all down.”
“That man has too many unpleasant words stored away in him,” Furey said. “He needs to be thrashed.”
“Don’t make it worse than it is,” Peadin said. “We’ll have to pay for our trespass.”
Yocky John nodded glumly. “Though we’ve already paid too dear a price,” he said, looking down at what was left of his friend. And Meran… She appeared to be losing her substance now as the grip of the dead lands grew stronger on her.
“Take ahold of your anger!” Peadin called to the men below. “We’re coming down.”
One by one they descended the ladder. Last to come was Meran who ignored the men and went to the broken flute. Sitting on the floor, she took the broken pieces onto her lap and held them tightly.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I’ve cheated death once, so every day I’ve had since then has been a gift. But you—I made you. You were meant to live a long and merry life….”
“They’re kowries,” the landlord said, staring at them. Here and there, some of the men made the Sign of Horns to ward themselves against evil. “Look at the green in that one’s hair and the strange faces of the others.”
“She’s no kowrie,” the piper said, pointing to Liane.
The landlord nodded. “Come here, girl. We’ll rescue you.”
“I don’t want to be rescued,” Liane told them.
“They’ll have gold hidden somewhere,” one of the landlord’s customers said greedily. “Make them give us their gold, or we’ll take it out of their skins.”
The landlord didn’t seem so certain anymore. Now that the little bedraggled company was standing in front of him, his anger ran from him. It was wonder he felt at this moment, that he should see such magical folk.
“I have an old flute some traveller left behind,” he said to Meran. “Would you like that to replace the one that broke?”
“You don’t give kowries gifts,” the other man protested. “You take their gold, Oarn.” He hefted his cane. “Or you lather their backs with a few sharp blows—just to keep them in line.”
He took a step forward with upraised cane, but at that moment the front door of the inn was flung open and a tall figure stood outlined in the doorway.
He had long braided hair, and a long beard, and there was a fey light glimmering in his eyes. A harp was slung over his shoulder.
“Whose back do you mean to lather?” he asked in a grim voice.
“Mind your own business,” the man said.
“This is my business,” the harper replied. “That’s my wife you mean to beat. My neighbour’s child. My friends.”
“Then perhaps you should pay their coin,” the man said, taking a step towards the harper with his upraised cane.
“No!” the landlord cried. “No fighting!”
But he need not have spoken. Cerin brought his harp around in front of him and drew a sharp angry chord from its strings. The harp was named Telynros, a gift from the Tuathan, the Bright Gods, and it played spells as well as music. That first chord shattered the man’s cane. The second loosed all the stitches in his clothing so that shirt, tunic and trousers fell away from him and he stood bare-assed naked in front of them all. The third woke a wind and propelled the man out the door. Cerin stood aside as he went by and gave him a kick on his backside to help him on his way.
“Good Master,” the landlord began as Cerin turned back to face him. “We never meant—”
“They trespassed,” Cerin said, “so you had reason to be angry.”
“Yes, but—”
“Please,” the harper said. “I have a more pressing concern.”
He crossed the room to where not much more than a ghost of his wife sat, holding the two broken halves of her flute on her lap.
“Oh, Cerin,” she said, looking up at him. “I’ve made such a botch of things.” Her voice was like a whisper now, as though she spoke from a great distance away.
“You meant well.”
“But I did wrong all the same, and now I have to pay
“That man has too many unpleasant words stored away in him,” Furey said. “He needs to be thrashed.”
“Don’t make it worse than it is,” Peadin said. “We’ll have to pay for our trespass.”
Yocky John nodded glumly. “Though we’ve already paid too dear a price,” he said, looking down at what was left of his friend. And Meran… She appeared to be losing her substance now as the grip of the dead lands grew stronger on her.
“Take ahold of your anger!” Peadin called to the men below. “We’re coming down.”
One by one they descended the ladder. Last to come was Meran who ignored the men and went to the broken flute. Sitting on the floor, she took the broken pieces onto her lap and held them tightly.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “I’ve cheated death once, so every day I’ve had since then has been a gift. But you—I made you. You were meant to live a long and merry life….”
“They’re kowries,” the landlord said, staring at them. Here and there, some of the men made the Sign of Horns to ward themselves against evil. “Look at the green in that one’s hair and the strange faces of the others.”
“She’s no kowrie,” the piper said, pointing to Liane.
The landlord nodded. “Come here, girl. We’ll rescue you.”
“I don’t want to be rescued,” Liane told them.
“They’ll have gold hidden somewhere,” one of the landlord’s customers said greedily. “Make them give us their gold, or we’ll take it out of their skins.”
The landlord didn’t seem so certain anymore. Now that the little bedraggled company was standing in front of him, his anger ran from him. It was wonder he felt at this moment, that he should see such magical folk.
“I have an old flute some traveller left behind,” he said to Meran. “Would you like that to replace the one that broke?”
“You don’t give kowries gifts,” the other man protested. “You take their gold, Oarn.” He hefted his cane. “Or you lather their backs with a few sharp blows—just to keep them in line.”
He took a step forward with upraised cane, but at that moment the front door of the inn was flung open and a tall figure stood outlined in the doorway.
He had long braided hair, and a long beard, and there was a fey light glimmering in his eyes. A harp was slung over his shoulder.
“Whose back do you mean to lather?” he asked in a grim voice.
“Mind your own business,” the man said.
“This is my business,” the harper replied. “That’s my wife you mean to beat. My neighbour’s child. My friends.”
“Then perhaps you should pay their coin,” the man said, taking a step towards the harper with his upraised cane.
“No!” the landlord cried. “No fighting!”
But he need not have spoken. Cerin brought his harp around in front of him and drew a sharp angry chord from its strings. The harp was named Telynros, a gift from the Tuathan, the Bright Gods, and it played spells as well as music. That first chord shattered the man’s cane. The second loosed all the stitches in his clothing so that shirt, tunic and trousers fell away from him and he stood bare-assed naked in front of them all. The third woke a wind and propelled the man out the door. Cerin stood aside as he went by and gave him a kick on his backside to help him on his way.
“Good Master,” the landlord began as Cerin turned back to face him. “We never meant—”
“They trespassed,” Cerin said, “so you had reason to be angry.”
“Yes, but—”
“Please,” the harper said. “I have a more pressing concern.”
He crossed the room to where not much more than a ghost of his wife sat, holding the two broken halves of her flute on her lap.
“Oh, Cerin,” she said, looking up at him. “I’ve made such a botch of things.” Her voice was like a whisper now, as though she spoke from a great distance away.
“You meant well.”
“But I did wrong all the same, and now I have to pay
Similar Books
