Songsmith

Epilogue

Eydryth’s fingers swept a last, ringing chord, sending the note bounding around the Great Hall in Kar Garudwyn like a child on the morning of Midwinter Feast. “And so,” she said softly, as that final note began to die away, “they returned to Kar Garudwyn, after cleansing and healing that Place of Power. And their joy was very great.”

Clapping rang out as she bowed, applause from the assembled guests and family members. Even Trevon smiled toothlessly, gurgling in his mother’s lap.

“A fine song, Eydryth!” Jervon said. “ ‘The Ballad of the Songsmith’ is the best you’ve written so far!”

She smiled fondly at her father. “It is always best to write what you know,” she said wryly.

Suddenly the bard was conscious of someone leaning over the back of her chair, and, turning her head, she saw (though she had known the newcomer’s identity within her heart immediately) that it was Alon. He smiled at the assembled guests. “A great success, my lady. I liked it very much. Especially the requiem to Steel Talon.”

Then, lowering his voice, he added, “But perhaps our visitors are wearied. It has been a long day of feasting, and evening is now upon us.”

Laughter boomed out from Obred, the Kioga chieftain. “I heard that, Lord Alon!”

Eydryth and Alon both colored, and the Kioga leader laughed harder. “We can take a hint, Lord Alon, and you have the right of it—it is indeed time to go. But,” Obred said, smiling, “you must expect such minor inconveniences if you would wed a songsmith. Especially one as good as the Lady Eydryth. Hearing her play and sing, one is loath to depart a gathering where she performs.”

Alon grinned at the burly leader. “I well understand, Obred. It was hearing her voice that made me fall under her spell in the first place.”

Eydryth put aside her hand-harp, then stood up, smoothing the skirt of her blue wedding gown. “You forget, my lord,” she said, under her breath, as she put her hand on her new husband’s arm, and made to follow him out of the hall, “ ’twas Monso fell under my spell first! You merely followed his example!”

“And a very good example it was, too,” Alon said, as he led her in the opposite direction from the departing guests, toward the stairs. They stopped, smiled and waved amid a last chorus of toasts and good-wishings.

Eydryth paused at the top landing to gaze back along the gallery, where they could see Kerovan and Joisan, Sylvya, Firdun, Hyana, and Elys and Jervon all bidding farewell to the wedding guests. The happiness of seeing them all together again filled her heart until it felt as though it would burst. “I will have to write a song about today,” she said softly.

Alon slipped an arm around her, then gently brushed back a wayward curl. “Cannot it wait until tomorrow?” he asked mock-plaintively. “Or will you forget it if you do not write it down immediately?”

Eydryth laid her head against her lord’s shoulder. “It can wait,” she promised, with a smile, then kissed him. “The best songs cannot be forgotten.”