He is looking into the mirror again_but this time, he is seeing not only what is, but what was, and what may be again!
She simply followed the music with her harpsong, as her heart, this time, followed his.
When it was over, the Theovere-spirit stood up straight and tall, looking many years younger than his true age, his eyes bright again with light and life. A sword appeared from nowhere in his hand; he swept it, silvery and bright, and used it to salute both of them.
And then he faded away into a bright mist.
Oh_NO!
Nightingale dropped back into the outer world with a violent shock.
She stared at the bed, certain that the figure in it was no longer alive. Her eyes blurred with exhaustion, as what seemed to be a hundred people suddenly poured into the room.
She shrank away, waiting for them to seize her, seize T'fyrr, haul them both off into the gaols never to be seen again.
And Theovere slowly sat up with a firm, determined smile set on his face.
The Bodyguards shoved the interlopers rudely away from the bed, and she realized that there weren't a hundred people; there weren't even twenty. Only the Advisors, and who had told them what was going on? Most of them seemed to be shouting at the Captain and the Seneschal, both of whom were shouting back.
Her eyes blurred again, and she slid a little sideways, into the comforting embrace of T'fyrr. "What happened?" she asked.
"I'm not sure." He held her closely, his own arms trembling with fatigue. "You did something, and made the shadow go away, then we sang Theovere back, like the Elves said to do_he woke up and spoke, and then all the Advisors began pouring in. I'm not sure how they found out that we were doing anything here."
"It's a good thing they didn't get in until we were done," she said, a bit grimly, as Theovere gained enough strength from somewhere to outshout all of them.
"Silence!" he bellowed. "Enough!"
The babble ceased, and he glared at all of them. "We have," he said, clearly and succinctly, his eyes shining with dangerous anger, "a traitor among us. The note that held the_call it a curse_that felled me was sealed with the Council Seal."
Out of the corner of her eye, Nightingale saw the Captain of the Bodyguards go momentarily limp with relief.
But she saw something else as well.
Heading up a contingent of his own private guards and standing at the back of the room was someone who looked oddly familiar to her.
"Who is that?" she whispered to T'fyrr, under the sound of the King's furious but controlled questioning of his guards and his Advisors. "He looks familiar somehow."
He glanced in the direction she was looking. "That's Lord Atrovel," he said. "But you can't have seen him before; he never leaves the Palace, and you never encountered any of the other Advisors except the Lord Seneschal."
Just at that moment, the odd little man moved into a wash of shadow that darkened his hair. She saved herself from gaping at him only by a strong effort of will.
She had seen this "Lord Atrovel" before_but not here.
In Freehold. And "he" had been_
Violetta. That's Violetta_one of the Great Lords of State_and the biggest gossip in Freehold. Someone who was in a position to know everything that was going on in the King's Chambers, in his private correspondence and in Freehold_
And who had the knowledge and the means to sabotage all of it.
And I'll bet he wasn't leading those guards here to protect us if we failed to bring back the King!
"T'fyrr_" she whispered, clutching his hand and turning her head into his feathers to make certain her voice didn't go any further. "Put long black hair on Lord Atrovel and tell me what you get."
She knew by the tension in his muscles that he had seen the same thing that she had. "Violetta_" he whispered.
Then he stood up abruptly, and she scrambled out of his way. She had never seen him like this before_but she had seen a hawk about to attack an enemy.
"Violetta!" he roared.
Lord Atrovel started_but so did all the other Great Lords. But none of the others had that look of panic in their eyes_and none of the others had been making his leisurely way toward the door as the King continued to question his Advisors.
T'fyrr launched himself at Lord Atrovel in a fury, and Nightingale was only a second or so behind him. Lord Atrovel's guards scattered, but the King's Bodyguards came pouring in from the room beyond, alerted by T'fyrr's scream of anger.
T'fyrr reached the traitor first.
He seized the little man in his talons and picked him up bodily. His beak was parted in fury, his eyes dilated, and all Nightingale felt from him was a flood of red rage_
Oh, Lady, no_if he kills the man_
He'll never forgive himself.
No one moved; no one could.
T'fyrr held the man for a moment longer, then flexed the muscles of his arms_
And gently set Lord Atrovel down, right into the "welcoming" arms of the Elite Bodyguards.
"I believe that this is the man you have been looking for," T'fyrr said, so gently that he might have been soothing a child. "He frequented Freehold under the name and disguise of 'Violetta,' and likely other places as well. I believe he owns a house in the Firemare quarter, where you will find two or three mages in his employ who held me captive and maimed me_one of them probably set the spell that nearly slew His Majesty. Hunt through his private papers, his suite, and question his servants, and you will probably find a trail of sabotage and evil as vile as the man himself. And you will likely find lace handkerchiefs that match those left by the mysterious gaol-raider. As well as a_" he coughed "_remarkable selection of female garments made in his size, which should explain the missing 'maid' who freed that first captive."
The Captain took custody of Lord Atrovel himself and fired off a burst of orders as the rest of the Lord Advisors scattered like so many frightened quail. T'fyrr ignored them all, turning back to Nightingale.
The terrible rage inside him was gone.
She went weak-kneed with relief as she saw his face, and sensed the calm that now lay within him. He doesn't need revenge_
"I don't need revenge," he said softly, echoing her own thoughts, taking her hands in his. "I have you, and I have love. Vengeance is a waste of valuable time."
She smiled up at him tremulously. "It is, isn't it?"
He touched her cheek with one gentle talon. "I know that you don't like cities," he said wistfully, "but_could you consider making your home in one?"
"A home is where the people you care for are," she told him, impossible joy beginning to bubble up inside her. "And if the people I care for live in a city_or the High King's Palace_then that is where my home will be. I think I will survive living in this one."