"I'm sorry," and Koe did not have to indicate what he was sorry about.
Yet she did not want his sympathy, Koe was certain.
He'd compared her to Minaht once, long ago. Too long ago to put into words what such a thing meant. And like Minaht she now found herself in the thrall of a human being, in the thrall of national concerns, because... their king had saved her life. Koe wondered if he could have escaped the inevitable comparison by ... why would he want to? Was it so awful, knowing that his wife was out there, somewhere? That he'd made a promise and a commitment to her? He should have been ashamed of how he'd behaved with Iluq in the past. All he could muster, for truth, was a measure of sadness. That had happened long ago. The memories were still fresh because no one wanted to fight their wife to the death. The memories were still fresh because the pain was still real. He did not want to relive those days. Yet now he seemed to have no choice.
It was not fair to compare them in his mind.
"I was in Faustben, once," Koe's smile was not forced. "I played a song called "Drunken Soldiers On The Green". Harmless tale, really. And one of the soldiers there wanted to start a fight with me. His comrades talked him out of it, so we drank instead. I have never been so intoxicated, before or since, but I remember stepping over him on the way out the door. He drank himself to sleep. His fellows were taking turns kicking him as hard as they could in the legs when I left. I imagine the longer he slept, the harder it was to walk. I wrote a song about that, once. I think I have it... somewhere..."
He'd caught himself on the verge of standing up, searching for the song. It wasn't important. In the first place he remembered the song well enough. And in the second she had not come all this way to hear a story that did not mention Faustben at all couched in a song with simplistic melodies. She wanted to talk, and he would talk, but he was playing for time. Not knowing what to say could leave you in a very uncomfortable place if you let it. Almost as maddening as knowing exactly what to say and lacking the courage to say it. Now he'd escaped the trap of the former only to fall into the thrall of the latter. He could not help but feel critical of what she'd chosen for herself, and yet... it was not his place to judge her decisions.
Yet she'd known without his asking what Koe was most curious about.
Another trait she shared with Minaht.
And the ambition? Where did that reside?
"A fine place, I suppose. You might have managed to find the one fellow in the world who would not covet a dragon's power for himself," and Koe laid his hand atop hers, which was clutching the fabric of his shirt as though afraid he would evaporate. "My first instinct is always to warn against such things. A bard can move from place to place, never remembered, never forgotten, a sound and a voice and a feeling more than a face. Living so long in one country, with one name and one role... how long before someone realizes what you are? And then how long before they want to possess your power for themselves?"
It was the story of Onainaht that he was thinking of.
"If that has not been your experience, I'm glad. So I suppose my real question is simple. Are you happy there?"