half-elf, had eased him through one scrape after another, and in fact had often seemed to be Tanis's only friend in Qualinost. Later, when Flint decided to leave the Qualinesti city for good, Tanis, nearly full-grown, went with him with few regrets. Unlike the dwarf, however, the half-elf had continued to visit the elven city now and then.
Kitiara seemed disinclined to inquire into details, however. Her attention had turned to a pair of minstrels. The woman, a wispy creature with shoulder-length blonde hair and large blue eyes, positioned herself in the center front of the stage while her companion; an equally slender man with dark hair and a ready smile, set torches in freestanding holders at the right and left front corners of the platform.
The man stepped back and looked critically at the woman. 'Light's too dim,' he said to her. He moved the torches closer, stepped back again, and approached the stage.
'Better?' she asked.
He nodded and replied, 'Perfect. The lighting, and the singer, too.' Then he hopped up on the platform and kissed her. The couple's three children, an older girl and her young sister and brother, sat cross-legged on the back of the stage. They groaned as their parents embraced. The couple broke apart and grinned unabashedly at the youngsters.
Kitiara rolled her eyes. 'How sweet,' she commented acidly.
Tanis realized that this was the same couple that had been rehearsing in the Haven market earlier in the day. Trailed by the children, they disappeared under a wooden arch that must have led to a back room. The next moments saw the five come and go, bearing instruments of every type and laying them gently on the stage. Tanis recognized one as a dulcimer, a stringed instrument played on the lap, popular among ladies of the Qualinesti court. The man came out holding two triangular guitars. There was a clavichord, an oblong box with a keyboard, which the man set up on a stand in front of a bench. The woman placed a cylinder drum at the back of the stage; her husband helped her maneuver a slit drum, made from cutting a narrow opening in a polished, hollow log, next to it. The couple's older daughter set a gong in a stand next to the drums. The couple's younger daughter plopped down and practiced trills on a flute while her brother warbled on a recorder. Tanis watched raptly.
'You're looking at the stage as though you'd like to be up there with them,' Kitiara teased, breaking into the half-elf's reverie.
Tanis indicated the family with a jerk of his head. 'Music. That's one difference between elves and humans.'
When Kitiara raised her eyebrows, the half-elf went on. 'In Qualinost, it's assumed that every child will study an instrument. Often, at sunset, elves gather at the Hall of the Sky and hold impromptu concerts.'
'So?' Kitiara demanded. 'Humans like music, too.'
Tanis frowned. 'But humans see it as something only musicians do. I don't know many humans who play their own music. They come to places like this.'
He gestured. The courtyard was filling up. They'd taken spots on the ends of the benches-Kitiara disliked being trapped in the middle of a crowd-and onlookers kept shoving past them for the few seats remaining.
'What do you play, half-elf?' Kitiara asked.
'Psaltery gittern…'
'Which are what?'
'The psaltery's a type of dulcimer,' Tanis explained. 'The gittern is like a guitar. I've tried other instruments, but I'm more enthusiastic than I am accomplished. Flint makes me practice outdoors.' He looked at Kitiara. 'Do you play an instrument, Kit?'
Kitiara's upper lip curved. 'The sword's my instrument. But I can make it sing like nothing that pathetic crew can play.' She gestured at the stage, where the family was lightly chanting a lilting but apparently endless melody designed to warm up their voices. 'And my sword's a lot more effective against hobgoblins.'
Kitiara's discourse was interrupted by the woman, who stepped to the front of the platform and welcomed the crowd. Her voice was dusky and low. She looked back at her husband, positioned by the drums and gong, and at her children, ready with flute, recorder, and clavichord. Then she faced the audience again, opened her mouth, and sang,
'There was a fair lady of old Daltigoth,
Was scorned by her lover, alone left to weep…'
Her voice was as rich as spring earth, and the portly man next to Tanis shivered. ' 'The Fair Lady of Daltigoth,' ' the man said in an undertone. 'I love that song.'
The crowd settled down to listen. Dusk had given way to evening. Solinari was high in the sky above the courtyard, and Lunitari, the red moon, was beginning to rise. The torches focused attention on the stage, but the half-elf could see spectators leaving through arched doors to the inn's tavern, then returning with foaming mugs of beer. Kitiara had also noticed, he saw. 'Would you like some ale?' she asked.
Tanis had barely nodded when the swordswoman was on her feet, moving toward the adjoining tavern. Suddenly her way was blocked by a muscular man with black hair, black eyes, and a set expression. He wore ebony breeches and boots, white shirt, and a scarlet cape, and he stood before Kitiara with an air of self-assurance. 'Kitiara Uth Matar!' the man said quietly.
'Caven Mackid.' Her tone was chilly. She didn't introduce the man to Tanis, who'd risen silently from the bench and approached the two. A slender teenager with emerald green eyes sidled next to the half-elf, gazing on with interest.
Caven looked neither to the right nor left. 'You don't take many straight lines in your travels, woman,' he said. 'It took me a week to pick up your trail, and more than a month to track you here.' Caven seemed to notice Tanis for the first time. 'Fortunately,' he said to the half-elf, raising his voice, 'Kitiara is the kind of woman that people pay heed to as she passes through. As I'm sure you've noticed.' Caven looked back at Kitiara.
Kitiara pulled herself up straight, but she was still came up only to Caven Mackid's shoulder. 'I'm still your superior officer, soldier. Watch yourself.' Her tone was bantering, but her eyes showed no warmth.
The minstrels' tune continued, but several onlookers, sensing a possibly greater show in the making, gaped instead at Kitiara and Caven.
At Kitiara's words, Caven's hands dropped to his sides, and the friendliness faded from his face. The big man gazed at Kitiara with a strange light in his eyes-anger mixed with something else. Something was afoot that the half-elf wasn't privy to, but he was experienced enough with women to realize that Kitiara at one time had been much more than a commanding officer to this man.
'I believe you have something of mine, Captain Uth Matar,' Mackid said silkily.
The slim teen-ager snickered. 'I'll say,' he said with a leer at Tanis.
'And as I recall,' Caven Mackid went on, disregarding the youth, 'you left in quite a hurry, my dear-too hasty even to leave a message. Pursued by ogres, no doubt. But I trust you've kept my money safe and have it now.'
The teen-aged boy leaned toward Tanis. 'Took off while he was out hunting, she did, and nipped most of his savings,' he whispered. 'If she'd just took off, I don't think he would've minded much. But it was the filching that stuck in Caven's craw.'
'Wode!' Caven gently reprimanded the boy. 'Good squires keep their mouths shut around strangers.'
Behind Kitiara, the minstrels finished the ballad and launched into a reel. The swordswoman finally noticed the half-elf. 'Tanis, this is Caven Mackid, one of my
Caven smiled in an almost friendly fashion at Tanis, but he addressed his words to Kitiara. 'A half-elf, Kitiara? Lowered your standards a bit, haven't you?' His squire snickered again, but the man quelled the outburst with a look. Instead, Caven gazed directly at Kitiara. His next words were an order. 'My money. Now.'
Off to one side, unnoticed by any of the four, a woman with skin the umber of burnished oak pulled back warily into a shadowed portal. A soft woolen robe, the color of a dove, set off her dark features. Her gaze was direct, her eyes azure around pupils of surprising darkness. Her straight, blue-black hair poured over her shoulders,
