A Chance Encounter
Disclaimer: Valdemar all belongs to Mercedes Lackey, yadder, yadder, yadder.
I know this story is a bit of a cliche, but it's so much fun to write.
*
Herald Lien smiled to himself as he stretched, basking in the warmth of the Waystation's fire. Outside the snow was piling deep, but in here it was a haven of warmth - and privacy.
:Carrel?: Lien sent to the Companion in the Waystation's 'porch'. :Are you all right?:
:Nice, and warm, Chosen.: Lien's Companion sent back. :Just tired.:
:Hmm. Me too.:
This circuit had been even more fraught than was usually the case; the 'curse' on the forest of Sorrows had faded after the mage-wars, and the inhabitants of the area were being harried by bandits for the first time in decades. And the army was busy hunting pirates in lake Evendim - the people here were on the verge of rebellion. Lien was actually looking forward to being snowed in for a few days; it was too early in the season to keep him in for long, but for those few blessed days, he would be able to rest.
Suddenly, there was a muffled bang, and a startled mindcall from Carrel. Lien leapt to his feet and opened the door between the 'porch' area and the rest of the Waystation.
Beside the exterior door stood a young woman, and Lien hurried towards her. The noise had clearly come from the exterior door being shut as this traveler stumbled into shelter.
She must be frozen! Thought Lien in dismay. No wonder she came in here; she must have been desperate for shelter, any shelter . . . Lien knew well that a sudden snowstorm could be deadly for the unprepared; with Carrel, he was able to find this Waystation long before time, but alone, and on foot . . . Lien shuddered.
He had bridged the distance between them in the time it took for him to think this, and he was in time to steady her as she swayed and nearly fell. Lien half carried her into the inner Waystation, and managed to get her to the bedbox before she collapsed.
:The sudden heat.: Carrel observed sagely, watching through the open door. :You had better get her out of those icy clothes, Chosen, or she could get unwell.:
"I know," Lien sighed. What happened to a few days of rest?
He pulled of her pack first, noting in passing that two instrument cases were hanging from it. The girl must be a minstrel; that would explain her presence on the road. The cloak followed the pack into a corner, and Lien could see her face for the first time.
The hood had covered ice-specked hair that curled in long black loops around her face. The face itself would probably be a dusky color to match the dark hair, but now the skin was waxy and pale, pulled tight over high cheekbones. The few freckles on the slightly snubbed nose stood out starkly against the white skin. Normally full lips, eager to smile or laugh, were thin and bloodless, led down to a clefted chin. Lien would bet that this face was normally active and alive, but now only the air moving between the parted lips told that she was still among the living.
Frightened by her stone-cold skin, Lien lifted her, and the blanket from the bedbox, and placed her gently before the fire. This was no great problem; his white tunic hid a well muscled torso - thanks to ex- weaponsmaster Alberich's harsh training - and the minstrel-girl was light and delicate as a bird besides.
He removed her heavy tunic and the outer shirt, as well as taking off her boots and leggings, before wrapping her in the thick blanket, and arranging her as comfortably as he could near the fire.
:I think she'll be all right now, Chosen,: Carrel said reassuringly, :See, she's not so pale, now.:
Lien could indeed see a faint flush of color on the minstrel's face, and he sighed with relief before turning to resentfully survey his vandalized bed.
Lien sighed reluctantly before remaking it as best he could without the thickest blanket, and stepped carefully over the minstrel before banking the fire. With a tired sigh, he crawled into his bed and fell asleep.
*
Ella awoke, trying through a sleepfog to remember the previous night. She had been walking, and it began to snow. She had gone too far to turn back, so she had ploughed onwards, hoping to find some shelter. She had lost the road, and had kept on regardless, now spurred on by the knowledge that if she stopped, she might freeze to death.
She had not seen the Waystation until she almost ran into it, and at that point was too tired and cold to care that Waystations were used exclusively by Heralds. She had stumbled through the door, expecting to find it unoccupied, but there had been a Companion, and a man in Heraldic Whites and then -
- And then I fainted. Ella finished in her mind. Since I am blanket wrapped, and by a fire, it seems that my unwitting host managed to look after me. Now it's time to go meet him - and make my excuses.
Ella stood, noting that the Waystation was empty of human life, though the packs piled by the bed showed some evidences of the Herald. Ella's own packs were arranged neatly in a corner, with the two instruments thankfully separate, and carefully placed in a different corner.
