FREITANYA

Her tattered black robes fluttered about her, white with the dust of the road where they had lain against the ground. The relentless sun drew shades of rust and bottle-fly green from the drapes and folds of the black garment. She must be sweltering in its heavy velvet ruins. She must be sweltering in its heavy velvet ruins. He was hot enough in his own finery to sympathize, but it didn't serve to allay his fears.

The witch Freitanya was rumored to be more powerful even than the legendary wizard Talthos. She was not one to be trifled with…or denied. Digan gave her his best courtier's bow, sweeping off his green velvet cap as he did so. "T-thank you, my lady. High praise indeed from one of your stature."

Freitanya limped forward, leaning heavily on her staff. "Have we met before, boy?"

"I don't think so," Digan frowned, some vague fancy tugging at his memory. It was gone before he could catch it, but it took with it much of his fear. "I think I would remember."

"Perhaps it was your father…."

"Then it was long ago, for he has been dead these fifteen years."

"And what do they call you, boy?"

"My name is Mordigan Bryre, bard to the king." The lie slipped out unbidden.

"Young you are to be King's Bard…and I thought Cormeyer Stareyes still owned that title." Freitanya began to circle around him.

Digan gulped, and turned with her, striving to keep the lute firmly wedged between the two of them. "Well…I am to-to take Cormeyer's place after the festival next month. He has decided to retire to the country and tutor privately. I will assume his court duties…it is a challenge for one so young, but I feel I am equipped for it." His chin lifted, defying her to gainsay his claim.

She reached forward and squeezed his arm. "No doubt you are," she murmured in a thoughtful tone, still circling him. "No doubt you are."

"M-master Cormeyer is expecting me to meet him. I am already late…." That much at least was true.

Her twisted fingers moved to brush against the strings of the lute. A soft, sweet chord rang in the air, then died away. "A beautiful instrument," Freitanya commented.

"Y-yes. It was commissioned for my master by the king's father…." His voice died in his throat when he remembered whom it had been commissioned from. There was said to be no love lost between the wizard and the witch.

"Talthos could be a master craftsman when he chose to be. I feel the power in this piece. Do you?"

"What do you mean, lady?" Digan frowned, studying the lute with anxious suspicion. Was something wrong? He didn't notice anything different about it. It had been carved from rosewood, and was inlaid with ivory and gold-a valuable instrument, to be sure-but nothing particularly out of the ordinary, even to his trained eye.

"No. You do not feel the magic. Perhaps it is for the best. For a boy like you-"

Digan straightened to his full height, back arched in offended dignity. "I am no mere boy, lady! I am a man full grown…or nearly so. And a journeyman bard-"

"What?" she scoffed, "not 'the King's Bard' now, but a mere journeyman?"

Digan scowled, his cheeks darkening beneath their smooth tan. He had forgotten his earlier boast in the heat of the moment, but it hurt him to hear the truth made light of. It was no dishonor to be a journeyman at eighteen.

Freitanya cackled at his aggrieved expression. "Too easily wounded, little bird. Smooth your ruffled feathers. I merely meant that a boy-your pardon." She sketched a mocking bow. "A young man-of your upbringing might be no match for magic. It takes long training to properly employ enchantment in one not born to it. But oh…." Her fingers coaxed another chord from the taut strings. "…What wondrous music could a true master bring forth with a lute such as this one."

A passionate desire surged through Digan's breast, until it ached to catch his breath. "I shall become that master, lady! Tell me but how!"

The witch squinted up at him-one eye squeezed nearly shut, the other a bright black bead. "I doubt you have the stomach for it, boy. The hunger, yes; perhaps the will…but the nerve-ah, that's another story."

"Are you calling me coward?" asked Digan softly, in the voice that sent the shop boys running for cover from his wrath. Despite his caution toward the witch, he found himself ready to defend his bravery, stepping forward to tower over her without conscious thought.

"So…the chick has an eaglet's talons, does it?" the witch crowed, her voice gleeful. "Perhaps you do possess the courage. It would be an interesting test…."

His honor was at stake now. "Set me your test. I am not afraid! I would learn how to master the magic of the lute."

"This isn't even your lute, boy. Should we not let Cormeyer say if you 'master' his instrument?"

Digan bowed his head. He had gotten carried away. Freitanya was right-the lute was not his to play. He was only in possession of it now because Cormeyer had broken a peg last evening and been too busy to take it for repair this morning. One of the journeymen had left it at The Harp and Horn for Master Egletine's handiwork and Digan had been sent to fetch it when it was ready. He should have been back with it hours ago.

He wondered if he should sidle around the witch and run for home?

As if sensing his thoughts, Freitanya lay a gnarled hand on his arm. The touch sent a spark of power through him, and he shivered.

"How badly do you crave the magic, boy? What will you dare to risk…?" queried Freitanya-and her voice lost all its aged huskiness, melting into liquid silver. He stared into dark, rain-gray eyes that swallowed his soul, laying bare the darkest secrets and hidden passions of his dreams. A faint whiff of sun-warmed oranges wafted from her tumbled cloud of fine white hair. The scent seemed strangely young for one of her venerable years.

"What must I do?" he breathed.

"You do have a gift," she murmured in that thoughtful tone he had sensed before. "With the aid of magic, that seed of talent could flourish…but you will have to face many trials-and risk much. Do you want it fiercely enough?"

"More than anything in the world, lady…."

"We shall see about that. First, you will have to make a solemn vow-you can inform no one of this meeting between we two. To do so will have dire consequences."

"As you wish, lady."

"Secondly, you will not be able to claim the magic of another. You must go and petition Talthos for a lute of your own."

"But Talthos is dead."

"No. He has merely forsaken this realm. He lives above the clouds in a castle of azure stone. It is a long and arduous journey…if you have the grit for it. And there is one further demand required for the successful completion of this quest."

"What demand is that?"

The witch seemed to grow in stature. Her eyes glowed with intensity, and Digan trembled with an uncontrollable shiver. "If you stray from the truth-even the slightest bit-you will begin to lose that lovely voice of yours. The greater the lie, the worse the loss…and the longer it will last. If the lie is great enough-your voice will be gone forever, and the quest will be in vain."

Digan's hand faltered to his throat in an involuntary gesture. He gulped. His voice was his only true asset. It was his chief vanity as well as his livelihood. To risk the loss of his speech would be a hard prospect indeed…but oh, to gain such magic!

"I accept your conditions," he croaked, desire winning over caution. "Just…please, what must I do?"

"Go on to your appointment, boy. Meet your master, as planned. And remember your vows. A signpost will appear at the proper time to show you the way forward-you will know it." She limped away down the road with a cackle of laughter. As Digan turned to continue on his own way, she called back over her shoulder, "Remember, boy! Speak only the truth!" With a final wicked trill of laughter, she vanished.