Song of Sorcery by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough Page B

home.”
    The minstrel was not wholly convinced. “I find it hard to imagine such a virtuous person as you are saying she is doing what she did.”
    “I didn’t say she isn’t an ass sometimes,” Maggie admitted. “If she had to run her own household and do all the chores without the benefit of servants, it would have been impossible for her. She’s good with servants though. They all like her, and she knows how to get what she wants from them. She’s just not very good at handling any sort of unpleasantness. People are never unkind to her, so I suppose unkindness isn’t very real to her.” She winced, remembering the vision in the crystal, and continued in a smaller voice. “She’d rather just go to sleep and forget about it than have to face doing something to make someone unhappy. That always has made ME unhappy. I could never see why she’s not better at making decisions. She said she didn’t have to be because I did it so well.” She frowned. “That’s why it’s difficult for me to credit your song. If she were to go off with someone, it might be for a little while, on the spur of the moment, while she could still see the turrets of her own home across the moors and know it was all very safe and romantic and fun. But to leave altogether? Without asking anyone or packing anything?”
    “People do change,” Colin said gently.
    Ching came bounding out of the woods with a rabbit in his mouth.
    “The gnome would throttle you, but thanks,” Maggie said, accepting it.
    “Excellent,” Colin said. “I was getting sick of gingerbread.”
    They passed through a small village the next day, and were able to purchase an aging plow horse who had not yet been killed for his meat. They rode double till Ching conveyed the message that the horse was going to lay down and not get up again if one of them didn’t dismount. Maggie was restless anyway, and took the first turn walking, and in this fashion they progressed surely, if not swiftly.
    The conversation had been far from lively, Maggie brooding over her sister’s condition, desperate enough now to be considered a “plight,” Colin humming and nodding to himself in the throes of a fit of creativity.
    Finally, after many miles had passed, he asked, “Here, now, Maggie, what do you think of this?”
    He sang:
     
    “When they came to the gypsy’s camp
    The lady met his mother.
    She said ‘This is no gypsy girl
    You’ll have to find another.’”
     
    Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so, Colin.”
    He looked offended. “Why not?”
    “It sort of spoils the drama, don’t you see, for him to have a mother. Evil seducers never have mothers, do they?”
    “Artistically speaking, it’s a toss-up who seduced whom, isn’t it? Now, don’t be angry. I’m thinking of this in terms of preserving the essence of the tale for posterity.”
    Promenading along in front of them, Ching smirked a great cat smirk and said from over his shoulder. “Another crack like that and he can forget about having his own posterity, eh, witch?”
    “Okay then, how about this verse, Maggie?” Colin persisted, attempting to save himself from another tirade. “It ought to work up some popular sympathy for our side:
     
    “A beggar lassie, dressed in rags,
    Still in her heart a lady,
    She mourns the day she heard his song,
    The song of Gypsy Davey, the song of Gypsy Dave.”
     
    “It has possibilities,” Maggie admitted. “Still, I hope you won’t be stuck with such a gloomy ending, even though that’s the sort people like Gran prefer.”
    “Maybe I can come up with something better when we’ve talked to Lord Rowan,” he said.
    “You’ll have to do most of the talking, you know.”
    “I will?” He was unsure whether to feel pleased at being assigned an important role or wary of assuming any responsibility in the matter beyond being General-Protector-Against-Bears and Chief Observer.
    “Well, I hardly think my brother-in-law-is going to lay out a feast and