Huh. He knows not to leave instruments piled under a pack of clothes. Ella approved. That's a good sign.
She pulled on clean clothes, and opened the door of the Waystation. Beyond it was a porch - a sensible addition, given the weather - containing both Companion and Herald.
"Good morning." Ella greeted them both shyly.
"To you to," replied the Herald easily. He seemed pleased that she was awake. "I am Herald Lien, and this is my Companion, Carrel."
Ella nodded to them both, pleased that Lien did not appear to resent her presence. "My name is Ella. I'm sorry to have barged in on you last night, but . . ."
"You were freezing, and wanted shelter." Lien finished easily. "Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're all right." Ella did in fact, look as though last night had never happened. Her face had fulfilled last night's promise, and a pair of large, dark eyes finished a very pretty face.
"How deep is the snow?" She asked.
"Too deep for travel," Lien told her. "It should clear in a few days." He noted her sigh of frustration. "Where were you bound?"
"Berrybay." She told him.
"I've just come from there; they should value a minstrel." Lien said. He had been grooming Carrel as he talked, but now he put the brushes down. "I think the Waystation supplies can stretch to offering you breakfast."
"Thank you," Ella said sincerely. Her own rations were meager at best; in villages, she was perfectly able to sing for her supper, so she only carried enough food to last for her current journey.
Ella followed Lien into the main room, pleased that she had tidied away the blanket and her belongings. Since Lien appeared to have any cooking well in hand, Ella decided to check on her instruments.
She unclipped both plain leather cases, revealing a harp and a lute. Both were made from smooth, honey colored wood, and Ella stroked them with appreciative fingers. After a cursory examination, she shut the lute case and lifted out the harp. She tuned it carefully, and ran fingers over the strings, making them hum.
The harp was by far Ella's favorite instrument; although she did enjoy playing the matching lute, it was the harp Ella normally practiced on.
And I need to practice now, she thought wryly, Or in this cold, my fingers will freeze!
She hoped the Herald wouldn't mind some background music, but she disregarded this as she ran her fingers over the strings and made the harp sing.
As her fingers played on the strings, Ella watched Herald Lien. He seemed to be about thirty years old, only a few years older than Ella. His hair was straight and blonde. It was cut short, but it was long enough in the front that it fell into Lien's blue-gray eyes. Lien was tall - over six feet in height - and well muscled, but not overly bulky. His skin was pale, and his white uniform accentuated color in his skin that might have been dulled by a different color. He was, all in all, a very well looking man - one that Ella certainly did not object to being snowed in with.
As she finished her practice, Ella noticed the Herald looking at her, and she raised one dark eyebrow.
"You play well," He praised her. "Why don't you have a place in a noble house?" Or as a bard, Lien added silently. Ella would look good in Bardic scarlets.
Ella flushed; the subject hit close on something she didn't want to talk about. "Wanderlust, I guess." She shrugged.
Lien felt that she was hiding something, but let it pass. "Porridge is done." was all he said, pulling the black pot off the fire with a piece of cloth.
Ella carefully put her harp away, and joined him. "Are you an appreciater of music, then?" she asked curiously.
Lien nodded. "I do enjoy music," he said. "I have no talent for it myself, but music is something I appreciate."
"Perhaps I could play for you," Ella offered tentatively. She was rewarded with a smile.
"That would be nice, if you wanted to." Lien replied, pleased.
So after the porridge was finished, Ella once again tuned both harp and lute. "Any requests?"
Lien shook his head; a lock of blonde hair fell into his eyes. "Your choice," He said, waving one fine-boned hand.
Ella closed her eyes as her fingers danced over the harp strings. She played 'the waterfall', a beautiful song. She joined the rippling harp music with a smooth contralto voice that arced easily into the soprano registers.
She opened her eyes to a delighted smile, and enthusiastic applause. "Lovely!" exclaimed Lien sincerely. "You truly are very good."
Ella smiled, flattered by the praise, and found her fingers moving in a new pattern. This was a love song, a beautiful and deceptively simple tune that floated in the air. She wondered whether Lien would see the double meaning, and hoped he would.
*
Lien listened with surprise as the love song wove through the air. His gifts were mindspeech and a very slight empathy combined with thoughtsensing; with the song, he could sense a subtle invitation.
