The road along the coast leading southward was a broad track that sometimes ran so close to the sea that you could hear the rush of the waves and smell the salt in the air. Sometimes it meandered deeper inland, closer to the foothills of the mountain chain that ran the length -- south to north -- of the continent. The weather was undeniably beautiful. Warm days and cooler nights, the breeze from the western ocean cooling what otherwise might have been oppressive summer heat.
Kall-Su preferred the cold. He liked the pristine clarity of winter far better than the myriad tones of summer. The ocean made him wary. Its magnitude had always daunted him a little. He hated the ponderous sway of its motion. Once, during their campaigns, years and years ago, Schneider had set his sights upon one of the island kingdoms. It was the producer of a particular spice that he had discovered and found he couldn't live without. He wanted it under his control. A whim. Nothing more. But he had commandeered a fleet of ships to carry out his plans and loaded his shitanno, then Kall-Su and Arshes Nei, both considerably younger than they were now, aboard and set out to sea. It took Kall precisely a dozen breaths to loose his land bound stability. A dozen more and no spell of his could calm the rolling of his stomach. Arshes had found it amusing until it hit her an hour out to sea. As the old adage went, wizards and the great blue sea were not a steady mixture. A day out and Arshes was throwing up her guts over the rail. Even Schneider was beginning to feel a little green. Kall had just wanted to die. And the deeper the ocean got, the worse it became, as if the tenuous connection to the earth made magic a weak and quarrelsome thing. He had been worse off than he was now, with all his channels burned closed. Then, with the sea surrounding him, it was as if there was no magic to compel.
By the time it had begun to seep away at Schneider's power, both his disciples were worse than invalids and having no wish to end up the same, he had reluctantly had to give up on any notions of conquering his spice island. Kall never even remembered getting back to dry land. Schneider had stomped around in a rage for days and Arshes had not let him forget the incident for ages, conveniently forgetting her own indisposition.
He had never set foot on a ship since then. He had a healthy distrust of the sea in general. It had never been his ally anyway. Saltwater didn't freeze.
Lily loved the ocean. When they passed through a seaport town, or a fishing village she roamed the docks, or went out onto the shores looking for treasures washed up on shore. She had a pouch of delicate little shells she'd collected. She said she would make a necklace from them.
A day out from Oborhurst, which was not a substantial distance considering that they traveled at the pace of a walking man, his horse being the only one among them, the road ran along a gentle bluff overlooking the sea. The old man that had joined them claimed to know a hundred different songs of the ocean, none of which Kall particularly wished to have to hear. There was such a thing, he was beginning to think, as too much music. A little silence was a desirable thing, but not to harpers. They could not survive without creating noise.
The old man was an odd sort. He was cranky and bossy, deliberately rude to the younger members of Crayl's troupe, but they took it with good cheer, even Dell who usually was sarcastic and sharp. He had Kall over when he'd joined them that morning, discovered he was not musically inclined and dismissed him as inconsequential. Not even of enough note to harp at, as he did the others, even Lily on occasion, though he was more inclined to flirt with her. Other than demanding to know why a perfectly good horse was not being utilized to carry their packs, he hadn't spoken to Kall at all. Kall had very shortly responded to that one communication with a curt; Brawaith is not a pack mule, nor shall he become one. And that had been that.
Lily had walked beside the old man, along with Crayl for a good part of the day, the three of them discussing topics of minstrelsy which held no interest for Kall-Su. Dell dispelled the peace of the afternoon by strumming his lute as he walked, while Allun and he practiced a harmony they had been creating.
Thizura dogged Kall's steps, keeping the Ice Lord between him and the spirited stallion. The horse had nipped him once, drawing blood when he'd ventured to close and he had developed a certain fear of him, that only egged on Brawaith's malicious sense of humor.
"He's Crayl's old master you know?" Thizura was saying.
Kall didn't comment, knowing already.
"His name is known far and wide. He's performed for practically every royal court in the lands. A lot of the songs you hear today, he wrote when he was a young minstrel."
Kall had never heard the name of Selephio, but then he had never paid much heed to the arts. Schneider had always been the one to indulge in entertainment's.
"Lily says he's more than a minstrel. That he magic. Is this true?"
Thizura's brows shot up. "I don't know if magic is the word I'd use. You'd really have to ask him to explain it. Its not my place to disclose trade secrets." Then the little harper smiled slyly and added. "Well, if you asked really nicely maybe I could."
Kall gave him a cold stare. Thizura shrugged. "You need to develop a sense of humor, you truly do."
Kall sniffed. Brawaith butted his shoulder, nickering. Kall glanced at the horse, at the twitching ears, and sensed the animal's awareness of other horses.
He lifted a hand to shade his eyes, peering towards the rise ahead of them. The bluffs rose gradually, the road was liberally sprinkled with wind blown sand and surrounded on either side by the tall, tough grasses so common to the sea shore. A band of riders topped the rise. Six or more men, their figures dark with the sun backing them.
The harpers seemed to have little concern, but Kall-Su having heard the tales of pirates and bandits plaguing the coast tensed, casually reaching up and shifting the sword fastened to his saddle, to a more convenient position.
