The Eagle & the Nightingales: Bardic Voices, Book III (11 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Ah,
T’fyrr thought with resignation, perched uncomfortably upon the tall stool that had been brought for him.
I do enjoy being talked about as if I was not present.

This was not the first time he had found himself in that position. At least, in this case, the discussion concerned his life and prosperity, not his imminent and painful death.

And at least this time he was seated, and on a relatively appropriate stool—in deference to his wings and tail—rather than standing in an iron cage, fettered at every limb.

Harperus was not part of this discussion, this Council session; the Deliambren had not been invited. This was probably more of an oversight than a deliberate insult, since the subject of this meeting was T’fyrr and not Harperus. T’fyrr wished profoundly for his company, though; as the only nonhuman, as well as the object of discussion, he was alternately being ignored and glared at. It would have been less uncomfortable if Harperus had been there to share the “experience.”

By the standards of the Palace so far, this was a modest room, paneled in carved wood, with wooden floors and boasting Deliambren lighting.

The Council members, all of the King’s Advisors, sat at a rectangular marble-topped table with the King at the head and T’fyrr at the foot.
They
had carved wooden chairs that could have doubled as thrones in many kingdoms; the King had a simpler wooden replica of the monstrosity in the room in which he held Court, gilded as well as carved. Behind the King stood a circle of four silent bodyguards in scarlet and black livery, armed to the teeth, in enameled helms and breastplates, as blank-faced as any Elf.

If they projected the fact that they are dangerous any harder, there would be little puddles of “danger” on the floor around them. Look, it’s “danger,” don’t step in it!

“I want him as my personal Court Musician,” King Theovere said, with a glare across the table at his Seneschal. The King had convened this Council meeting as soon as Court was over—and he had cut Court embarrassingly short in order to arrange the time for the meeting. Evidently nothing could be done, not even the appointment of a single musician to the royal household, without at least one Council meeting. But it was obvious to T’fyrr that no matter what his Advisors thought, this meeting was going to go the King’s way. He wondered if they realized that yet . . .

Lord Marshal Lupene shrugged his massive shoulders. The Marshal was an old warrior, now gone fat to an embarrassing extent, though from the way he carried himself it was likely he didn’t realize it—or didn’t want to. “Your Majesty might consider what the envoys both have to say about it. They might have other plans.”

Theovere did not quite glower, but T’fyrr was as aware as Theovere that the Lord Marshal’s implying that the King had not already consulted with T’fyrr and Harperus was cutting dangerously close to insubordination. This Lord Marshal must have been very sure of himself to chance such insolence.

“He is willing—even eager!” Theovere said angrily as T’fyrr nodded slightly, though no one paid any attention to him. “The Deliambren Ambassador says that he can manage without T’fyrr along, that he and T’fyrr were really no more than convenient traveling companions. I tell you, I want him in my employ starting from this moment—”

Lord Chamberlain Vidor, who had charge of the Kings Court Musicians, pursed his thin lips. The Lord Chamberlain was as cadaverous and lean as the Lord Marshal was massive. “Your Majesty cannot have considered the impact this will have on his other musicians,” Vidor intoned, keeping his disapproval thinly veiled. “Musicians are delicate creatures with regards to their sensibilities and morale—appointing this
Haspur
could wreak great damage among them. After all—he isn’t even human, much less a Guild Bard!”

Theovere turned towards his Chamberlain and raised one bushy eyebrow. “The second follows upon the first, doesn’t it?” he asked testily. “The Guild won’t
accept
nonhumans, which makes it altogether impossible for T’fyrr to
be
one. I have, in fact, considered the impact of this appointment, and I think it will serve as an excellent example to my other musicians. Having T’fyrr in their midst will keep them on their mettle. They have been getting lazy; too much repetition and too little original work. They could use the competition.” His tone grew silken as he glanced aside at Lord Guildmaster Koraen. “Perhaps it might give the Bardic Guild cause to reconsider their ban on nonhuman members, with so excellent a musician being barred from their ranks.”

