The Bard and the Prince - 4. Chapter 4

The door to the tower slammed open and Raven flinched. He had been copying down a scroll and the painstaking process had been ruined. What had once been a copy of a very potent song of magic now had a trail of ink across it. There was only one person stupid enough to barge into his room without at least knocking once. “I trust you have a good reason for storming into my room, Frederick?”

“I need you to teach me how to kill that bard!” he yelled. Not a smart move because there might be someone passing in the hallway. All he needed now was to someone to pry into his business. Too much was riding on that scroll and if this upstart prince destroyed his plans by simply calling the wrong kind of attention to the tower he would be removed.

“I would have thought you would know how. Use a sword, a dagger, or hire an assassin. You need not have come in here and ruined my entire night's work.” At least he looked somewhat abashed. Raven crumpled the ruined parchment and fed it to the flames of the hearth.

“I would have thought you would want him gone as much or more than I would.” If King Horatio could hear his eldest boy whine like the spoiled brat that he is...

“Oh, believe me, I want him removed as much as you, but I have the patience to wait for a plan or at least a moment. Was this the only reason you assaulted my room? If it is I shall teach you a lesson in manners.” The coldness in his voice reminded Frederick that he may be a prince, but Raven was no one to cross and princes were easily killed.

“It's the fifth day.”

“Ah, so it is.” The bard put away his work so he could deal with the task at hand. “Do you remember your last lesson?” asked the bard. He was not happy with the interruption, but he needed to keep the prince at least neutral to him. With a nod Frederick held out his hand palm up. He held it there and stared intently at it. For a moment nothing happened but then the air above his hand began to shimmer and it burst into flame. The unnatural purple fire burned an inch above his hand and flickered in an almost hypnotic way. “Good, very good. You've been practicing.”

The bard had been very pleased to see all five princes had the inborn gift of magic. Travis as a wizard, Ethan as a priest, weak but versatile Alexander, Nathan had enhancement magic, augmenting his own natural strengths to supernatural, and Frederick was a sorcerer. His magic came not from within but from manipulation of the energies around him from harnessing air for lightning, to summoning elementals, to summoning demons. He could not cast nearly as quickly as a wizard, but he would not get tired. “Name me three uses for such a small spell.” Raven was no sorcerer but he knew the mechanics of their gifts.

Frederick extinguished the flame and thought. “One could use it against someone you had a hold of. Also ignite paper such as a damning scroll or even melt metal if you have the concentration to keep it up that long.” Raven was impressed. Not only were those functional, but they showed that his special grooming of his nephew was coming along nicely. He was starting to think like someone who liked to cause others pain and that was all Raven needed.

“Excellent, Frederick, you have done well.” Raven turned and strode over to a cabinet that Frederick knew contained items of the arcane. Whenever the master bard went to the cabinet Frederick knew he was to study an object and find its uses. One such item had made him queasy just holding it and to study it for an hour kept him in bed for the rest of the day with a fever and vomiting. He returned with a plain brass ring but large enough for a giant. “Tell me what this does. You have two weeks. And keep practicing the fire spell.” In other words you are dismissed.

Frederick left and softly shut the door. He looked at the ring in curiosity. This item did not make him sick. In fact he felt very little adverse effects at all, only the tingle that said it was magical. Whatever it did was not harmful because four of the ten items he had studied, the only ones that made him sick or caused pain to touch, were for harming others. This one was benign. With his curiosity piqued he went to his chambers.

* * *

The boy seemed to be a typical boy all for that he grew up in a palace. He knew all the good spots for any sort of mischief be it greasing a door handle to dumping buckets of water on someone's head without them being able to see who did it. He knew what places were off limits and only budged on going to these places so Robin could see where the King's bed chamber was. They had not tried to enter and the two guards only looked at them funny as Parker gave him the tour.

He was shown the view from the upper battlements where a young boy or solitary person could find a measure of privacy to wonder at the panoramic view of the country side. There was no introduction to the places he was shown, Parker seeming to know that Robin would understand why he was being shown these things. He was shown the stables where he went to groom Mist for a moment. “Sir, you should not touch that horse. She kicks and bites,” one groom had said.

