"As I was saying, friend, the price of a good meal and a bath at this place is far outweighed by the luxury and service provided."
Allister McGraven accentuated his point with a shudder and sigh of contentment as the washboy dumped another bucket of hot water into his tub. His companion, Ramus LeSteele, regarded the younger bard with an indulgent smile as he rose from his own tub and reached for his clothes.
"Aye McGraven, you've the right of it," he said, carefully buttoning his shirt and running a hand through his gray-streaked locks, made curly and unruly by the steamy air. "I've a mind to seek out that meal about now. Twas a pleasure meeting you, sir, and I hope to hear you sing this night."
"And so you shall, Ramus. I've no wish to tempt the coming storm, so I'll be staying the night for sure."
Allister waved a suds-covered hand as Ramus bowed politely and headed for the feasthall, leaving the younger bard to enjoy his bath. Clearing his throat dramatically, Allister launched into his latest bawdy balled, which-by no coincidence-was only suited for the inn's bathhouse.
"Send me all yon sultry wenches, send me all thy ladies fair," he drawled. "For I'm the man who'll-"
The rest was lost when, as if on cue, a dainty woman in dark-colored robes slipped silently from the shadows in the far corner of the room, her eyes dancing playfully as she regarded Allister. The young bard shut his mouth with an audible pop at the woman's open scrutiny.
"Green hair," he murmured softly as his gaze swept over the stranger closely. His face lit up with a smile of recognition. "Lady, if you wish to enjoy the baths this evening I'd be more than happy to help-"
He stopped and shut his mouth again as she drew a slender wand from the depths of her robes. Blue lightnings danced along its tip, casting eerie shadows on the bathhouse wall.
"L-Lady…" he tried again, his voice softer and with an edge of pleading.
The green-haired woman narrowed her lovely eyes and smiled coldly. She calmly leveled the wand and fired.
* * *
The streets of Cienna, usually crowded and bustling with merchants and visitors at midday, had been cleared and sealed off around Tholan's Inn and Festhall. Murders were not unheard of in the city, but the rather violent murder of Allister McGraven,-a bard of no small talent-within the walls of the usually jovial festhall had caused an uproar throughout the city and drawn out the entire city guard to investigate.
Ramus LeSteele leaned against the wall of the bathhouse and sighed, wondering again what he was still doing here. The impending storm seemed to have been stalled, and with a bit of luck he knew he could have made Thelonia by nightfall. He stood straight as the watchcaptain approached, turning over a small wand in his hands. Its tip was scorched and black from the force of the expended magic.
"Pretty much useless now," he muttered more to himself than to Ramus. "Probably wouldn't have done the job at all if he hadn't been…" he coughed uncomfortably.
Ramus reached out and carefully took the wand from his hand, pointing to two sets of runes scrawled along the shaft. "Two spells," he said grimly. "Whoever it was wanted to be certain there'd be no mistakes."
The watchcaptain sighed and regarded the bard directly. "Thank you for staying, Steele," he said sincerely, "We can use all the help you can give in this matter."
"You know I haven't run with the watch in years, Grayson, not since before I became a bard. Why summon me for this?"
Grayson smiled ruefully. "Because this situation's become more delicate than you can imagine, Steele. Come now, you know as well as I, you can't murder a bard of McGraven's popularity in Cienna without attracting the Academy's attention."
Ramus sighed. "I was afraid you'd say something like that."
The Aurora Academy was without a doubt the jewel of the city of Cienna and of the larger kingdom. The towering structure dominated the valley beyond the main city, serving as a haven and a school for bards and all the arts in general. Centuries old, the Academy boasted having brought forth some of the finest musicians and talespinners ever known. Such a boon to Cienna's economy and prestige entitled the school's elders to several seats on the city's ruling council and a large stake in the politics of the kingdom. Ramus was a graduate of the Academy himself and knew all too well the far-reaching interests and manipulations of the elders.
"Several higher-ups at the school named you as the one to personally oversee this investigation," the watchcaptain went on, as if sensing Ramus's thoughts. "You do have certain connections at the Academy and experience in dealing with the matters of the guard. And…there's more, Steele. We need this handled with a no small amount of discretion."
"Why?" Ramus asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
"One of the washboys got a good look at the murderer before she disappeared," Grayson explained.