The riders approached at a canter. As they grew closer it became apparent they wore uniforms of a military nature. Green and black issue with a standard sewn into the breast that Kall was not familiar with.
"Halt there." One of them commanded, as the lot of them blocked the road with horse bodies. A few of them trampled the tall grasses, circling about behind the troupe. "Where are you headed?"
"To Silvercroft for the fair." Crayl spoke up, smiling genially. "We're minstrels." He indicated the instrument on his back. The others stared at the soldiers curiously.
"There're bandits plying this road. Waylaying travelers. As well as pirates come to shore to pick off merchants and the like."
"Well we're not rich, nor merchants, so we've little to fear."
The officer eyed Lily. "They take more than gold and goods."
"It considered bad luck to slit a bards throat." The old man, Selephio said.
"If you're bards and not bandits in disguise."
Thizura snorted in laughter at that. Dell strummed a few bars of a tune on his harp. "We're rather well washed to be bandits, don't you think?" the tall, red haired harper observed.
"That's a fine horse for a lot of wastrel's to have." One of the riders came around to get a better look at Brawiath. "A damned fine animal. And since when to minstrel's go armed?"
Kall-Su stared up at the soldier expressionlessly.
"He's not a minstrel." Dell said snidely. "He's just tagging along. Please don't hold him against us."
The old soldier, squinted down at Kall, then past him at Brawaith. "Where'd you get such a fine animal? That steed's worth a years pay or I'm deaf and blind. Take a look commander."
As one of the other riders rode closer, the old soldier snapped at Kall. "Well, answer me, boy."
"Ask nicer." Kall-Su suggested in a tone that brought to mind silk covered in a layer of ice. The man's commander was staring at Brawaith, then his eyes shifted down to Kall-Su and widened.
"Goddess of mercy." The man exclaimed. Kall glanced up at him, and felt a pang of vague recognition. He had known this man. Or fought with him, or against him. One of Schneider's underlings, he thought. One of the Samurai Resistance that had formed to stop him, when he had been rampaging under Ansasla's control. He recalled a name, Bokarah or something.
"Is it -- you?" The man's eyes were practically bugging. He swung down off his horse, then slapped his sergeant's knee harshly when the man began to chastise Kall for not responding right away. He wasn't certain he wanted anyone to know who he was. His reputation had been rather tarnished of late and what with the ice storm of his summoning that had destroyed a fair bit of the western coastline, the Ice Lord Kall-Su was not a popular name.
"If I said I wasn't, would you believe me?"
Bokarah lifted both brows dubiously. Kall might not be as flamboyant as his mentor, but people never forgot his face. Which tended to be annoying when one wished for anonymity.
"My lord. What are you doing out here? With these --- musicians? Without escort -- without --"
Kall held up a hand. The bards and the soldiers were staring with open curiosity. The bards were well aware of course, save for the old man, but he'd rather not have this group of soldiers carrying word that he was wondering about the coast to every town the passed.
"Please. Bokarah?"
The man nodded. He'd gotten the name right at least. He thrust Brawaith's reins at Thizura, who paled visibly left in charge of the stallion, and indicated Bokarah should walk ahead with him. When they were out of easy earshot, Kall said.
"I will be in your debt if you speak not my name to your men. I'm rather trying to avoid notice."
Bokarah looked back to the minstrels, the question plain on his face.
"Don't ask. Please. Its a terribly long story." Kall answered before he could ask.
The man inclined his head. "Of course, I will do as you ask. But -- are you really headed to the fair at Silvercroft?"
Kall sighed. "Truly. What standard is this you wear? I'm not familiar with it?"
Bokarah looked down at his uniform and grinned. "Allied Kingdom forces, under control of the Regent."
"Larz?"
"Yes. There's been enough unrest since the whole damn church of the One God lost its mouthpiece that the regent decided he needed a force that was not hampered by borders and jurisdiction to keep the peace. He formed us."
"What are you doing here? The west isn't part of the southern alliance."
"No, but there have been so many pirate attacks this season that they've asked for help. Its been a damned bad year."
"Yes." Kall agreed. It had been a terrible year.
"I'd warn you to be careful of bandits, but I don't suppose you have much to fear from them."
If only that were so. But Kall neglected to mention it.
Bokarah gestured up the road the way they were headed. "There was a landing about seven leagues from here where they wrecked holy hell on a fishing village two days past. Damned dusky devils. Caught one of them that was injured. He didn't speak of word we could understand. Eyes black and pitch and skin like tanned leather. He drove a knife into his own heart before we could question him. Can't last for long though, soon as the fall storms start to hit, they won't have as easy access to the coast. The raids will slack off."
They walked back towards the waiting group. Bokarah mounted, throwing Kall-Su a snappy salute. "Fair weather to you and safe travel."
Kall nodded. The harpers returned the pleasantry before Bokarah signaled his men and they cantered off down the road. The lot of them looked at Kall as if they expected him to report what had been said. They were ever meddlesome in other's business, but one supposed it was the trade.
