happened in those tiny villages she claimed to like so much. There must be other reasons_

'There are other reasons,' she admitted, as if she had read his thoughts. 'If some authority has a grudge against Free Bards or Gypsies, I generally know it the moment I set eyes on the people there, and I can keep moving. That is better than thinking that I am safe and suddenly finding an angry Mayor or Priest with a mob come to drive me out of town. And, at any rate, I try not to spend much time actually in those villages. There are other places where I am welcome.'

Such as with the Elves, perhaps? Hadn't Harperus said something about that, at a time when he was trying to distract T'fyrr from his depression? He hadn't been paying as much attention as he wished he had now.

Something about Nightingale being considered odd, 'fey,' he said, even among her own people. That she spent more time among the Elves and other nonhumans than among her own kind. That sounds uncannily like_myself. Is there something that she is trying to avoid, I wonder, even as I? Is that why she spends much time among those who care little about her and much about her music? There was a great deal that she was not saying, and he found himself wondering what it was. She had her secrets too.

If that was the case, would she understand him and his guilt, as Harperus had not?

He was tempted to unburden himself, sorely tempted, but resisted the temptation. He really did not want to drag anyone else into his troubles or his dangers. And he did not want to burden her, of all people, with the knowledge of his guilt. She had enough to bear.

'I suppose I should go,' he said finally, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She nodded; reluctantly, he thought, but nodded.