Page 16 of Homeward for a Spell

People like them, her mother meant.

“Could I call on bard magic now? Here?”

Her mother had laughed. “Of course not. If that were the case, then every person who picked up an instrument or hummed a tune in the bathtub would be magical. Bards need to be at places of transition, where the barriers between the worlds are weakest. Places like taverns or crossroads or rivers are best. Then the bard plays certain songs or notes that call upon the deities and—if they’re lucky—get a bit of magic in return.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Araphi couldn’t keep the longing out of her voice.

Her mother shrugged. “For some, perhaps. But bardic spells, songs, and note patterns are closely guarded secrets. They’re nearly impossible to discover unless you train with another bard, and you have to study for a long time to learn them.”

“Do you know any?”

“I did once, but I’ve long forgotten most of them. I wanted the world of the city, high society, and the queens’ court, not sawdust-covered taverns.” Her mother made a face and brushed an invisible speck of dust from her flawless dress.

“But you don’t even play music anymore, Mama. Why is that?” It seemed like such a terrible thing, to have had music once and then abandoned it. How could her mother live like that? Araphi might not be able to play, but she’d been humming to herself ever since she could remember, composing her own child-songs in her mind.

Her mother offered Araphi a small smile. “I am what I am, and that is all. Now, remove the lute from behind your back and I’ll show you how to play it.”

She repositioned Araphi’s hands and taught her a simple melody. “Practice that,” her mother said. “Every day, for as long as you can—but see that it doesn’t interfere with your real studies—and then I’ll teach you more.”

True to her word, her mother had taught her a dozen new songs by the end of the year, and Araphi practiced until she heard music in her dreams. By the time she was thirteen, she’d managed to convince her parents to let her study with Ashaway’s finest musicians. As a social boon for the family, of course. Still, it was the secret lessons with her mother where she learned the most—especially when her mother taught her two simple bardic note sequences meant to charm and settle an audience. Araphi practiced those over and over. Her mother had even given Araphi her own lemon-scented charm—something that had once belonged to Araphi’s grandmother—to serve as an amplifier for the magic connected to her music. Araphi’s mother had used it for years when she’d played for the royals and their audiences.

“You’re very good,” her mother had said just last month. “But you should know, we have to stop these lessons. You’re getting married soon, and tavern music isn’t for nobility.”

“But you played for nobility!” Araphi had protested, even as she’d suspected this was coming. “You were playing in the Golden Court when my fathers met you.”

“Proper compositions,” her mother corrected, “and only until I turned to the business of becoming a Clauneck.”

Well.

That may be the case, but in the last twenty-four hours, Araphi has played in two different taverns and charmed very different crowds.

She finishes the wine in her glass and pours a bit more. What would her mother think of her if she knew where her daughter has been, and what she’s been up to? Araphi thinks she’d be proud and delighted. That she would’ve cheered louder than anyone as the last notes of the ballad rang out in the Dragon’s Bane last night.

Rather, she hopes so.

Not that her mother will ever hear her play, because barding competitions belong in Phi Runesong’s world, not in Araphi’s or her mother’s. Not anymore. And yet…Could there ever be a way for Araphi to exist in both her mother’s world and Phi Runesong’s world—Sage’s world too—at the same time? Araphi isn’t sure, and the weight of trying to exist in all these places, as all these different people all at once, sits heavily on her shoulders. Maybe there isn’t enough of her to go around. Maybe she should just pick a life and stick to it.

But she isn’t ready to give up being Phi Runesong. And she can’t give up being a Clauneck.

What is she supposed to do?

Araphi walks over to an ornate mirror, considering herself and the room behind her. She’s beautiful, clearly, but in a way that’s soft, pampered, and maintained by money. There’s nothing of Sage’s raw beauty and sharp edges in her. This gilded, luxurious existence is all she’s ever known, but it’s not all she wants. Araphi is eager to see who she might become if given the chance.

But does she really want to leave her family behind to face the cold, dark northern road and all the dangers it offers?

Yes. She really, really does.

Of course, finding a way to slip past her attendants and excuse her absence to her family for a few weeks is a whole different matter. Still, as Araphi resumes pacing, a plan begins to form in her mind.

The next morning—two days until the adventure party leaves, but who’s counting?—Araphi finds herself surrounded by her own lady’s maid, her mother’s secretary, and the Claunecks’ official wedding planner and event organizer, all of whom she’s known since she was toddling around her parents’ mansion. A dress that’s more confection than garment hangs about her, wrapping her in a cloud of ivory fabric. It’s something she’d never want to wear in a thousand years, but it was specially picked for her by her mother, and she can hardly say no.

“Really, Araphi, no bride should be so lovely,” says Rosalind, her mother’s secretary. “You are a vision.”

“Truly, a dream,” gushes Bianca, the wedding planner. “Denby’s suit will complement this dress well. Now, should we discuss shoes and accessories?”

Araphi’s lady’s maid, Stella, shoots her a sympathetic look as Rosalind and Bianca call for the bridal shop clerks to bring out all of their matching shoes and veils, and Araphi heaves an enormous sigh. Her mind wanders to the shopping she’d rather be doing. Sage had given her a list of supplies, and Araphi had added more items to it last night. As a pin pricks her hip and a dress attendant apologizes, Araphi runs through her expanded list in her mind.

Bedroll, backpack, canteen, food for at least a few days (surely they’d stop at a tavern or inn somewhere on the journey north?), her lute, extra strings, a sensible pair of boots, a warm cloak, a few changes of clothing, including several pairs of riding pants…How many outfits should she bring?