The Quartered Sea by Tanya Huff Page A

heard all this, this morning?"
     
    "Plus that Evicka got her hair cut and it looks a lot better than those long braids, that the bolt of dark blue wool I ordered at the beginning of last quarter finally arrived, and that everyone thinks what you did with the river was amazing. So what do you think?"
     
    Benedikt had no idea that bards who Sang air spent so much time gossiping. Although he had to admit that in Pjazef's case he wasn't really surprised. "What do I think about what?"
     
    "About this trip Her Majesty's planning. Calling for volunteers to sail off into the unknown. I mean, it's one thing to leave Shkoder to go to Petroika or to the Havakeen Empire, but this is another thing entirely. Doesn't Her Majesty realize that we're all part of the pattern that keeps the country strong?"
     
    "And removing, say, you from the pattern would result in what? Complete collapse of the whole?"
     
    Although he laughed at the conceit, Pjazef held to his opinion. "What would happen to Shkoder if we all went off walking on water?"
     
    Walking on water was a bardic term used to describe those rare occasions when one of them took ship for foreign lands. It wasn't what Benedikt had meant when he'd silently declared himself willing to walk on water for the queen—at least it wasn't what he'd meant at the time. "I think I'm going to volunteer."
     
    Pjazef's reaction was everything he could have hoped for.
     
    * * *
     
    "Because you're too old, Tadeus."
     
    The blue silk scarf tied around his eyes did nothing to hide the pique on the blind bard's face. "Too old?"
     
    "You're fifty. Don't deny it, your age is a matter of record." Kovar leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his temples with the heels of both hands. "And more importantly, you don't Sing water, a talent Her Majesty has decided is necessary for this idiot adventure. In case they run into those giant water kigh, I assume. And yes…" As Tadeus opened his mouth, he raised a hand, aware as he moved that the gesture was superfluous. "… the queen knows my opinion. It merely makes no difference to her."
     
    Brows, still sleek and black, rose up above the scarf, personal indignation pushed aside. "My, my, someone's not happy about the fledgling leaving the nest."
     
    "Her Majesty is perfectly capable of making up her own mind."
     
    "Without your help?"
     
    Lips pressed into a thin line, Kovar glared across his desk at the other bard. After a moment, he trusted his voice enough to say, "Was there anything else, Tadeus?"
     
    "I was wondering if any other bards have expressed an interest."
     
    "No."
     
    "No?" Tadeus traced the brilliant embroidery on his sleeve with the tip of one finger. "I wonder why."
     
    As he wasn't asking, Kovar saw no reason to answer.
     
    "I can see why those who Sing earth might not be interested. They have a strong attachment to this piece of land, and I suppose many of the older bards have families they'd be loath to leave or physical frailties they'd be loath to risk, but I can't understand why the younger bards aren't leaping at this chance to discover songs that no one in Shkoder has heard." He lifted his head, and Kovar had the uncanny feeling that behind the scarf the blind eyes were staring directly into his.
     
    "What good are new songs if no one ever hears them sung?" the Bardic Captain demanded. "We have no proof that there is land to the south and west, and we bards are too important to Shkoder to throw our lives away."
     
    "Are we?" Again the black brows rose above the blue silk.
     
    "Stop being irritating just because you can be, Tadeus. You know full well that we bards are the strength of a small country."
     
    "So I've heard you tell the fledglings. We're all part of the pattern that keeps the country strong."
     
    "Exactly."
     
    " Part of the pattern, Kovar."
     
    Outside the office window, a small brass bell rang an imperious summons.
     
    Grateful for the interruption—arguing with Tadeus often resembled arguing with