Robin gave him a funny look. “Really?” Robin ducked into the stall and walked over to her as brash as any swaggering peacock. “This placid beast? She would not hurt me!” He would have approached from the head of any horse, but Mist was not any horse. He could tell the grooms wanted to drag him out of there before he got killed, but yelling would spook the horse. Not a kind joke to play on grooms, but he was feeling a bit daring this morning. “Mist, how are your this morning?” He snagged a brush and rubbed up her rump and flanks to her neck, her not even twitching. The grooms stared in amazement. “You look lovely, but you know that, don't you?” She tossed her head as if in answer and nibbled his ear. “I love you too. Parker, have you met Mist?” He shook his head. He knew the prince's horse by reputation and did not want to get close, but Robin seemed to know her and he trusted his current patron. The boy snaked under the rails and sidled around to let her see him before he approached. “Don't be afraid, she's only vicious to mean people.” Robin led the boy to her and she looked down to get a sniff of his neck. The warm snort made Parker giggle and she nuzzled his hair in an attempt to groom him. “Mist, this is Parker. He lives here, but I think you can smell that on him.” She tossed her head again. “If it's okay with Prince Alexander would you mind if he came by to give you a rub down every now and then?” She gave him a flat look. “No? You would not mind?” She shook her head again and stomped a foot. It made Parker retreat a step. “Oh, you mean he does not need permission from the prince to see you, right? Only yours?” She nodded. “There you go, Parker. Someone else you can visit if I have no requests. Horses are very good listeners and this pretty lady better than most.” Parker was led back to give her a few pets because he could not reach high enough to groom her. Robin swung him up and onto her bare back. Mist looked back as if she were smiling. “Do you realize only two people have ridden her besides you?”

“Really?” Parker was sitting on a prince's prized mare and he felt like a prince himself.

“Sure. Prince Alexander and myself, although I was unconscious most of the trip.” Robin looked over his shoulder when he saw Parker go white. Father Ethan stood there with a smile of pure delight on his face. “Father Ethan, I was just introducing Parker here to Mist.”

“And she has taking a liking to you, Parker. I am glad.” He nodded as he passed the grooms that had gathered around. Robin was growing fond of the quiet priest. There was a man of deep feeling and deeper understanding. Had he aspirations he would be the head of the church one day, and most likely one of their strongest. He understood people very well and had no problem speaking to commoners on their level. He maintained his dignity while he was obviously on his way to the Family Temple here, but every person he passed he inclined his head in respect and met their eyes while he did it. Even Parker he did not talk down to because he is a child.

“Robin?”

“Yeah, imp?” He had taken to calling him that.

“Is it bad to like someone who can order you killed with a gesture? To be...loyal?”

That was a thousand gold piece question if he ever heard one and one he would not have expected would have come from someone of his age. “No, it is never bad to like someone just because they have power over you. Lexi could order me out of the castle and run out of Lycenia with a gesture, but I know he would not because we are becoming friends despite the fact that I have no drop of noble blood in me and he has nothing but nobility in him. Loyalty is always a good thing. Be loyal to your loved ones and people you just met because loyalty will breed good will, good will begets friendship, friendship births love, and love brings peace.” He was not sure if Parker would ever understand all that, but he would remember it. Robin had no doubt that this conversation would be remembered long after Robin had moved on. A chill ran through him at the thought of moving on.

“Good. I like serving the royal family except one, and I like being your friend.” Parker leaned over and fell into a hug. Robin was touched by the sincerity in his voice. All this from a seven year old? When he was seven his entire world was shoes and chasing the chickens around with his two cousins. He had never contemplated vast loyalties to kings and princes.

“I like you too, imp. Lets go see some other things before lunch.”

Robin and Parker were going to a place that the boy said no one had been in his entire life. It was difficult to get to even for one as small and spry as Parker and Robin may have been thin but he was not small. He contorted and twisted to see this room that Parker seemed to think was one of the best places. The only access was through the pantry where the wall had cracked and come loose in the years. Once he had gone through the crack and stood up he saw enough to make him smile.

