The Bonemender by Holly Bennett Read Free Book Online Page B

apologetically, her eyes merry. “I am sorry. You know even now, my brother and I still can’t be trusted to sit together.”
    A S THE LAST PLATES were cleared away, the room turned expectantly toward the empty end of the dais where the musicians would play. Applause swelled through the audience as the five musicians trooped onstage.
    They knew how to please a large crowd, playing and singing with gusto and sticking to the rollicking shanties and drinking songs that could be enjoyed without really listening. Féolan found Human music rather crude, but he had come to appreciate its energy and momentum, and he enjoyed the concert. He had even learned a few of the songs in his travels and impressed Tristan hugely by joining in on the sing-along choruses. Gabrielle sang along too, her voice a clear contralto.
    After about an hour, Jerome stepped forward and deftly ended the party. Everyone stood, as well as they could manage, for the Verdeau anthem, and then the entire head table was ushered out of the room, followed by the musicians.
    “No more wine, no more music. They’ll all clear out soon enough,” Jerome assured his wife. He turned to his assembled guests. “Good night, everyone. Those of you who are here forbusiness as well as pleasure, we meet at nine bells in the Council Chamber.”
    Most people headed for the stairs, but Tristan held the two Elves back. “The musicians will play a little more for us in the salon. Would you like to come?”
    Of course they would. Tristan disappeared for a moment and returned with Rosalie in tow, a short, dark-haired young woman with huge brown eyes. Dominic stayed as well: “Mother made me come as a chaperone, to make sure Tristan doesn’t disgrace himself!”
    G ABRIELLE HAD PLACED herself behind Danaïs, Féolan noticed. She was watching her patient walk. He dropped back himself and tried to observe Danaïs with a healer’s eyes. There was a stiffness to his gait but no obvious limp, which seemed pretty good for such a recent injury and after a long day. Féolan glanced at Gabrielle, who nodded—it was pretty good.
    Gabrielle gave the musicians a warm welcome; Tristan, for his part, wasted no time in pouring them a round of wine. Then he threw himself on a settee and pulled Rosalie down beside him. When the others were settled, the musicians began an instrumental piece that was unlike anything Féolan had yet heard at the taverns and inns where he had stayed. It began quietly, just the whistle and mandola delicately intertwined. Gradually the other instruments joined in, trading melody and countermelody in a complex weaving until finally all five came together in a single, stirring voice. Féolan realized that he had far underestimated the troupe’s skill.
    Gabrielle, he could tell, found a sweet, simple happiness in the music. Her shining eyes were glued to the troupe as they playedon, an old ballad about a sea battle, then a pretty country love song. Then the leader motioned to Tristan. “Lord Tristan, come up and sing with your sister. Does your famous duet have anything new for us?”
    Tristan stepped forward, motioning to Gabrielle. “Nothing new, this time. We’ve been unaccountably busy, I’m afraid. But we’ll gladly subject you to the same old thing, won’t we Gabi?”
    Gabrielle hesitated, but when Dominic pleaded, “Come on, Gabrielle, I haven’t heard you sing in so long,” she gave a quick nod and stood up. Glancing at Féolan, she colored a little, and he realized with chagrin that she would feel freer without him there.
    It didn’t matter. Once she began, all embarrassment seemed to drop away. She and Tristan sang “Tables Turned,” a rollicking off-color song about a husband who has been untrue during his long travels. Trading verses full of lame excuses and double entendres, Gabrielle and Tristan sang it with exaggerated broad humor. Rosalie, who had never heard it before, collapsed in laughter at Gabrielle’s “last word”:
    I’ve ridden up,