"And?" Ramus prompted.
The watchcaptain met Ramus's gaze squarely. "Ayuria," he said grimly.
"You can't be serious," the bard said, disbelief etched upon his aging features.
"He described her perfectly, right down to the green hair and the odd tongue she spoke to activate the wand…just as you once described to me, Steele," Grayson insisted.
Ramus swore softly and nodded his assent. To most, the Ayuria were little more than legend, part of the myth and mystery that shrouded Cienna's forest, the Singing Spires, where the creatures were said to make their homes. The people of Cienna, including the Aurora Academy, held the Spires in a regard that bordered on reverence. Wood taken with meticulous care from the young trees of the forest could be shaped into the finest-sounding instruments in the kingdom and beyond. Common legend held that the forest and its trees were blessed centuries past by the voice of the Goddess Laertha, patron of music and art, when she sang her songs in its depths. This gift, along with the establishment of the Academy, was said to have brought Cienna out of economic ruin to the heights of prosperity it enjoyed at present.
The forest-dwelling Ayuria were whispered to be favored servants of the Goddess and therefore protected in the deepest part of the Spires. Green-haired and exotic but otherwise very humanlike in appearance, they spoke in a light, trilling language, much like the sound of birdsong. Very few humans knew of these traits; Ramus was one of these few, as Grayson well knew.
"You see now why the Academy insisted this be handled quickly and quietly."
"And why they chose me." Ramus nodded slowly. "It makes no sense though, Grayson. It must have been someone impersonating one of the creatures somehow, a carefully crafted illusion."
"I should think so," Grayson agreed. "Wizards are seldom enough seen in Cienna, but I'd sooner believe that the fellow was slain by one of their kind than an Ayuria. The young bard was well-liked, but he was only one man, and I'd wager it'd take quite a lot more than one bard to make the Ayuria venture out of the Spires."
"He was indeed a likeable fellow. Hard to imagine him having any enemies." Ramus sighed, his thoughts a jumble. "I don't know where to begin."
"Oh, I think you do, Steele. And you're right, it's the most obvious place, by my way of thinking," Grayson replied, casting his friend a sympathetic smile.
The aging bard sighed tiredly, feeling suddenly very old.
* * *
The main complex of the Aurora Academy sprawled itself in all its decadence across the wide valley before Ramus. The four-story stone building was flanked on either side by twin towers, each engraved with a unique mosaic of the Goddess Laertha and her court of musicians and dancers. In the distance, Ramus glimpsed the outline of the huge outdoor amphitheater where the school's musical performances were held each season. Though far removed from the main complex and its outbuildings, the magically enhanced walls of the theater allowed soft strains of music to drift across the valley to reach Ramus's ears.
At a nod from one of the door guards, Ramus entered the main foyer, where a servant waited and led him to an anteroom containing a sofa and several chairs. A wizened old man sat in one of the chairs, bundled in the soft gray robes often worn by the Academy elders. He beckoned Ramus to a seat with a shaky hand, but his eyes were clear and uncomfortably sharp as he regarded the bard.
"You've been too long away from Aurora, boy. 'Tis indeed a pity that such gruesome circumstances must bring you back to us for a visit," he said, his tone carefully neutral, which did little to dispel Ramus's uneasiness.
He sat stiffly on one of the ornate chairs and cleared his throat, his pride still stinging a bit at being called "boy," even by the ancient teacher. "Then you are aware of the reason for my coming, Master Falton?" he asked, careful to remain polite and respectful.
"Allister McCraven was a worthy singer," the elder replied. "To lose one so young and with such raw talent…such a terrible waste."
"I was told that he had been a student of yours for several years, Master. Can you tell me what his studies were during that time?"
"He had interests in all aspects of bardcraft, though his true talent lay in his voice, always his voice. Did you ever have occasion to hear the lad sing, Ramus?" he asked.
"Regrettably, I never had the opportunity, Master," the bard replied.
"Most unfortunate," Falton said, shaking his head sadly. "But as I was saying, his interests lay in all areas of the bardic arts; he was such a curious lad. Unfortunately, that curiosity was often tempered by great impatience. It is always so with the young, but Allister was especially difficult to teach, always seeking the quickest solution to a problem rather than the best one." He sighed. "Despite what his reputation in the city might suggest, you should know that Allister was not one of the more promising students at the Academy and certainly not a favorite among the instructors."
