"Do you use this a lot?" asked Alec, trying the danger sign with indifferent results.
Seregil chuckled. "You'd be surprised."
They set off at a brisk canter. Seregil still found the terrain distressingly featureless, but Alec seemed to know what he was doing. Finding the spring the previous night had been heartening evidence of Alec's abilities as a guide and Seregil kept his doubts to himself.
Keeping one eye on the sky, the boy scanned the horizon for landmarks Seregil could only guess at. Left to himself, Alec was rather quiet by nature.
There was nothing reticent or strained about it—he simply seemed content to concentrate on the business at hand.
This soon proved not to be the only thing on his mind, however. Reining in at another small spring just before noon, he turned to Seregil as if they'd only paused for breath in an ongoing conversation and asked,
"Will you be working as a bard in Wolde?"
"Yes. Around the Woldesoke I go by the name Aren Windover. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
Alec gave him a skeptical look. " You're Aren Windover? I heard him sing last spring at the Fox, but I don't recall him looking like you."
"Well, I guess I don't look much like Rolan Silverleaf, either, just now."
"That's true," Alec admitted. "Just how many names do you go by, anyway?"
"Oh, whatever suits. And if you won't take my word that Aren and I are one and the same, I'll prove it. Which of my songs did you like the best?"
"The Lay of Araman," was Alec answered at once. "The tune stuck in my head for weeks after but I could never remember all the verses."
"The Lay of Araman" it is, then."
Seregil cleared his throat and launched into the song, his voice a rich, lilting tenor. After a moment Alec joined in. His voice wasn't as fine, but he could carry a tune.
"Across the sea sailed Araman, a hundred men he led. His ship was black as Death's left eye, her sails were deep bloodred. They sailed to Simra's distant shore to answer Honor's call. A hundred men sailed out to sea, but none sailed home at all.
For Honor's price is blood and steeland Death will be your brother. A soldier's life is full of strife, but I swear I'd have no other!
On the city walls stood King Mindar,
he watched the ship draw nigh.
Five hundred men were at his back and gave the battle cry.
Then marched they to the battle plain to meet the seaborne foe,
While Araman and his hundred men came all ashore below.
For Honor's price is blood and steel
and with your life you'll buy it. But the ladies love a fighting manand there's none that will deny it!
Then Araman strode on the field and Mindar stepped to meet him. "Your lying tongue has brought us here!" cried Araman to greet him. "I see your force is greater, you have numbers on your side, But by my sword, I'll see you dead 'ere the turning of the tide."
For Honor's price is blood and steelthough flesh won't stop a sword. The glory of a soldier's death will be your last reward!
Then on the plain the armies met and sword rang out on shield.
Helms were cloven, limbs were hacked,
yet neither side would yield,
Until the generals found themselves alone upon the plain.
Six hundred soldiers, brave and bold,
would never fight again.
For Honor's price is blood and steeland well the widows know The worth of Honor to the lads now lying down below!
Then toe to toe and blade to blade the two fierce warriors fought. To steal the heart's blood of his foe was each one's only thought. From their wounds the blood flowed down to stain the trampled sward And when the tide was turning Mindar fell to Araman's sword.
For Honor's price is blood and steelfor churl and lord as well And generals often lead their men down to the gates of hell!
Bold Amman, the victor now,
lays his blade aside.
From his wounds his life flows out just like the sea's great tide.
The price of Honor paid in full with blood and steel and lives.
On an empty plain by an empty shore
the rightful victor dies.
For Honor's price is blood and steelso harken well, my son. Honor's a damned expensive thing if you're dead when the battle's won!"
"Well sung!" Seregil applauded. "With a good apprenticeship, you might make a passable bard yourself."
"Me?" Alec said with an embarrassed grin. "I can imagine what Father would have said to that!"
So can I, Seregil thought, having decided that the dead man must have been a pretty dour sort.
They passed much of the afternoon ride trading songs. As soon as Seregil discovered how Alec blushed at the bawdy ones, he made a special point of including plenty of those.
For two days they traveled hard and slept cold, but the time passed quickly. Seregil proved as fine a wayfaring companion as Alec could have hoped for, happy to fill the long hours of riding with tales, songs, and legends. The only subject he proved stubbornly reticent about was his own past, and Alec quickly learned not to press. Otherwise, however, they got on well enough. Alec was particularly intrigued by stories of life in the south.
"You never finished telling me about why the Three Lands fight so often," he said, hoping for another story after a particularly long silence that afternoon.
"I do tend to get sidetracked, don't I? What would you like to know?"
"About that priest king and all, I guess. It used to be all one country, you said, but now they're three. What happened?"
"Same thing that always happens when someone thinks someone else has more land and power than they do—there was a war.
"About a thousand years ago, the various territories got restless under Hierophantic rule. Hoping to hold his people together, the Hierophant granted them dominion, dividing them up into pretty much what are now Skala, Mycena, and Plenimar. Each had its own regent, appointed by him, of course.
"It was a logical split, geographically speaking, but unfortunately Plenimar got the short end of the stick. Skala controlled the sheltered plains below the Nimra Range. Mycena had fertile valleys and established outposts to the north. But Plenimar, earliest settled of the three, lay on a dry peninsula with diminishing resources.
"To make matters worse, the first rumors of gold soon came back from the north and Mycena controlled the routes. What Plenimar did have, though, were warriors and ships, and it wasn't long before they decided to use them. Just two centuries after the division, they attacked Mycena and started a war that lasted seventeen years."
"How long ago was this?"
"Nearly eight hundred years. Plenimar probably would've won, too, if Aurлnen hadn't come into the fight in the last years."
"The Aurлnfaie again!" Alec cried, delighted. "But why did they wait so long?"
Seregil shrugged. "The doings of the Tirfaie were of little concern to Aurлnen. It was only when the fighting neared their own waters that they officially allied themselves with Skala and Mycena."
Alec thought a moment. "But if the other countries had all the gold and land and everything, how come they weren't stronger than Plenimar?"
"They should have been. The wizards of Skala were at the height of their powers then, too. Even the drysians were enlisted to the fight and, as I'm sure you can imagine, they are a force to be reckoned with when they want to be. Some old ballads speak of Plenimaran necromancers and armies of walking dead that could be driven back only by the strongest magicks. Whether or not these tales are true, it was the most terrible war ever fought."