Ista's Journey

Chapter 6

Uncommon Commoners

Authors Note: That song is property of Mercedes Lackey. It's from one of her books. I sadly did not write it.

This chapter has been hard to write. Thanks to Moof for helping me get it going and get it finished. I know I just keep throwing things at you readers, but you can blame my brain for that. It likes loops. But I will bring closure to this. Don't you worry.

Tskinono: You know, I really look forward to your reviews. You are picky, but not overly picky. I like it.

Kathleen: Had to e-mail you. You're so nice!


Ista awoke in the morning by herself, the warmth of the sun like a sweet kiss on her cheek. Genyi was still asleep, for she came in late in the evening, or early in the morning, it depended on which you chose to think. Ista stretched herself out in the large bed, and then silently draped her feet over the side.

She walked over to her bathing chamber and found her clothes laid out for her on top of the privy. When Genyi had come in, Ista had managed to mumble that Genyi needed to leave her clothes out for the morning. Genyi left out some lovely clothes, a pair of shortened linen trousers, a soft silk shirt and a heavy cloak for over top. Ista thanked Genyi in her head, then washed her face, dressed and left the room, grabbing a cane on the way out, and shutting the door ever so quietly so as not to wake the sleeping Minstrel.

Ista walked out through the kitchen doors and greeted her friends who were busily preparing for the evening. It was a feast day in the palace. All three of the Princes would be at the palace tonight, and that was reason enough for a full court dinner. It was rare that Meric, who lived in Mornedelth, Ikan, who lived in Kata'shin'a'in, and Colby, who resided in the small town of Rowatan, were all in the city at once. Albayah had called for a great party to celebrate his sons. What he didn't know was that they were in the city to pull their father off the throne.

As Ista stepped out into the heart of Throne City, her senses were assaulted by all the city had to offer. The sun warmed everything around Ista, and she lifted her face to allow the rays to dance across her face. The smells of animals mixed with that of fresh baked bread, making a scent that was rather unpleasant to an outsider, but to Ista it was home. People flocked to sell their wares, offering Ista everything she could imagine, at low prices. Though it was a day of rest and feasting for the palace, it was business as usual for everyone else.

Ista moved through the streets, her cane tapping lightly. Her head was still aching from the overload, and so using foresight would only make her head hurt. It was better for her to just allow people to move for the blind girl.

"Hey Ista!" Ista turned to the voice. "It's Leila the bookkeeper. One of the Shin'a'in men was over here looking for you. They know you walk the roads on feast days, so they wondered if I'd seen you."

"They looking for me for a reason?" Ista asked.

"Yeah. Wanted to talk to you about something or another. I don't know what."

"Thanks. Hey Leila, when is your sons wedding again?"

"Two moons from now. At the Temple of Kernos."

"I'll make sure you get some entertainment. I'll try to be there, but you know what my schedule is like. If not me, then Genyi or Johan."
"You don't have to."

"Course I don't. That's why I'm doing it."

"Getting tired of the butterfly-brained nobles?"

"You have NO idea!" Ista grinned wide as she set off down the road again. Ista smiled as she walked. The streets of Throne City were one place she could be herself. She was known in the streets, but only because of her tendency to play on the steps of the Temple of the Lord of the Light. She wasn't famous anymore or so she felt for a few hours.

Ista reached her first stop without any trouble. The Temple of the Lord of the Light was not far from the palace, and the path was so familiar to Ista it was like second nature. She ascended the steps, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her dark hair, then entered the Temple, still grinning.

"Heyla Ista!" shouted a voice. Ista thought for a moment, then realised it must be acolyte Fridley, one of the barely-teenaged priests in training at the Temple.

"What a wonderful day the Sunlord has given us." Ista reached into her cloak and pulled out a small gold pouch. "And I give thanks to the Sunlord, and give him my tithing, for all things that come from the sun must be given thanks for."

"The Sunlord is all mighty, and may his grace fall upon you," answered Fridley, taking the hefty bag.

"May I suggest you warn the family living in the house next door to check their roof? It seems to be leaking. Or so I think."

