 | "She seems as kind as she is pretty," said Robin cautiously. He had
noticed her last night before flirting with the kitchen maid but had
not approached her. Now that he knew she was a vampire's girl, he was
just as happy he hadn't. "I don't suppose her kind nature has allowed
her to think that the boy might not have any skills her father could
use. Or that he might have chosen his... um... occupation."
From his height, the vampire looked down on the bard as he replied,
"Certain types of people like to believe that there is good in
everyone." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, "Sometimes they
are wrong and others must clean up the mess."
Ajali turned his cold gaze on the little dragon who watched
proceedings with more than a passing interest, "Your creature appears
to be following the conversation." He started to extend one
long-nailed finger towards it, but then thought better of his action,
"Where did you get it?"
:I'm a mail-order bride,: said Figment sarcastically, bridling at the
tone.
Robin caught a snort of laughter, managed to turn it into a cough. "My
name is Bard Robin, that's Figment. We're just heading over there for
a cup of tea if you'd like to join us." He looked around for Astarte,
didn't see her, but was sure she wasn't far.
Struggling to keep the surprise from his voice, Ajali stared at
Figment, "It speaks? That is unusual." He nodded to Robin, "I'd be
pleased to have some tea. Anything to keep warm. This place is very
cold."
The silk of his trousers clung to his legs from the puddles and snow
melt he'd walked through. The only dry part of him was what was under
the coat. Even his blond hair was damp. He was not even half as pale
as Lycari was, but an aura of death and pain hung about him so thickly
that it could almost be seen. If evil could be beautiful, this man
was its poster child.
Robin led the way over to the stall selling hot tea and cider trying
to keep the skin on his back from shivering at the man's aura. Figment
pattered along behind them, grumbling half-audibly about :... not an
_it_ anymore than a bloody vampire's an _it_! No manners...: When they
reached the stall, Robin ordered and paid for his tea and a large
mulled cider for the vampire. Figment jumped up on the table and
helped himself to some of Robin's tea.
"I saw your party at the Dragon's Inn last night," said Robin
casually. "Have you come to town specially for the winter
Celebration?" And if they had, why hadn't the man had sense enough to
wear warm clothes? Robin himself was in heavy wool trousers, velvet
shirt and fur boots with a heavy wool cloak to go over it all and _he_
was still chilly. "If you need winter materials, I know of an
excellent cloth merchant who can fit you out properly."
Astarte appeared out of the crowd and bought herself a mug of tea
also. Without bothering to be subtle, she insinuated herself between
Robin and the vampire. Her expression indicated that she didn't
entirely approve of Robin's choice in drinking companion.
"If you haven't lodgings yet," she said, "the Oak Inn has nice rooms."
Ajali wrapped his hands around the mug of cider and gave Robin a
thankful smile, showing no fangs at all. He watched the bubbles float
at the top of the cider and spoke. "Thank you. This will help keep
the chill away, at least for a while."
Figment's little forked tongue flick in and out of Robin's tea and
Ajali arched one eyebrow while he viewed this prodigy; a small talking
dragon drinking tea. Suddenly realizing that a question had been
asked, he replied, "I have no party. Rather I didn't until Carelya
found me."
Pale blue eyes turned to Robin and the bard could see tiny red flecks
in the vampire's irises. "I have only just arrived from the south."
With some embarrassment in his voice, his free hand slapped at the
smooth silk of his trousers. "I had no idea that the north was so ---
um, polar."
Ajali had to look down on the bard, since even seated he overtopped
him by quite a few inches, and his tone was flat and low. "You have no
idea what I'll have to do to keep warm in this climate. I'd run to
the nearest cloth merchant if I only had money to exchange that was of
any worth up here."
He parked the mug on the table close to Figment and leaned to one side
as he fished around in his pants' pocket. The motion brought him much
neared to Astarte as his long blond hair swayed and trailed onto the
tabletop, touching the elf's hand. He didn't smell of gore, not like
one would expect of a blood drinker.
Plunking a number of assorted coins down on the wooden table, Ajali
then poked them around to spread them out. "What are these worth
here?"
Robin could spy a few very large golden coins, numerous silver ones
and a smattering of small gold discs with holes at their center. The
vampire waited expectantly, as though Robin was his expert on local
culture. If the bard hadn't known what the creature was, he might
have been flattered by such an aristocratic fellow's attention.
However the whole charade might have been just that; pretense clouded
by a bit of mind control. The bard was not subject to that sort of
play though, being a master of it himself.
"I'm not an expert, being fairly new here myself, but it looks like
you have enough to take a room and get some warm clothes," said Robin.
"You'll need them. From what I'm told it can get colder than it is."