The song came to an end, and Lien leaned forward to plant a kiss one the minstrel's still parted lips. His message was much less subtle than Ella's had been, but she seized upon it eagerly.
It seems my "rest" is going to be even less restful than I thought!
*
Lien sat in the village inn, talking to the mayor as he ate the meal. Although he had, by custom, to sleep in a Waystation, that was no reason for him to suffer through his own cookery. Ella was a good cook - she did all the cooking when we were snowed in . . .
Lien ruthlessly pulled his thoughts back to where they belonged. He and Ella had parted company after the snow melted, heading in opposite directions. But for some reason, Lien's thoughts remained with her, instead of on business, where they should have been.
It had been months since their parting; Lien's circuit was nearly finished, and he would soon be returning to Haven. With no chance of ever seeing Ella again . . .
Someone began to play a lute, and Lien listened with half an ear. Ella always prefered the harp to the lute . . .
It was a lovesong, and as the boy began to sing, Lien picked up the words - and froze. The song was about a minstrel and a Herald meeting in a waystation and falling in love - and then parting company and never meeting again.
Trying to remain casual, Lien turned to the mayor. "Is that song new? I don't think I've heard it before."
The mayor seemed pleased that his people had interested the Herald. "Aye, new enough. Some little bit of a songster came through here, and my boy, he likes plunking, so she taught him a song or two."
Lien's heart tightened. "A minstrel, you say?"
"Oh, aye. Pretty girl, she was, and good with the music."
Oh, Ella, it's you, it has to be. I thought I was just a chance encounter to you; I thought you didn't care, but you wrote a song about us. Lien was delighted and saddened at the same time. I won't ever forget you, Ella . . .
*
Bard Ella stared out of the window at Companion's Field, her fingers plucking out discordant patterns on the harp strings as she thought.
I wonder if Carrel is down there? Ella repressed the urge to go down and look. Even if Carrel and Lien were in Haven, it was very unlikely that she would be able to tell him apart from any other Companion.
Anyway, whispered a treacherous voice in the back of her head, Even if Lien is in Haven, he won't remember you. You were just a chance encounter for him. No one important, just a wandering street minstrel.
But Ella had chosen not to reveal the fact that she was a Bard - true, she had been working undercover to lessen any chance of rebellion among the people of Sorrows, but she would have been perfectly within her rights to reveal her identity to a Herald.
I didn't want him to look down on me for wanting to wander the roads. Ella admitted to herself. Most Bards want a nice easy job in a noble house - I have incurable wander-lust.
When the Dean of Bardic collegium - a tall, thin man with an unexpectedly deep baritone - had asked for a volunteer to act the ordinary minstrel, Ella had been the only one to step forward. She knew that many of her fellow bards thought she was crazy - most had had enough of the roads during their journeyman period.
I bet Lien would think I was crazy, too. Ella thought self-pityingly. Heralds have to do circuits - it's their job. I bet he'd rather stay home, too.
A sudden knock on the door stilled both her hands and thoughts as she laid aside the harp and stood up.
"Enter!" She called softly, and the door opened to reveal an apprentice wearing the traditional rust-colour of Bardic. "Hello, Berron. What is it?"
The boy grinned at her. "Thought you'd forget: it's the celebration for the heirs' Choosing. You're performing, remember?"
Ella groaned. The twin children of Selenay had been Chosen very recently - Kris a hair before Lyra - there was a joint celebration between the court and the colegium was scheduled for tonight, and it promised to give blisters to any resident bards.
"Thank you, Berron; I did forget. How long before it starts?"
"A candlemark, milady Bard." Berron replied impudently before scampering away.
Ella felt a smile start in spite of her melancholy. Berron was one of the few aprentices she knew, mostly because she had discovered the young rogue herself, on her way back from Sorrows. He had been playing for innkeeper parents, and Ella had seen the Bardic gift and taken him to Haven when his parents agreed.
Ella pulled on the Bardic dress tunic of bright scarlet silk, and blessed the warm summer; in winter, it would be freezing, as the clothes were made for mobility, not warmth. Gold earings - a gift from some forgotten lover - were placed in her ears, and curly black hair was looped tidily back with a fine silk scarf of scarlet to match the tunic. Ella surveyed herself in the small mirror, before carefully stowing her instruments and heading towards the palace.
