The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [79]
"Home!" Laera snorted. "Home to let my father lock me in my room?" She stood up. "He would, you know. He'd lock me up and not let me out until I was married to some ugly merchant from Impiltur or Thesk. He probably wouldn't even let me out for the wedding-he'd bring a priest to the house to hear my vows through a locked door!"
Veseene laughed. Laera glared at her. "He would!" she insisted.
"From what I've heard about him from Tycho, I don't doubt it." Veseene wiped her eyes. She shifted her legs and patted the couch. Laera sat down beside her. "Why a bard, Laera?" she asked.
Laera sighed. "Wandering from city to city, needing nothing more than an instrument, a sharp blade, and a sharper wit, living off stories, songs, and secrets… " She smiled. "I read a book once that told the deeds of the Harpers-fighting evil and defending the weak then vanishing like music in the night." She crooked her head to look at Veseene. "Have you ever known any Harp-".
"No," said Veseene in a tone that was both quick and sharp. "I haven't. Did your book point out that Harpers are also meddlers? Thanks to them, there are places all through the north and west that would welcome an honest night's entertainment, but never see it because anyone who wanders in singing so much as a note is immediately clapped in irons by the local authorities, kept overnight, then run out of town in the morning." She crossed her arms. "Lliira's song, Laera, Tycho said you had been reading too many romances and listening to ballads, but have you ever really thought about what life on the road is like? You can make your way with a song and a smile, but it's brutally hard and a sharp wit can be as much trouble as a sword. Ask Tycho about that! A bard's life might sometimes be more exciting than life as a dutiful daughter or a merchant's wife, but it's seldom any easier and there's very little romantic about it!"
Tears welled up in Laera's eyes and no matter how rapidly she blinked, they wouldn't go away. Veseene turned wet and blurry. Laera wiped the back of a hand across her face. "Veseene! I thought you were on my side!"
"I'm on the side that doesn't want to see you make a stupid decision, Laera." The old woman put a trembling, feather-light arm around her and held her close. "I wouldn't trade my life for any other. I love performing. I love the people I've met and the places-all of them- I've been. I love the magic that I found along the way. But a bard's life can be ugly and confusing. You saw just a little bit of that last night." Her hand stroked Laera's hair. "Forget Tycho. Forget your father. Forget me. You need to ask yourself one thing: if you could somehow turn back the hours to yesterday afternoon, would you leave your father's house again?"
Laera gulped and stared in silence at the fire. Veseene continued to hold her and stroke her hair. After a little while, she began to speak.
"A good many years ago," she said, "not too long before I came to Spandeliyon for the first time and met Tycho in fact, I was in Two Stars, about as far east in Thesk as you can go before you're in Rashemen. Now, Two Stars was then and is now ruled by a family called Gallidy. While I was there, I made the acquaintance of a younger son of the Gallidys and he invited me to stay in his family's castle-",
"A castle and a prince?" Laera couldn't hold back a smile. "I thought you said a bard's life wasn't easy or romantic?"
Veseene only gave her a disapproving glance. "He invited me to stay in his family's castle, which is positioned precisely astride the crossroads of the Golden Way leading east and west and the Cold Road leading north and south. I wasn't the only guest in the castle, of course. There was also a Red Wizard of Thay, a group of elves, and, most important, a party of Nars, the rough folk who dwell at the north end of the Cold Road. As it happened, there