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."
The other centaur answered dubiously, "It rubs against
the tune, some places. Are the words right? I wouldn't
know, it being new to me."
"New?" the first one questioned. "New? Why, that's the
oldest song I know. It was old when our folk fled to the
wood, in the time - what's the name? When the seas shook
and rocks charged downhill like wild beasts - "
"Cataclysm," the other said.
"Cataclysm," the singer said carefully. "Right. And
that's when we were pledged to guard this place. The
Forestmaster, she had no living guard then, her own guards
being dead and a lot of traitors."
"Traitors? Why?" the other asked.
The stag held his breath, thinking quietly, "Let them
not remember. Let it be lost in time. If I know, and if she
knows - and if the king knows - that is more than enough."
The first centaur slapped his own bristly side.
"Why? The song tells why. Let me see if I can put
more
of it in mind. Somewhat about the stag serving the
unicorn - "
He sang more hesitantly:
HE SERVED HER LONG, HE SERVED HER WELL,
HE SERVED HER, WHOLE AND PART
UNTIL ONE NIGHT IN SHADOW GLADE
HE TOLD HER ALL HIS HEART.
The other said firmly, "If this song turns filthy, I'll
hear none of it
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