Tigana by Guy Kay (novel24 txt) 📕

‘There’s a good hour of daylight left,’ Baerd said in a complaining voice. ‘We can make the Fort easy. Why sleep on the ground?’

Alessan sighed. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m sorry. We’re new to this run and Tomaz isn’t. I suppose we ought to listen to him or we’re wasting his fee, aren’t we?’ He looked back at Erlein and shrugged. ‘There goes your ride to Ciorone.’

‘Can’t lose what you never had.’ The troubadour smiled. ‘I’ll manage.’

‘You’re welcome to share our fire,’ Devin interjected, trusting that he’d read the Duke’s brief glance correctly. He still wasn’t sure what Sandre was doing.

Surprisingly, Erlein flushed; he looked somewhat embarrassed. ‘As to that, I thank you, but I’ve nothing with me to bring to table or hearth.’

‘You have been on the road a long time,’ Sandre said in a quieter voice. ‘I haven’t heard a Palm-born use that phrase in years. It’s a lost tradition, that one.’

‘You have a harp, don’t you?’ Catriana said, at just the right moment and in her sweetest voice. She glanced directly at Erlein for an instant, then demurely lowered her eyes again.

‘I do,’ said the troubadour after a moment, affirming the obvious. He was devouring Catriana with his gaze.

‘Then you are far from empty-handed,’ Alessan said crisply. ‘Devin and my sister both sing, as you’ve heard, and I can manage these pipes a little bit. A harp will go gentle after dinner under the stars.’

‘Say no more,’ said Erlein. ‘You’ll be better company by a long go than my mouth talking wisdom with only my own ears to hear.’

Alessan laughed again.

‘There’s trees over west, and a stream beyond them, if I remember rightly,’ Sandre said. ‘A good place to camp.’

Before anyone else could say a word Erlein di Senzio had jumped up and settled himself at Catriana’s side. Devin, his mouth agape, closed it quickly at Sandre’s hidden, urgent gesture.

Catriana pulled west off the road to lead them towards the trees the Duke had pointed out. Devin heard her giggle at something the troubadour said.

He was looking at Sandre though. So were Baerd and Alessan.

The Duke glanced at Erlein whose back was to the four of them, then very briefly he held up his left hand with the third and fourth fingers carefully curled down. He gazed at Alessan deliberately and then back to the man beside Catriana.

Devin didn’t understand. An oath? he thought, confused. Sandre lowered his hand but his eyes remained locked on the Prince’s. There was an odd, challenging expression in them. Alessan had suddenly gone pale.

And in that moment Devin understood.

‘Oh, Adaon,’ Baerd whispered on a rising note, as Devin leaped up on the cart beside him. ‘I do not believe this!’

Neither did Devin.

What Sandre was telling them, quite plainly, was that Erlein di Senzio was a wizard. One who had cut two fingers in his linking to the magic of the Palm.

And Alessan bar Valentin was a Prince of the blood of Tigana. Which meant, if the old tale of Adaon and Micaela was true, that he could bind a wizard to his service. Sandre had not believed it back in the cabin in the fall. Devin remembered that.

But now he was giving Alessan his chance. Which explained the challenge in his gaze.

A chance, or at least the beginnings of a chance. Thinking as fast as he ever had in his life, Devin turned to Baerd. ‘Follow my lead when we get there,’ he said softly. ‘I have an idea.’ Only later would he have time to reflect what a change six months had made. Only six months, one Ember season to another. For him to speak so to Baerd, speak and be listened to . . .

There was indeed a stream, as Sandre had known, or guessed. Not far from its banks they halted the carts. The usual twilight routine began. Catriana seeing to the horses, Devin to wood for the fire. Alessan and the Duke laid out the sleeping-rolls and organized the cooking gear and the food they carried.

Baerd took his bow and disappeared into the trees. He was back in twenty minutes, no more than that, with three rabbits and a plump, wingless grele.

‘I’m impressed,’ Erlein said from beside Catriana and the horses. His eyes were wide. ‘I’m very impressed.’

‘I’m buying your music for later,’ Baerd said with a rare smile. The one he usually reserved for bargaining sessions at town fairs.

Devin had been watching Erlein as unobtrusively as he could. When he could manage to focus on the troubadour’s left hand—which never seemed to be still for more than an instant—there did seem to be an odd blurring, an occluding of air around it.

He had been waiting for Baerd to come back, now he waited no longer.

‘You,’ he said, grinning at the returning hunter, ‘look like something that should be hunted yourself. You are going to terrify every civilized merchant we meet. You need a haircut before you are fit for society, my friend.’

Baerd was very quick.

‘I wouldn’t talk, scamp,’ he shot back, tossing his prey over to Sandre by the wood gathered for the fire. ‘Not the way you look yourself. Or are you deliberately trying to be scruffy to scare away Alienor at Borso?’

Alessan laughed. So did Erlein.

‘Nothing scares away Alienor,’ the troubadour chuckled. ‘And that one is exactly the right age for her.’

‘What “right age”?’ Alessan grinned slyly. ‘Over twelve and not yet buried suits her fine.’

‘I don’t like that,’ Catriana said primly as the five men laughed.

‘Sorry,’ Alessan said trying to keep a straight face, as she stepped in front of him, hands firmly on her hips.

‘You are not at all sorry, but you should be!’ Catriana snapped. ‘You know very well I don’t like that kind of talk. How do you think it makes me look? And you only do it when you’re idle. Do something useful. Cut Devin’s hair. He does look awful, even worse than usual.’

‘Me?’ Devin squeaked in protest. ‘My hair? What do you mean? It’s Baerd,