Ramus raised a curious eyebrow at this bit of insight.
Falton chuckled, a dry, rough sound that ended in a slight cough. "Allister had one of the purest voices I have ever encountered, and I have trained many such artists in my years here. He could easily have become a legend, but unfortunately, he was bereft of the skills and patience necessary to create music to compliment his voice." Falton sighed in frustration. "Allister could sing any song I presented to him with a level of skill I could never have hoped to attain in my youth. However, and forgive me for speaking ill of him now, he was largely a fool, and I knew he could never learn to compose such songs for himself. He left the school half-trained, incomplete by our standards."
Ramus nodded, concealing a grimace. The Academy's "standards" often exceeded the abilities of even the most promising students who entered into study there. Such had been the case when he had enrolled, and he doubted things had changed much during Allister's time. "By the standards of the kingdom, his songs were worth hearing, and, from what I've seen, will be well preserved in his honor," he said, carefully gauging Falton's reaction.
"A tragic irony, by my way of thinking," the elder replied, ignoring the hint of challenge in the younger bard's voice. "The very thing that destroyed Allister will be all that remains to preserve his memory."
"What do you mean, Master?" Ramus asked. "You believe that Allister's popularity may have been a factor in his murder?"
Falton snorted derisively. "Allister could never have become so popular on his own, nor could he ever have composed the songs that made his name known throughout the kingdom, of that I am certain."
"If what you say is true, then it would seem the true composer of the songs decided to take revenge for Allister's theft. But it makes no sense, Master. Why not merely expose Allister as a thief and destroy his reputation?"
"It's not so hard to imagine, lad," Falton countered. "The Ayuria are most certainly reclusive, but also unpredictable, even vindictive. Who can say what action they would take for a crime such as Allister's?"
"You can't honestly believe that boy would claim the songs of the Ayuria as his own," Ramus said incredulously. "How could he even know of their existence?"
"Ah, but you seem to forget, lad, that the Ayuria make their presence known when and where they choose. We have several written accounts here at the school of encounters with these beings and not all were pleasant, I assure you. In fact, I believe you yourself suffered an attack at the hands of one of the creatures." He chuckled in amusement as Ramus stiffened, visibly startled. "Aye, Ramus, I know of your past encounter with the Ayuria. If I'm not mistaken, you weren't all that older than Allister at the time."
Ramus shook his slowly, but was unable to deny the logic in Falton's words. "They are favored of the Goddess," he said quietly, repeating a fragment of the oft-told story. "And their songs are as precious as life…"
"I think perhaps the Ayuria have enacted their own justice," Falton said sadly. "It would be foolish, and fruitless, I should think, to seek more retribution in this matter. You would have no hope of finding the Ayuria on their home ground, and I doubt they will venture out of the Spires again for a long time to come. It is a sad thing, but better left in Laertha's hands."
Ramus nodded gravely, stood, and bowed formally to the elder. "I thank you for your time, Master Falton," he said, keeping his voice as carefully neutral as Falton had. If the elder noticed, he gave no sign.
"I look forward to hearing your report once the investigation is concluded," the master replied. "The sooner we can lay the situation to rest, the better."
Ramus bowed again and left, not waiting for the servant to escort him to the courtyard. He could feel the curious eyes of the door guards as he veered off the main path away from the school and began walking at a leisurely pace toward a large line of trees in the distance, marking the northern border of the Forest of Singing Spires. He had forgotten just how connected the Academy elders were to the politics and general goings-on in the region. And the fact that Falton had known about his encounter with the Ayuria all those years ago continued to unsettle him, for he had told few of his friends about the event.
Falton was wrong about one thing, he thought wryly. Though the Ayuria would not venture out of the forest's protection, neither would they elude him on their home ground. At least one in particular, he hoped.
Passing under cover of the dense oaks, Ramus felt the heat of the day give way to a cool breeze beneath the shady cloak of the leaves. He quickened his pace and began to sing-haltingly at first-the last verse of a very old and half-remembered ballad. The song, he knew, was not his to sing. He intended it rather as a summons, one that he knew would not go unanswered. Deeper into the forest he traveled and louder he sang, though it seemed only the ancient trees responded to his song, weaving their branches in approval on the soft breeze.
