A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,15

see Fintan’s leathers somewhat below. The seeming of the pelenaut said, “Thank you, that will do admirably,” and his voice changed from Röllend’s baritone to Fintan’s tenor by the end of the sentence. “You see, I never physically change my shape—it is all an optical illusion—and the seeming cannot survive physical contact.” The seeming began to warp and slide in disturbing fashion as the gas lost the surface tension keeping it together. Fintan slowly raised his own left hand and wiped at his face so that we could see him again, and after that larger breach was made, the seeming came apart much more quickly over the rest of his body. “When I perform, I have a different gas that disperses this more quickly. These gifts of the poet goddess are intended to help me tell stories, not practice espionage, and it is easily countered.”

“But you understand why it leads to mistrust,” the pelenaut said.

“I do, sir. That’s why we wished to be forthright with you,” the bard said, and the pelenaut asked the mariners to back off.

“This story you wish to tell,” Föstyr said. “Can you give us the short version?”

“Certainly.” Once Fintan outlined the broad swaths of his tale, it was quickly decided to accept the bard’s services and allow him to meet Tallynd du Böll. The pelenaut grew enthusiastic about what it would do for the city’s morale—the prospect had already visibly improved his own—and then he startled me by whipping his head around in my direction.

“Master Dervan. Come forward, please.” I laid down my pen and rose, clasping my hands behind my back to hide my stained fingers, then limped as quickly as my old knee injury would allow. The pelenaut signaled with an arm that I should stand beside him, and once I did, he presented me to the bard. “Numa and Fintan, this is Master Dervan du Alöbar, lately of the university but currently my court historian. I would consider it a personal favor, Fintan, if you would allow him to record your tale for posterity.”

If the bard was as surprised as I was by the request, he hid it well. He was so smooth that I wondered what it would take to rattle him; even the spear points had only made him careful. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Dervan,” he said. Numa said nothing but nodded at me when our eyes met. “And of course you are welcome to write it down. Should I be worried about the speed of your handwriting?”

The pelenaut smiled and answered for me. “He will do his best, and of course you shall approve the manuscript.”

That elicited an answering grin from the bard. “An opportunity to improve on my performance! A dangerous incentive to offer a poet.” His eyes slid over to me, amused and clearly teasing me. “We could be editing for years, Master Dervan.”

“So be it,” I said, infected by the bard’s good nature.

“Excellent,” Pelenaut Röllend said, and then he deftly handed the Raelechs off to Föstyr to see to the details of their lodging for the evening while he recessed the court for a few minutes and drew me with him behind the throne to the Wellspring’s water wall. Normally this fell in an unbroken curtain of water that made only a pleasant background noise, but there were rocks set in the wall and Rölly used his kenning to split the stream again and again around those rocks to make the water drop as noisily as possible into the drainage basin and thus obscure our conversation from any nearby ears.

Rölly threw an arm around my shoulders and said in a low voice, “Welcome to the world of intrigue, Master Dervan. That man is a spy for the Triune Council. A very politely introduced spy but a spy nonetheless. And you get to watch him.”

“What?”

“You’re perfectly suited for the job.”

“How can you say that, Rölly? I’m an historian. I study things in the past so I don’t have to deal with people in the present.”

“Remember to keep your voice down,” he cautioned. A recessed court did not equal an empty one. “And you weren’t always an historian. You were an excellent mariner before your injury forced a career change. And Sarena must have taught you a thing or two.”

My jaw dropped. Sarena had been a spy for Rölly and for his predecessor as well. Publicly I had presented her death as the result of a tragic fatal disease, but the two of us and the