By mid-afternoon, Kevin was dusty, weary of climbing up and down the rickety library ladder and sick to death of the whole room. Ha, by now he probably knew more about the contents of the count’s library than anyone, including the count! And what a weird collection it was, without any logic to it! Why in the world would anyone want to keep not one but three copies of The Agricultural Summaries of Kendall County for the First Twenty Years of King Sendak’s Reign? And what was a treatise on politics doing tucked in between two volumes of rather bad love poetry?
How can the Master even know for sure the manuscript’s in here?
By Bardic Magic, of course. Kevin started to sigh, then coughed instead. Blast this dust!
The bardling stopped his hunt long enough to snag some lunch from a startled page, then dove into the library once more. A book about farm tools. Another. A catalog of cattle diseases. One on swine, wild and domestic. A book on—
“Ow!”
Kevin nearly fell off the ladder, just barely managing to catch his balance in time. Something in the shelves had bit him!
No, no, it hadn’t been a bite at all, more of a weird tingling in his fingertips. Kevin looked warily at the last book he’d touched—and let out a whoop of joy. Yes, yes, yes, he’d found the manuscript he needed at last!
The bardling scurried down the ladder clutching his prize, and took it over to the library’s one desk, wiping off dust from the manuscripts leather binding as he went. A good chunk of the day was already gone, but at least he could get the copying started. Someone, presumably at D’Krikas’ command, had left him supplies. Kevin found an inkwell and two quill pens on the desk, and a nice stack of parchment in a drawer. Sitting with the manuscript open before him, the bardling paused for one anticipatory moment, then dove into his work.
But after a moment, Kevin straightened again, blinking in confusion. He could have sworn the whole manuscript had been written in the common script used by most of the human lands here in the West, yet now some of the words seemed to be in a different language completely.
The bardling rubbed his eyes. He’d spent too much time in this dusty place, peering at old books. Manuscripts did not change themselves from one language to another.
Yet when Kevin took a second look, he saw, without any doubt about it, that some of the letters were actually, slowly and gracefully, changing before his eyes, altering from the human script into elaborate, beautiful, alien figures.
Elvish, he realized with a shock, recognizing the script from some of his Master’s music books.
Kevin bit back a groan as he realized what lay ahead. He could only read a few words in elvish. That meant he’d have to copy the symbols line for line, much more slowly and carefully than he would the script of a language that meant something to him. Oh, wonderful. More tine wasted.
But as the bardling started copying the manuscript word by word and symbol by symbol, a sudden little shiver of wonder raced through him. Even though the elvish wasn’t miraculously translating itself for him, even though he had no idea what he was copying, the very fact that he’d been able to see the letters transform could only mean one thing: his long-sleeping gift for Bardic Magic had finally started to wake up! His fingers fairly itched to try his lute and see if the magical songs finally had some Power to them!
First things first There was still the manuscript to finish.
Maybe his magic was starting to wake, but his eyes were beginning Go ache. It was getting more and more difficult to see the pages. Kevin looked up, mildly surprised to realize how dark the library had become; he hadn’t been aware of the passing hours, but by now it was very obviously too late to do any more copying. Still, he’d made a good start. And ...magic, he thought with a renewed thrill of wonder. Bardic Magic was going to be his.
Kevin got slowly to his feet. But in the middle of stretching stiff muscles, he froze. Acting on an impulse he didn’t quite understand, the bardling warily hid the manuscript behind a shelf of books.
There. That should keep it safe till tomorrow.
He scooped up his copy. Returning to the squires’ quarters, the bardling followed his Master’s orders (though they seemed unnecessarily wary) and hid the copy in a secret pocket in his saddlebags, which in turn he hid under his clothes in the chest—With a dred sigh, he sat down on the cot and picked up his lute. Warily, he tried one of the magical songs. Nothing much happened except for a faint, yet very real ringing in his fingers.
It was true. Grinning, Kevin knew he really did have the gift for Bardic Magic. And who knew where that might lead?
“Bard,” Kevin whispered joyously.
In the morning, not even noticing how the squires continued to snub him, Kevin ate and dressed in a rush and hurried to the library, eager to start the day’s copying. Let's see, he’d hidden the manuscript behind this row ...
“No, oh no!”
The manuscript was gone.
That’s impossible. I—I must have just mistaken which row it was.
The bardling started searching in the next row and then the next, carefully at first, then more and more frantically—It had to be here! Elvish words or no, manuscripts just didn’t get up and walk!
Kevin was on his knees, facing denuded shelves and surrounded by piles of books when a gentle cough made him start. He whirled so sharply he lost his balance, sitting down hard on some of the books, and stared up at ...
At one of the loveliest girls he’d ever seen. Her long plaits of hair were such a beautiful gold, her eyes were the clearest blue, the same shade as her silky gown, while her face and figure were ... were ...
Reddening, Kevin scrambled to his feet, trying to brush off as much dust as possible. “I... uh ... was working in the library.” Oh, you idiot! She can see that for herself.” I mean, I was copying out a manuscript For my Master. He’s a Bard. And I—I’m Kevin, I mean his apprentice, I mean, a bardling.”
The lovely eyes widened. “How wonderful! I’ve never met anyone studying to be a Bard before. You must be very wise.”
“Uh ... well, I don’t know about that It’s not easy being a bardling, though.”
“I can imagine! All that musk to learn—I never could manage to do more than pick out me simplest tunes on the harp, no matter how my tutors insisted. Arc you a harper, too? No? What instrument do you play?”
For a moment, staring into those warm blue depths, Kevin couldn’t remember to save his life. “The—the lute,” he stammered out at last.
“My goodness,” she said respectfully. “That’s a very difficult instrument, isn’t it?”
“Not for me.” Wonderful. Now, instead of an idiot I sound like a braggart.
“I’d love it if you’d play for me. If you want to, that is.”
“Oh. I do!” Kevin exclaimed.
The girl gave the most delightful little giggle. “But I’m forgetting my manners! Here I’m asking you to play for me, and you don’t even know who I am. My name is Charina, and I am Count Volmar’s niece.”
Kevin hastily bowed. “My lady.”
“Please!” Her sweet laugh sent a little shiver through him. “I hear enough formalities at my uncle’s court. But I didn’t mean to startle you, or interrupt you in ...” Her glance took in the empty shelves and piles of books. “In whatever it is you’re doing. Please, continue.”