Song of the Saurials - Kate Novak [11]
Mourngrym smiled. "Well, they got that part right," he teased.
Scotty reached out and grabbed a lock of Alias's shiny red hair. The swordswoman picked the child up off the table and helped him stand on her thighs. Scotty bounced up and down, chortling with delight.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," Alias said quietly. "What will Nameless think?"
"Alias, it wasn't a bad song," Mourngrym argued. "Just, um… different."
Alias lowered her eyes guiltily. "I was upset that the Harpers wouldn't let me see Nameless, but to tell the truth, I was a little relieved, too. I'm afraid the next time he asks me to sing for him, I'll change the song, and he'll be upset. He doesn't like the least little change in his songs."
"Alias," Mourngrym replied, "you can't spend the rest of your life doing everything exactly the way Nameless wants you to. You have to live your own life."
"I know that," Alias said unhappily, "but I don't want to disappoint him by ruining his songs. If I was improving them, I could argue with him about it, but I'm only making the songs ugly and grotesque."
Despite her claim to the contrary, his lordship didn't believe Alias understood his advice. The bard's enchantment of her went deeper than any magic. She loved Nameless, and she sang to please him. Trying to reassure her, Mourngrym said,
"Sometimes we need frightening songs, whether we like them or not. They remind us what we stand for or against and give us the incentive to take action."
"But I don't know even know what these new songs are about, even though they're coming out of my own head," Alias objected. "How am I supposed to take action?
Against what?"
Mourngrym had no answer. These were questions for sharper minds than his own.
"Have you discussed any of this with Elminster?" he asked.
Alias shook her head. "I don't want to bother him until he's finished helping Nameless."
Mourngrym shook his head. Alias was losing control of her voice, something that obviously frightened her, but she was more concerned about Nameless's plight.
His lordship wanted to tell Alias to forget Nameless for once, but he knew the sell-sword would not heed his words.
Dragonbait chirped and pointed toward the doorway. Alias turned to see a group of travelers entering the inn. There were a dozen or more of them, pulling off their rain-drenched cloaks and shouting requests for drinks and food and rooms to the inn's staff. From their clothing, Alias guessed they were merchants and caravan guards from Cormyr. One man, however, had to be from much farther south.
His skin was the dusky hue of a southerner. He wore silken red-and-white-striped robes, and a golden cord banded his curly brown hair. He stood taller than the other merchants and many of the guards.
"It can't be," Alias muttered. She craned her neck impatiently until the man turned around. In the manner of a Turmishman, he sported a square beard, and to indicate he was married, he wore a blue sapphire in his earlobe. The three blue dots on his forehead indicated he was a scholar of reading, magic, and religion.
But these things hardly registered on Alias now. It was the familiarity of the man's face that excited her. "It's him!" she gasped. "Dragonbait, it's Akabar!
He's come back to us!"
Alias rose to her feet, thrusting Scotty back at his surprised father, and ran to the door of the inn, crying out the Turmishman's name.
A few heads swiveled to see who the swordswoman was calling to, but most of the inn's occupants kept their attention on Han's songhorn music and the dancers on the floor.
Akabar Bel Akash held his arms out to greet the sell-sword in a traditional handclasp, but Alias threw herself into his arms and embraced him like a long-lost brother. From where he sat, Mourngrym could tell from the look of surprise on the Turmishman's face that Akabar hadn't expected quite so warm a reception