*
It was late in the evening. Many of the celebrants - especially many of the white clad Heralds - had quietly slipped away. Fast dance tunes had filtered into slow, background music. Ella was halfway through her last set when she saw - him -
- Lien -
He was talking to one of the other remaining Heralds, and did not look at her. Hands faltered on harp-strings; only stern self discipline kept her moving. She stared at him, begging him to see her, to remember her.
As she played on, the other Herald - a young, pale man with tangled red hair - left the room. Despite her mental pleadings, Lien, too, turned to go. Ella choked back tears with effort as her song ended, and began a new one.
It was a song she knew better than any other. She had played it in her head over and over, and sung it for the first time when lonely tears blurred in her eyes. She sang the song she had written for Lien, the song called 'the Minstrel and the Herald'.
With eyes half closed and half tear-filled, Ella did not see Lien turn and catch his breath as he looked at her. She played until the end of the song and finished her set, stumbling from the hall with pain in her heart. She hurried out into the darkness of the palace grounds, not bothering to hide the tears that would no longer be supressed.
Ella tried telling herself that it did not matter, that Herald Lien did not matter, but for all her trying, tears ran from her eyes. She was blind as she entered Bardic, still crying. Ella could not see the face of the man who caught her up into a tight, comforting embrace, but she did not need to; her heart sang its recognition, and tears stopped.
"Lien . . ." Her voice was still melodic for all her crying, and it sang in the Herald's ears.
"Ella," His own greeting was affirmation and promise, all in one, and she held him close. "Why didn't you tell me you were a bard?"
"I thought you'd look down on me, for liking the roads," Ella confessed. It seemed a foolish fear, now.
"Never," Lien declared instantly. "I couldn't give up riding circuit, myself."
"Isn't it lonely, all by yourself?"
Lien seemed surprised. "No; I have Carrel. And -" he blushed slightly. It looked strange on an adult. "- I had you. I dreamed of you."
Ella could barely beleive it. It was too much like a love ballad. "You - did?"
Ella was awash in emotions, filtering up from the depths of her soul. With shock, she recognized the source.
A lifebond . . .? Surely not . . .
Lien looked into her eyes, and Ella knew that he had sensed it too.
"I think, Bard Ella, that my dreaming days are over!"
Disclaimer: Valdemar all belongs to Mercedes Lackey, yadder, yadder, yadder.
I know this story is a bit of a cliche, but it's so much fun to write.
*
Herald Lien smiled to himself as he stretched, basking in the warmth of the Waystation's fire. Outside the snow was piling deep, but in here it was a haven of warmth - and privacy.
:Carrel?: Lien sent to the Companion in the Waystation's 'porch'. :Are you all right?:
:Nice, and warm, Chosen.: Lien's Companion sent back. :Just tired.:
:Hmm. Me too.:
This circuit had been even more fraught than was usually the case; the 'curse' on the forest of Sorrows had faded after the mage-wars, and the inhabitants of the area were being harried by bandits for the first time in decades. And the army was busy hunting pirates in lake Evendim - the people here were on the verge of rebellion. Lien was actually looking forward to being snowed in for a few days; it was too early in the season to keep him in for long, but for those few blessed days, he would be able to rest.
Suddenly, there was a muffled bang, and a startled mindcall from Carrel. Lien leapt to his feet and opened the door between the 'porch' area and the rest of the Waystation.
Beside the exterior door stood a young woman, and Lien hurried towards her. The noise had clearly come from the exterior door being shut as this traveler stumbled into shelter.
She must be frozen! Thought Lien in dismay. No wonder she came in here; she must have been desperate for shelter, any shelter . . . Lien knew well that a sudden snowstorm could be deadly for the unprepared; with Carrel, he was able to find this Waystation long before time, but alone, and on foot . . . Lien shuddered.
He had bridged the distance between them in the time it took for him to think this, and he was in time to steady her as she swayed and nearly fell. Lien half carried her into the inner Waystation, and managed to get her to the bedbox before she collapsed.
:The sudden heat.: Carrel observed sagely, watching through the open door. :You had better get her out of those icy clothes, Chosen, or she could get unwell.:
"I know," Lien sighed. What happened to a few days of rest?
He pulled of her pack first, noting in passing that two instrument cases were hanging from it. The girl must be a minstrel; that would explain her presence on the road. The cloak followed the pack into a corner, and Lien could see her face for the first time.
