to the arrow. “You will track down a young Quick named Sven du Lac.” The staff moved to the red bird. “She leads a band of archers knows as the Red Sparrows. They will help you kill this Fremish bishop—the one named Uther.”
The Drake placed the staff on the carpet and picked up the bear in one hand and the branch in the other. He turned toward me, his red cloak billowing around him. “When the time comes, do not enter Uther’s tent alone. Leave her to Sven.”
I stared at him and said nothing.
“Do you hear me, Torvi, daughter of Igraine? Your sister will be in Uther’s tent, but you will not try to rescue her yourself. Understood?”
How he knew my name, or my mother’s name, I did not know. “Yes,” I said. “I understand.”
“Veray, veray,” he replied.
This was an antiquated word meaning “yes, good, rightness, truth.” It was no longer common in Vorseland, but it was still in use among travelers who had learned our language in distant lands.
The young Drake turned to Gyda. “You have a question for Uther, and she has an answer. You will need to slay all her wolves before she will talk.”
Gyda nodded slowly.
The three mystics then drew together, a sea of red. When they parted again, the young Drake held a scarlet cloak in his arms. He held it out to Stefan. “It’s time. We leave tonight for the Skal Mountains—we have business there. Say your farewells.” He paused. “Remember, you will return to your companions in three years if you choose, your tongue suffused with the language of our people and all that this entails.”
The Drakes moved backward into the shadows of the tent to give us space.
Madoc began to weep, tears sliding down his cheeks. Ink went to him and put her palm to his heart. He clutched it in his own, and they both turned to look at Stefan.
“I am sorry that I won’t be there to help you slay Uther and her beasts.” Stefan reached forward and took Madoc in his arms. “I know you will see it through. I know I can count on you.”
Madoc wept softly against Stefan’s shoulder while Ink held them both in her arms. Gyda and I stood quietly by. We’d known the good-natured singer for only a short time—we hadn’t earned this warm parting, as much as we both wanted to partake of it.
Ink and Madoc suddenly released Stefan, spun on their heels, and walked off into the night without another word.
Stefan came to me then. He gripped my right forearm in his hand, leaned forward, and whispered in my ear. “I trust these Drakes,” he said. “Abide by their warning, Torvi.”
I nodded.
“Madoc will help you find your sister. Trust in him as well.”
I nodded.
“I’m content in my choice and feel that it is the right one. Remind my fellow Bards of this often.”
I nodded.
He turned to Gyda. He slid his fingers around the back of her neck and cupped her skull. She gripped his tunic in her fists and pulled him to her. They kissed, slowly, languidly.
“Stick close to Ink and Madoc, and keep one another company until I return.” Stefan kissed Gyda under her strong jaw and across her neck. “I will come back to you all,” he said. “I will find you if I have to hunt you down across all of Elshland, all of Vorseland, all of anywhere, all of everywhere.”
He released the druid. “Don’t let Uther kill you. You can’t die, any of you. I’ve lost enough.”
“So have we all,” I said.
We left him in the yellow tent, with the Drakes watching on from the shadows. Gyda took my arm, and we walked off into the night.
I glanced back over my shoulder after a few hundred yards, hoping for one last glimpse of Stefan, but the yellow tent was gone. A large yew stood in its place, its ancient, twisted limbs and gnarled branches indicating it had held that spot since the time of the sagas.
I shivered.
TWELVE
“Even the song of the night birds seems melancholy tonight,” the storyteller said.
“Yes,” I replied. “It sounds like weeping.”
The four of us were making our way back to our camp in the curve of the Sin, our heads bowed, our steps slow.
It was near dawn. There was no light on the horizon, but I felt the sunrise in the air, in the sharp cold, in the ghostly stillness.
“Stefan has always been impulsive,” Madoc said softly.
Ink reached into her pack and pulled out