The Singer's Crown Read Free Page B

but it is good to speak with folk of nearer my own country. I, too, crossed the sea many years ago, and feared I would lose the language.” The man’s hair was steely gray, and he spoke with a strange accent, stumbling over words he had not spoken in a long time. He limped past them into the room. “Let us lay out your meal.” A pair of dark men followed him in, laden with trays, which they placed on a low table by the far corner.
    â€œWe have only two stools,” Jordan pointed out. “Perhaps one can be brought in.”
    The servant shook his head. “I am well used to the floor.” He winced with some old discomfort as he made to seat himself there, but Jordan caught his elbow.
    â€œYou should not stoop for us, father. Take my chair.”
    â€œI cannot. I am but a slave here, and you the visitor.”
    â€œI am a slave to the Lady, who bids us give whatever aid we may, no matter how small it seems. If you do not take my chair, it shall go empty.”
    â€œMay you serve your Lady long,” the old man said, and accepted the seat.
    When they were comfortable Jordan began to eat from the fruits and breads laid before them. In deference to his throat, Kattanan accepted only a cup of minted water, gesturing for the old man to begin his tale. As he spoke, the man broke off now and again to quote the foreign words so his listeners could follow the story through the song.
    â€œThis happened on the eve of the Lady’s Second Walking, after She first slept, but before the great wars awakened Her again. She has another name here, and another language, but I feel certain She is the Lady. There was a race of tall and angry men who lived upon an island but had already grown too numerous for it. Some of the men made a great boat in which to find a new land. After a great storm, when they had sailed many days, they saw a bright green place before them, a place of deep forest and bright rivers flowing to the sea, but a wind blew from it so mightily they could not approach it. They argued about what should be done: some thought they should go on and find an easier shore, but many were weary of their wandering. At last one of them leapt from the ship and swam to shore, where he lay down upon warm sand in such peace that one by one, they all leapt after him. The steersman struggled to master the wheel and keep the boat close to make the swim easier for his fellows. They wind grew stronger at every moment. The steersman fought with great strength and called for help to make fast the wheel, but they were afraid and did not heed him. Soon they had all gone, and he had but to loose the wheel and leap. Even as he did so, the wind blew most cruelly, and the wheel was wrested from his grasp. He was cast flat, and could not rise until the isle was far behind. So, at times of trouble, it is said the lone sailor can be seen, still struggling against the wind to find that little paradise.”
    Kattanan frowned. “A curious story. Why should it be one of the emir’s favorite songs?”
    At this, the old man smiled faintly. “The emir likes to say he is that sailor, holding the ship to the wind so that all others may reach the shore.”
    â€œHas he sacrificed so much for his people?”
    â€œFor every thing he gives up, he receives back tenfold. The emir is a shrewd man.”
    â€œI can’t say I look forward to meeting him,” Jordan put in. “Do you know what arrangement is made between the emir and the wizard?”
    The servant leaned forward, glancing to be sure no others were near enough to listen. “It involves a very ancient text of the black arts. He has said he may grant this wizard one day with the book in exchange for yourself. I had thought he would not let even the Liren-sha lay eyes upon it.”
    â€œThe what?” Kattanan asked. Jordan shot him a fierce glance.
    â€œThe Liren-sha, the man born who is death to magic.”
    â€œI wish he were