“Please, everyone, one more round of applause for our fearless leader, Dorian!” Cheryth called out, magic amplifying his voice.Scattered applause filled the camp, and Dorian chuckled, bowing once more as he stepped toward the cooking fires. “I’m honored to be taking up the mantle as your entertainment for the evening. For our new friends, my name is Cheryth, and I’m accompanied by the lovely Zakrem tonight.”
He grinned up at the orc standing beside him. Despite his stern appearance, a small, warm smile appeared for just a moment on the orc’s face. They each strummed their lutes once, twice—then launched right into their song, lively and upbeat. Some of the troupe whooped and cheered. Several, who had finished eating, even started to dance—including Myrra, much to Alwyn’s chagrin.
The size difference in their instruments meant that Cheryth’s lute was high and sweet, while Zakrem’s was low and resonant; though it was only the two of them, the sounds complemented each other so well that it sounded like a veritable symphony. Then Cheryth opened his mouth to sing; his voice was not as rich and lovely as Dorian’s had been, but he was clearly a well-trained singer.
“Oh, now has come a time when the youngest star burns brightest,” he sang, his feet tapping along to the beat. “He shines in every sky and makes each land united. And from his hand leaps fire, and lightning from the heavens. To those who might oppose him, we have only this for you; how your heads will roll, will roll, will roll!”
“Heads will roll, will roll, will roll!” several voices echoed, cheering and singing along. Alwyn had never heard the song before, but recognized its subject easily: the new King Zorvut, who had beheaded the former warlord to take his place. He had to stifle a chuckle at the somewhat gruesome call and response. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that songs had already been written about the king’s dramatic rise to power; and thesesorts of ballads certainly portrayed their subject in perhaps too-positive a light.
Not that he had any room to be squeamish about a song about beheading a king’s enemies, Alwyn thought. He had done all that and more.
He was so absorbed in watching the pair skip around the stage as they sang and performed that he didn’t realize Krujha had found him until the orc was sitting down beside him. Alwyn startled, flinching away from him.
“Scared you?” Krujha teased, grinning down at him. Alwyn huffed, rolling his eyes, and turned away. “Have you ever seen a troupe of performers like this before?”
“No,” Alwyn said simply, keeping his eyes firmly on the stage.
“No? There aren’t performers like this in the capital?” Krujha asked.
Alwyn didn’t respond for a long while. “I’m sure there are. I don’t leave the Library often enough to have seen any, though.”
“Too much of a bookworm, I see,” Krujha laughed. Alwyn stifled another sigh. He had explained to Krujha several times now thattheLibrary was more than justalibrary—more like the human notion of a college—so now he was just being obtuse.
“Exactly,” he sighed, not rising to the bait now. “Too much of a bookworm.”
Krujha chuckled. They sat quietly for a moment. Alwyn could feel the orc looking at him, then following his gaze to the pair onstage. Only Cheryth was singing, but he and Zakrem were making an awful lot of eye contact.
“It’s heartening, I think,” Krujha finally sighed. “Seeing a group of people from all over, traveling together, celebrating the peace that’s brought them here. Have you ever seen so many elves and orcs dancing together?”
“No, never,” Alwyn said, turning away from the pair onstage. Several of the troupe were dancing together—elves, orcs, and humans alike.
He felt Krujha lean closer to him, his voice low in Alwyn’s ear. “We could be like that, you know.”
Alwyn scowled, turning to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“We could be dancing together right now,” Krujha teased, his grin widening. “What? Don’t you know how to dance?”
“I don’t want to dance,” Alwyn muttered, turning away again. Krujha was still laughing at him—still playing his own private game, trying to poke and prod at him to throw off his guard. Even though it made him annoyed, some small part of him was struggling not to laugh along, too—it was a bit amusing to imagine.
“No?” Krujha asked. There was still a teasing lilt to his voice, but somehow he seemed a little more serious now. “Then what do you want?”
Alwyn paused, the question taking him by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“What are you doing here? What are you hoping to accomplish, if not more of this?” Krujha asked, gesturing to the dancers on the opposite side of the campfire.
Alwyn didn’t know how to answer. He turned the questions over in his mind, wondering if Krujha was trying to ensnare him somehow, laying a trap that he would stumble into if he wasn’t careful.
“I’m here because it’s what I was ordered to do,” Alwyn finally replied, keeping his eyes on the two still performing on stage. They had finished their first number, and he guessed that this second must be some sort of orcish folk song, as several of the orcs in the group were now singing along.
“Is that the only reason?” Krujha asked, and this time Alwyn shot him an annoyed look.
“Yes,” he snapped. “You think I’d be here if I had any choice in the matter?”
Krujha shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Why are you here, then?” he shot back. He had mostly been trying to get the orc to leave him alone, but Krujha seemed to consider the question for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face.
“I’ll tell you why,” he finally said, leaning a little closer to Alwyn. “Do you remember when you asked about the clan I came from?”
