He didn't expect a reply; his sending talent didn't include mind reading as well. He knew Galar had heard him, though, so he settled in to wait.

But the burly elf warrior, Sahalik, found them first. Jedra heard footsteps behind them, then a deep, hearty voice said, "Huddling close to the fire won't keep you warm for long. Fires burn out-even one as big as this."

Jedra turned to see Sahalik standing with his hands on his hips. He, too, had draped a cloak over his shoulders, but he wore it pulled back to expose his hairy chest. The hilt of his sword stood forward at an angle that insured instant readiness, and the pommel glittered in the firelight.

"We're discovering that," Jedra said. "We've asked Galar for a place to-"

"Galar! Hah, you won't see him for the rest of the night. He's got some catching up to do, if you follow my meaning."

"Oh," Jedra said, suddenly embarrassed. Of course Galar had better things to do than look after Jedra and Kayan. He was a full member of the tribe; he probably had a lover or even a wife here, maybe even a whole family. He had been away longer than just the few days in the slave caravan, too; during their long hours of captivity he had described how he'd been forced into the gladiator games in Urik for at least a month, fighting for his life against wild animals and other gladiators, some willing, some not. If Jedra were in Galar's place, he probably wouldn't surface again for days.

"Well, then," Jedra said, "maybe we can ask the same thing of you that we asked of Galar."

Sahalik laughed. "Seems to me you turned down the best offer in the camp earlier tonight. You should've thought of that before it got cold; Rayna's already found another." He shifted his eyes to Kayan and grinned widely. Two of his teeth were missing, one upper and one lower on the right side. "As for you, pretty one, I might be able to find a warm spot for you tonight."

"I imagine you could," Kayan said sarcastically, "but I prefer to stay with Jedra."

The elf frowned. "Don't be so hasty. I've got a fine tent all to my own, and a soft-"

"I said no." Kayan's voice cut through the night like a thunderclap. All conversation stopped. In the sudden silence, a burning timber popped, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

Sahalik stood like a statue, completely taken aback. Evidently no one had ever refused him before, at least so publicly. He opened his mouth to speak, but could find no words to say.

Galar saved them all from further embarrassment. He skidded into the circle of firelight, his clothes in disarray and his hair sticking out in all directions, and took in the scene in a glance. Then he whirled around and shouted into the darkness, "Where's that lazy bard? The night's nearly gone. We'll hear your song now, bard!"

The rest of the tribe picked up his cue. They cheered and stamped their feet, shouting, "Song! Song!" and eventually the bard stepped into the firelight. He carried a harp under his right arm, and a sheaf of parchment in his left hand. He looked less worried than when Jedra had first seen him; in fact, now that he was the center of attention he walked with a cocky spring to his step and when he spoke his voice was full of mischief.

The elves groaned, and someone yelled, "Save it for the trail tomorrow. Give us the short version."

The bard shook his head. "Nay, nay, that would slight our guests, and our illustrious Galar whose misadventures in Urik brought us to this glorious feast. I shall give you the long version, and make up more as I go along."

There was quite a bit of good-natured groaning, and someone whispered loudly, "Be ready with the rotten fruit."

The bard pointed at a water cask that someone was using for a stool and said, "I appropriate your seat for the cause." When the elf had vacated it, he set his right foot firmly on the cask, placed his harp on his thigh, and gave the strings a strum. The air filled with resonant sound, and the babble of voices hushed. The bard picked out the beginnings of a tune, then when he had built it into a recognizable melody, he began to sing in a rich, carrying voice:

Oh, the Jura-Dai tribe is a wandering one

And our exploits are marry and true,

But the exploit I sing of tonight is so dumb

'Tis a deed only Galar would do.

The elves burst into laughter, and Galar took a deep bow. All through the exchange Jedra had been painfully aware of Sahalik's rigid presence at his back, but now he felt motion behind him. He couldn't hear footsteps in the din, but his psionic sense told him the elf warrior was leaving. Jedra let out a deep breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding.

The bard waited for the laughter to die down, then sang:

The big city drew him with promise of fame

And of fortune beyond an elf's dreams,

So he set out with high hopes and soon enough came To the city of Urik, it seems.

But what he found there wasn't quite what he'd planned

When he left all the comforts of home.

No, instead of the riches he'd heard he would find,

He wound up on the streets, all alone.

Now that in itself wouldn't be such a fright

For an elf as resourceful as him,

Save for one crucial error he made that first night,

When he misplaced his brain at an inn.

The bard had to wait nearly a minute for the laughter to die down before he could continue, but each verse drew more merriment as he detailed Galar's descent- through swindles and gambling losses-from cocky freeman to a lone elfin heavy debt, fighting as a gladiator for money. At last, hounded by creditors and fearing for his life, Galar had used the last of his money in a desperate scheme to sneak out of the city undetected: he had bought his way onto a slave caravan leaving for Tyr. No one would think to look for him in the slave hold, and once they were free of the city, the wagon master would release him.

Of course the wagon master had taken his money and left him in the slave hold, where he met Kayan, who had been taken there when a powerful lover had become jealous of her attention to Urik's king Hamanu.

That's not true! Kayan mindsent to Jedra. I was enslaved because I refused to use my psionic healing power to kill a man.

I know that, Jedra replied, but the bard doesn't so he had to make something up. This makes a better tale anyway.

So you say, Kayan sent. She scowled as the song continued to portray her as a reckless wanton who had slept her way to the bottom of society. A few stanzas later Jedra found himself agreeing with Kayan when the bard began detailing how he wound up enslaved. The bard portrayed him as a thief and a brawler who had finally met his match, rather than as a curious young man who had accidently stumbled upon a magical talisman that a real mage had sold him into slavery to obtain. Jedra wasn't sure he wanted the truth to be known, but he didn't want everyone to think he was a thief, either.

He tried to listen psionically to find what the elves really thought of him, but he just didn't have that power. He could send, but not eavesdrop. He could sense when someone was watching him, though, and although everyone was doing so now, he detected one source of interest much stronger than the rest. He looked across the fire toward the source of the sensation, expecting to see Rayna, the woman who had propositioned him earlier, but instead he found Sahalik staring back at him, his face as cold as the night.

Oh, wonderful. Of all the people to be on the bad side of, Sahalik was the absolute worst. Jedra looked away, careful not to make eye contact again throughout the rest of the song.

Fortunately, the bard had exaggerated the number of stanzas as well. He was only up to forty or so when he finished with a rousing description of Galar's rescue and the heroics of the Jura-Dai warriors. Sahalik figured prominently in the end of the tale, and Jedra was relieved to see a crowd of well-wishers gather around him afterward.