And from lending the Guild my prestige, my notoriety,
T’fyrr added silently, seeing some of the same thoughts occurring to the Guildmaster. Koraen was good at hiding his feelings, but T’fyrr detected the sound of the bulky, balding man grinding his teeth in frustration.
The Guild has just lost a fair amount of prestige thanks to my performance, and might lose some royal preference if I continue to succeed here. This man is going to be my enemy.
He mentally shook his head.
What am I thinking? They are
all
going to be my enemies! The only question is how dangerous they consider me!

“The Bardic Guild—” the Guildmaster began.

Theovere slammed his open palm down on the table. “The Bardic Guild had better learn some flexibility!” he all but shouted. “The Bardic Guild had better learn how to move with the times! The Bardic Guild had better come up with something better than elaborations on the same tired themes if they want to continue to enjoy my patronage!”

“But this sets a very bad precedent, Your Majesty,” interjected another Council member, a thin and reedy little man who had not been introduced to T’fyrr. He wore a sour expression that seemed to be perpetually fixed on his face.

“My Lord Treasurer is correct,” agreed the Lord Judiciar smoothly, an oily fellow of nondescript looks who had been among the first to congratulate the King every time he dismissed a petition. “It sets a very bad precedent indeed. You are the High King of the Twenty
Human
Kingdoms; what need have you to bring in outsiders to fill your household?”

Now, for the first time, T’fyrr saw signs of petulance on the King’s face, a childish expression that looked, frankly, quite ridiculous on a man with grey hair. And the royal temper, held barely in check, now broke—but not into shouting.

“I want him in my household, and by God, I will
have
him in my household!” the King grated dangerously, glaring at them all. “In fact—” His expression suddenly grew sly. “I’ll appoint him my
Chief
Court Musician! Yes, why not? I have a vacant place for a Chief Musician in my personal household; let T’fyrr fill it! That is a position solely under
my
control, subject to
my
discretion, and the Council can only advise me on it, as you know.”

As the expressions of the Council members around the table changed from annoyed to alarmed, he chuckled, like a nasty little boy who has been picking the wings off flies.

“But—but Your Majesty—” the Lord Chamberlain spluttered, obviously blurting the first thing that came into his head. “That is impossible! The—the—Chief Court Musician must be a Knight! All of Your Majesty’s household must be of the rank of Sire or better!”

“Oh, well, if that is all there is to it—” Before anyone could stop him, the King rose from his seat and walked to T’fyrr’s, pulling out his ornamental short sword as he came. “I can certainly remedy that. I am a Knight as well as a King, and according to the rules of chivalry, I can make other knights in either capacity as I choose. They need only be worthy, and T’fyrr is certainly far more worthy of this post than any Bardic Guild popinjay you’ve presented me with thus far!”

Oh, good heavens. He’s lost his mind.

T’fyrr was not certain what he should do, so he did nothing, except to rise, turn to face the King, and bow. This did not seem to bother Theovere at all. The King tapped him on each shoulder in a perfunctory manner, then resheathed the sword. The Council members sat numbly in their places, struck dumb by the sudden and abrupt turn of events. Clearly, the King was not supposed to take so much initiative.

Obviously, they have never tried to balk him before. They have just learned a lesson. I believe they thought the King too much in their control to slip his leash like this.

“There,” the King said, casually. “Sire T’fyrr, I now name thee a Knight of the Court, whose duties shall be to serve as my Chief Minstrel in my own Household. Do you accept those duties and swear to that service?”

“I do,” T’fyrr rumbled, and
then
a storm of protests arose.

###

By the time it was all over, the Council had suffered complete defeat. T’fyrr was still Sire T’fyrr—a tide which was fundamentally an empty one, since no gift of land went along with the honor. He was still the Chief Court Musician. When the Lord Chamberlain swore that the other Court musicians would never share quarters with a nonhuman, the King gleefully added a private suite in the royal wing to the rest of T’fyrr’s benefits. When the Lord Treasurer protested that the kingdom could not bear the unknown living expenses of so—unusual
—
a creature, Theovere shrugged and assigned his expenses to the Privy Purse. The only real objection that anyone could make that Theovere could not immediately counter was the objection that “the people will not understand.”

