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"We'll leave you for now," T'fyrr said gravely, his voice giving no hint of anything but
weariness and concern for Harperus. "Don't overwork Nob, Old Owl."
Harperus smiled, winked, and waved them both off, then turned to Nob with
instructions for drawing him a bath. T'fyrr took Nightingale's hand in his own, and the two
of them left the suite together.
He didn't seem inclined to drop her hand when they entered the hall, and she didn't
withdraw hers. In spite of worry, the reminders of yesterdays attack in the form of
distant aches, and the deeply lurking fear the attack on Harperus had left with her, she
was happier than she had been since she was a child.
In fact, the only other time she recalled being this happy was when she had first
learned to invoke the Bardic Magic. That was oh, too many weary years ago, when
the world was all new and shining, all music was a delight, and every day brought only
new adventures. The world is new again, all music is pleasure, and there are more
possibilities in each new day than I can count....
She knew what she was doing
Oh, do I?
Well, she knew what she was doing, but the consequences? Did she know that as well?
Could she even guess at the consequences?
They passed through the statue-lined hallways in silence and met no one. It was the
dinner hour; most of those who lived on this floor were in the Great Hall, dining in the
presence of the High King and his Advisors. Perhaps by now the word that Harperus had
identified another of his attackers had made its way to the Hall. Perhaps it had not. No
one would know until tomorrow that she had stayed in T'fyrr's suite.
But once again, she blushed. She did not want his name and hers in the mouths of
these idle courtiers, who would speculate and gossip maliciously just out of sheer
boredom. Some would use the gossip to further damage their cause with the High King.
Others would use it to create whatever damage they could elsewhere.
There were Church laws about the congress of humans and those who were
not based on Holy Writ forbidding the congress of humans and demons.
Only now was she recalling those strictures; only now that there was a moment of
leisure was she able to think of them. Her earlier embarrassment had probably been
because, in the back of her mind, she knew that there could be trouble over this.
Oh, it was just because I knew there would be gossip, hurtful gossip. And that
someone in this vast hulk would use that gossip to cause trouble for us.
"I doubt that anyone will believe that you and I are partnering," he murmured
quietly, for her ears alone. Once again, he had guessed what she was thinking from the
emotions her thoughts engendered. "Most of these folk hawk for game in the game
preserve, you know. Most have falcons and other raptors, and know something about
them. How do you tell a male raptor from a female?"
"By the size, usually," she replied vaguely, unable to guess what his meaning was.
Then it occurred to her, and she bit her lips to cover a giggle. "Oh oh, of course! You
can't tell a male from a female by sight, unless they have different feather-colorations.
They don't have what you have!"
"Precisely," T'fyrr said, dryly humorous. "Only Nob knows that I am not like a hawk
in that respect, and he will take that secret to his grave if I ask it of him. The rest assume
I am as externally sexless as a saints statue. I have heard as much, through Nob. He is
very good at listening and reporting what he has heard, and no one pays any attention to
the pages."
So, he had discovered that for himself, had he? It was an echo of her own observation,
that no one ever paid any attention to the children. Once again, their minds ran on
parallel tracks!
She squeezed his hand by way of reply, and he squeezed hers in return, just as they
reached the door of his suite which now also had a pair of the Royal Bodyguards
standing watch outside. T'fyrr bid them both a grave goodnight, and they returned his
salutation.
When they closed the door of the suite behind them and locked it, T'fyrr paused and
looked around the room. Someone had already been here, leaving the lamps lit and food in
covered dishes on the sideboard. That was probably standing orders, since he had
mentioned more than once that he was not welcome to dine in the Great Hall. She
wondered for a moment what he was frowning at, until she saw his eyes resting on each of
the "sculptures" in turn.
"Have you any idea how sensitive those are?" he asked her quietly. "Could they hear
into the next room, do you think?"
She had to shake her head. "I haven't a clue," she admitted.
"Well, then since I do not believe that Tyladen is entitled to any vestige of my private
life, and since I believe him to be as enthusiastic a voyeur as he is a coward, I think that
for one night there will be no listening." He took each of the "sculptures" in turn and
buried it under a pile of pillows and cushions thieved from the furniture.
"There," he said with satisfaction. "That should take care of that!"
He turned to her and held out his hand again. She took it, the dry, hard skin feeling
warmer than usual beneath her hand. "I would like a bath," he said. "Would you?"
She nodded, unable to actually say anything.
"I do warn you," he continued, "I look altogether miserable when wet. If your
romantic inclinations survive the sight of me with my feathers plastered to my skin, they
will survive anything."
She smiled, suddenly shy. "I suspect they will survive," she said in a low voice. "Yours
may not survive seeing me without a beautiful costume to make up for my otherwise "
He put a talon across her lips and led her into the bathroom, where they discovered
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