Dragons of the Valley - Donita K. Paul [100]
“Be glad to.” Thur sat and took the offered bowl and spoon. “There’s some old history in my songs, but the most interesting tune is of the new prince who showed up out of nowhere, the three magic statues, and two wizards—one from Chiril and one from Amara.”
“Amara?” Ephen cast Avid an incredulous look. “You don’t say? Isn’t that clear on the other side of the world?”
“It’s an interesting tale. Let this good soup warm my stomach, and I’ll sing you the news of today as well as yesterday.”
Beccaroon narrowed his eyes. Four men still in the bushes. Three men comfortable around the fire. The minstrel too willing to share information with men who were, more than probably, the enemy. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
39
Secret Revealed
Sir Beccaroon weighed his options. He’d already been perched when these ne’er-do-wells settled in. Any movement he made might attract the attention of the four thugs in the bushes.
They had bows and arrows at the ready, and he didn’t feel like imitating a pincushion. He could probably fly at a sharp incline away from the camp and be out of range before they spotted him. If he flew to his right, his escape would be covered by tall trees. That would be favorable for him but not much help to the minstrel who’d walked into the trap.
What exactly did they figure to gain by ambushing the traveler? The road, as one of the major links to Ragar and Growder, carried significant traffic. Perhaps they expected to detain an important official or sneak into the capital by joining a group of innocent citizens.
The sound of a drummerbug came from below, then echoed from the other side of the clearing. It blended in nicely with other night calls from insects and birds, but Beccaroon knew it was man-made. He watched the men in the bushes. Three of them settled down as if to sleep. Around the campfire, the men ate.
Irked that he couldn’t figure out their plan, the parrot decided to wait. He wouldn’t leave before he determined their intent, and he wouldn’t leave while he might have the chance to snatch this foolish old minstrel from some underhanded scheme.
He continued to puzzle over the situation. Could these men have hoped to waylay someone of more importance? Would the traveling musician inform these scoundrels about something of consequence with his songs?
After the meal and several drinks from a small keg, the minstrel took out his lute and strummed a few chords. The man had talent. The men pressed for the ballads relaying recent events, and the minstrel obliged. Sir Beccaroon would have preferred the older ballads, but whenever Thur moved to play an older tune, the men objected.
“It’s not going to help us be a part of your citizenry if all we know is of long-ago battles and wooing between royal-type people,” said Ephen. “Give us more of what the folks are talking about now.”
“Aye,” said Avid. “Tell me something I can brag about knowing and impress a lady or two with my great knowledge of the world.”
They all laughed, and Thur began plucking a tune Sir Beccaroon did not know. The minstrel dived into the lyrics with enthusiasm, telling of three statues carved from one stone. The sculptor intended the figures to be placed in a circle. Great magic stirred from the center of the silent dance, and the world could come apart at their parting.
The second and third verses told that villains knew of the trick of turning each figure to dance in the opposite direction. This opened a door to evil lands. Then good men from afar came to rescue Chiril by foiling the two treacherous leaders of conquering armies. Now the stones were safe in the king’s castle.
In the next song, the old minstrel sang of a man who reached into the mind of the immortal and told tales of gaining favor with the “Forever Ruler.” This mortal man had been a prince with no kingdom, a dragonkeeper of a valley of dragons, and became the paladin, champion of the people and giver of truth.
When he finished, Avid asked, “This is like Boscamon, right? A god that controls things?”