"Indeed, my lady." Fridley was almost quivering with excitement. Ista was known to give money and other good things to the acolytes. Not that Fridley was materialistic, but it was always nice to receive something.

"Oh. And here." Ista handed Fridley another heavy pouch. Inside the small, yet heavy bag sat many tiny sweet fruit drops. "To share with the others. Sunlord keep you."

"My lady," Fridley stammered. Fruit drops were expensive. They were not easily made.

"Money is something I have in abundance. And candy is something you children don't have nearly enough of. You serve the people of Vkandis. But who serves you?"

"Thanks to you!"

"Just keep me in your prayers," Ista answered with a wave. She loved her Temple, but the priests there were almost as bad as some of the lesser nobles. They tended to fawn. Ista did not like being fawned over, as if she was some sort of goddess. She preferred a healthy respect, and maybe a little bit of hero worship. That was why she tended to stay with the acolytes. They fawned over her because she brought them sweets.

"Sunlord's representative is a Sunlord's representative," Ista thought as she left the Temple. Although some people liked to talk to the priests, Ista preferred to pray on her own, and attend the crowded services. No one noticed her in a crowded service.

Ista sat down on the steps to the Temple, enjoying the sunlight. Ista didn't know why, but she was genuinely happy. It wasn't often she didn't have to force a smile, but just allow the one waiting beneath the surface to come up for air. Ista listened to the sounds whirling around her. The children running around in front of the Temple, the women gossiping, the dogs yipping, the men laughing, it all blurred together into a symphony of sound, one Ista wished she could write down. Such sounds warmed the heart, or so Ista thought.

"Please, miss," asked a small girly voice, "are you playing today? I like listening to you sing."

Ista turned to hear the voice better, her hand outstretched. The girl put her cheek in Ista's hand and allowed Ista to run her fingers along her face. Ista was surprised. Most people didn't realise that touching their face allowed her to get an idea what they looked like.

"I… like your singing, Miss," the girl stammered, "I watch for you every week. My ma and pa own the bakery across the lane. I love hearing you sing. You're so good."

"What's your name?" asked Ista, touched, for some reason, by the little girl.

"Dorcas."

"Dorcas, can you go get me a hat of some sort? Or a wooden bowl?"

"Yes ma'am!" the girl got up and ran across the way to her shop to fetch something for the Bard. Ista smiled again, and then turned to the door of the Temple.

"Fridley! Can you fetch me the guitar I keep here? I need it."

"Miss!" shouted Dorcas, her little feet hurrying her across the way, her tiny hand waving some sort of floppy, flapping hat.

"Thanks," Ista said, setting the hat down on the ground in front of her and reaching out her hand instinctively for Fridley to hand her the guitar she kept in the Temple. She often played on the steps of the Temple, and long ago realised that keeping a guitar in the Temple was better than lugging one around.

Ista tuned the strings of the guitar, testing each of them for signs of wear and tear. She strummed a few simple chords, and then motioned for Dorcas to take a seat beside her. The girl eased herself down, and then Ista began to strum the guitar a little more musically.

"Do you know any of the Sunlord hymns?" Ista ran up and down a scale with a flourish. "Any of the ones they sing."

"I know the new one, about Solaris."

"I don't know that one. How about the Hawk and the Hunter."

"No," stammered Dorcas, her words betraying she was on the verge of tears.

"It's okay," Ista soothed, "I was just trying to find a song to sing with you. If you recognize anything, sing with me, okay?"

"Y-yes."

Ista plucked the strings in a pattern, then stopped and drummed on the side of the guitar for a few bars, then broke into a complicated series of chords while clearing her throat.

The firebird knows your anger

And the firebird feels your fear

For your passions will attract her

And your feelings draw her near.

But the negative emotions

Only make her flame and fly

You must rule your heart, magician

Or by her bright wings you die.

Ista sang out to the gathering crowd, drawing them to her. They tossed coins in her hat when they could afford it, or just gazed at her if they couldn't. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Ista finished her first song, and moved onto her second, a spirited piece called 'Swordlady'. The crowd clapped along as Ista played through the piece, singing along with the choruses and enjoying the show.

