With a heavy heart and drooping eyelids, Garin followed the old nun into the room.
It felt far longer than the morning's practice by the time Tal returned for him.
"And how was it?" his mentor asked with a grin.
Garin gave him a mutinous look. "Miserable. First, she had me on my letters, sounding them out one by one — I felt like a mooing cow, drawing each vowel out. Then she spoke about the Creed and the Whispering Gods, and how important it was to listen for Silence, Solemnity, and Serenity in every quiet moment. Only, I couldn't figure how she thought there'd be a quiet moment with her around."
"Sounds like you're learning already. Keep at it, and you'll be composing religious manifestos in no time."
"Manifestos?"
Tal waved a hand. "Lengthy, self-indulgent ramblings that gather mad folks to them."
"Like 'The Legend of Tal' songs?"
Tal grinned over at him. "Nearly. But written down."
"Then you've described the Creed. She had me repeat the First Creed about a thousand times."
"Let's hear it once more."
Garin faked another scowl, then obliged, taking on the droning tone Sister Pond had used:
"In Silence, we hear their Song.
In Solemnity, we understand their Song.
In Serenity, we accept their Song."
Tal paused, a thoughtful look on his face. The next moment, though, he masked it with a smile. "I about fell asleep just listening to it once. One problem you won't have in your next lesson."
Garin wondered at that look, but aloud, he groaned. "Will they never end?"
"Yes, in fact — this is the last one. But mind that you pay attention." Tal's expression had gone uncharacteristically serious. "This more than the others taught me things that would have served me well in my younger years. Had I known what you are about to learn, I might have avoided many of the mistakes that led me to where I am today."
"To what? Being a hero?"
Tal smiled, but there was no humor in it. "To being a legend. Which is far from the same thing."
They walked silently to the far end of the castle, far away from the gatherings of nobility or the bustlings of the kitchen. Garin, who hadn't eaten since breakfast, found his stomach rumbling, but curiosity reigned supreme for the moment.
Finally, they stopped at an unadorned door. Beyond it, laughter and loud voices rang through, jarring against the silence that had fallen between the two of them. Tal glanced at him.
"Ready?"
Garin raised an eyebrow. "How could I be? You haven't told me why we're here."
"All part of the fun."
Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
As Garin followed him, a cornucopia of sound, light, and color flooded his senses. Every high-mounted window seemed to beam with delight at the eclectic array of sight and sound. People of every size and Bloodline, dressed in more colors than a rainbow, spoke loudly at each other, or tumbled, or held mock sword fights that were far from the displays Garin had seen earlier that morning.
A man who could only be a goblin — with his short stature, wrinkled, grayish skin, pointed ears, and black, beady eyes — blared a familiar, bawdy pub tune. A big man with skin as dark as coal leaned next to a milky pale elf with blazing blue eyes. Two of the squattest of the company resembled Master Krador, but their girth was broader and their height shorter. He knew they must be dwarves, and one of them a woman, from the pink dress she wore. Garin was vaguely surprised she didn't have a beard, as he thought female dwarves were supposed to.
He wanted to run and hide. For him, this room held far more fear than the Master-at-Arms or even the quill and ink had. Even if there were lessons fit for a legend here, he wasn't sure he wanted to give them a try. But for Tal's sake, after all he'd done for him, he knew he had to.
Swallowing, Garin followed Tal within.
"Ah! The Three-Faced Rogue himself!" Falcon emerged from seemingly nowhere, arms spread, his grin stretching nearly as wide. Drawing up short of them, he made a mocking bow. "Your Great Smelliness!"
Tal put him upright again with a smile of his own. "And I even cleaned yesterday for you! Never enough for a trouper's sensitive nose. But no matter — I didn't come for a social calling." Tal jabbed a thumb back at Garin. "I need you to turn him into an actor."
"Him?" Falcon's smile slipped as the bard peered at him. "Hm… Even worse off than when you began. You're sure you want to put the poor boy through this?"
"He has a clever tongue and an ear for pitch, though he rarely uses them. With some training, he might make a passable troubadour in a pinch."
That, Garin decided, was going too far. "I don't want to be a troubadour."
They both turned to him, astonishment writ large across their expressions. The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare. Garin felt his face flush an even deeper red than it had before Wren.
"You don't?" Falcon gasped.
"Garin!" Tal thundered. "How could you say such a thing?!"
He was frozen, unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. He didn't know if he should run or start babbling excuses, but he felt he had to do something…
"Kidding," he gasped with a weak smile. "Just kidding."
Everyone in the room stared at him for a moment longer. Then, as one, they burst out laughing.
"Well done, lad!" Tal clapped him on the back. "You passed the test!"
Garin looked from Tal's beaming expression to Falcon's grin to the rest of the laughing troupe. "Test?" he asked dumbly.
"Of course!" Falcon gestured expansively to the room. "A test to see how you would react in an unexpected situation. And you played a role! If that's not passing, then all of us are doing it wrong."
While Garin chewed on that, Falcon suddenly bowed, sweeping his feathered hat from his head. "Falcon Sunstring welcomes you to his acting troupe for His Highness, King Aldric Rexall the Fourth — the Dancing Feathers!"
The troupe gave a cheer. Then, all at once, they were pressing forward, everyone wanting to hug or shake his hand. Names were exchanged so quickly he could hardly keep track of any of them, and though he felt like a juggler who'd dropped all of his balls, he grasped at them all the same. Ox, the big man with an even bigger laugh; Jonn, the pale, blue-eyed elf who stayed closed by Ox's side; Yelda, the dwarfess, a stern-looking actress who told him straight-off she always played the lead female roles; Mikael, the goblin, who seemed to think everything was a joke, funny or not—
Finally, Tal extricated him from the mass of over-friendly players and pulled him close. "I think there's at least one person you'll be pleased to see."
Head still spinning, it took Garin a moment to notice a slight, short-haired girl leaning in the corner, an eyebrow arched and a quirk to her lips. His mouth went dry.
"Wren Sunstring," Tal said with a chuckle, "is Falcon's daughter. So I imagine she'll be teaching you how to act as well as how to use a sword. Sounds like a lot of time together to my ear."
Garin had no responses left but stared dumbly at her. He only knew it for a mistake when she pushed away from the wall and stalked over toward him.