He thought about the vampire's statements for a moment. "Maybe you
should buy a cow or something to drink from. Elves or humans will
probably get you jailed."
:Or burned,: added Figment.
Ajali gave a half-hearted shrug, "I'm not one to attack people on the
street, not unless I'm forced to. Animal blood isn't as good for me
as human," his eyes slid to Astarte, "Or elf."
He picked up his mug and took another sip of cider, "Regular food is
nice, but it won't keep me alive --- or undead --- whatever you
prefer. I generally make it worth someone's while to feed me."
Carelya joined the trio at their table and gave Astarte the once over
as she sat down, "He is staying with us at the Dragon's Inn. Father
has booked far more rooms than we need. And," she said excitedly, "He
has agreed to take on the little thief. At least out on our ranch,
there's not much to steal and run away from. We're far from town and
all of his needs will be taken care of. I hope he learns a good trade
while we have him."
In sitting where she did, Astarte placed herself well within Ajali's
reach and the nearness of her neck was so very tempting. He visibly
fought off the urge to work his ways on her. Stoically he kept his
eyes on the money arranged on the table in front of him.
Carelya touched the large gold coins, "Where on earth did these come
from? They're huge and I think they're all gold! I've never seen
their like before."
"Sounds like your lady knows more about the local currency than I do."
said Robin. He turned to the girl. "Do you have any mind-readers on
this ranch of yours that might be able to communicate with the boy?"
What he had gathered from the thief's mind had seemed to indicate that
the boy had been born and brought up in the 'trade'. While he was
still young enough to learn another, would he be willing?
"We have a healer who is also a telepath," Carelya informed him, "We
needed someone who could do double duty since we are so far from
civilization. If the boy refuses to try, I'm sure Sheriff Sterling
would take him back, maybe he could help him here in town. I just
thought that getting him away from all this might help him start
anew."
Robin caught a glimpse of the merchant who'd hired him looking his way
and nodding to the stage. "Excuse me, it's time for me to go back to
work. I'll be off again in a while." He gave them a grin. Their party
had come in the previous night after he'd finished for the evening.
"Stick around, listen to the music for a while." He downed the last of
his tea and mounted the stage again, picking up the luther.
Ajali settled back in his chair, one hand in his lap, the other
clutching his warm cider. When Robin began to play, the music curled
around in the air like a living thing. Before he could say a word,
Carelya clinked some of the coins together.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear that these big ones were ancient
zars from the south," she touched the vampire's arm, "Do they still
use these where you hail from?"
"Not really," he answered, "That is why I still have them."
"Oh," she picked up a holed coin, "My tutor would love to see these."
"Take them," Ajali offered, "Take anything you wish."
Carelya gave him a surprised grunt, "But you need clothing."
He smiled condescendingly, "I can get more money."
"But these could be worth a fortune!"
The smile remained. Carelya pocketed only one coin.
"Thank you," she was stunned.
"No. Thank you for your help," Ajali replied.
"The best clothier in town is Batista Dyer," Carelya said, "We could
go there, perhaps tomorrow."
Nanny startled everyone else at the table but Ajali when she added her
two coins worth, "You're not thinking of taking that --," she flicked
a finger in Ajali's direction, "To see Miss Dyer, are you? You should
be shed of … him… as soon as you can and good riddance too."
Carelya rolled her eyes, "Nanny, stop it right now. My mind is made
up."
Nanny muttered and amongst the growling could be discerned the phrases
‘what mind' and ‘stop when I want to.' Carelya smiled despite
herself.
Quickly Ajali stood up and pulled back his chair, "My dear lady, would
you care for a seat? Join us, since you are here anyway."
With a glare worthy of a basilisk, Nanny took the offered chair,
avoiding the vampire's hands as best she could. As he tucked her in
at the table, Ajali moved to stand behind Astarte, close enough to
touch in the cramped little makeshift room. Standing farther away
would have put him much nearer to another table and he really didn't
want that. His jacket brushed the back of Astarte's head as he lifted
the mug to his lips.
:Mage!: Sim's mind voice broke into Lycari's pleasure.
He ignored her and continued what he was doing with the young lady on
top of him. When Sim's voice once again tapped him on the mental
shoulder, he frowned.
"What is it!" He spat.
The maid was startled, "My lord! What is what?"
Lycari gave the girl a contrite smile, "My horse wants me."
It was the girl's turn to frown and quickly he added, "Not in that
way!"
She giggled at his discomposure and leaned down to kiss him.
"Ummm," was all he could say vocally, but in his mind he sent :What do
you want, Sim?:
:Marketplace. Brother-to-be.:
His attention only half on what she sent, Lycari returned, :They're
all up north. Go ‘way.:
Sim's next sending held a distinct ‘humphh,' but she said no more.