The hood had covered ice-specked hair that curled in long black loops around her face. The face itself would probably be a dusky color to match the dark hair, but now the skin was waxy and pale, pulled tight over high cheekbones. The few freckles on the slightly snubbed nose stood out starkly against the white skin. Normally full lips, eager to smile or laugh, were thin and bloodless, led down to a clefted chin. Lien would bet that this face was normally active and alive, but now only the air moving between the parted lips told that she was still among the living.
Frightened by her stone-cold skin, Lien lifted her, and the blanket from the bedbox, and placed her gently before the fire. This was no great problem; his white tunic hid a well muscled torso - thanks to ex- weaponsmaster Alberich's harsh training - and the minstrel-girl was light and delicate as a bird besides.
He removed her heavy tunic and the outer shirt, as well as taking off her boots and leggings, before wrapping her in the thick blanket, and arranging her as comfortably as he could near the fire.
:I think she'll be all right now, Chosen,: Carrel said reassuringly, :See, she's not so pale, now.:
Lien could indeed see a faint flush of color on the minstrel's face, and he sighed with relief before turning to resentfully survey his vandalized bed.
Lien sighed reluctantly before remaking it as best he could without the thickest blanket, and stepped carefully over the minstrel before banking the fire. With a tired sigh, he crawled into his bed and fell asleep.
*
Ella awoke, trying through a sleepfog to remember the previous night. She had been walking, and it began to snow. She had gone too far to turn back, so she had ploughed onwards, hoping to find some shelter. She had lost the road, and had kept on regardless, now spurred on by the knowledge that if she stopped, she might freeze to death.
She had not seen the Waystation until she almost ran into it, and at that point was too tired and cold to care that Waystations were used exclusively by Heralds. She had stumbled through the door, expecting to find it unoccupied, but there had been a Companion, and a man in Heraldic Whites and then -
- And then I fainted. Ella finished in her mind. Since I am blanket wrapped, and by a fire, it seems that my unwitting host managed to look after me. Now it's time to go meet him - and make my excuses.
Ella stood, noting that the Waystation was empty of human life, though the packs piled by the bed showed some evidences of the Herald. Ella's own packs were arranged neatly in a corner, with the two instruments thankfully separate, and carefully placed in a different corner.
Huh. He knows not to leave instruments piled under a pack of clothes. Ella approved. That's a good sign.
She pulled on clean clothes, and opened the door of the Waystation. Beyond it was a porch - a sensible addition, given the weather - containing both Companion and Herald.
"Good morning." Ella greeted them both shyly.
"To you to," replied the Herald easily. He seemed pleased that she was awake. "I am Herald Lien, and this is my Companion, Carrel."
Ella nodded to them both, pleased that Lien did not appear to resent her presence. "My name is Ella. I'm sorry to have barged in on you last night, but . . ."
"You were freezing, and wanted shelter." Lien finished easily. "Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're all right." Ella did in fact, look as though last night had never happened. Her face had fulfilled last night's promise, and a pair of large, dark eyes finished a very pretty face.
"How deep is the snow?" She asked.
"Too deep for travel," Lien told her. "It should clear in a few days." He noted her sigh of frustration. "Where were you bound?"
"Berrybay." She told him.
"I've just come from there; they should value a minstrel." Lien said. He had been grooming Carrel as he talked, but now he put the brushes down. "I think the Waystation supplies can stretch to offering you breakfast."
"Thank you," Ella said sincerely. Her own rations were meager at best; in villages, she was perfectly able to sing for her supper, so she only carried enough food to last for her current journey.
Ella followed Lien into the main room, pleased that she had tidied away the blanket and her belongings. Since Lien appeared to have any cooking well in hand, Ella decided to check on her instruments.
She unclipped both plain leather cases, revealing a harp and a lute. Both were made from smooth, honey colored wood, and Ella stroked them with appreciative fingers. After a cursory examination, she shut the lute case and lifted out the harp. She tuned it carefully, and ran fingers over the strings, making them hum.
The harp was by far Ella's favorite instrument; although she did enjoy playing the matching lute, it was the harp Ella normally practiced on.
And I need to practice now, she thought wryly, Or in this cold, my fingers will freeze!
She hoped the Herald wouldn't mind some background music, but she disregarded this as she ran her fingers over the strings and made the harp sing.