Some of the priests slowly gathered at the temple doors to watch Ista play. The ones who weren't performing the daily rituals tapped their feet, and complained about the temperature. The ones who were performing the daily rituals wished they could tap their feet, and also complained about the heat. Ista giggled as she ran through the chorus and listened to the priests. It was always amusing for Ista to hear the high and mighty priests complaining about the weather, like Vkandis should have mercy on them because they were men and women of the cloth. And by 'the cloth', Ista meant 'big heavy sweltering robes.'

Ista finished her third song, one from Valdemar, and took a deep bow. People clapped for her, and Ista just grinned. She reached for her hat, and took out the coins. Mostly copper, some silver, and a few gold, or so Ista guessed by the size. She took out the gold coins, and then handed the hat to Dorcas.

"You take that to your mom," said Ista, "Tell her it's for your schooling. You're a nice girl. You should be able to go to school, not work."

"But I can't take this!" Dorcas squeaked, "You worked for this!"

"I don't need it," scoffed Ista.

"But my ma told me not to take money from other people."

"I play for the joy of music. I'll give the gold coins I took to the temple, keep two for the rest of my expenses at market, and I'm set for the next little while. The palace pays for almost everything I need. And I just don't need more money. But you do, little one."

"But I can't take this!"

"Yes you can. It's a gift, for you." Ista got up. "And you'll make me angry if you do it any different." Ista tried to make herself look big and imposing. "You don't want to make me angry, do you?"

"No," Dorcas stuttered, and then ran back to her house, clutching the bag.

"What are you doing now, Bard?" asked a voice.

"I'm giving to the poor," Ista answered, getting to her feet and crossing her arms, not bothering to even look in the direction of the voice.

"You're not giving to the poor. You're giving to that poor."

"You know what I am."

"I do."

"Well then, you know I can see when bad things happen."

"All too well."

"That girl is going to be an orphan within a year. I knew when I touched her face. The money can go a long way."

"Want to come get some lunch with me? I've got a table at the Trader's Haven."

"Certainly."


Theodren yawned as he listened to the King, the king's son Colby and a Jkathan noble named Eryth discuss how they were going to handle the diplomatic situation in Seejay. Theodren was tired, mostly from tossing and turning all night. Tyga was off in the palace, for Theodren knew her temper would get the better of her, and Heath was seated on Theodren's left, trying to look interested.

"And you will not sully the name of Jkatha," the king admonished. "We have appearances to uphold."

"I have appearances to uphold, majesty," Eryth sniveled with an exaggerated nod of his balding head. Theodren did not like the man. He was rather mousy-looking and was lapping up all the idiocy that the king was spewing like it was the nectar of the gods. Yes sir, no sir, anything sir, was all the man seemed to say.

"Your highness," Heath interrupted, "May I say something?"

"Of course," the king said, darting him a look of annoyance.
"Did the Queen not say she would handle this matter?" Heath asked, knowing full well he was dancing on thin ground.

"She did," whined Eryth, "But she is just a woman. What does she know."

"A lot," barked Albayah, "She is my wife and you will not speak ill of her Eryth."

"Yes sir, anything sir, I'm sorry sir," cowered Eryth, who seemed to Theodren to rather resemble a cowering puppy. An ugly, inbred cowering puppy.

"The Queen spoke to Herald Theodren and said that Bard Ista would be going with us. We've made our plans on the basis that Bard Ista would be joining us. I know it's an imposition, but the Queen gave us her word that Ista would come." Heath was bluffing and Theodren knew it. The queen had not given her word. And there were no plans. "This is a sensitive mission, and an important one. I think that the Queen realized that Ista gives us an advantage. No appearances. Ista can rule in our favour, then return here and be punished for it. How do you punish a Bard? Keep her in the Palace and don't allow her to do a circuit. No one has to know she doesn't do that anyways."

"She's too important. And she's mine," the King snapped, "I know you're trying to get her, but you can't have her. She's mine and I need her all the time."

"Father," interjected Prince Colby, "These men need Ista. They're Heralds. I've dealt with Heralds. They're good people. They're not going to take Ista unless she needs saving. And she doesn't need saving from you."