That gentle wind carried with it an odd earthy scent-far too sweet and exotic to be natural-that made Ramus halt his song abruptly and spin round…much too late.
A solid, unpleasant weight hit the bard squarely in the chest, dropping and pinning him to the forest floor. Looking up, Ramus glimpsed a comely female face blotting out the sunlight filtering through the canopy. The young woman sat casually on Ramus's chest, holding the sharpened point of a short spear firmly against his throat. An unruly cap of emerald curls framed her exotic face, cropped short to fall just below her dirt-stained chin. Though she was undeniably beautiful, her dark eyes were cold and unyielding as they regarded Ramus. "You are indeed brave, human, and also a fool to defile my songs within the boundaries of the Singing Spires!" she said in his language, her tone low and dangerous.
The bard smiled weakly and managed a wry chuckle, despite the pain of the spear point pressing against his windpipe. "It's been a long time, Shanastora," he said softly.
The woman gasped and her eyes widened in sudden recognition. "Ramus LeSteele, it is you indeed!" She idly tossed the spear aside but remained sitting atop his chest. "Gods, I almost killed you." She giggled, seeing some humor in that realization that Ramus couldn't fathom. "What are you doing here after all this time?" She slid off his chest and took a closer look at him. "You've changed, Ramus. You're all but an old man now," she laughed.
Ramus sat up, wincing slightly-though from the pain in his chest or the weight of her remark he couldn't tell-as he smoothed his tunic and dusted off his breeches. "You haven't changed at all, Shana," he said ruefully as he regarded the lovely Ayuria. "I've missed you, little songbird."
"Oh, I've missed you too, Ramus!" Shana cried, leaping impulsively into his arms and nearly knocking him flat again. "I've learned so many songs, Ramus, more than I can count. I must sing them to you, just like I used to. We'll have so much fun, Ramus, now that you're away from that Academy. They kept you away far too long…" her voice trailed off as she realized he was not returning the embrace, and she looked up into his face curiously. "What's wrong?"
Ramus sighed and gently pushed her away. "Many things, I'm afraid. I need to talk to you, Shana; I need to find out why the Ayuria would have reason to hate Allister McCraven."
Pouting, Shana crawled away from him and leaned against a nearby tree. "I see. Then you didn't come just to visit me."
"Shanastora," the bard said, his tone firm, "This is very important. The Ayuria have much to answer for."
"That's very bold, human," she shot back, her eyes flashing angrily. "Allister had much to answer to the Ayuria for."
Ramus blinked in surprise, reminded anew of her capricious nature. He silently cautioned himself to choose his words carefully. "You approached Allister with the same intentions you had for me all those years ago," he continued, choosing to ignore her anger for the moment.
"You had a great talent for bardcraft, Ramus, and you took to my teaching so well," she said, calming somewhat at the memory. "My sister wished to teach Allister, to help him grow, as I helped you."
"That you did, little songbird," Ramus said fondly. "Though I still can't figure out how attacking me could have been a part of your lessons," he couldn't resist adding.
She laughed and expertly twirled her small spear. "I never intended to hurt you, just play with you a bit. You never did have a sense of humor, Ramus."
"Aye, I suppose not," he said grimly. "I suppose Allister did not either…"
Shana narrowed her eyes and clutched her spear tightly; Ramus feared he had pushed her too far, but just as quickly she relaxed and merely regarded him coolly. "Allister took our gifts, though instead of heeding our lessons, he stole our songs, the things we hold most dear. For that he deserved to be punished."
Scowling, Ramus shook his head emphatically. "That is not the way among the humans, Shanastora. Your people have done us a great wrong."
"Not so!" she spat, reaching out to grab a fistful of his tunic. "The Ayuria have done nothing, though twice have your people wronged us. Once you wronged us by stealing our songs, twice by blaming us for the thief's death."
Ramus pulled out the burnt shaft of the wand Grayson had recovered from the bathhouse. "To use killing magic on an unarmed man for such a small crime is not justice, Shanastora, it's murder," he said.
Snatching the wand from his grasp, the Ayuria leveled it at the bard's chest, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You've become a great fool in your old age, Ramus," she said. Closing her eyes briefly, she muttered several words in her own language. An eerie blue flame sprang to life at the wand's tip, crackling and dancing along the blackened shaft as the wand's second spell was called forth.
