–
“You have done a remarkable thing, drummer,” said Bend Sinister. “You have made me and our players proud. And you have acted with tremendous courage in the interests of our family, followers and the survival of the Scene. We are all indebted to you and are most relieved at your safe return. Welcome home.”
The drummer who had been Dent Lore stood in the centre of the camp’s humble court, surrounded by the three Troubadours, their players and retinue. Ursel stood next to Chief, leaning on a makeshift crutch, her scribe at her side.
“I have an admission of which I am ashamed,” said Pale Dexter. “I mistrusted you. I was sceptical about your sudden return and cynical as to its motive and timing. It was I who suggested we put you to the test. For that, I most sincerely apologise. The risks you have taken for the benefit of us all cannot be overstated. I admire your courage, respect your loyalty and warmly welcome you home.” He stepped forward and embraced the drummer.
“I, too, doubted you,” said Chief. “For so long I had believed you gone. Grieved your passing as if you were one of my own. Despite our allegiances and personal interests, we are all as one in the Scene. Yet, when you returned, I knew who you were, but I did not trust you in the light of who you had become. I doubted the legitimacy of your claims. I supported the proposal to test your word and was prepared to cast you out if you refused. Forgive me. I should have had faith in the man we knew. And now, you have proved yourself beyond what we could have hoped or expected from you. The selflessness and courage you have shown has served to remind me of the true merit at the heart of the Scene. Community over sovereignty. Saltire knew this. It characterised her leadership. In my preoccupation with the Contest, I had lost sight of that balance.”
She looked to Pale Dexter, who nodded, eyes cast down. She turned back to the drummer. “You have reminded me what it means to be part of the Scene. I owe you a great debt, not only for your actions to help save it, but for reasserting what it is we were striving to save. Please, forgive my doubt and accept my heartfelt gratitude.” At this, Chief stepped forward and held out her hands. The drummer accepted them.
“I thank you all for your kind words,” said the drummer. “But the apologies are not warranted. We must not erase the fact that for twenty-five years, albeit unwittingly, I have worked for the Authority and proactively hunted you down. I have trained countless cohorts of Allears, many of whom were children, taken from their families and grossly mutilated. My actions since returning have not been to prove my loyalty in return for trust but acts of expiation for those deeds that are so abhorrent to me. To my mind, I have been neither brave nor courageous, merely desperate to right those wrongs.”
He turned to Ursel, speaking slowly so that her scribe could keep up. “To you, I owe the greatest apology, for reasons I have already shared with you. And yet, the more I listen to you, the greater that debt becomes. I have heard your views on the citizens’ plight, your understanding of and sympathy for their situation, your unbending belief that, with a little help, they have the freedom to free themselves. In respect of your faith in them and, again, as a small gesture of reparation to you personally, I hope that I provided some of that help before I returned here.”
Ursel scanned the notes, her eyes welling at the words. “You’ve already made amends. Whilst you do all this for others, grant me a special favour and do one thing for you?”
The drummer frowned, signing his question.
“Forgive yourself,” she said.
–
Two days later, Ursel began the long journey home to Wydeye.
Before she left, Nial and over two hundred followers had already made it to the camp, having left the city for good. There was not enough room in the dell, so they pitched a makeshift bivouac on the other side of the rise.
They had reported the news that all troopers were returning to base, the search for the ‘Music Makers’ having been permanently called off. They also said that there were rumours surrounding the disappearance of the Chief of Command but that there was nothing to substantiate them, nor clues as to his whereabouts.
Meanwhile, Wulfwin remained intoxicated by the influence of music, which the players had performed, uninterrupted, for forty-eight hours. He lay strapped to a bunk, eyes glazed, humming the earworm melody that had been played incessantly to him.
The night Nial arrived at the camp, he had sat with Ursel on her bunk, pencil and paper in hand. “You’re returning?” he wrote. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“I had two homes, but I never had to choose between them before,” said Ursel. “That’s why I never made the move underground. Now that the Scene is leaving, I’m forced to make the choice. But it’s okay. The Telltale Circus is important to me. I believe in what we do. I also believe that we will be moving on, too, before long. Become a travelling theatre once again. There’s nothing to keep us in Wydeye anymore. I just need to help the founders see this, if they haven’t already come to realise it for themselves.”
The next morning, she bade her farewells, including an emotional break from Chief and her players. Her scribe offered to join her, but Ursel declined. She was touched by the young woman’s gesture but unwilling to separate her from the life she had chosen.
Estrin proposed he escort Ursel back, suggesting that she was still too weak to travel alone. “That’s kind of you,” she replied. “But you don’t need to do that. Stay with the troupe. You’ve done more than