"Quiet, Colby."

"No, Father, I will not be silent. They are off to save a man's life. And this man over here will not help them. He's not what they need. Ista can go where others cannot. She will be trusted, where this can will not. And she can be respected, where this man should not."

"I object!" Eryth rose to his full height in an attempt to intimidate Colby. Colby got up from his chair and stood face to face with Eryth, though it was more Erythe face to Colby's neck. Colby was a priest for the god Kristo, a warrior god who required all his followers to be able to fight. And Colby looked the part.
"You sit down," Colby growled. Eryth, wisely, sat down. "Father, Meric and I agree you should send Ista. As does mother. You're being paranoid."

"No!" the king looked like a child who was having his favourite toy removed for his disobedience.

"Father, I am going to take these two gentlemen to lunch, and then we will continue this debate with Mother and Meric present," Colby stated, moving from his chair to the door. The two heralds bowed to the king, then followed Prince Colby, unable to understand what had just happened.

"Thank you, Prince Colby," Heath stuttered as he and Theodren followed Colby.

"Please," Colby entreated, "It's just Colby. I'm not technically a Prince. I gave up my right to the throne in favour of my younger brother Meric."

"But they call him the oldest son, or first son." Heath caught up to Colby and matched his pace, eager to learn what the Prince had to say. "And you're older?"

"There are five of us who are older than Meric. Myself, and my twin sister Crystalline who abdicated so she could marry her husband, who's as common as dirt. Then there's our slightly younger sister Marilee, who is technically joined to one of the maids and therefore unable to rule. There's Oleg, who my parents forced to completely abdicate because of his sadistic tendencies. He was sent off to a temple in the middle of nowhere. And then there's Ikan, who chose to renounce his claim because he's pretty much turned into a Shin'a'in."

"Wow," said Theodren, a shocked looked crossing his normally calm face. "I had no idea there were so many children."

"There are also the 5 younger girls. My parents wanted a big family," Colby smiled as he pushed open the door to a rather bright and airy suite. "And that's not including the other kids my mother basically adopted, like Healer Kiel and Bard Ista."

"This is nice," Heath said, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

"So you know Ista well?" Theodren took one of the other seats as Colby rang a bell for lunch.

"She's one of my moms little pets. My mother dressed her, and taught her the language, and took her to a safe place when she was attacked." Colby chuckled. "Crystalline and I always said that she liked Ista more than us. So did Ikan, the other prince. Ikan and Ista were always close."

"Attacked?" repeated Theodren.

"Ikan?" asked Heath.


"Ikan," Ista said flailing her arm around, "Ikan, where's my ale?"
"You have a concert today," Ikan taunted, setting a pitcher of fine honeyed melon juice in front of the Bard, "No being drunk. You're expected to play."

"Yes, but that's not for a while." Ista took a sip from the juice. "You know I'm not twelve anymore. I can have something a little stronger than honeyed juice!"

"Hey, you need to be sober," Ikan repeated, "I need you by my side for the ball. I need someone to ward off all those idiot girls."

"Whatever you need. You know everyone already thinks we're together."

"You look happy."

"I am happy." Ista took another sip of her juice. "I have a good life. I live in the palace, I perform for the king, and my music is known throughout the country and beyond." She took another sip and turned her face to the window.

"And yet you've never been happy before. And right now is a hard time. You know why I'm here." Ikan watched as Ista felt the noon sun warm her face. As her hair glistened in the light, he wished with all his heart that she could truly enjoy the beauty of the warm day. "This is not exactly a happy time for the world."

"I know it's the right thing."

"Horsecrap. It's not the right thing. Deposing a good king is never the right thing. And he is a good king. He's just a little brain addled."

Ista shot Ikan a terrified look. "Should you be saying that in here?"
Ikan shook his head, realising his error. "Ista, we're in a private room. All the noise you here is downstairs. Just you, me and Piel in this room. And Piel is sword-sworn. And I did ask the shaman to ask the goddess. She…approves of the plan. So Piel cannot break his silence on this."