It was an old store room, but not for food. He could see armor, weapons, and strong boxes galore. One set of armor would have been worn by a man no shorter than six feet nine inches, its golden metal still shining when everything else was covered in a layer of dust. The sword that went with it had a blade as wide as a man's outstretched hand and was seven feet long! He saw an ornate jewelry box covered in years of dust but once cleaned would be worth a fortune. It was made of ivory and bound with gold hinges, a swan made of some blue stone set in the lid. There was also a gigantic saddle too large to fit on any horse he had seen and more straps to hold two riders in place. Ones that would hold the legs in place as well as some sort of long weapon, a lance maybe. He could guess these were the family heirlooms and had been forgotten about, or the King did not want people poking around in here and had it sealed up or locked. Robin tapped Parker and motioned with his head they should leave.

Their adventures actually took them into town. Not the huge city a day's ride away, but the village where most of the castle staff lived if they did not actually stay there. Most people noted the lute strapped to his back but ignored him until someone started whispering about him. “Do you think I am already that much worthy of gossip?” he asked Parker as the boy led him to his Mother's house.

“Yeah. Prince Lexi does not have guests often enough to be common place and never a bard.” They came to a small one room brick house attached to a potter's shop. He pushed his way in and went into the shop. “Pop, I brought company.” Pop was a man in his mid thirties with the same big ears and infectious grin. He was tall, taller than Robin by a few inches, but he was thin. He wore the apron of a potter and his hands seemed permanently the gray color of clay.

“This must be Bard Robin.” He stuck out his hand and Robin took it. “I hope this son of mine is not a hassle. I am Adam.”

“A pleasure to meet you. He's a godsend. Were it not for him I would be lost in that castle, lost in the mountain of clothes I was gifted with to get me back on my feet and lost without any idea of what the King liked for entertainment.” He ruffled Parker's hair.

“I'm glad.” He turned to the door when a customer came in and Robin slipped around the counter to the main part of the store to see how well this potter potted. Most of it was simple, but finely crafted. Subtle pictures were suggested in the glaze but you had to be looking for them. Pitchers, bowls, jars and other normal household items were there, but it was a small shelf tucked away that caught his eye. Porcelain tea sets were placed delicately in the window so everyone could see what he was capable of. The cups were so thin they were nearly transparent and swans, in deference to the royal crest, graced the sides. He was a true artist and Robin could see why he was in business. “Sorry about that.”

“Business before pleasure. I admire your skill, Adam. I have never seen such nice porcelain.”

“My treasures. They are waiting for Prince Frederick to bring payment.” No credit chits in this shop. It did not matter if you were the King's son. No coin, no cups.

“They would be wasted on him,” said Robin honestly.

“Lad, you seem like a good boy, so I'll give you some advice. Try not to speak your mind about the Heir. He has ears and eyes everywhere.” His smile had vanished, replaced by an almost frantic fear of the prince. It appeared no one really liked him. His rule as king would be a dark one indeed.

“You are right. I am unused to this Kingdom and I would not like to get anyone into trouble for my words.”

“Good,” said Adam who could tell that his warning had not fell on deaf ears. “Your performance last night is the talk of the town and the city.”

“Huh. I hope it is good talk.”

“Very much so. It has been too long since Masterbard Raven has had any competition and you brought out his true talent.” You don't know how close that is, thought Robin.

“Since I seem to be the target of gossip, shall I give you a sample of what I'll be playing over at The Golden Crown?” That was the inn and tavern. There was no better place for gossip than a tavern, except for a knitting circle.

“I would be honored. Let me close up the shop for a moment.”

“No, no, I was meaning to bring you more customers. 'First public concert in Lycenia' and all that.” He could see Adam fighting with himself. He did not want to miss anything, but the customers would come here if they knew Robin had first played here. Seeing his doubt, Robin removed his lute from the case and tuned her swiftly.

The chord he struck was loud and most activity on the street halted to see what was going on at the Potter's. Robin played a song called Nymph's Court, a song of enticing loved ones to you. It was soft, gentle, and it drew the crowd like a moth to a flame. He could feel a deep ache in his chest like a torn muscle when he felt his gift being used. He concentrated on not feeling the song and just playing although it went against everything he had been trained to do. Several times when he fell into a kind of trance he sometimes felt when he played a song he let his gift work and he had to fight back a yelp from the surprising pain. He had to let his fingers simply play and made himself concentrate on something else.

