Does he lift his scythe? The iron in it might be some protection, but not against all creatures. And what do we know about those creatures? Stories. Legends. Bardic lays. We can learn the truth now—and we are—but what we’re learning is merely how people disappear or die. There are very few credible witnesses. The bardic colleges have sent out even journeymen to the North and West; we have master bards on the roads to the South.”
“We?”
“The bardic colleges. If I have not offended the bardmaster, I am still a member of the Collegiate Council.”
Jewel was not completely familiar with the internal structure of the bardic colleges; she was surprised that something official existed at all. Nor was it the time to discuss it. “Very well. Bards have been sent across the Empire, and beyond its bounds. They’ve tendered reports.”
“It is not just bards,” Meralonne said. “The Members of the Order of Knowledge in the various kingdoms have begun investigations, and they have been in constant contact with the guildmaster; if the bardic colleges have a loose and collegial governing structure, the Order of Knowledge does not. What The Wayelyn says is substantiated by reports from the Order’s members.”
Jewel said, “The paths are opening.” It was a whisper.
“Yes, Terafin. I believe we have discussed this,” Meralonne added. He was watching The Wayelyn in open appraisal. “You came here deliberately.”
“Yes. Here. I stood here on the day of The Terafin’s funeral. I stood here while the storm came—and, Terafin, I heard you command it to leave. No one speaks openly of what happened on that day. If it is mentioned at all, it is mentioned in whispers, and it is never mentioned among the very powerful.
“I chose to speak of it in the only acceptable way I could.”
“Why?”
“Because of what I witnessed. If they come here, Terafin—if the wild, lost, deadly creatures come here, you have some chance of stopping them.”
She stared at him as if one of them were mad.
“Do not pretend,” he said, as if her stare was of no consequence, “that I am wrong.” Before she could answer, he turned to Meralonne APhaniel. “Do you know the lay of the Sleepers?”
“I know many, Wayelyn.” The answer was cool and neutral, although given the manners of the magi in general, it wasn’t rude. “And I will tell you now, if you ask, that singing any one of them in this place, at this time, would be dangerously unwise.”
“Two words that have oft been used to describe me,” was The Wayelyn’s unrepentant reply. “But seldom by the magi. I will therefore refrain.”
“Where did you come upon those lays?” The question sounded casual. The accompanying expression made it less so.
“They were taught to me long after I retired from Senniel’s active lists.”
“Kallandras.”
“Indeed. You’ve met, I take it?”
Meralonne nodded. “I shall have words with him upon his return.” To the bardmaster, he added, “I assume he is expected shortly.”
“If you consider two weeks ‘shortly,’ yes. He remained in the Dominion for the coronation of the Kai Leonne, but is on the road as we speak.”
“You have sent him no word, then.”
“I have sent word, APhaniel, but if he is nigh invulnerable, he is mortal; he cannot travel as the most powerful of the magi do; he must therefore contend with terrain and weather.”
Meralonne nodded; his gaze had not left The Wayelyn’s pale face. “You have taken a risk at Terafin’s expense.”
The Wayelyn nodded. “Do you fear it?”
Meralonne laughed. It was a wild, cold sound that reminded Jewel of wind in winter. His hair flew around his shoulders. “Fear it? Wayelyn, I anticipate it. There have been battles of significance waged in this city within the past two decades—but they will be almost as nothing compared to what must come.
“You are not wrong. They will hear your song; it will travel from land to land, and it will grow in the telling. But it will grow deep. I cannot say whether or not what you hope will come to pass, but the lands are waking to the sound of your song.”
Shadow hissed. Meralonne spared him an unfriendly glance. “She is Lord here,” he said. “And if she is willing to take the risk, she will take it.”
“She is stupid,” the cat hissed in reply.
Solran chuckled. “I have always wondered what cats would say, could they but speak.”
“You own cats?”
“Two,” she replied. “And I must say my guesses were not far off.” She frowned. “Terafin—there is fire in the distance.”