"Well, what did he have to say?" Dell inquired in exasperation after Kall had retrieved Brawaith's reins and continued on without bothering to respond to the curious stares.
"He advised caution against pirates."
"Well,that we knew." Dell responded testily.
"Hummm." Kall remarked and refused to say more.
Lily drifted up to walk beside him, twining her arm in his.
"You have the most austere ways of annoying him."
He shrugged.
"Their commander knew you, didn't he?"
"We had occasion to meet, yes." He agreed. If she asked, he would tell her, but he did not like to speak of the wars with her. There were things he had done that made him dead inside when he thought of them now, and he did not wish to mar the purity he felt with her by sharing them.
She slanted a glance up at him, her dark eyes studying his face. She had the ability to see through the cool facade he usually affected, which made it hard to hide things from her. Her lips turned up in a gentle smile and she said.
"Crayl says we won't reach the next village till tomorrow, so we'll have to camp out. There's a place he and Selephio know right on the beach that they've used before."
Wonderful. Close enough to the ocean to feel her spray and feel the thunderous crash of her waves against the beach. Something to look forward to.
It was not long after dusk had begun to fall that they came upon a traveler's shelter beside the track. There was a lean-to at the edge of the bluffs overlooking the ocean, and down a gentle sand slope from that, a firepit with a few charred embers resting at the bottom and a stack of dry driftwood under the lean-to, waiting for the next traveler to use it. It was common curtsy to restock what one used for the next person along.
The minstrels were ecstatic over the view. Allun, Thizura and Dell, tromped out onto the night darkened beach. There was much laughter and clowning, with Thizura ending up thrown in the surf and Dell outrunning him down the beach when he went for revenge.
Crayl built the fire while Lily rummaged about their packs for supper. The old man situated himself on the sand beside the pit, overlooking the younger bards. Kall saw to Brawaith. Brushed him, gave him his portion of oats and let him loose to gnaw at the tough grasses.
As always, after their bellies were full, and they sat around a pleasant fire, the minstrel's sought to outdo each other. They played song games, some of which were entertaining, some of which were purely annoying. The old man brought out a bottle of some bitter brew and passed it around the fire. Kall declined, the rest, including Lily, took swigs of the stuff and soon the lot of them were laughing and hitting sour notes on their instruments.
Gods help them if pirates were in the area. They could be heard for leagues and not a one of them would have seen a pirate till their throats were laid open.
Eventually, after Thizura had convinced Allun to go off with him into the darkness, Lily and Crayl crowded about the old man on the other side of the fire, making occasional thrums of one lute or another, or testing a line of song. Dell, who was not included in the little gathering, shifted to sit a body length or so from Kall-Su, stretching his long legs out before the fire pit and leaning back against a large chunk of driftwood.
"If he's a teacher," Kall asked softly, twirling a sharpened stick between his fingers. "Why are you not with them partaking of his wisdom?"
"What he teaches, I can't learn. No more than you could teach that damned fancy horse of yours to fly."
"What does he teach, if not minstrelsy?"
Dell stared at him through the darkness, his green eyes glittering. "Ah, wouldn't you like to know, wizard? Are there some things even you are ignorant of, my lord?"
Kall-Su ground his teeth, but would not admit to curiosity. Not to Dell at any rate.
Dell said no more. Kall sat there listening to the haphazard sounds of music, drowsing. Lily began singing softly to the whispered strumming of the old man's lute. Crayl's voice backed her up here and there, a ghostly counterpart to her lilting tones. It was an old song. A common one. He'd heard her sing it before. As ever her voice was soothing, calming. It drew out anxiety and fears, vanishing them. She had been his salvation once, when he'd verged on insanity and hopelessness. The sound of her voice had dragged him up from nightmares that wanted to devour him.
A vision of soft, silken arms and the cool brush of lips across skin, bringing with them a wave of soothing balm.
He blinked, swimming out of the vision and the sun shed its light across the waves, bringing morning with it. The fire was burnt out, and the huddled forms of the minstrel's were scattered about it. Lily lay snuggled in the crock of his arm. He didn't recall her joining him. His head felt a little muddled, as if he'd partaken of the old man's swill. But instead of pounding temples, he felt rather -- at peace. Like the remnants of the vision he had gone to sleep with, still clung to his mind. Like some sort of spell. But he had certainly sensed no magics in the air.
A little uneasily, he looked down at Lily's dark head. As if she sensed his scrutiny, she stirred, blinking sleepily, then smiling up at him.
"Good morning." A bare whisper.
He tried to think how to tactfully ask and could not quite compose a roundabout question. "Did you do something last night?"
Her smile widened a bit, and light came into her eyes. "Why? Did you feel something?"
"I don't know. Maybe. What did the old man tell you?"
"We just talked. About a lot of things. He told me to play and put my heart into it, to wish for the things I wanted my audience to feel from my music, so I merely wished for calm and peace and sweet dreams while I sang."
Sweet dreams? Those he'd had. Almost immediately after he'd been drawn into sleep. One could only hope it was coincidence. If there was some truth to what Crayl and Selephio were saying, he would hate to think he might be so easily effected by it. It was a frightening thought, actually.