The Singing Read Free Page B

probably think you're a Hull, said Maerad. You should stop wearing black...
    At that moment, another blast of White Fire flashed above them. It followed the last almost at once; their conversation had flashed between them as swiftly as thought itself.
    The White Fire had broken the Bard's cloaking charm, and now Maerad could sense exactly where their attacker was. He was a few spans from them, just outside the copse; he was definitely a man, and definitely a Bard, and alone. But there was something wrong, all the same: even Maerad's muffled Bardic instincts could tell that there was something amiss in his magery
    Can he harm us? she asked, as another bolt of White Fire flashed over their heads.
    I don't believe so. Though he may be holding something in reserve.
    Shield me, said Maerad. Perhaps I can overpower him without hurting him.
    Cadvan nodded, and as he cast a shield of magery to protect her, she felt the prickle of it in her skin. Then he lifted his hand and sent a blast of White Flame over the Bard's head to distract him, as Maerad began to move noiselessly out of the trees, circling behind their attacker so she could stalk him. Before long she was behind him, readying herself to pounce: his silhouette jumped out briefly, black against another flash of White Fire. She felt her puzzlement deepen as she watched him. He reminded her of nothing so much as a boy throwing stones at a tree, and his attack was about as effective. It made no sense at all.
    She mindtouched Cadvan to warn him that she was about to attack, readied herself, and then leaped upon the Bard's back, knocking him to the ground and winding him. Falling without even a cry, he was taken so completely by surprise that he could do nothing to defend himself. He lay struggling for breath beneath Maerad's weight as she pinned him to the ground.
    Within moments Cadvan had joined Maerad. He froze the Bard with a charm, rendering him utterly unable to move or to work magery. Maerad lifted her paws from his shoulders and sat on her haunches nearby. Now that there was no danger, she was overwhelmed with curiosity.
    Cadvan waited until the Bard had stopped gasping, and then roughly sat him up and loosened the charm so he could speak, setting a small magelight before his face for illumination. It was difficult to tell how old he was, even given the difficulty of estimating any Bard's age. He looked like a man in his late fifties, but he was skeletally thin and his face was so seamed with suffering it made any guess impossible: he might have been much younger. He had a grotesque tic, so that he seemed to be always grimacing, and his flesh shone white through the rents in his filthy clothes. Although he must have known it was no use, he struggled violently against the freezing charm.
    Maerad looked once into his eyes, and then turned her head away, battling an overwhelming animal panic. He's mad, she said to Cadvan.
    Cadvan said nothing. He seemed to be bracing himself.
    "It is no use trying any magery against us," he said to the Bard. Although he spoke harshly, Maerad could hear the pity in his voice. "And I don't recommend it."
    The man stopped struggling and met Cadvan's gaze. His eyes glittered with hatred.
    "Kill me, then," he said, and spat.
    "I do not wish to kill you," said Cadvan. "That's the last thing I want to do."
    "Then, I will kill you." The Bard's face twisted. "Get your monstrous beast to tear me to pieces. I will kill you if you do not kill me. So kill me."
    "I don't want to kill you," said Cadvan again. "And you can't kill me." He paused. "What is your name?"
    The Bard cackled, and Maerad jumped. It was a horrible sound, an expression of such despair that she went cold.
    "Name? You ask my name? I don't have any name. What's yours, you spawn of the Dark? I know that such as you have no name either, so why do you ask me?"
    "I have a name," said Cadvan. "And so do you." A halo of starlight began to bloom gently about Cadvan's form, and he leaned forward