either.’ She cast a forlorn glance at Magpie, before she drew her breath and sang:
‘A bolder knight ne’er there was in all of Sunset’s kingdom,
Than brave Marchlord Overbrook, the Blue Knight named was he,
For he wore spell-charmed armour, the Rebel’s hope and light,
Protected by the Seers, he slew his enemy.
‘Twas said he came of Royal blood, a prince without a father,
‘Twas said he had no equal, no peer to match his arm,
But never did he reckon with the power of a woman
Whose cunning and whose magic would penetrate his charm.’
Blossom looked at the line of women and children winding ahead and behind. There were twenty-seven survivors and they were heading into foreign land, and they needed to find fresh water. The sun was hot.
‘Go on,’ Meg begged. ‘You can sing.’
‘You have a strange idea of what is good singing.’
‘I was a minstrel, once.’ Only as she finished the statement did Meg realise what she’d said.
‘Were you?’ Blossom asked, stopping Meg with her outstretched arm.
She blushed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly. ‘I mean, I don’t even know why I said that.’
‘More memory coming back,’ said Blossom. She peered into Meg’s filthy face. ‘Perhaps you were. Cleaned up and in better finery I think you’d be a very pretty woman.’
Her observation made Meg blush again. ‘Please sing the rest,’ she asked.
‘I’ll save it until we make camp,’ said Blossom, walking on.
‘Just one more verse,’ Meg pleaded.
‘Jarudha! You are impatient,’ Blossom complained—but she sighed and sang:
‘Now Sunset’s troops had fought and won and drove the Rebels east,
And trapped them on the verges of the Whispering Forest green,
And there it was the famed Blue Knight his nemesis was facing,
A red-haired girl in soldier’s garb, and barely yet sixteen.
‘Enough,’ Blossom said. ‘I don’t know it all, anyway. I think I skipped some verses to get to that point.’
‘But what happened? At least tell me the story.’
Blossom kept walking. ‘The story is that Lady Amber disguised herself as a soldier and found a weak link in Marchlord Treasure’s magical armour and brought him down single-handedly when a thousand men couldn’t. The Queen made her a Marchlord and a Seer for saving her kingdom.’
‘Is Lady Amber fighting the barbarians now?’
Blossom stopped again, hands on her hips. ‘Meg, I don’t know where you’ve been or who you really are, but you sure don’t know much. Lady Amber was killed fighting the Rebels a decade ago.’
‘How?’
‘So many questions!’ Blossom snapped.
Meg dropped her gaze and lowered her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up.
‘They say,’ said Blossom kindly, ‘that she called down the Demon Horsemen on her enemies and everyone was consumed in fire, even her.’ Blossom chuckled. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, though. I don’t believe there ever was a Lady Amber, not like the one in theballads. She’s just another heroic character. And there’s certainly no Demon Horsemen.’ She patted Meg’s shoulder. ‘Come on. We’ve a long walk. Too much talking just makes us more tired.’
Meg fell into step with Blossom and Magpie took her hand. As the words of the ballad repeated in her mind, she felt as if the story and the people were familiar. The face of a handsome young man lingered at the margins of her memory and she noted the curious feature that he had one blue eye and one grey eye. Why did she see him like that?
P ART T WO
‘Some would argue that we are only the sum of our memories and the memories of those who know us. When those are gone, what remains to say that we ever existed?’
FROM M USINGS ON THE S OUL : A N E XPLORATION OF S ELF BY SEER HOLYVISION
C HAPTER S IX
N ews of his mother’s assassination and the capitulation of the Queen’s army reached him a day before his ship was due to anchor in Port of Joy and he went below decks to
‘A bolder knight ne’er there was in all of Sunset’s kingdom,
Than brave Marchlord Overbrook, the Blue Knight named was he,
For he wore spell-charmed armour, the Rebel’s hope and light,
Protected by the Seers, he slew his enemy.
‘Twas said he came of Royal blood, a prince without a father,
‘Twas said he had no equal, no peer to match his arm,
But never did he reckon with the power of a woman
Whose cunning and whose magic would penetrate his charm.’
Blossom looked at the line of women and children winding ahead and behind. There were twenty-seven survivors and they were heading into foreign land, and they needed to find fresh water. The sun was hot.
‘Go on,’ Meg begged. ‘You can sing.’
‘You have a strange idea of what is good singing.’
‘I was a minstrel, once.’ Only as she finished the statement did Meg realise what she’d said.
‘Were you?’ Blossom asked, stopping Meg with her outstretched arm.
She blushed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly. ‘I mean, I don’t even know why I said that.’
‘More memory coming back,’ said Blossom. She peered into Meg’s filthy face. ‘Perhaps you were. Cleaned up and in better finery I think you’d be a very pretty woman.’
Her observation made Meg blush again. ‘Please sing the rest,’ she asked.
‘I’ll save it until we make camp,’ said Blossom, walking on.
‘Just one more verse,’ Meg pleaded.
‘Jarudha! You are impatient,’ Blossom complained—but she sighed and sang:
‘Now Sunset’s troops had fought and won and drove the Rebels east,
And trapped them on the verges of the Whispering Forest green,
And there it was the famed Blue Knight his nemesis was facing,
A red-haired girl in soldier’s garb, and barely yet sixteen.
‘Enough,’ Blossom said. ‘I don’t know it all, anyway. I think I skipped some verses to get to that point.’
‘But what happened? At least tell me the story.’
Blossom kept walking. ‘The story is that Lady Amber disguised herself as a soldier and found a weak link in Marchlord Treasure’s magical armour and brought him down single-handedly when a thousand men couldn’t. The Queen made her a Marchlord and a Seer for saving her kingdom.’
‘Is Lady Amber fighting the barbarians now?’
Blossom stopped again, hands on her hips. ‘Meg, I don’t know where you’ve been or who you really are, but you sure don’t know much. Lady Amber was killed fighting the Rebels a decade ago.’
‘How?’
‘So many questions!’ Blossom snapped.
Meg dropped her gaze and lowered her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up.
‘They say,’ said Blossom kindly, ‘that she called down the Demon Horsemen on her enemies and everyone was consumed in fire, even her.’ Blossom chuckled. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, though. I don’t believe there ever was a Lady Amber, not like the one in theballads. She’s just another heroic character. And there’s certainly no Demon Horsemen.’ She patted Meg’s shoulder. ‘Come on. We’ve a long walk. Too much talking just makes us more tired.’
Meg fell into step with Blossom and Magpie took her hand. As the words of the ballad repeated in her mind, she felt as if the story and the people were familiar. The face of a handsome young man lingered at the margins of her memory and she noted the curious feature that he had one blue eye and one grey eye. Why did she see him like that?
P ART T WO
‘Some would argue that we are only the sum of our memories and the memories of those who know us. When those are gone, what remains to say that we ever existed?’
FROM M USINGS ON THE S OUL : A N E XPLORATION OF S ELF BY SEER HOLYVISION
C HAPTER S IX
N ews of his mother’s assassination and the capitulation of the Queen’s army reached him a day before his ship was due to anchor in Port of Joy and he went below decks to
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