"Shana, stop-" Ramus's plea ended in a sharp cry of fear as blue-white fire erupted around him, blinding him with its intensity. But the burning pain and death he expected would follow never came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The Ayuria regarded him with an amused smile. The wand, now utterly spent, crumbled to dust in her palm.
"I…I don't understand," Ramus stammered.
"Of course you don't," Shana replied. "Though you of all people should, Ramus, after all the things I taught you." She sighed and looked at him a bit sadly. "The Ayuria have very little magic, as you well know. With each generation, that magic dwindles even more. It is the price we must pay for the power and protection granted us by Laertha's hands. We have accepted this, and willingly, for our true magic comes in the form of the music we create for our children and ourselves. That power, strong though it may be, was not sufficient to take any sort of revenge upon Allister for what he had done."
Ramus nodded in understanding, memories flooding back to him in a jumble, memories of the awe he had felt at hearing many of the sacred songs that the Ayuria held so precious. "Who gave your sister the wand, Shanastora?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer.
"A human," she replied, "A human from your Academy, dressed in the gray robes of the elders."
"Falton," he murmured.
She shrugged. "It may have been him or another of his station; it matters little. The spell you witnessed was intended for Allister, in the hope that his fear of our wrath would prevent him from singing our songs in his name ever again. The human deceived us, placing a killing spell on the wand that we were unable to detect." She reached out and gently covered the bard's hand with her own. "I swear to you, Ramus LeSteele, my sister never intended any true harm to the singer. In fact, his death has pained her deeply. She fancied him and desired to teach him the joys of music, hoping that someday he would find the songs in his own heart."
"But the Academy sought its own justice," Ramus said disgustedly. "Why couldn't they merely have exposed Allister's crime?" Even as he asked the question, Falton's words echoed silently in the back of his mind. "They are reclusive, but also unpredictable and vindictive. Who can say what action they would take for a crime such as Allister's? He clenched his fist in anger. "And they chose me to lead the investigation, thinking I had the greatest reason to distrust the Ayuria."
Shana smiled slyly. "Indeed, the elders made a grave mistake in their choice, one that may prove to be their undoing."
"What do you mean, songbird?" Ramus asked warily. "What are you playing at now?"
"You were right about one thing, Ramus, a great wrong has been done. The Academy has long been furthering its own designs by claiming to act in the name of the Goddess. This crime, committed against my people and yours, cannot go unpunished. But once again, the Ayuria have not the power to act."
"And you believe I do have the power," Ramus finished for her. "But I cannot take on the entire council of elders, Shanastora. They are too firmly entrenched in power in Cienna. "
"Yes, but they have forgotten the joys of creating music. You possess knowledge that they do not, and in the end, I believe your people will choose the path I have taught you."
Ramus gazed at his friend for a long moment, then nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Would you teach others what you have taught me and what you tried to teach Allister?" he asked. "Would your sisters and brothers share what they know as well?"
Shana smiled broadly and nodded. "Ah, now you begin to understand. Yes, bring them to us, Ramus LeSteele. Bring us only those whom you would trust to keep our songs sacred, as you have done all these years. We trust you and your judgement."
Ramus stood and bowed low before the Ayuria. "My thanks, little songbird," he said sincerely. "I will do as you ask, and perhaps one day we may avenge Allister's death together."
Shana chuckled and sprang to her feet to embrace the aging bard. "Worry not, Ramus, for Laertha will look after Allister and see to it that the Academy knows well the depths of her displeasure." She stepped back and winked at him, her green curls bouncing. A heartbeat later she was gone, vanishing as suddenly as she'd appeared, leaving only her exotic scent and a whispered phrase behind. "Do not stay away so long this time, my dear friend. I still have many songs to sing to you."
Ramus stepped out of the forest in almost the exact spot he'd entered, but the sun had disappeared, obscured by dark clouds gathering in the distance. The storm that had been threatening for days would break tonight without a doubt, he thought. He glanced toward the towers of the Academy in the distance. "Not for all the songs in the world would I venture near Aurora tonight," he murmured to himself, starting up the long road to the city. He made little progress before the rain started to fall. Sighing, he wondered if a song would be enough to buy him a good meal and a bath at an inn once he reached the city.
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