Once he saw the room was packed he switched up the tune to a common song found in every market place. He had used it a few times to put people in the mood to buy and taken a small cut of the profits, but he always felt guilty about it. He did this time, but he liked Adam and his son. The song put people in the frame of mind to buy even if they did not particularly want any pottery. Soon Adam had to take orders because he had almost run out of the small amount of stock he kept in the shop for that impulse buyer.

When Robin finished there were applause coming from all parts of the store and the street where he could be heard. He stood and scraped a bow and quite a few people tossed coins into his lute case. The minstrel was shocked at the amount that he saw in there but he was giddy when he saw gold. When he looked up to see who had given him gold he could not find a single person who looked wealthy enough. The crowd dispersed and Robin was given a glass of water. “I have never heard such a voice in all my years, young Robin.” Robin looked up into the face of he most startling creature he had ever seen. He had heard of them, he had sung songs of them, but never had he dreamed of meeting one of the sylvan folk.

All tales said they were stunningly beautiful and admittedly this one was very handsome but he was nothing compared to Father Ethan. They were said to be eternally young, but this one had wrinkles about his eyes and mouth and a bit of loose skin under his chin. They did have the lilting singsong voice, at least this one did, but he was not short. He stood a few inches shy of six feet when stories said they barely topped four feet. He could tell the stories were all exaggerated but to be a story is to be exaggerated. “If you are as old as the tales say, Fair Child, then I am supremely grateful for the compliment. If not, then thank you.”

The elf tossed his head back and laughed. “I would have said the same were I in your shoes. I am Minah.” He had a soaring tenor voice higher than a man his age and size should have, but he was not a man, Robin reminded himself. Robin could tell there was something not quite right with this elf, something he did not necessarily want to associate with. He could feel it in his gut. No one else acknowledged the elf. “Where do you go from here, young Robin?”

“To the Crown.” He could understand wanting to know if he wanted to hear him play some more, but again that gut feeling said this sylvan male was not all that interested in his voice or his lute. “I am headed there now.” Robin turned to Adam who gave him a smile. “You have a gift, Adam, one I envy. My only art is my voice, but your take dirt and turn it into masterpieces.” He left before the man could reply and before he had to stay in that shop another moment with the elf. “Lead the way, imp.”

The Golden Crown was not the type of tavern he was use to playing in. For one thing there was no smell of stale pipe smoke or burnt mutton stew or even urine. No, here was the heady scent of potent ale, venison, and the reeds that had been strewn on the floor. The crowd was subtly different. No one so drunk that they could not make it to the door, the bouncer looked bored here, the conversation was politely quiet and the few gamblers were tucked away into an adjacent room where they would not disturb the other patrons. The previous bars no one noticed a bard or minstrel when they entered and sometimes even when they played. Here all conversation stopped as he made his way to the barkeep. “Welcome to the Golden Crown, Bard Robin. I do hope you are here to entertain.”

“Of course,” he replied, pitching his voice to carry even into the rooms upstairs. “Is your stage free?” He knew it was, there were no other minstrels in the village then.

“By all means, it is yours.” The keep was a portly man, as all barkeeps should be, but his apron was spotless when it was supposed to be dirty.

With a flourishing bow he took the stage and whispered into Parker's ear. With a nod the boy skipped back to the keeper and got a pitcher of water and a glass. “Gentlemen,” he said with a strummed chord, “and ladies,” he intoned in his deep voice as he gazed at the few women around, “I am Robin. A bard who has been in many a bar and tavern, but none so fine as this one.” As he played he chuckled. “I am sure my songs will at least be heard if not adored.” That got a laugh from the crowd. His fingers began to pluck out an easy listening piece to actually warm up. He could see it set the patrons to nodding with the moderate tempo, and while it was not hard in any aspect, it was popular. Robin felt a little piece of the heavens had made its way to earth on that stage. He was never more in his element than when he was seated on a stool and playing before an audience in a tavern, never more comfortable.