Lycari pulled his partner onto her side and, with low laughter, they
continued their lovemaking.
Ajali stretched his arm by Astarte to put his empty mug down on the
table. As he leaned over, he told her, "Your friend is an excellent
musician. One can practically hold his music in one's hands --- feel
it, taste it. It lives."
This is all innocuous stuff,: said Figment disparagingly as the bard
played a lighthearted and lively tune. :If you come down to the common
room in the Inn after the supper hour tonight, you might hear
something really good. The merchant didn't want any music that might
take his customers' minds off his goods.: The dragon peered around at
the covered area. :Good idea, making a covered mall, though. It's got
him more customers than he might otherwise have had.:
Vance had cried himself out by the time he reached the Tower with Mage
Springer. He huddled in the chair they'd put him in, expecting them to
bring out an axe to cut his hands off, or throw him in a dungeon with
rats and chains. Instead, he was given a plate of stew, a mug of sweet
water and a lecture, then told he was to be sent away to some farm or
something.
Mindful of the storyteller's tales, he didn't want to eat the stew in
case it did something horrible to him, but it smelled... so... so...
good! It had been months since he'd had anything other than burned
crusts and vegetable peelings filched from refuse heaps. Twice he had
stolen pies from merchants' stalls, but that was something he dared
not do unless he had been unable to find any refuse in marginally
edible condition. It involved a type of theft that was all too easily
noticed, unlike picking pockets. That he had done it today was still
in keeping with that philosophy - he hadn't stolen the pie until
_after_ he'd already been fingered.
The tantalizing aroma of the stew broke his reservations at last. Even
if it did kill him, at least he'd die with a full belly for a change.
And, he rationalized, if he was to be enslaved to some farmer,
poisoning him would queer the deal. A farmer wasn't likely to want a
body that couldn't work.
Hot, rich gravy, generous chunks of vegetables, _meat_ that probably
hadn't died meowing, barking or whinnying, herbs to accentuate or
compliment the flavors... He couldn't remember ever having had
anything that tasted that good, even when Da was alive. Joss, now,
Joss couldn't cook worth a damn. Throw it on the fire for a while then
eat what wasn't burned was his culinary expertise, and he'd not
favored green stuff at all.
Once the first taste of heaven was in him, Vance started thinking
again, furiously. Could he turn this to his advantage? Any farmer
would have work to do that would necessitate his leaving his slave to
his duties alone once in a while. Vance would likely be shackled to
keep him from running away, but he wasn't a bad hand at picking locks
- Da had shown him how to fiddle the workings. Once he was free, well,
it didn't do to plan too far in advance. It would depend on the
circumstances and how far away from any town he might be.
Father Taverish had followed Mage Springer to the Tower and he stood
waiting for the sergeant to take the boy's bail money.
"I'd appreciate it if you could keep him here until we return at the
end of the festival," Father said, "It wouldn't do to have the poor
boy return to the streets and we can't find him when we leave. I'll
pay for his upkeep until we come to get him. Feed him well and dress
him properly. Let me know how much extra that will cost me."
The sergeant checked his register, "We usually don't keep bailed out
people in jail, but then there have been exceptions to the rule. A
couple of golds will most likely do it."
Lord Taverish hauled out the extra coin for Vance's expenses, "We
won't keep him as a slave and he'll be too far from town for a
comfortable return. He should be out of your hair for some time. I
hope that he comes to enjoy our ranch. This won't be the first, nor
should it be the last, stray my daughter has collected." The man gave
a low laugh, "Our ranch is rife with crippled cats, over fed stray
dogs and retired horses that should have gone for feed long ago. We
also have gypsies too old to travel and the odd stray mage she's
convinced to live with us. One more won't be any trouble at all."
His face a-light with genuine curiosity, Ajali listened intently to
the dragon's mind voice. He'd never fed from a dragon and he could
feel the magic throb in the creature's veins.
Fighting his more carnal interests away, he ventured to speak with the
thing, "It would be a pleasure to listen to your friend at the Inn.
Thank you for the invitation. I take it that you do not use a voice
to speak? I cannot count telepathy as one of my personal talents,
although I do have a few at my disposal. What exactly are you?"
:I'm a dragon. My vocal chords aren't set up for speaking like you-all
do but I don't need them for speaking to anyone. Nor does Robin,
though he has a nice voice and should use it. Don't even think of
biting my bard and we'll be okay. Bite him and one of us will flame
you.: He turned a glittering gold eye on the vampire. _Ajali_ didn't
know Figment wasn't flame-breathing and telling him Robin was a Fire
mage might avert any... unpleasantness. Their work in the morning with
Mage Trey had concentrated on that aspect while the other students
tried to break Lycari's mental shields - one by tickling him.
