"But-why are you-together?" Rune asked, bewildered. She was used to competition among musicians, not cooperation.
"For the same reason as the Guilds were formed in the first place. We band together to give each other help; a spot of silver to tide you over an empty month, a place to go when you're hurt or ill, someone to care for you when you're not as young as you used to be," the gray-haired man called Erdric said.
Nightingale spoke up from the rear. "To teach, and to learn as well. And we have more and better patronage than you, or even the Guild, suspects."
A big bear of a man laughed. "Not everyone finds the precious style of the Guild songsters to their taste, especially the farther you get from the large cities. Out in the countryside, away from the decadence of courts, they like their songs to be like their food. Substantial and heartening."
"But why does the Guild let you get away with this, if you're taking patronage from them?" Rune couldn't help feeling apprehensive, despite all their easy assurance.
"Bless you, child, they couldn't do without us!" Talaysen laughed. "No matter what you think, there isn't a single creative Master among 'em! Gwyna, my heart, sing her 'The Unkind Lover'-your version, I mean, the real and original."
Gwyna, the dark girl who had tended Rune's bruises, flashed dazzling white teeth in a vulpine grin, plucked a guitar from somewhere behind her, and began.
Well, it was the same melody that Rune had sung, and some of the words-the best phrases-were the same as well. But this was no ice-cold princess taunting her poor chivalrous admirer with what he'd never touch; no, this was a teasing shepherdess seeing how far she could harass her cowherd lover, and the teasing was kindly meant. And what the cowherd claimed at the end was a good deal more than a "kiss on her cold, quiet hand." In fact, you might say with justice that the proceedings got downright heated!
It reminded her a bit of her private "good-bye" with Shawm, in fact. . . .
"That 'Lament' you did the first day's trial is another song they've twisted and tormented; most of the popular ballads the Guild touts as their own are ours," Talaysen told her with a grin.
"As you should know, seeing as you've written at least half of them!" Gwyna snorted.
"But what would you have done if they had accepted me anyway?" Rune wanted to know.
"Oh, you wouldn't have lasted long; can a caged lark sing? Soon or late, you'd have done what I did-" Talaysen told her. "You'd have escaped your gilded cage, and we'd have been waiting."
"Then, you were a Guild Bard?" Somehow she felt she'd known that all along. "But I never hear of one called Talaysen, and if the 'Lament' is yours-"
Talaysen coughed, and blushed. "Well, I changed my name when I took my freedom. Likely though, you wouldn't recognize it-"
"Oh, she wouldn't, you think? Or are you playing mock-modest with us again?" Gwyna shook back her abundant black hair. "I'll make it known to you that you're having your bruises tended by Master Bard Gwydain, himself."
"Gwydain?" Rune's eyes went wide as she stared at the man, who coughed, deprecatingly. "But-but-I thought Master Gwydain was supposed to have gone into seclusion-or died-or took vows!"
"The Guild would hardly want it known that their pride had rejected 'em for a pack of Gypsy jonguelers, now would they?" the lanky fellow pointed out.
"So, can I tempt you to join with us, Rune, lass?" the man she'd known as Talaysen asked gently.
"I'd like-but I can't," she replied despairingly. "How could I keep myself? It'll take weeks for my arm to heal. And-my instruments are splinters, anyway." She shook her head, tears in her eyes. "They weren't much, but they were all I had. They were-from friends."
Tonno, Rose, will you ever forgive me? I've not only failed, but I've managed to lose your legacy to me. . . .
"I don't have a choice; I'll have to go back to Nolton-or maybe they'll take me in a tavern in Kingsford. I can still turn a spit and fill a glass one-handed." Tears spilled down her cheeks as she thought of going back to the life she'd thought she'd left behind her.
"Ah lass, didn't you hear Erdric?" the old man asked. "There's nothing for you to worry about! You're one of us; you won't need to go running off to find a way to keep food in your mouth! We take care of each other-we'll care for you till you're whole again-"
She stared at them all, and every one of them nodded. The old man patted her shoulder, then hastily found her a rag when scanning their faces brought her belief-and more tears.
"As for the instruments-" Talaysen vanished and returned again as her sobs quieted. "I can't bring back your departed friends. 'They're splinters, and I loved them' can't be mended, nor can I give you back the memories of those who gave them to you. But if I can offer a poor substitute, what think you of these twain?"
The fiddle and lute he laid in her lap weren't new, nor were they the kind of gilded, carved and ornamented dainties Guild musicians boasted, but they held their own kind of quiet beauty, a beauty of mellow wood and clean lines. Rune plucked a string on each, experimentally, and burst into tears again. The tone was lovely, smooth and golden, and these were the kind of instruments she'd never dreamed of touching, much less owning.
When the tears had been soothed away, the various medicines been applied both internally and externally, and introductions made all around, Rune found herself once again alone with Talaysen-or Gwydain, though on reflection, she liked the name she'd first known him by better. The rest had drawn curtains on their wires close in about her little corner, making an alcove of privacy.
"If you're going to let me join you-" she said, shyly.
"Let!" He laughed, interrupting her. "Haven't we made it plain enough we've been trying to lure you like cony-catchers? Oh, you're one of us, Rune, lass. You've just been waiting to find us. You'll not escape us now!"
"Then-what am I supposed to do?"
"You heal," he said firmly. "That's the first thing. The second, well, we don't have formal apprenticeships amongst us. By the Lady, there's no few things you could serve as Master in, and no question about it! You could teach most of us a bit about fiddling, for one-"
"But-" She felt a surge of dismay. Am I going to have to fumble along on my own now? "One of the reasons I wanted to join the Guild was to learn! I can barely read or write music, not like a Master, anyway; there's so many instruments I can't play"-her voice rose to a soft wail-"how am I going to learn if a Master won't take me as an apprentice?"
"Enough! Enough! No more weeping and wailing, my heart's over-soft as it is!" he said hastily. "If you're going to insist on being an apprentice, I suppose there's nothing for it. Will I do as a Master to you?"
Rune was driven to speechlessness, and could only nod. Me? Apprentice to Gwydain? She felt dizzy; this was impossible, things like this only happened in songs-
-like winning prizes from a ghost.
"By the Lady, lass, you make a liar out of me, who swore never to take an apprentice! Wait a moment." He vanished around the curtain for a moment, then returned. "Here-"
He set down a tiny harp. "This can be played one-handed, and learning the ways of her will keep you too busy to bedew me with any more tears while your arm mends. Treat her gently-she's my own very first instrument, and she deserves respect."