Chapter Eight
"Black and Silver"F
innbhear shifted in his saddle. It was a futile attempt to relieve the pain from his saddle sores, but he tried anyway. A fly landed on his nose, avoided his swat, and flew for better pastures. He wished he were home, bathing in hot water and listening to his musician play the lyre. At least, he reflected further, he could sneak a tune or two on his flute. They were far enough from the road now that something like that would not endanger them, for all the flute had come from the fey folk and was magic.
MacKegan was listening for that flute to play, Finnbhear knew, but this deep in the woods, fey magic was common. A small tune could do no harm, but he kept it tucked away out of sight.
The Silver Fox snorted to himself, shaking his head. He was being a s
