demands, no messages at all! I fear they hate humans so much they’re not going to even try to get anything from me. No, ah no, they’ll hurt her just because she is who she is!”
“They can’t!” Kevin cried in anguish—”I—uh, we won’t let them!”
The count let out a long, shuddering sigh. “No,” he said, “we won’t Bardling.,—Kevin, is it? Kevin, I plan to mount several expeditions to find her. And I want you to lead one.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You and Charina became such good friends in so short a time that there must be some psychic link between you. And that will certainly help you use Bardic Magic to find her.”
Somehow Kevin forgot that what magic he happened to possess was only now starting to wake, its range still unknown. “I’ll do it!” he cried, “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.” The count smiled faintly. “Thank you, Kevin. I’m sure a talented young man like yourself will succeed where knights, with all their brainless heroics, would only fail.”
A small part of Kevin’s mind wasn’t so sure of that. What, he, an untrained bardling, succeed over battle- proven warriors? But he didn’t dare let himself start to doubt, for Charina’s lovely sake. “Your niece will be safely returned to you, Count Volmar,” the bardling said somberly, and bowed his most courtly bow.
That night, Kevin slept not at all. His mind kept insisting on conjuring dreadful images of Charina in her captors’ hands. He couldn’t shake the count’s dark words: “They can destroy a human mind and soul!” The thought of Charina left so hopelessly ... empty bit at his soul. “No! I won’t let that happen to you! I’ll save you, I swear it!” Or die trying ...
He wanted to shout it, but such hysteria would only bring the casde folk rushing around him, wanting to know why he was making so much noise. So Kevin lay still, aching with impatience, and waited as the slow, slow hours passed.
As soon as the sun was just barely lightening the sky, he was down in the courtyard, so wild with excitement he couldn’t stand still, eager to meet his fellow searchers and get going. His lute was slung across his back, since no Bard could work Bardic Magic without the aid of an instrument, and the few pages he’d managed to copy from the missing manuscript were safely tucked into the case as well. But now a mail shirt burdened Kevin’s shoulders with unaccustomed weight—though fortunately it was dwarven work, lighter than human-made armor—and a sword from the casde armory hung at his side. Kevin closed his hand about the hilt, trying to feel like a seasoned warrior but guiltily remembering his Master’s warning: a musician must always be careful of his hands.
I will, he promised the old Bard silently. But ... well ...this is something that I must do.
Odd. He had expected the courtyard to be full of knights and squires preparing to set out on their own rescue missions. Yet there didn’t seem to be anyone around but himself. Suddenly panicky, Kevin wondered if, early though the morning was, he was already too late. Had everyone left without him?
No. That was ridiculous. Even the boldest knight wasn’t going to try riding down the castle’s steep hill in the dark. Evidently the count meant to send the different parries out at different times during the day. His must be the first-And that had to mean the count truly trusted him!
Yes, but where were his—
“You?” the bardling said in dismay. “You’re my troop?”
“You?” a throaty voice echoed in wry humor. “You’re our leader?”
The woman who’d spoken was tall and rangy, a hunter and warrior, quiver on her back, sword at her side. Her short, curly black hair was held back from her face by a leather thong, and her dark eyes were the most devilish Kevin had ever seen. Her olive skin was deeply tanned—and a good deal of that skin was revealed, because her leather armor and breeches didn’t seem to be hiding very much of her lithe form. Kevin realized how (and where) he was staring, and reddened. The woman only laughed.
“Never mind, boy. Nothing to be ashamed of; not you, not me.” She held out a rough hand for him to shake; for all her undeniably feminine shape, there was nothing fragile about her grip. “I’m Lydianalanthis, but let’s make things easier on you: Call me Lydia.”
“I’m Kevin.” He added with reluctant honesty, “A bardling.”
“A bardling, huh? Count couldn’t afford a full Bard?” She grinned at his look of dismay, teeth dazzlingly white against her skin. “Don’t look so hot and heavy, boy! I’m only teasing.”
“I knew that,” he muttered.
“He is paying you, isn’t he?” Lydia asked with a note of genuine concern in her voice. “I mean, a kid like you —he isn’t trying to cheat you?”