He played until he could play no more and then took a break when the barkeeper held up a plate of food. By this time the tavern was packed and it was almost standing room only. “Here you are, Robin. Ginger saved the best cut for you.” A shy, rosy cheeked lass of his age waved from the kitchen door and he smiled at her. He knew his charms would woo her into a stupor, but she was sweet to do it without him even asking for food.

He and Parker took a small table on the stage's left. The boy was enjoying himself in the company of a bard whose only wish was that he treat him more like an older brother than his current master. He could see that Robin was not one for ranks and nobility. The two of them ate and Robin could tell that his escort was having the time of his life. “Tell me, Parker, have you ever considered becoming a bard?”

“Me? No, I can't sing and I'm all thumbs.”

“We'll see if you're right when we get back to the castle. If not a bard then something that travels as much, because I can tell you like being out of the palace and the attention you are getting by being with me.” He grinned as the imp blushed.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah, but I was the same way when I apprenticed to Master Meadowlark. I was not use to being anyone famous or around anyone famous. My father was a cobbler and while he made excellent shoes, everyone walked all over his work.” Parker giggled at the bad joke. “I never even learned to read until I was ten. You have a head start. You all but live in the palace and are around people of repute all day. The stage is a wonderful place, but I think it is the travel you like more than the fame.” He waved over a barmaid and she took away their plates.

By the time the duo returned to the castle it was well past midday and closer to supper time. Robin went to go take a bath and change for supper in case the King desired his company. He was submerged in hot water when Lexi came in looking like he had just come out of his own bath. His blond hair was still damp and hung loosely to the middle of his back when he normally kept it braided and he wore a pair of pants that were very big in the legs and made of white cotton and a baggy shirt. “There you are. I woke up to find that you had run away.” He sat in the chair by the tub and kept his eyes firmly on Robin's.

“We went to town. I met Adam, Parker's father. He's a talented potter. Then I met an elf and then went to play at the Golden Crown. That was fun because...”

“Hold on. You met an elf?” Robin nodded. “Where?”

“In the potter's shop, why?”

“Elves are banned from the cities.” The shocked look on the minstrel's face made Lexi explain. “Some years ago, before we were born and Father was Crown Prince, a band of elves came into town and we thought nothing of it. They were always passing through. This band of elves killed ten guards, two shopkeepers, and an innocent maiden because they said that they were repaying a debt.”

“What debt?”

“Apparently the shopkeeper's great-grandfather sold them false jewelry and they had come back to collect even though the man had been dead for decades. Since then any elf has been run out of town if they set one foot in it. Are you sure it was an elf?”

“Yes, his name is Minah.”

“What?” Lexi blurted out. “Robin, stay away from the village.” He sounded scared. Perhaps he had not been so wrong to think the elf creepy.

“I will, but why?”

“Minah is the name of the leader of a certain guild in the city of Hamlet-on-the-Lake a day's ride north of here. Now I know why no one ran him out of town.”

“Guild? Which guild would...no.” Assassins Guild is the only one that would make Lexi scared. “Why would a killer be after me?”

“If you have to ask that then you are not used to politics.” He said it with that tone that it should be obvious.

“The tall or the short one?” he asked, getting the hint.

“Either would I'm guessing. The short one before the tall simply because of who your are to the short one.” Robin had to admire the way he could easily talk around the subject and still get his point across. Growing up amongst the politics of court must have been very educational and very damaging to a genuinely nice person, always having to analyze every word or action to see if could either be turned to his benefit or if it was a threat. It was just part of him and it was a part he fought with every fiber of his being.

“Great. I seem to have a knack for attracting the eyes of the wrong people for doing something harmless...”

Raven waved his hand to banish the scrying vision from the crystal. So Minah was in town. Not of his doing like they seemed to think, but it could be turned to his advantage unless that bumbler of a prince had contacted the assassin already. Raven almost summoned the Crown Prince to ask, but no, not even Minah could get here that fast. He was here for some other reason. The bard had to find out what if he was to proceed with his plans.