his way through the last bit of dog willow. "Are you okay?"
Benedikt shook his head and then protested he was fine when he saw the concern on the older bard's face. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"
"I didn't want to interrupt. It's a great piece, Benedikt. Did you just write it?"
He bent and carefully laid his quintara in the instrument case. "Why?"
"Because it sounds like a brook dancing down the mountainside, and there isn't anyone else who can interpret water like you do."
"Oh." Pleased, he straightened and nodded. "I finished it last night."
"Could you teach it to me?"
It hadn't been his for very long, but there wasn't a graceful way to refuse such a normal bardic request. "Sure." He bent back toward the instrument case.
Pjazef stopped him with a touch on his arm. "Not now. I have news." Brushing a bit of forest flotsam from the sleeve of his jacket, he grinned at Benedikt's expression and continued. "I have a message from the queen. Well, actually, it's from Evicka since she Sang it, but…"
"Pjazef!" Benedikt was not in the mood for a lengthy monologue of bardic gossip. He had a message from the queen. The queen.
"Right. You're to cut your Walk short by swinging around this side of Ohrid's border and cutting back through Vidor to arrive in Elbasan no later than the dark of the second moon."
"First Quarter?"
"First Quarter."
That was, indeed, cutting his Walk short. "Why?"
Pjazef spread his hands. "It seems you're going on a voyage."
"Me?" The queen wanted him. Benedikt felt a rush of joy so great that he couldn't contain it. Giving a great shout of laughter, he grabbed Pjazef around the waist and hoisted him up into the air.
The older bard laughed as well. "So you're happy about this?"
"Happy? Are you kidding? Out of all the bards in Shkoder, the queen has chosen me!"
As Pjazef's feet hit the forest floor, russet brows dipped down momentarily. That hadn't quite been the gist of Evicka's message.
Chapter Three
« ^ »
"THERE she is, Majesty, the Starfarer"
Jelena stared up at the ship, gaze sweeping along the curved side, out the bow, and alighting momentarily on each of the three masts. "She looks so bare."
"She'll look less bare once we've got her yards and sheets up," the master of the Elbasan shipyards told her reassuringly. "We're concerned right now about making her watertight, and we can't know that for certain unless she's in the water."
"She's not very…" Otavas paused but was unable to think of a tactful finish. "She's not very big."
"No, Highness, she's not," the master shipwright agreed. "Including her castles, she's only seventy-three feet long. The castles are those bits that rise above the main deck," he added, when both queen and consort turned confused expressions toward him. "She's got a twenty-one-inch beam over all and an air draft of seventy-one feet including her topsail. But she'll carry 2,360 square feet of sail when she's fully rigged, and you won't find a better bark in these yards."
Head swimming with nautical terms he barely understood, Otavas glanced down at Jelena. Although he suspected she understood no more of the description than he did, she was staring at the Starfarer with shining eyes, one hand stretched out as though to close the distance between them. He quickly suppressed a disquieting hint of jealousy, reminding himself that this visit had been his idea.
"I think she's beautiful."
"Thank you, Majesty." The master shipwright beamed proudly up at the hull, one scarred hand holding blowing hair back off his face. "I think so, too."
"So you've decided on a captain?"
"Lija i' Ales a'Berngards."
Otavas rested a thigh on the corner of the queen's desk and leaned across it until he could read the papers spread in front of her. "The merchant captain?"
Jelena studied his profile, a little confused by the
Benedikt shook his head and then protested he was fine when he saw the concern on the older bard's face. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"
"I didn't want to interrupt. It's a great piece, Benedikt. Did you just write it?"
He bent and carefully laid his quintara in the instrument case. "Why?"
"Because it sounds like a brook dancing down the mountainside, and there isn't anyone else who can interpret water like you do."
"Oh." Pleased, he straightened and nodded. "I finished it last night."
"Could you teach it to me?"
It hadn't been his for very long, but there wasn't a graceful way to refuse such a normal bardic request. "Sure." He bent back toward the instrument case.
Pjazef stopped him with a touch on his arm. "Not now. I have news." Brushing a bit of forest flotsam from the sleeve of his jacket, he grinned at Benedikt's expression and continued. "I have a message from the queen. Well, actually, it's from Evicka since she Sang it, but…"
"Pjazef!" Benedikt was not in the mood for a lengthy monologue of bardic gossip. He had a message from the queen. The queen.
"Right. You're to cut your Walk short by swinging around this side of Ohrid's border and cutting back through Vidor to arrive in Elbasan no later than the dark of the second moon."
"First Quarter?"
"First Quarter."
That was, indeed, cutting his Walk short. "Why?"
Pjazef spread his hands. "It seems you're going on a voyage."
"Me?" The queen wanted him. Benedikt felt a rush of joy so great that he couldn't contain it. Giving a great shout of laughter, he grabbed Pjazef around the waist and hoisted him up into the air.
The older bard laughed as well. "So you're happy about this?"
"Happy? Are you kidding? Out of all the bards in Shkoder, the queen has chosen me!"
As Pjazef's feet hit the forest floor, russet brows dipped down momentarily. That hadn't quite been the gist of Evicka's message.
Chapter Three
« ^ »
"THERE she is, Majesty, the Starfarer"
Jelena stared up at the ship, gaze sweeping along the curved side, out the bow, and alighting momentarily on each of the three masts. "She looks so bare."
"She'll look less bare once we've got her yards and sheets up," the master of the Elbasan shipyards told her reassuringly. "We're concerned right now about making her watertight, and we can't know that for certain unless she's in the water."
"She's not very…" Otavas paused but was unable to think of a tactful finish. "She's not very big."
"No, Highness, she's not," the master shipwright agreed. "Including her castles, she's only seventy-three feet long. The castles are those bits that rise above the main deck," he added, when both queen and consort turned confused expressions toward him. "She's got a twenty-one-inch beam over all and an air draft of seventy-one feet including her topsail. But she'll carry 2,360 square feet of sail when she's fully rigged, and you won't find a better bark in these yards."
Head swimming with nautical terms he barely understood, Otavas glanced down at Jelena. Although he suspected she understood no more of the description than he did, she was staring at the Starfarer with shining eyes, one hand stretched out as though to close the distance between them. He quickly suppressed a disquieting hint of jealousy, reminding himself that this visit had been his idea.
"I think she's beautiful."
"Thank you, Majesty." The master shipwright beamed proudly up at the hull, one scarred hand holding blowing hair back off his face. "I think so, too."
"So you've decided on a captain?"
"Lija i' Ales a'Berngards."
Otavas rested a thigh on the corner of the queen's desk and leaned across it until he could read the papers spread in front of her. "The merchant captain?"
Jelena studied his profile, a little confused by the
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