"I am sorry, but there was no time."
"I will forgive you for that, perhaps, but never for keeping the news about Nessa from me." Talisen's face, for once, was grave. "I wondered why I had not seen you for some days. I would have come out to you, but Farmer Whicklow was working me from dawn to dark, paying him back for his missing pig, which of course had nothing to do with me. But is it true? Has Nessa really disappeared from Temair?"
"Yes. I am going there to find her, if I can." While he spoke, Collun rummaged in his pack for the dagger his father had forged. When he found it, he resolutely fastened the sheath to his belt.
"That's the stone that was in the handle of your trine," Talisen said, eyebrows raised. "Is your trine now a dagger?"
Collun nodded.
"You expect danger?"
"Yes."
"Then I am glad I have come prepared." Talisen drew a blade from the sheath at his own hip.
Collun shook his head. "No. You are not coming with me, Talisen."
"Of course I am."
"This is no tale out of one of your old songs. The danger is real."
"Then all the more reason. Besides, Collun, you will need a bard along to chronicle your adventures."
Talisen began to pull the harp from his back, but as he did so another bundle fell to the ground with a dull thud.
"What is that?" asked Collun, momentarily distracted.
"This? Why, it is Farmer Whicklow's biggest and fattest goose, of course."
Collun shook his head in dismay. "You will spend the rest of your days repaying your debt to Farmer Whicklow."
"Spend the rest of my days working for big-bellied, tightfisted Farmer Whicklow?" Talisen threw back his head and laughed. "You know this is what I have been waiting for, Collun: a reason to leave Inkberrow for good!"
They found a place to sleep under a stand of alder trees. Collun kindled a fire using the teine stone he always carried with him, while Talisen plucked and cleaned the goose. They built a makeshift spit and soon the fowl was giving off a delicious aroma as it sizzled over the fire.
Later, when their stomachs were full, Talisen let out a contented burp and reached for his harp.
"How shall we begin the tale?" Talisen mused. "'The Lay of Collun and Talisen on the Road to Temair'? No, something more poetic. It will come to me. These are early days yet." His fingers began to weave a melody from the strings. Collun recognized it as one of his friend's favorites, about the bard Amergin and the gemstone called Cailceadon Lir that he used to save Eirren from the evil wizard Cruachan.
Talisen sang, and Collun listened sleepily to the familiar words, pulling his cloak close around him.
The haunting final note hung in the air for several moments, then was fractured by the harsh call of a bird. Collun shivered slightly, remembering the scald-crow. He looked over at Talisen, who had not noticed the sound. He was already beginning a new song, his fingers nimble on the harp strings despite the coolness of the night air. Collun was suddenly very glad Talisen had joined him.
FOUR
Scald-crow
Collun woke early, his body stiff from sleeping on the ground. He rekindled the fire. The sky was overcast and the air damp.
When Talisen awoke he gave a loud groan. "My feet hurt, my back hurts, my neck hurts, and I hardly slept a wink." He pulled off his boots and displayed three angry blisters for Collun's sympathy.
"It will only get worse," Collun said, rummaging in his wallet of herbs. He handed Talisen several beech leaves to press against the blisters. "We're at least four weeks from Temair, probably more if we meet bad weather, as I have no doubt we will."
Talisen gave a sudden grin and stuffed his feet back into his boots. "You'll not be getting rid of me that easily. If I have to crawl on my stomach through the gates of Temair, I shall. Temair ... Just think of it, Collun. We shall see the royal dun itself!" He paused, then added with a wink, "I shall no doubt be the queen's favorite bard in no time at all."
"No doubt," Collun replied with a smile. In Inkberrow Talisen was much admired for his musical skill. But Collun had heard that to be a true bard in Eirren one must have the skill for making songs as well as playing them. He knew Talisen had not yet been able to master the art of making songs. He acted as if it did not matter to him, but Collun knew it did.
"So," Talisen said, breaking into Collun's thoughts, "what delicacies have we for breakfast? A little goose flesh, perhaps?"
They supplemented the fowl with small pieces of cheese and bread, and, heating a panful of water from a nearby stream, Collun brewed some chicory tea to wash it all down. After they had eaten, they wrapped the rest of the goose in leaves.
Just as they were about to set out, Collun felt a rush of air on his face. A black shape swept by within inches of his nose. It circled once then settled on the ground a short distance away.
Another scald-crow. Or perhaps it was the one he had seen before. Collun wasn't sure. He could see its eyes this time; they were the color of fresh blood.
The bird appeared to be looking at him, its head cocked to one side. Then it began to move. It took a few steps to the side, flapped its wings, took a few more steps, and then flapped its wings again. It moved in a circle around them, performing a kind of hopping dance.
Talisen had not noticed the bird. Collun laid a hand on his shoulder and pointed, feeling he should not speak aloud.
"What is it?" Talisen's voice broke the eerie quiet. "What's that bird doing? Must be after our food ... Shoo! Go away!" He waved his hands at the scald-crow.
Collun clutched Talisen's shoulder tightly. "Stop," he whispered. "Something is wrong."
"What? You mean it's injured?"
"No. There is ... danger. I'm sure of it."
Talisen laughed. "You're in a state, aren't you? It's just a bird. Here, go away, nasty bird." He picked up a charred stick from the campfire and threw it at the scald-crow.
The crow stepped aside easily. Then it turned, trained its eyes on them, and began flapping its wings with a steadily increasing tempo. Suddenly it was airborne and heading straight for Talisen's face.
Collun's blood went cold, but he somehow managed to jerk his shoulders forward in a clumsy thrust, knocking Talisen off balance and toppling him to his knees. The crow sliced by, missing Talisen. But its feathers brushed Collun's forehead as it passed, leaving a line of bitter cold where they touched. Collun rubbed his forehead and watched, dazed and frightened, as the scald-crow sped off, heading north toward Temair.
Talisen heaved himself to his feet, grumbling and brushing himself off.
"Clumsy oaf. What's gotten into you?"
Collun did not reply. His fingers tried to rub some heat back into the numb spot where the scald-crow's feathers had touched him.
"What's wrong? Did it scratch you? I don't see anything." Talisen peered at Collun's forehead.
"Its feathers. They've made my forehead numb."
"What? How could a bird's feathers do that? You're imagining things."
"No, Talisen." Collun's voice shook slightly. "There is something happening ... something I do not understand."
"What are you talking about?"
And so Collun told Talisen about the kesil and about Emer's warning. When he finished, Collun dropped his hand from his forehead. The rubbing had not helped. It still ached with cold.
Talisen was silent for a moment. "Well, there's nothing I like better than a mystery. It's like a riddle, and you know how good I am at riddles," he said with enthusiasm. "If you wish, I will also be careful not to speak of Emer. I wonder why, though," he added with a speculative look.
Collun nodded absently, looking off across the land that lay to the north. "I have decided to go on that way, away from the high road"—he pointed in the direction he was gazing—"as the kesil suggested." Then he looked straight at Talisen, adding, "And I will go alone."