As her fingers played on the strings, Ella watched Herald Lien. He seemed to be about thirty years old, only a few years older than Ella. His hair was straight and blonde. It was cut short, but it was long enough in the front that it fell into Lien's blue-gray eyes. Lien was tall - over six feet in height - and well muscled, but not overly bulky. His skin was pale, and his white uniform accentuated color in his skin that might have been dulled by a different color. He was, all in all, a very well looking man - one that Ella certainly did not object to being snowed in with.
As she finished her practice, Ella noticed the Herald looking at her, and she raised one dark eyebrow.
"You play well," He praised her. "Why don't you have a place in a noble house?" Or as a bard, Lien added silently. Ella would look good in Bardic scarlets.
Ella flushed; the subject hit close on something she didn't want to talk about. "Wanderlust, I guess." She shrugged.
Lien felt that she was hiding something, but let it pass. "Porridge is done." was all he said, pulling the black pot off the fire with a piece of cloth.
Ella carefully put her harp away, and joined him. "Are you an appreciater of music, then?" she asked curiously.
Lien nodded. "I do enjoy music," he said. "I have no talent for it myself, but music is something I appreciate."
"Perhaps I could play for you," Ella offered tentatively. She was rewarded with a smile.
"That would be nice, if you wanted to." Lien replied, pleased.
So after the porridge was finished, Ella once again tuned both harp and lute. "Any requests?"
Lien shook his head; a lock of blonde hair fell into his eyes. "Your choice," He said, waving one fine-boned hand.
Ella closed her eyes as her fingers danced over the harp strings. She played 'the waterfall', a beautiful song. She joined the rippling harp music with a smooth contralto voice that arced easily into the soprano registers.
She opened her eyes to a delighted smile, and enthusiastic applause. "Lovely!" exclaimed Lien sincerely. "You truly are very good."
Ella smiled, flattered by the praise, and found her fingers moving in a new pattern. This was a love song, a beautiful and deceptively simple tune that floated in the air. She wondered whether Lien would see the double meaning, and hoped he would.
*
Lien listened with surprise as the love song wove through the air. His gifts were mindspeech and a very slight empathy combined with thoughtsensing; with the song, he could sense a subtle invitation.
The song came to an end, and Lien leaned forward to plant a kiss one the minstrel's still parted lips. His message was much less subtle than Ella's had been, but she seized upon it eagerly.
It seems my "rest" is going to be even less restful than I thought!
*
Lien sat in the village inn, talking to the mayor as he ate the meal. Although he had, by custom, to sleep in a Waystation, that was no reason for him to suffer through his own cookery. Ella was a good cook - she did all the cooking when we were snowed in . . .
Lien ruthlessly pulled his thoughts back to where they belonged. He and Ella had parted company after the snow melted, heading in opposite directions. But for some reason, Lien's thoughts remained with her, instead of on business, where they should have been.
It had been months since their parting; Lien's circuit was nearly finished, and he would soon be returning to Haven. With no chance of ever seeing Ella again . . .
Someone began to play a lute, and Lien listened with half an ear. Ella always prefered the harp to the lute . . .
It was a lovesong, and as the boy began to sing, Lien picked up the words - and froze. The song was about a minstrel and a Herald meeting in a waystation and falling in love - and then parting company and never meeting again.
Trying to remain casual, Lien turned to the mayor. "Is that song new? I don't think I've heard it before."
The mayor seemed pleased that his people had interested the Herald. "Aye, new enough. Some little bit of a songster came through here, and my boy, he likes plunking, so she taught him a song or two."
Lien's heart tightened. "A minstrel, you say?"
"Oh, aye. Pretty girl, she was, and good with the music."
Oh, Ella, it's you, it has to be. I thought I was just a chance encounter to you; I thought you didn't care, but you wrote a song about us. Lien was delighted and saddened at the same time. I won't ever forget you, Ella . . .
*
Bard Ella stared out of the window at Companion's Field, her fingers plucking out discordant patterns on the harp strings as she thought.
I wonder if Carrel is down there? Ella repressed the urge to go down and look. Even if Carrel and Lien were in Haven, it was very unlikely that she would be able to tell him apart from any other Companion.
Anyway, whispered a treacherous voice in the back of her head, Even if Lien is in Haven, he won't remember you. You were just a chance encounter for him. No one important, just a wandering street minstrel.
