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smiled and let the uproar pass. He sang of the dark, lonely winter, and the
people nodded. Life had been hard lately, leaving most of them sad and
weary.
Then the song shifted. He sang of warmth spreading through the earth,
thawing the stillness and bringing on a new season of life. The long cage
of winter opened. The long preparation of early spring began. The birds
sang and there was the promise of harvest.
Dayn prolonged the end, giving them a chance to hear the upper range
of his voice. It never hurt to show off a little in the first song. The point
was to get them interested enough to be hungry for more.
He ended with a little flourish on his lute. He paused, his eyes closed,
feeling the music in his heart. That was it, the entire reason for being a
bard. Each song brought a moment of grace, and every hard night on the
road, every time he slept without dinner in his belly, every day he rode
sweating in the sun, was worth that one moment. Dayn smiled his secret
smile and slowly opened his eyes. His audience of four had turned into a
dozen. Not a word was spoken as Dayn came slowly out of his trance.
When he blinked and let the lute hang on its strap, they whistled and
clapped. Some stomped their feet. One short, over-eager man even came
up and thumped him on the back.
Now that s talent, boy! You should be working that voice in
Palanthas!
Dayn smiled and nodded his thanks. He sought out Shard s face and
caught her slight smile.
You re staying for the festival, aren t you? the man continued.
Dayn assured him he would be staying around Gotstown as long as he
could afford, as it easily surpassed Palanthas in beauty. A few of those
who gathered to listen bought some of Shard s soup while they praised
him. They smiled and chatted before slowly drifting away to spread the
news of the new bard.
When most of them had gone, Dayn turned to see a very different
expression on young Shard s face. Admiration sparkled in those dark eyes.
A shy smile had replaced her challenging look. She whisked one of those
errant, black strands of hair away behind her ear and tipped her chin at a
bowl that was already set out for him.
Dayn decided it was going to be a fine night.
* * * * *
As it always did, the afternoon brought more and more people over to
the cart, begging him for another song. Dayn assured them he would sing
when he was finished with his supper. He encouraged them, in the
meantime, to eat some of Shard s amazing soup.
Shani s sales increased with each song request.
For his part, Dayn took a very long time nursing his soup. The price of
a song grew in proportion to its demand, and Dayn was hoping to get the
best price possible out of Gotstown.
As the shadows got longer, the people began lighting fires. It was
nearing the point where the people s impatience would turn to annoyance,
and Dayn began to tune his lute. He tried to get the old strings just right
but was distracted by a commotion across the way. Dayn walked over
toward the fountain just in front of the temple steps to see what was going
on.
A old cleric of Paladine had latched onto two young boys. The two
children were screaming and yelling. It was all the slight old man could do
to hang onto them. The boys faces were stained green. Obviously, they
had begun the ceremony a little early. Dayn started to smirk but sobered
immediately as he saw the grim looks in the crowd.
Somebody help me here, the old priest said. He handed one of the
boys to a farmer, but the man did not hold on tight enough and the boy ran
away. The cleric turned his attention upon the other boy. Dayn recognized
him as Jayna s son, the little boy with the hurt arm.
Who is this boy s father? the gray haired priest shouted to the crowd.
Who here hasn t taught their children proper respect?
Jayna pushed her way through the small crowd, anger plainly written
on her face. He s my boy.
He has committed a crime against Paladine! Against all the gods that
created this world! Everyone knows the elderberries are sacred this night,
the cleric said, his expression stern. The old priest ruined his wrath on the
scared little boy. What do you have to say for yourself?
The little boy cringed under the angry man s gaze. You re hurting
me.
Jayna stepped forward and grabbed the cleric by his white robes.
Let him go, old man.
The thin, old cleric s face went white. This is a temple of Paladine. If
you can not
I said let him go!
It is forbidden to eat the elderberries before sunrise! the cleric
reiterated.
Look at his arm, the boy s mother practically shouted. You re
hurting him.
The priest noticed the boy s wound for the first time and let him go.
The boy ran away and hid behind his mother s skirts, hugging her leg.
I m sorry, the priest mumbled.
He s just a boy. He burned his hand two weeks ago, and I still can t
stop the bleeding.
The old man looked truly sorry. I apologize. I wish I could help you.
That s right, you wish you could, but you can t, can you? At this
festival you priests used to heal anyone in need. You used to help people.
Now you don t do anything.
The woman s words stung the frail cleric, but he had nothing to say.
Your god is dead! Jayna shouted.
No! No, he s not! He will return, the priest said.
Just like the boy s father will return? He left years ago to fight your
god s war. When will he return?
The dead silence of the crowd became a low murmur. Other widows
nodded in agreement.
We must be patient, that is all.
We don t need patience, we need help. How many veterans of that war
are here? How many of them can t walk, can t work? What are you going
to do about them? Jayna said.
Someone yelled agreement. The cry was followed by several others,
and a few men broke from the crowd to join the mother in accosting the
cleric, who was backing away slowly, wide-eyed.
Dayn was only twenty-three years old, but he recognized the makings
of a mob. Something had to be done, and quickly. He looked around for
ideas, but nothing came. He only had one weapon, anyway, only one
talent.
Snatching his lute, Dayn pushed his way through the crowd.
People, people, good people. I know how you have suffered. I, too,
lost many friends in the war. But we must keep faith.
Dayn jumped up on the fountain. The shouts quieted as people turned
their attention to him.
Paladine will return. He has done so before. The healers will return.
So will the heroes. Remember the Second Cataclysm. Remember the
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