“In Dondrian, yes,” said Verity. “The Ellusifé twice and the Pallonia once.” It occurred to her after she’d said it that this could be seen as bragging, and following that thought, it occurred to her that this was saying a bit too much. “It was less of a big deal than it maybe sounds like. These were spotlight events rather than earned purely on merit.” But the clarification didn’t seem to have the intended effect because Clemency was still staring at her with wide eyes.
“But then why are you—” She choked back the question and looked at her hands.
“Here,” Verity finished for her. She mulled over the question, trying to find a good way to say it, one that would hopefully communicate everything there was to say on the matter. “For a bard in Dondrian, there’s a lot of pressure, at least if people think as highly of you as they did of me. When everyone is congratulating you on a performance you know you made a hundred mistakes on, when you get invitations to play at important places and they expect you to glad-hand for three hours after an hour-long performance…” Verity trailed off. She could see that she wasn’t getting through to the girl, and these sorts of problems weren’t ones Clemency could relate to. “I don’t mean to whine. We were a family of some means.”
“No, not at all,” said Clemency. “We all have our problems.” She smiled.
“I hope someday those are the sorts of problems
Verity gave her a small smile. “I hope that you get everything you wish for. And thank you, for stopping by. There’s a good chance that I’ll see you around Pucklechurch. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help make it a good transition. Cynthia was kind to me, and I have some affection for the place.”
“We could sing together some night?” asked Clemency. “I don’t know if you’ve ever done that, aside from whatever you were trying, but I’ve always wanted to. I doubt Cynthia would pay for it, but I would take a loss, if it meant—”
“We’ll figure something out,” said Verity, before the other bard could go any further. She had to suppress the urge to give the girl half a string of rings right then and there.
When they’d said their goodbyes and Verity had a short chat with Cynthia, who seemed apologetic, Verity was left to walk home, carrying an unplayed lute.
She had known, when she’d sought out the job at the Fig and Gristle,
that she wasn’t going to be there forever. To settle down and be a
tavern bard at eighteen… There was something she found a bit sad about
that, though she could see how it would be possible. It had happened to
better people than her, she was sure. There was a song, she recalled,
about a man who sat down to rest for a moment and then realized a decade
later that he had once been moving, but was so covered with moss and
leaves that he couldn’t get up. It was her favorite kind of song, a
jaunty tune about a depressing subject. When Alfric had come calling,
Verity had already been starting to wonder whether she
And it was possible that the same thing might happen with dungeoneering,
if she wasn’t careful. Her excuse for not wanting to do more than just
the six around Pucklechurch had been that she didn’t want to do all that
walking, but with the travel entads, and with the other members of the
party becoming friends, she could easily see them still doing this same
thing fifty or a hundred dungeons down the way. Thousands… well, that
she
“We’re talkin’ next dungeons,” said Hannah once Verity had come in. “How was playin’?”
“There’s a new bard,” said Verity. “So playing didn’t really happen.”
“That’s a shame,” said Hannah. “I know you liked going there. If you’d like, the next time we’re all in Tarchwood or Liberfell, we can find a place where you can play for an audience.”
“I think it was the comfort and familiarity of the place,” said Verity. “Is Isra in?”
“No,” said Alfric. “And it’s getting late enough that I’m not sure it would be worth the trip for her. You’re welcome to try the channel though.” He was sitting with a glass of wine cupped in one hand. An open bottle was on the table between him and Mizuki, half drained. Mizuki’s face was slightly flushed. The house still smelled of the dinner she’d cooked, something buttery with chicken, and Verity almost asked whether there were leftovers, even though she’d already eaten.
“I think I’ll leave her be,” said Verity. “Though I suppose if she came, she could just take the spare bed.”
“It’s not really a spare bed,” said Mizuki. “It’s
“What’s the consensus on the next dungeon?” asked Verity.