But Ella had chosen not to reveal the fact that she was a Bard - true, she had been working undercover to lessen any chance of rebellion among the people of Sorrows, but she would have been perfectly within her rights to reveal her identity to a Herald.
I didn't want him to look down on me for wanting to wander the roads. Ella admitted to herself. Most Bards want a nice easy job in a noble house - I have incurable wander-lust.
When the Dean of Bardic collegium - a tall, thin man with an unexpectedly deep baritone - had asked for a volunteer to act the ordinary minstrel, Ella had been the only one to step forward. She knew that many of her fellow bards thought she was crazy - most had had enough of the roads during their journeyman period.
I bet Lien would think I was crazy, too. Ella thought self-pityingly. Heralds have to do circuits - it's their job. I bet he'd rather stay home, too.
A sudden knock on the door stilled both her hands and thoughts as she laid aside the harp and stood up.
"Enter!" She called softly, and the door opened to reveal an apprentice wearing the traditional rust-colour of Bardic. "Hello, Berron. What is it?"
The boy grinned at her. "Thought you'd forget: it's the celebration for the heirs' Choosing. You're performing, remember?"
Ella groaned. The twin children of Selenay had been Chosen very recently - Kris a hair before Lyra - there was a joint celebration between the court and the colegium was scheduled for tonight, and it promised to give blisters to any resident bards.
"Thank you, Berron; I did forget. How long before it starts?"
"A candlemark, milady Bard." Berron replied impudently before scampering away.
Ella felt a smile start in spite of her melancholy. Berron was one of the few aprentices she knew, mostly because she had discovered the young rogue herself, on her way back from Sorrows. He had been playing for innkeeper parents, and Ella had seen the Bardic gift and taken him to Haven when his parents agreed.
Ella pulled on the Bardic dress tunic of bright scarlet silk, and blessed the warm summer; in winter, it would be freezing, as the clothes were made for mobility, not warmth. Gold earings - a gift from some forgotten lover - were placed in her ears, and curly black hair was looped tidily back with a fine silk scarf of scarlet to match the tunic. Ella surveyed herself in the small mirror, before carefully stowing her instruments and heading towards the palace.
*
It was late in the evening. Many of the celebrants - especially many of the white clad Heralds - had quietly slipped away. Fast dance tunes had filtered into slow, background music. Ella was halfway through her last set when she saw - him -
- Lien -
He was talking to one of the other remaining Heralds, and did not look at her. Hands faltered on harp-strings; only stern self discipline kept her moving. She stared at him, begging him to see her, to remember her.
As she played on, the other Herald - a young, pale man with tangled red hair - left the room. Despite her mental pleadings, Lien, too, turned to go. Ella choked back tears with effort as her song ended, and began a new one.
It was a song she knew better than any other. She had played it in her head over and over, and sung it for the first time when lonely tears blurred in her eyes. She sang the song she had written for Lien, the song called 'the Minstrel and the Herald'.
With eyes half closed and half tear-filled, Ella did not see Lien turn and catch his breath as he looked at her. She played until the end of the song and finished her set, stumbling from the hall with pain in her heart. She hurried out into the darkness of the palace grounds, not bothering to hide the tears that would no longer be supressed.
Ella tried telling herself that it did not matter, that Herald Lien did not matter, but for all her trying, tears ran from her eyes. She was blind as she entered Bardic, still crying. Ella could not see the face of the man who caught her up into a tight, comforting embrace, but she did not need to; her heart sang its recognition, and tears stopped.
"Lien . . ." Her voice was still melodic for all her crying, and it sang in the Herald's ears.
"Ella," His own greeting was affirmation and promise, all in one, and she held him close. "Why didn't you tell me you were a bard?"
"I thought you'd look down on me, for liking the roads," Ella confessed. It seemed a foolish fear, now.
"Never," Lien declared instantly. "I couldn't give up riding circuit, myself."
"Isn't it lonely, all by yourself?"
Lien seemed surprised. "No; I have Carrel. And -" he blushed slightly. It looked strange on an adult. "- I had you. I dreamed of you."
Ella could barely beleive it. It was too much like a love ballad. "You - did?"
Ella was awash in emotions, filtering up from the depths of her soul. With shock, she recognized the source.
A lifebond . . .? Surely not . . .
Lien looked into her eyes, and Ella knew that he had sensed it too.
"I think, Bard Ella, that my dreaming days are over!"