The vampire softly laughed at Figment's threat, "I've been burned,
staked, cut, hung, partially flayed and worst of all, insulted,
before. As I've said, I do not ‘bite,'" he said the word with
distaste, "Anyone without their permission and genuine participation.
Generally."
The rotund little man Robin had noticed earlier during the fray was
back, wandering disconsolately around the stalls. The bard modulated
into a waltz, light and sprightly, as his eyes followed the fellow
curiously. The man reached into an inner pocket and brought out a
purse to buy himself an ale, then sank down at one of the far tables.
Not a victim of the thief, then, and as he hadn't gone anywhere, not
likely the lad's father either.
Humor played in Ajali's voice when he remarked, "It's too bad that you
have scales. I've never drank dragon's blood before. It could be a
new experience for both of us."
Nanny gasped. Carelya covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
Dragons are cold-blooded and our blood is poisonous,: Figment informed
him. :You probably wouldn't like it. And what's wrong with scales,
hey?: He preened himself a little. :Scales are always in fashion.:
"Maybe I should invest in scales for myself?" Ajali picked at his
jacket, "Are they warm? Would I look good in them?"
Carelya thought that he'd look good in anything. Nanny seemed to be
considering what he said as well, and then noticed that Carelya was
giggling at her. She huffed and turned away, trying to appear
interested in some of the other patrons taking advantage of the
overhead cover and the music while the snow fell.
"As for dragon's blood being poisonous, you may be lying to me," Ajali
persisted good naturedly, "We may both be missing something special.
I have partaken of cold blood before."
Well,: said Figment, apparently reluctant but with a hint of laughter
about his tone, :I'm _told_ our blood is poisonous. I've never tried
to prove it one way or the other.:
Robin was getting a little bored with being simply background music.
He hadn't even sung yet today, all the tunes had been purely
instrumental. Intricate, technically perfect, but not nearly as much
fun as letting the music take charge. His deal with the merchant had
been play for about half an hour, take five minutes off, all
afternoon. He timed it by waiting until his fingers got too cold to
play, then warmed them with his mug of tea. His fingers were now
telling him either that his half-hour was done or it was getting
colder.
As the last song in this set, he decided to sing without the luther's
accompaniment; a love song, aiming it at Carelya and her nanny both; a
poignant song that wrapped them both in a feeling like a warm blanket
and encircling arms, their nostrils scenting baking bread and spices.
As he was aiming it specifically at them, the rest of the crowd caught
only the beauty of his voice, not the all-encompassing sensory
fulfillment that the two ladies felt. When the song was done Robin
left the stage, bought another cup of tea and came back over to the
table.
Carelya was entranced. Although the bard wasn't much to look at, his
music was evocative and beautiful. She wanted to take him home too.
Her life was taking a turn for the twisted, with many loops and turns:
first to find herself in charge of a beguiling vampire and now she was
becoming attracted to a musician. Nanny would have a fit! Her face
flushed with heat and she wondered how she could go about fulfilling
her whims without getting into trouble.
When the young musician sat down, Carelya broached the subject boldly
but politely, "Please sir, are you committed to working for the
merchants or on retainer to anyone? I ask only because our ranch has
lost its bard and we've been without for quite a few months. Father
thought to replace her, but other things came first and the whole
place has gone lacking. The hands are fairly game with their
instruments and voices but not a one of them could even touch your
skill."
Robin acknowledged her interest with a nod of thanks and replied, "I
would be able to come for brief visits should you wish it, but not as
a permanent post, I'm afraid - not yet at any rate. I am booked for
this festival every afternoon and have a loose agreement with the
landlord of the Dragon's Inn to play whenever I'm available and they
have no other minstrel. Mainly, though, it's because I'm a student at
the College of Mages here."
Carelya watched as Ajali located another chair and brought it to the
table. No one at the next table argued with him. He placed it near
to Astarte, across from Carelya. Robin had sat next to Nanny Wilsy,
who didn't approve of musicians either.
The young woman nodded at Robin's statement, "Too bad. Our ranch is
way too far from here to be an easy hop. You'd need to stay for a bit
just to make the trip worthwhile. Maybe I can change your mind and
you may decide to take your holidays from College with us?"
:How far is 'way too far'?: Figment asked. :His lessons are flexible
and I'd like to see something other than the town for a bit. How long
by horseback? Or, in his case, dragonback.:
With her brows furrowed in thought, Carelya counted the days quickly,
"It took us two and a half days by horse."
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