"Oh." Ista took another sip of her juice, feeling incredibly disabled. "So have you and Colby hammered out a plan?"

"Actually," Ikan said, "Mother has. She knows what Jkatha needs."

"You need me." Ista said, repeating what her gift seemed to whisper in her ear. "You need my help with something. You can't do this without me."

"Which is why I brought you here. Away from the maids, away from the bards, and away from the nobles. We had thought almost everything through, until that night you had an audience with mother and father."

"I don't see the point." Ista finished her drink, setting it down on the worn wooden table with a frustrated clunk. "I talked to him about the school and the crops in the western front."

"He knew you lied," Ikan said, leaning closer to Ista, "You didn't tell him about Rhian, and he asked if you took on a protégé, and you said no, and he knew you were lying. Mother was there."

"I don't understand."

"What if he asks you if anyone is planning to take his throne?"

"He won't."

"He's becoming more and more paranoid, Issie. What if he does? And you lie? He'll get frustrated. We're trying to make this a quiet revolution."

"What are you going to do, send me to the dungeon?"
"How's Seejay?"

"No."

"What?" Ikan was shocked. Ista had wanted to get out of the city, by her own admission, for years now. The King had always denied her, and yet her she was denying her own chance. "Why not?"

"I am not going to run away. You need me. Your brother needs me."

"Meric can handle himself," Ikan snapped, frustrated that Ista wasn't doing what he asked. "He's not a child."

"He's sixteen!" Ista stood up from the table, shoving it into Ikan's gut. "He's just a child. I'm the only certainty he has."

"You burned yourself out! You need a break from all this anyways."

"And going to a new place where I'll be forced to use my gift all the time is just not going to help. I mean, at least in the palace I know stuff. I'm not in danger of tripping over things in there."

"You're being extremely selfish."

"I'm not going to Seejay, not with the Heralds. I don't like this "you're going, it's settled" train of thought. What if I don't want to go? Why was I just told? Am I not worthy to be asked?"

"You're acting like a child, Ista. This is what needs to be done. It's the plan."

"Glorious plans lead to glorious funerals, Icky-poo," Ista practically spat at Ikan, using his childhood nickname as a taunt.

"You know"

"No, I don't! Enlighten me, O great one!"

"You know," Piel interrupted from his spot in the corner, "If you think about it Ista, it's not a bad plan. And Ikan, if you would stop trying to force her to do it, you'd be much better off. She's not the child you described to me."

Ista leaned on the window sill, her gaze seemingly fixed on the eternal darkness that stretched beyond her eyes. She and Ikan fought like brother and sister, but truly did love each other. Ista often wished Ikan wasn't the way he was, and he could love her romantically. But she had gotten over that need years ago, and turned it into a half wish to be tucked away in a spare corner of her mind.

Ikan stared at Ista, wishing he had Thoughtsensing to aid his younger friend. She had been through a lot in her life. Ikan had rescued her from the Garden, when an angry noble took his wrath out on the tiny, frail, defenceless bard. Ikan had been the one Ista had had her first romantic feelings for. Problem was, Ikan could never return them. He, like Ista, had lost much to magic. In his case, he gave up his libido for the fertility of some land in the east of Jkatha. No one asked him, but Ikan knew at that point that he wanted to spend his life on the plains. He didn't miss romantic feelings. He was just eighteen when he gave up his chances for love.

Ista was six years younger than Ikan. She was twenty-three, he was twenty-nine, and yet they shared so much. Ista told Ikan anything, and he returned the favour. Ikan had often wondered if the Goddess would allow him to swear She'endra. But he knew it would have to wait until Ista was in a happy place in her life.

The moment ticked on for the people of Throne City, but for one blind Bard, and one sexless Shin'a'in, it felt like hours. Both thought it through, weighed the options, and wondered what to do next.

"I'm sorry," Ista and Ikan blurted at the same time. Ista hung her head, and Ikan walked over and handed her his mug of ale.

"Its okay, Sweetling. We'll work something out. Now drink up. You'll need to be drunk to deal with the court ninnies."

"Now you're seeing it my way!"