the premier Greater Bard of the Moonshae Islands, Tavish enjoyed certain privileges akin to nobility-the shelter of anyone's roof should she but ask, and the hospitality of their table. These boons were never resented, for a visit from the bard was always an entertaining and informative affair.
Indeed, only recently had the knowledge of printed history come to the Ffolk. Always before their bards had maintained a pure oral tradition of lore, and thus the story of that people's history was told and preserved. And via the hearts of the harpists, from one generation to the next, those tales continued to flourish and grow.
In Tavish's case, however, her bonds to the Kendrick family extended beyond these conventional courtesies. As the author of the ballad telling the tale of Tristan's wars, she had spent years in Callidyrr during Alicia's childhood, asking questions and beguiling them with her own interesting stories.
As she had aged, the harpist had grown more, not less, active. She could ride a horse like a warrior and throw a punch that would deck most brawlers. Her ribald songs and the boastful tales of her own presumably exaggerated amorous exploits had been known to make the queen blush and the princesses stare in wide-eyed wonder.
Now, after she mopped up the last bit of gravy and pudding with the final crust of bread, she removed her lyre from its traveling pouch. The others waited expectantly as she tuned it carefully, finally stroking her fingers across the instrument and calling forth a series of bright ascending chords.
'It's been too long since we've had the sound of your music within these walls,' Robyn said, leaning back in her chair to listen.
Tavish made no reply, instead strumming a series of powerful notes that faded into a mournful, minor key.
She began to sing, and her voice held them all in its grip. Tavish played a ballad of a farmer's son, a poor lad who had served his lord in the wars, winning glory and horses and treasure. The tale was a long one, and the listeners thrilled to the farm lad's exploits, shared his grief at the passing of his lord, knew his joy upon winning the love of a maiden's heart and claiming lands awarded him so that he could make himself a freeman's homestead.
Then, as in the way of such ballads, the man perished, not in the thick of some raging battle, but slain by a boar that rushed him as he began to clear his fields. The final notes, heavy with deep, minor resonance, seemed to swirl about the listeners, first bringing them to the verge of tears and then ultimately washing away their sadness in the totality of a life well lived, and well told.
'Beautiful,' Alicia said quietly, several moments after the bard had finished her tune.
'Indeed. A moving ballad, and one we have not yet heard in Callidyrr,' noted Keane.
'Well, I should hope not!' Tavish feigned high dudgeon. 'I composed it during my winter's rest in Corwell.'
'Oh, yes,' Robyn interjected. 'Now, tell us-you said you have news!'
Tavish's face grew serious. 'Aye, Lady. Some of it, perhaps, is familiar, for Corwell and Gwynneth suffer the same from flood and storm as have the rest of the Isles these past several years. Fortunately they have not so many mouths to feed, and the harvests from the sea have been good on those days when weather permits the fisherffolk to sail.'
'That's some welcome news,' Robyn allowed. 'It's good to see more of the Ffolk take to the water that surrounds them. We have always been such a land-bound people.'
'Indeed. But with the keelwork that was laid by the shipwrights of the northmen as a personal favor to His Majesty, the Ffolk of Corwell and Moray have considerably improved the seaworthiness of their craft.'
'And Earl Randolph?' inquired the High Queen. The earl had once been captain of Corwell's castle guard, advancing to the earldom when Tristan came to rule in Callidyrr.
'He is well, and sends my lady his good wishes. The steading of the Kendricks is in good hands, you may rest assured.' Tavish paused, looking past the others, pondering before she continued.
'Much of the time I spent there, the fog lay thick across the town and the moor. It rolled into Corwell Firth before dawn and stayed till dusk. On many days, you couldn't see Caer Allisynn where it stood, a bare half-mile up the shore.'
They all remembered that towering castle, anchored upon the gravelly bed of the Firth for twenty years.
'Finally came a day when the fog lifted, opening again to firth and moor. Then it was that we saw, and I left in haste to bring the news to you.'
'What?' Robyn's face had grown pale.
'It's what we did
Alicia sat back in her chair, stunned. She heard a sound to her side and turned, gasping, as her mother groaned and slumped back in her chair. The others looked at the queen and then sprang to her side as they saw that her face was locked in an expression of deep, supernatural fear.
The storm pulsed as Talos became aware of a sudden vulnerability. Power flowed between the thunderheads, arcing across with sizzling explosions. Lightning flashed earthward, heavenly javelins of deadly force.
And while the crushing fists of the storm beat about the walls of the castle with lightning and hail, sinister fingers of mist penetrated the closed shutters, slipped beneath barred doors. Those perilous tendrils trickled along the floor, seeking the place of weakness that the god had sensed.
When those fingers of fear felt the nearness of the High Queen, they clutched forward, eager to clasp their chill grip around the faintly beating heart.
They grasped, and then they squeezed.
Robyn's head tossed on the pillow as Alicia patted her brow with a damp cloth. Suddenly the queen's eyes opened, but they did not see her daughter. Instead, they stared at something Alicia sensed was far, far away.
Then Robyn fell back, limp again, but this time her eyes remained opened. Alicia saw, with profound relief, that her mother's gaze now seemed to focus.
'Don't try to talk, Mother,' she soothed. 'It's been a terrible shock. Just rest.'
'No.' Robyn shook her head weakly. 'It's a sign! We forsook her, and now, one by one, she takes our lives and our lands from us.'
'She? Who?'
'The goddess!'
'Please, Mother-you've got to rest.' Frightened again, Alicia wished someone was here with her.
'Summon Keane and Deirdre.'
'What?' Alicia, startled, felt as though her mother had eavesdropped upon her thoughts. She rose and went to the door, speaking to one of her mother's ladies-in-waiting.
'They'll be here in a few minutes,' she said, returning to sit upon the edge of the bed.
'Help me sit up.' Robyn wiped her hair from her forehead and leaned forward so that Alicia could arrange her pillows. In moments, she looked strong again. Only after careful study did the princess realize that her mother's eyes had sunk deep in their sockets, and her cheeks remained drawn and pale.
In a short time, Deirdre and Keane arrived, and Robyn bade all three of them to take seats near the bed. She took a breath and began to speak.
'I was seized by a spell of weakness. It lingers, though the immediate onslaught has passed. Nevertheless, I shall not be able to journey to Blackstone as I had planned.'
Alicia blinked. She had forgotten that her mother had been requested by the king to make that journey.
'My daughter,' the queen continued, addressing Alicia, 'you must make the trip in my stead. And after the news that Tavish has brought, you must reconsider your father's decision regarding the Moonwell.'
Keane spoke. 'Lord Blackstone should be instructed not to disturb the pool?'
Robyn smiled wanly. 'I cannot make that decision from here. But neither can we dismiss the portent of Caer Allisynn.'
'I don't understand,' Alicia balked. 'What
'You must see if there is anything-anything at all-that the miners can do to avoid the well. There must be a way to save the sacred pool!'
'I'll do my best,' Alicia pledged, deeply frightened. Suddenly she wished she had paid closer attention to her
