The Eagle And The Nightingales

No time to think about it now; time only to enforce her don't look at me glamorie, spun with a touch of Bardic power and sealed with a hummed, near-inaudible tune. Time only to take her place behind T'fyrr in the King's chamber, set up her harp, tune it with swift fingers, and wait for his cues.

He would have to be the one to choose the tunes; she could only follow his lead, and try to set the magic to suit. They'd had no chance to discuss this, to pick specific songs. 'If it is something you don't know, I'll sing the first verse alone,' he whispered. 'If we do that enough, it will seem done on purpose.'

She nodded, and then they began.

With no time to set what they were to perform, with only their past performances together to use as patterns, he was not able to choose many songs suited to their intent. She was not particularly worried about that, not for this first attempt. She was far more concerned with setting so good an impression of her ability on the King that he would continue to support T'fyrr and, indirectly, her. It would take more than one session of magic to undo all the harm that had been wrought with years of clever advice and insidious whispers. It might be just as well that they were not too heavy-handed with the message for the first performance; better that they had more songs merely meant to entertain than to carry the extra burden. She must impress the King as well as convey the magic, after all.

She knew that she had done that much when the King ceased to play his game of Sires and Barons with one of his lords, and ignored everything else in the room, as well, closing his eyes and listening intently to the music they made. She knew that there was something more than herself at work when the bodyguards' faces took on an unexpected stillness, as if they, too, were caught up in the spell of harp and voice, when even the lord who had been playing at the game with the High King folded his hands in his lap and simply listened.

There is something of me in T'fyrr, as there is part of him in me. Has he learned to touch the magic through me? It could have been; Raven had his own touch of the magic, and she would never have noticed one way or another if he had acquired a little more of it from her after their bittersweet joining. So much of her soul was bound up in the magic, could she have ever spun it out to wrap T'fyrr's if the magic didn't come with it?

She sensed a terrible weariness in that second man, and as sensitive as she was this morning, she could not help but move to ease it. So when the music chosen did not particularly suit their purposes with the High King, she turned her attention and her magic to that weary lord, sending him such peace as she could. He was not a man who would ever feel much peace; his concerns were too deep, his worries never-ending. But what he would take in the way of ease, she would give him gladly. No one with such weariness on his heart could ever be one of the lot who were advising the King to neglect his duty. This could only be a man who was doing his best to make up for the King's neglect.

The King made no requests; T'fyrr simply picked songs as he thought of them, so far as Nightingale could tell. Finally, at some signal she could not see, he stopped, and it was a long, long moment before the King opened his eyes again and set his gaze on the two of them.

It was another long moment before he spoke.

'I do not ever wish to hear your musical judgment called into question again, T'fyrr,' he said quietly, but with a certain deadly quality to his words. 'You may bring whosoever you wish to accompany you from henceforth_but it will be my request that it be this gentle lady. Her safe-conduct to this Palace is extended for as long as she wishes to come.'

The High King turned to the lord that had sat at play with him. 'What think you of my Nightingales, Lord Seneschal?' he asked, but with a tone full of wry amusement, as if he expected some kind of noncommittal answer. Nightingale suppressed a smile at the unintended irony.

But the Lord Seneschal turned towards Theovere with an expression of vague surprise and a touch of wonder. 'You know that I am not the expert in music that you are, Your Majesty,' he said with no hint that he was trying to flatter. 'I enjoy it, certainly, but it has never touched me_until today.' He closed his eyes briefly, and opened them again, still wearing that expression of surprise. 'But today, I felt such peace for a moment, that if I were a religious man, I would have suspected something supernatural... I thought of things that I had forgotten, of days long ago, of places and people....'

Then he shook himself and lost that expression of wonderment. 'Memories of_old times. At any rate, Your Majesty,' he continued briskly, 'if I were not so certain of the honor of the Guildmasters, I would have been tempted to say that they were opposed to this lady's performance because she would provide an unwelcome contrast to the performance of the Guild musicians.'

Nightingale bowed her head to hide her smile. The Lord Seneschal's tone of irony was just enough to be clear, without being so blatant as to be an accusation against the Guild musicians. For all that the King had supported her against them, he had a long history of supporting them as well. At any moment, he could spring again to their defense, so it was wise of the Lord Seneschal to be subtle in his criticism.

Nor was that lost upon Theovere, who answered the sally with a lifted eyebrow.

'Let us discuss that, shall we?' he said, and T'fyrr, taking that as the dismissal that it was, bowed them both out.

Nightingale parted company from him quickly after that, since Nob brought word that Harperus wanted to