"But more
likely?"
The man leaned in, his face alight
with interest.
"If there's any truth to the rumors,
broadsheets will be posted in all the taverns and the bard will be
named. By morning we'll know if I'm right."
He grinned. "Care to place a
wager?"
Vishni reached into her pocket for a
coin and came up empty. Odd. She'd left a coin in the boat they'd
borrowed for the trip to Kronhus. Usually humans spent gold as
quick as they got it. And since fairy gold did not stay spent, the coin
should have returned to her by now.
Oh, wait! She had some silver
pennies in the bag Fox insisted she carry. She dipped into the bag
and put three coins on the table.
The man added three coins and pushed
the pile toward Vishni. "You hold it. If there is a festival, we
can settle up then."
"I'll be there."
He raised his mead cup and they
drank to seal the bargain. As he rose to leave, Vishni caught his
wrist. She beckoned for him to lean down.
"If it's Rindor Finn, I hope
Tessalyn comes," she whispered.
"Another bard?"
She beamed and nodded. "Rindor's
former wife. They still sing together sometimes, but things usually
get ugly. It's very entertaining."
"We can hope," he said, and strode
off chuckling.
Vishni hid her smirk behind the mead
cup. Rindor Finn, to the best of her knowledge, had never wed. If
he ever did choose a wife, her name would not be Tessalyn. That was
a fairy name, and humans simply could not use fairy names. If come
morning broadbills advertising Rindor Finn and Tessalyn showed up
on the walls of storyspinning taverns, Vishni could know beyond
question that Rhendish was spinning a trap.
It was a good plan, except for the
waiting part. Vishni had never been good at waiting.
She could slip into Rhendish Manor
tonight. Delgar hadn't told Fox about the tunnel his minors had
starting building the day Honor returned to the adept's house. The
dwarf hadn't told her, either, but Vishni knew. Delgar wouldn't
like her going on her own, but if she didn't tell him he couldn't
fuss.
An hour later, or maybe a little
longer, she swung open the wooden door at the new tunnel's end. A
row of books blocked her path. She shifted one aside and peered
into the room beyond.
The bookshelf stood in a grand hall,
a room even larger and more stuffed with oddities than the public
museum Rhendish maintained. This, then, must be his personal
collection.
Excitement coursed through the fairy
as she moved aside books and wriggled through the opening. Where
there were curiosities, there would be magic.
She hurried past a row of portraits,
giving the painting of Avidan a little wave as she skipped by. More
interesting was the display of elven boots, the leather as soft as
silk and tooled with thousands of runes that interlocked in curving
patterns.
Vishni found a pair that fit her and
slipped them on. She picked the lock on a glass-fronted case and
rummaged through the jewelry until she found a ruby bracelet that
hummed with magic. That went onto her wrist. A pretty belt of
silvery links and crystal beads draped nicely around her
hips
She found several knifes that fit
into her boots and belt and pockets, several handfuls of tiny
bottles that still held drops of potion and echoes of powerful
magic. Giddy now, she took a handful of roc feathers and fashioned
a long, sweeping tail.
So much magic! This must be what
humans felt when they drank too much mead. No! This must be what a
phoenix felt just before it burst into flame.
In some part of her mind, Vishni
knew she should flee, but "should" had never been a concept that
held much resonance for her.
So she kicked off her boots and,
barefoot, sang and whirled and danced until she fetched up,
laughing and breathless, against a metal gate.
An iron gate.
Vishni jolted back, as close to
sober as any magic-drunk fairy could be. Angry red lines ran the
length of her arm and down the palm of one hand.
A sense of deep foreboding shifted
somewhere under the euphoria. She turned her gaze slowly
likely?"
The man leaned in, his face alight
with interest.
"If there's any truth to the rumors,
broadsheets will be posted in all the taverns and the bard will be
named. By morning we'll know if I'm right."
He grinned. "Care to place a
wager?"
Vishni reached into her pocket for a
coin and came up empty. Odd. She'd left a coin in the boat they'd
borrowed for the trip to Kronhus. Usually humans spent gold as
quick as they got it. And since fairy gold did not stay spent, the coin
should have returned to her by now.
Oh, wait! She had some silver
pennies in the bag Fox insisted she carry. She dipped into the bag
and put three coins on the table.
The man added three coins and pushed
the pile toward Vishni. "You hold it. If there is a festival, we
can settle up then."
"I'll be there."
He raised his mead cup and they
drank to seal the bargain. As he rose to leave, Vishni caught his
wrist. She beckoned for him to lean down.
"If it's Rindor Finn, I hope
Tessalyn comes," she whispered.
"Another bard?"
She beamed and nodded. "Rindor's
former wife. They still sing together sometimes, but things usually
get ugly. It's very entertaining."
"We can hope," he said, and strode
off chuckling.
Vishni hid her smirk behind the mead
cup. Rindor Finn, to the best of her knowledge, had never wed. If
he ever did choose a wife, her name would not be Tessalyn. That was
a fairy name, and humans simply could not use fairy names. If come
morning broadbills advertising Rindor Finn and Tessalyn showed up
on the walls of storyspinning taverns, Vishni could know beyond
question that Rhendish was spinning a trap.
It was a good plan, except for the
waiting part. Vishni had never been good at waiting.
She could slip into Rhendish Manor
tonight. Delgar hadn't told Fox about the tunnel his minors had
starting building the day Honor returned to the adept's house. The
dwarf hadn't told her, either, but Vishni knew. Delgar wouldn't
like her going on her own, but if she didn't tell him he couldn't
fuss.
An hour later, or maybe a little
longer, she swung open the wooden door at the new tunnel's end. A
row of books blocked her path. She shifted one aside and peered
into the room beyond.
The bookshelf stood in a grand hall,
a room even larger and more stuffed with oddities than the public
museum Rhendish maintained. This, then, must be his personal
collection.
Excitement coursed through the fairy
as she moved aside books and wriggled through the opening. Where
there were curiosities, there would be magic.
She hurried past a row of portraits,
giving the painting of Avidan a little wave as she skipped by. More
interesting was the display of elven boots, the leather as soft as
silk and tooled with thousands of runes that interlocked in curving
patterns.
Vishni found a pair that fit her and
slipped them on. She picked the lock on a glass-fronted case and
rummaged through the jewelry until she found a ruby bracelet that
hummed with magic. That went onto her wrist. A pretty belt of
silvery links and crystal beads draped nicely around her
hips
She found several knifes that fit
into her boots and belt and pockets, several handfuls of tiny
bottles that still held drops of potion and echoes of powerful
magic. Giddy now, she took a handful of roc feathers and fashioned
a long, sweeping tail.
So much magic! This must be what
humans felt when they drank too much mead. No! This must be what a
phoenix felt just before it burst into flame.
In some part of her mind, Vishni
knew she should flee, but "should" had never been a concept that
held much resonance for her.
So she kicked off her boots and,
barefoot, sang and whirled and danced until she fetched up,
laughing and breathless, against a metal gate.
An iron gate.
Vishni jolted back, as close to
sober as any magic-drunk fairy could be. Angry red lines ran the
length of her arm and down the palm of one hand.
A sense of deep foreboding shifted
somewhere under the euphoria. She turned her gaze slowly
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