The dissonance eased as Lyryk reached the ballroom. The varied shades of crimson, red, burgundy, and maroon affected her mood and her music took on the tones of a march. Eliam glanced at her from the corner of his eye and changed the tempo. She tried to follow his lead, but the weight of the upper floor pressed on her.

Singer, sing. Biscuit’s voice cut through her inner turmoil.

Lyryk looked over at Eliam and mouthed, ‘Songs of the Dale.’ He nodded and switched up the beat as he stomped his feet on the stage.

She sang, softly at first, as the group in the conservatory strained to listen. When she reached the chorus, she raised her voice, encouraging the onlookers to join in. As she played, she cast a simple spell and a faint breeze followed by a hint of fresh hewn grass followed. She improvised more verses; changing the spell’s effects with each new line. Soon, more guests wandered in to join the raucous celebration. Lyryk ended the set with a shout-out to Lady Redthorne on her birthing day, and to Lord Redthorne for his hospitality this night.

Not all who came will leave.

What? The statement alarmed her.

Some no longer exist.

She cast a quick glance at Eliam, who gave her a quizzical look in return.

Lyryk switched up the tune to convey information. Eliam’s confusion gave way to slow understanding. He asked questions in response to her declaration that not all the guests would leave the celebration alive. She let him know her chief concern, just not the details.

‘Talk later,’ she mouthed at him.

At his nod, they wrapped up the set.

Lady Redthorne approached the dais, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes set on her face.

“Lady Redthorne,” Eliam greeted her with that voice Lyryk knew meant he was at his most insincere. Most women heard it as seductive and flattering. She knew better.

“Your music was entrancing,” Lady Redthorne said in a tone that struck Lyryk as inauthentic.

The dissonance assaulted her ears, causing a slight shudder to run down her frame. Eliam noticed and kept Lady Redthorne’s attention on himself. Lord Redthorne chose that moment to appear at her side.

“Are you chilled, my dear?”

“No, no. Just my usual end of performance return to reality,” she lied, returning his insincerity.

“You are welcome to stay should you have expended yourselves on our behalf.”

“We really must return,” Eliam interjected. “The master expects us to report to him before the noon bells.”

“Ah, I see,” the look on Lord Redthorne’s face said otherwise.

“We are but lowly Journeymen,” opined Lyryk, putting as much despair in her voice as possible.

“Ha!” scoffed Lord Redthorne. “If you’re Journeymen, I’ll eat my hat.”

“‘Tis true, my lord. Neither of us has created a Masterwork as yet.” Nor will we as long as we’re spies, she thought, giving him a wry grin. “We still learn the finer points of our craft.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Until you have heard a Master Bard play, you haven’t really felt music.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lady Redthorne threaded her arm through her husband’s. “We should let this young couple get to their assigned task, don’t you think?”

Lord Redthorne reached into an inner pocket and pulled out two palm-sized bags, handing one to each musician. They clinked with coin.

“You have our thanks for a most entertaining evening. We will let your master know we were well satisfied with your performance. Good night.” With that, he turned, leading Lady Redthorne toward the entry where the guests were saying their farewells.

Sarren appeared, then led them to a side door, showing them into the dark of the night, then closing it firmly behind them.

They strolled along the path until the house disappeared. Not long after, they turned off the road and back toward the mansion, stowing unnecessary items in a tree hollow. Biscuit appeared at Lyryk’s side as soon as they left the road. Eliam looked over at the big hound.

“Didn’t know you had a dog.”

“He isn’t mine, he’s his own.”

“What’s that mean?”

It means, Man, I belong to me.

Eliam stopped walking. “It …?”

“Not it. He. His name is Biscuit. At least that’s what he lets me call him.”

“It… he spoke in my head.”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I just know he’s saved my life more than once, and I don’t question my fortune.”

Biscuit led them through the trees, back toward the mansion. Light blazed downstairs as it had during the celebration. She saw several figures moving about the rooms. The upper floor showed candlelight flicker through parted curtains. One shadow moved across the window, macabre objects held in its hands.

Rest, I will watch.

“I’ll spell us a shelter,” said Eliam. “We need to sleep before going back into the house.”

(To be continued)