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 | | From: | Robin Banco | | Subject: | Mage in A Minor - 25/Predator [added bits] | | Date: | Mon, 03 Jan 2005 02:23:18 GMT |
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 | 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."
Astarte shivered as the vampires arm passed close to her neck. One of those
not necessarily bad shivers. She turned in her seat, caught hold of the
front of his coat and drew him down so her mouth was only inches from his
ear.
"Just so as we understand each other, shadow man," she said quietly. "I'm
Robin's body guard. You can stare at my neck all you want, but try any of
your tricks on me, or bite me without permission and you'll find out that
there's nastier things than you up here in the north." She trailed her
fingers up his neck and stroked her hand over his hair.
"Am I making myself clear?"
There was no fear of her in the vampire's eyes as he met her own. In
fact he arched one eyebrow at her in a disarming way.
"Ah. Such mistrust of another's motives. I never take without asking
and I seldom have to ask," he leaned in very close, so close that his
own hair mingled with hers, "Be warned - I do not convert mortals, so
don't think to gain eternal life through me."
Fluidly, he righted himself, pulling his hair through her fingers so
slowly that the motion took on an almost ual meaning. He leaned on
the back of her chair, his hands lightly touching her back. He seemed
genuinely amused by the repartee.
Nanny's face was set in a disgusted grimace. Not only a blood drinker,
but a libertine as well. Probably gave himself to men too. How had
her dearie fallen for this thing?
His face a-light with genuine curiosity, Ajali had listened intently to the
dragon's mind voice. He'd never fed from a dragon and he cold 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 drunk 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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