Annuin was more than a little surprised when Telar arrived with a guest, but made Kailar welcome, as the custom of hospitality demanded. “Your name, my lord?” he said, taking the bard’s cloak.
“Kailar, son of Gerra, originally of Rhys.” Kailar took off his sword and leaned it against the wall by the front door. “My father was a fisherman, but I am a bard—and in your debt.”
Annuin laughed. “A bard. I might have known. Well, you are welcome, Kailar. Take a place at our table.” As Kailar bowed and sat down, Annuin turned to his son. “And you, firstling. Did you go to your practice as I commanded?”
“Yes. And what you knew would happen, happened,” Telar said sullenly.
“What?”
“You knew Nimarl planned to humiliate me in front of the other firstlings!” Telar burst out. “You must have! You pr
