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.What are you up to now? I don't suppose you rode back here in a golden coach pulled by six white show-beasts?""Thinking," he replied, choosing to answer the one halfway sensible question in her speech, letting the rest of it go by.It was a way he had.He thought it was one of the things that she did like about him."Thinking about what?""About certain things that I've found out." Ben slid off his peddler's pack, looked about for a place to put it, then dropped it on the floor and kicked it under the small table, conserving floor space."It sounds like you've managed to addle your mind somehow, whatever else you've done.I suppose you're hungry?" Barbara gave up the pretense of Page 21ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlcontinuing to fuss with her nails.She turned to give him her full attention and frank interest.Ben crouched and.reached under the table to get something from his pack.His hand rejected a half-loaf of bread that was going stale, and pulled out some good sausage."Not really.I have this, if you'd like some.""Maybe later, thanks.Did you go to the Blue Temple and enlist, as you were saying you'd do?""Didn't you get either of my letters?""No."That was hardly surprising, Ben supposed."Well, I wrote twice.And I did enlist." He took a bite off the end of the sausage himself, and offered it again."Ever hear from Mark?""Not, since he left." This time Barbara was not so reluctant.Chewing, she regarded Ben for a little while in silence, while he stood there unable to keep himself from smiling at her.He could, as always, see thoughts coming and going in her face, though he was hardly ever sure of what they were.It sounded simple, but it was one of the things about her that gave Ben a sensation of enchantment.At last Barbara said to him: "There's more on your mind than Mark, or bringing me sausage.I suppose you've deserted.Is that the big secret I can see in the back of your eyes? A Blue Temple enlistment should run for four or five years, shouldn't it?"Ben's eye had caught sight of his old lute.It was hanging in a prominent place, tied high up on the tent's central pole.Seeing the instrument so honored gave him a good feeling, and seeing it also brought back memories.Ben reached up and took it down."I've kept it as a decoration, like."He strummed the instrument, but only briefly and softly.He could see at once that the strings were in bad shape.It seemed too that his hands were well on the way to losing entirely whatever poor skill they'd once possessed.For years, for most of his life, Ben had nursed deep, fervent dreams of being a musician.His broad mouth twisted now, under his new beard, remembering that.Now that he had some form of music in his hands, the tune that had been haunting him ever since that night of treasure and terror and flight came back irresistibly.In his mind the music ran sweet and clear-all tunes ran that way for him, in his mind.It was only when he tried to get them to come out properly through his fingers or his voice that his difficulties started.He sang the old tune now, very softly and almost to himself, in a voice that sounded as inadequate as he had feared it would: Benambra's goldDoth glitter coldly."Gods and demons, what a noise!" judged the harsh bass voice of someone standing just outside the tent.A moment later the entrance flap was whipped aside, this time by no gentle hand.The man who had to bow his head to enter seemed to fill up what little spaceBen's presence had left in the small interior.The newcomer could be no one but Tanakir the Mighty, though perhaps he did not quite do justice to his portrait on the wagon's side.Well, thought Ben, no human figure could do that.Tanakir was almost a head taller than Ben, and his upper body proportion-ately broad.His shirt, a garment undoubtedly once expensive though now badly faded, was worn halfway open to reveal the carven plates of muscle on his chest.His biceps were more than simply large, and as he came into the tent his movements were ponderous, as if slowed down by equal weights of muscle and of Page 22ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlvanity.At second glance he was a considerably older man than Ben.There were a few gray hairs showing in his long dark braids.Once inside, Tanakir paused, fists on hips in a pose that might well be some part of his act.He glared at the two other people in the tent as if he were demand-ing an explanation from them."We have a strongman now," said Barbara in conversational tones to Ben."You never wanted that job while you were here."Tanakir from his greater height glowered down at Ben, who stood with lute in hand, blinking back at him."So, this is Ben," the strongman rumbled."He didn't want the job? Him? This chubby minstrel?"Ben turned a little away, to hang up the lute again carefully, high up on the central pole, out of head-knocking range.It was one of the few times in his life that anyone had ever called him a minstrel, and he felt unreasonably pleased.Tanakir told him: "You're leaving very soon:"Ben blinked at him again, then backed up carefully and sat down on a small chest, which creaked a little with the burden.He sat in a position that left his hands and feet ready if they should be needed."I haven't decided about that yet.""I'm deciding for you.""All right," said Ben mildly.He allowed the other just a beat in which to begin triumphant relaxation, before he added, "One of us leaves tonight, if you feel that way.Well, maybe in the morning.No one wants to start out on the road at night
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