"Bear's a good man," the lord stated. "His job is to trust no one, so that I might still trust a few. His distrust has saved my life more than once in these hazardous times," Morn explained, nodding his gratitude to the huge man. Then he turned his attention back to Joel. "Harrowslough tells me you're a bard, schooled in the western colleges."
"Berdusk," replied Joel, "but I've broken with their traditional methods."
"I fancy myself fairly accomplished in music," Morn said, reaching for a lute by the fire. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?"
Joel was accustomed to singing for his supper, though it was unusual to be asked to accompany his host. Warmed by the stew in his belly, the ale coursing through his veins, and Morn's gracious manner, Joel was prepared to go to any lengths to entertain the Rebel Lord. He unhooked his birdpipes from his belt. He'd cut the reeds and fashioned this set of pipes himself in his student days. One teacher had criticized the instrument for its lack of standard tones, but it was Joel's favorite. It made lovely music.
"Do you know 'Jonstan the Rover'?" Morn asked, strumming the first chord. The lute's tuning was slightly flat, but Joel played a matching chord on the bird-pipes, then blew the notes to the first five bars. Heads turned in his direction. The bowlers and dart players paused expectantly.
With a signal from Morn, the pair played the song from the beginning. Fortunately Morn's voice was better than his tuning. It flowed smoothly and melodiously over the words to the old dales tune. Joel played a third lower than the singer, matching his meter and pacing. Morn paused between the third and fourth verse, allowing Joel the opportunity to improvise a smooth bridge.
At the end of the first song, Joel segued into "The River of Life," an old nursery rhyme the mortal Finder had set to music. Morn needed only a measure to pick up the chords, then the verse, which gave Joel great pleasure. Ever since the Harpers had lifted their ban on Finder's music, Joel's god's songs had flourished in the Realms. Next the Rebel Lord began the melody of "The Ballad of the Dream Weaver," and Joel joined in without missing a beat, but the lyrics Morn sang were different from the ones Joel had learned. The bard noted them with interest.
As the melodies shifted between the two men, the others around them grew quiet and all conversation died away. A few sang along, but quietly, in half mumbles. There were no outstanding voices beyond Morn's, which was not too unusual, but it was odd that no one else sang out with gusto. No wonder Randal was anxious to play with another minstrel.
At the close of "Dalesman's Holiday," Joel launched into "The Toasting Song." The tune was an old staple, and Morn strummed along as Joel set aside his pipes to sing.
The Toasting Song" was what bards called a button song. Its chorus was easy to learn and repeat, and the meter of its verses so simple anyone could "button" any number of names and situations into the song. In general, it was used to thank-or tweak-one's host, or to report on everything from the weather to the latest court gossip. Joel rose from his chair and sang the standard chorus:
"And now we give a Toast, a Toast To guests and friends and hosts, and hosts For lies and tales and boasts, and boasts Of who can drink the most, the most!"
Then Joel fired off the first impromptu verse:
"We toast the folk of Daggerdale, Whose hearts and minds will never fail, Whose land holds wondrous firestars And truly great and noble bars!"
There was laughter and a few cheers from the crowd, and some members of the audience joined in on the chorus. A few even smiled when Joel met their gaze. The bard cornered Kharva as she tried surreptitiously to clear away the tureen from Joel's table. The dwarven woman frowned sternly as the young man sang a verse in her honor.
"We toast good Kharva's cooking skills, Which cure all human and dwarven ills, For with each sip and with each bite, We're soon too stuffed to start a fight!"
Kharva guffawed heartily, and laughter burst from the crowd. More joined in on the chorus. One table punctuated the last two words of each line by pounding on the table, creating an accompanying percussion section. Joel walked about the table until he stood behind his next victim.
"We toast Lathander's paladins, Whose lives are without stains or sins, Who'll leap into every fray or mess, Provided they have the proper dress!"
Holly squealed and covered her face with her hands. Joel could see the flush beneath her dark skin. Now nearly the whole house sang the chorus, each group trying to outshout or outpound the others. Next Joel circled behind the stoic form of Bear, still grim-faced and silent, his arms folded.
"Let's toast the absent Zhentarim, Who loose upon us evil grim. To know these fools and avoid their sting, Just watch for those who will not si-"
Bear's fist came out of nowhere. One moment Joel had a clear view of grinning dalesfolk, and in the next a small meteorite of flesh closed directly with his nose. There was a flash of light, then darkness. When Joel's eyes opened again, he was lying on the floor. Holly was hovering over him, obstructing his view, but he could hear Randal Morn castigating the huge bodyguard.
"What did you do that for?" the Rebel Lord snarled.
"He insulted me," Bear grunted. "Us. Daggerdale. He was mocking us."
"The only insult was the interruption of our song," Morn snapped. "If you'd paused to look around, you might have noted that everyone else was laughing and singing."
Bear blushed deeply and reiterated, "I thought he was insulting us."
"Save your offended zeal for fighting the Zhentarim," Morn retorted. Turning to Holly, he asked, "How is he?"
Holly had placed her hands on Joel's face lightly, but the pressure was nearly unbearable. Then the bard recognized the rosy-hued aura of the paladin's healing touch. The sharp pain in the back of his head subsided to a dull throbbing and an unpleasant itching all about his nose.
"Feeling better, Joel?" the girl asked.
Talk about your rough audiences," Joel muttered.
Morn grunted agreement and reached out with his hand. Joel missed the hand the first try, but grabbed it the second. The Rebel Lord pulled the Rebel Bard to his feet.
Joel cocked his head at Bear. "If he hits the Zhents that hard, you'll soon have no worries," the bard joked. Then the room swayed about him, and he had to steady himself against the table.
Take him to one of the cottages to rest," Morn instructed Holly. "When he's recovered and wants to continue his journey, Bear will serve as his escort, by way of an apology."
Neither Holly nor Bear looked pleased with that arrangement. Bear opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but shut it again a moment later. The huge man nodded to his lord, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. A few members of the audience raised a mug to Joel, but most of them had returned to their earlier diversions. Another typical evening in Daggerdale, the young bard suspected.
Morn handed Joel his pipes. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "Bear often sees threats where none exist. He's a good man, though."
"So you've said," Joel replied, taking the pipes with one hand while holding his tender nose with the other. "Really, though, you needn't spare him for my sake. Holly's been a wonderful guide."
"Yes, but I'm afraid I have need of her skills in the days to come. Yet I would prefer knowing you were escorted safely through my land."
"Bear it is, then," Joel agreed, though only so as not: appear disagreeable to Morn.
"I'll have someone see to your horse while Holly shows you to your quarters," Morn said.
Holly led Joel to the door. Outside, the air had turned cool. The moon had not yet risen, and the sky was a jumble of stars. Not far off, hidden in the dark, a large cat snarled. Joel remembered the guardian that had scared his horse.
A young dwarf handed Holly a lantern, and the paladin led the bard away from the manor down a meadow path. Firestars zipped about them. Holly halted at the door to a small cottage and set the lantern down on the front stoop.