6,614 / 3,228

Still ahead in my word count! Of course, it's only the third day, too. *heh* Glancing over it, I see it's really... bleh. But that's not important! Getting the words down is important!

"Stubborn," he insisted. He pointed down the hill. "We have visitors. Why didn't you tell the staff?"

"I didn't notice them," she admitted. She blushed, for the two people were not only mounted, but halfway to the Hall. "I was too absorbed in what I was doing."

"A true artist. I will notify the staff, and you may greet them."

They both rose. Wari went inside, and Birili set aside her harp and stepped down from the porch. The visitors were an odd pair. In the lead was a lean woman with dark hair streaked with grey, much like Wari's, riding a compact, muscular mare. She was armed with a sword and spear, wore a metal-studded leather jerkin with greaves and bracers, and had a shield slung from her saddle. She held the leadline for a shaggy brown donkey, a morose-looking creature which bore a comfortably plump, elderly lady whose white hair was in neat braids and who sat very erect despite her age, a faint smile on her face.

Birili stepped out into the sunlight to greet them. "Hail to you, strangers," she said formally. "If you come in peace, you are welcome to the Bard Hall. I am Harper Birili."

The soldier halted her mount, swung her leg over the saddle, and dropped neatly to the ground. "Captain Koras. Stelenath Rangers." She went back to help the other lady to dismount.

The elderly woman looked at Birili when she spoke, and her expression changed swiftly from its vaguely serene smile. First she was startled, her brows leaping upward, and then she smiled at Birili in a way that was loving, sympathizing, and sad all at the same time. "Mazya, priestess of Johe," she said in a soft, pleasant voice.

Birili couldn't help staring. She had never met anyone from the mountain before. She couldn't wait to hear why they had come to the Bard Hall. There might be a story behind it. She was already creating the music in her mind, hearing a low, thrumming, even dissonant bass chord on the cello for Capt. Koras, with a mellow flute weaving through it for the priestess. And maybe – she smiled – a quick squeal from the viol for that resigned little donkey.

When the priestess was on the ground, Capt. Koras took a long wand from the donkey's saddle and placed it in Lady Mazya's hand, and Mazya came toward Birili, waving the wand directly in front of her in small arcs. Birili realized with a start that the woman was blind. Yet she was heading directly to Birili. There was no hesitation in her step, and her eyes were fixed on Birili's face.

She stopped directly in front of Birili, so precisely that Birili almost wanted to ask her if she truly were blind. But the dark eyes were unseeing, moving neither to the left or right. "My dear," the priestess said softly. "I have a story to tell you."

The captain said, "That's the one? Already?"

"Yes, she is the one."

"That was quick."

A movement at Lady Mazya's neck caught Birili's eye. What she had thought was a pretty copper-colored scarf now lifted a narrow, copper-eyed head. Birili stepped back with a cry of alarm. "You have a snake?"

She could have sworn that the creature lifted a lip at her, as if in derision. Stroking it, the priestess said, "Not a snake. Lithi is an ithi. Have you heard of them?"

"Yes, but..." But they're only a myth, she started to say. But with the creature directly before her, that would have been stupid. "Truly?"

"Truly. Stroke him, if you wish. Only be sure to stroke in the direction of the tail, not toward the head."

Birili summoned up her courage, reached out, and ran a finger along the creature's back. Although the ithi's skin gleamed like the scales of a snake, its texture was like wool or fur. Only from the mountain could such things come, she mused, stroking it again. The softness was addictive.

One of the staff ran out, bowed to the visitors, and led Capt. Koras around the Hall to where they could stable their animals. Birili offered to escort Lady Mazya into the Hall for food and rest, but the priestess only smiled at her and said, "That is very kind of you. And please, just call me Mazya. I would like to stay out here for the moment, if you don't mind. The weather is so pleasant, and what I have to tell you must remain private."

What in the world could a Johe priestess have to tell me? She helped the lady sit, saying, "I should warn you before you speak that I keep no secrets from my husband."

"That is quite all right. Your husband will need to be told, but I shall leave it to you how to do so."

She dropped down, baffled. "Be told what?"

The priestess' presence was like one of the new, mournful love ballads, sweet and low and melancholy. Her voice fit it, being low and mild. "Have you heard of the story of the Dawn Dragon, Birili?"

Birili had to laugh. "Heard of it? I've been singing the songs about it all my life. The story is one of my favorites." Without thinking, she picked up the harp, touched the strings, and sang the first few lines from one of the songs.

Mazya looked deeply pleased. "You have such a lovely voice. Do you also know the story of the Talons?"

"Yes." Birili frowned in thought, for there were very few song stories which mentioned the Talons. However, she knew them all, and picked one from which to play a stanza. When Mazya said she was impressed, Birili grinned and said, "It's really my area of special interest."

"Then let me ask you a question. Have you noticed anything odd recently about your appearance? Or felt anything odd about your head and neck?"

Unconsciously, Birili touched the cool spot behind her ear, where ran the silver curve that no one else had been able to see. "How did you know?"

"Because I can see it. Even with my blind eyes. I am the Dawn Dragon's Prime Talon. And you, Birili, are one of the Black Talons, a part of the Black Fist."

Birili gaped at her, then laughed aloud. "Me??"

"You."

She sounded so sure that Birili's mirth choked off. "This is a pretty lame joke."

"And you know it is no joke. I just came from the shrine." She put her hand in a pocket of her dusty blue robes and pulled out a piece of paper. "How could I have put a sign in silver upon you, one that nobody else can see? One that looks like this?"