“Well, be silent,” the witch snapped. “I must concentrate.” Again the witch’s mind brushed her own, darting and probing, testing the surface for any trace of falsehood. The young woman felt a chill, dank sweat break out on her body as that questing Power sent out tendrils that would uncover falsehood as surely as a hound would uncover a fen-fox’s burrow. She found that she was repeating the notes and music of the lullaby in her mind, over and over, as a kind of litany against letting the truth slip through.
The music filled her mind, growing more and more reaclass="underline"
Eydryth lost herself within the web of music, as she had done ever since she had been hardly more than a babe able to toddle about, grasping her father’s sword-callused fingers to stay upright. The chorus chimed sweetly throughout her being, driving out the fear.
Without warning, the light from the witch’s jewel died. “It seems that you are telling the truth, minstrel,” the woman conceded, though there was no softening of her cold grey eyes. “I will see that clothes are brought to you, and food, and coppers for several nights’ lodging.”
“Thank you, Lady,” Eydryth said humbly, schooling her face to reflect none of the triumph flaring within her. Have I truly done it? Kept the truth from her?
“Do you wish to leave now, songsmith?”
Eydryth stretched and sighed, with a deliberate show of weariness. “My head still aches, Lady,” she said. “I will rest until midafternoon, if I may, then depart.” Don’t appear to be too eager to rush out of here, she cautioned herself, eyeing the witch covertly. This may well be yet another test. She resolved that she would exercise a scout’s caution when she left the Citadel. No doubt she will have me followed.
The witch nodded, her hooded eyes expressionless. “As you wish, songsmith.” She fixed a measuring gaze on the younger woman. “You say that you are from a faraway land,” she said. “Do the women there have Power?”
“We have our village Wise Women,” Eydryth replied, cautiously. “They doctor the sick with herbal potions, midwife the women and the animals…” She trailed off. “Why do you ask?”
“And have you ever been tested for the presence of the Power?” the witch demanded, deliberately ignoring the songsmith’s question.
“Yes,” Eydryth said, fighting the urge to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. “I was tested today, by one of your number. I failed. I have no Power.”
“What manner of testing?” the witch demanded.
“She compelled me to lay finger to the jewel she wore—such a jewel as yours, Lady.”
The witch picked up her own jewel, fingered it thoughtfully. It glowed softly. For a moment the grey-robed woman closed her eyes; then she opened them again. “Mistakes have been made before,” she murmured, staring speculatively at the younger woman. “Indeed, they have…”
Eydryth knew she was in great danger. What if she decides to hold me here, put me through more of their tests? She remembered that brief flicker she’d thought she had glimpsed deep in the heart of the witch-jewel. Avris said the jewel barely glowed for her…
As abruptly as a door opening, the witch’s thoughts were as plain to the songsmith as though she did have the Power to see the unseen, hear the unheard. Even now, she is thinking that I may be able to take Avris’s place among them!
A sharp rap at the door made both of them jump. The witch hastened to open it. Eydryth recognized the newcomer as the witch who had tested her earlier. “Sister?” she said. “You summoned me?”
“Yes,” the older witch said. “This girl tells me that you tested her, today.”
“I did. I thought that I sensed a trace of the Power… but the jewel stayed dark.”
“You are sure?”
“Entirely.”
“Very well. Thank you, sister.”
The younger witch inclined her head, then departed. Eydryth’s questioner smiled faintly. “Again it seems that you were speaking the truth, songsmith. Rest now, and I will have clothing brought to you so that you may depart when you awake.”
The minstrel wet her lips. “Thank you, Lady,” she said, holding her voice steady with an effort.
“You are welcome,” the witch said. “Rest well, songsmith.”
She left the room, closing the door behind her. Eydryth lay back upon the bed, but she did not close her eyes. Tests within tests, she thought, feeling the fear uncoil within her like a serpent. I must guard my back when I leave. She intends to let me go, planning to have me lead her guardsmen to Avris. Then they will capture us both!
Her fingers sought out Gunnora’s amulet. Eydryth stroked the amber sheaf of grain, felt the small amethyst points that made up the fruit upon the heavy-laden grapevine binding it at its base. Amber Lady, she thought. Aid me in escaping this trap. Please, Lady! I must be free, so I can find a cure for my father!
3
“And they simply allowed you to depart? Without following you?” Avris, arms wrapped around her knees, was still crouched in her hiding place, a hollow beneath the roots of a long-overturned oak. She gave her companion a skeptical glance. “I cannot believe it!”
Eydryth, who was sitting on the slope above her, pulling on her tall brown boots, grinned cheerfully at her companion. “When I said I wasn’t followed here, it wasn’t for lack of their trying. I had three shadows, sure enough, when I left the Citadel, and only one of them was my own. But I lost both of my tails in the marketplace without overmuch trouble. They were expecting to trail someone who knew nothing of their presence, and thus they were careless.”
The songsmith slipped her battered brown leather jerkin on over her full-sleeved green tunic. “It is good to get my own clothes back,” she said, busy with front lacings. “I refused a skirt, and the only guardsman small enough so I could fit his off-duty garments made but an indifferent habit of bathing.” She wrinkled her nose as she rolled the cast-off clothing into a bundle. “Tomorrow, when we can move about freely, we must wash these, and oil the boots, so we may sell them in some town far from here. How do those things I bought you fit?”
Avris gave her a mock glare of impatience as she smoothed the front of her faded red tunic. “As you can plainly see, they are fine! Now, by the Mercy of Gunnora, finish your story!”
The minstrel shrugged. “There is little more to relate. Just to be safe, I holed up to wait out the night, and left the city when the gates opened at dawn. There were guards looking for me there, too, but I used the last of the witch’s coppers to bribe an old man to let me hide under a blanket in the back of his farm wagon. He balanced two crates of pullets atop me, and, next to me, tied his newly weaned bull calf. The poor thing was bellowing loudly enough to rouse a dead man from his grave, so the guards were not very thorough in their check—they waved us through as quickly as possible.” Eydryth dug a finger in her ear,with a grimace. “I am still half-deafened!”