Finally, Theovere simply glared them all to silence. “The people will
learn
to understand,” he said in a threatening tone that brooked no argument. “It is about time that the people became a little more flexible, just as it is about time that the Bardic Guild and the members of my Court and Council became a little more flexible, and the example can be set here and now, in my own household!” He glared once more around the table. “I
am
the King, and I have spoken!
You
work for
me.
Is that understood?”

T’fyrr then saw something he had not expected, as the faces of the Council members grew suddenly pale, and they shut their lips on any further objections.

What?
he thought with interest.
What is this? And why? They have been treating him like a child until this moment
—
now, why do they suddenly act as if they had a lion in their midst? What was it about that phrase,
“I am the King and I have spoken,”
that has suddenly changed the entire complexion of this?

Silence reigned around the table, and Theovere nodded with satisfaction. “Good!” he said. “Now, you may all go attend to your pressing duties. I am sure you have many. You keep telling me that you do.”

The Council members rose to a man in a rustling of expensive fabric, bowed, and filed silently out, leaving only T’fyrr and Theovere, and Theovere’s ever-present bodyguards. The King chuckled.

“I am not certain, Your Majesty, that I deserve such preferential treatment,” T’fyrr said at last, after a moment of thought.
I have had enemies made this day of nearly every important man in this Court. This appointment has just become a most comfortable and luxurious setting in which to be a target!
“Perhaps if you chose to return to your original plan?” he suggested gently. “I am only one poor musician, and there is no reason to make my position in your household into a source of such terrible contention.”

Theovere shook his head. “I meant what I said,” the High King replied. “They can learn to live with it. There has been too much talk of late about the superiority of humans—and you have just proven that talk to be so much manure, and you have done so in my open Court. It is time and more than time for people to learn better—you will serve as my primary example.”

Thus making me a target for every malcontent in the city, if not in the Twenty Kingdoms! Thank you so much, Your Majesty!

“I will call a page to show you to your new quarters, and have your friend, the Deliambren, sent there to meet you,” the King continued, rising to his feet. T’fyrr did likewise with some haste, bowing as the King smiled. One of the bodyguards reached for a bellpull, and as the King moved away from the table, a young, dark-haired, snub-nosed boy appeared in the still-open door, clad in the High King’s livery of gold and scarlet.

The King acknowledged T’fyrr’s bow with an indolent wave of his hand, and walked out of the Council room, trailing all but one of his bodyguards. The one left behind, the one who had summoned the page, gestured to the boy as T’fyrr rose from his bow.

“This gentleman is now the King’s Chief Court Musician in his personal household,” the bodyguard said to the boy in a voice lacking all expression. He kept his face at an absolute deadpan as well, and T’fyrr could only admire his acting ability. “His name is Sire T’fyrr. You will escort him to the royal wing, see that he is comfortably lodged in the Gryphon Suite, and from here on, see that his needs are attended to. For the immediate future, you will see to his special needs in furnishing his quarters, then, when Sire T’fyrr indicates, find the Deliambren Ambassador and escort him to Sire T’fyrr.”

The child bobbed his head in wordless acknowledgement, and the bodyguard left, apparently satisfied that the King’s orders had been correctly delivered.

As soon as he was gone, the boy glanced up at T’fyrr, and the Haspur did not have to be an expert in human children to see that the boy was frightened of him. His face was pale, and his fists clenched at his sides. If T’fyrr said or did anything alarming, the poor fledgling would probably faint—or forget his duty and bolt for someplace safe to hide!

“I am a Haspur, young friend,” T’fyrr said gently, and chuckled. “We don’t eat children. We do eat meat, but we prefer it to be cooked—and we would rather not have had a speaking acquaintance with it before it became our dinner.”

The child relaxed marginally. “Would you follow me, Sire T’fyrr?” he said in a trembling soprano. “Do you have any baggage that you will need brought to you?”

“My friend Harperus will see to all that,” T’fyrr told him, and added as an afterthought, “He is the Deliambren. You should have no trouble finding him; he is the only being in the Palace who is dressed to look like a saint’s palanquin in a Holy Day Festival Parade.”