“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 I have. I’ll consider it a mark of good luck that I’m taking a position you vacated.”
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 was going to end up at the Fig and Gristle forever. In fact, there was a chance that if the right girl had come along to woo her, she would have put down proper roots.
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 couldn’t imagine.
“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 her bed, she just doesn’t use it most nights.”
“What’s the consensus on the next dungeon?” asked Verity.
“Nothing,” said Mizuki. “We’ve just been talking in circles.” She took a sip of her wine. “Speculating, which I’ve been informed by both of them is a stupid thing to do and which hasn’t seemed to stop either.” She gestured at the bottle. “There’s wine, if you’d like to join us in our wild speculations that will come to no conclusion.”
Verity almost said no, but she changed her mind at the last minute and instead set her lute case down to take a seat.
<Isra, we’re drinking wine and making wild guesses about future dungeons,> said Verity. <I would appreciate you coming over, if you’re not busy hunting or something. If you spend the night, we might convince Hannah to bake some bread in the morning.>
<I’ll be over,> said Isra.
<Excellent,> replied Verity. <Looking forward to it.>
“Bread?” asked Hannah. “I can, of course, unless you’d like to make a show of convincin’ me.”
“Oh, I would adore that,” said Verity. “Make us beg you. You’ll all still be up once Isra gets here, right?”
“I’m late to bed most nights,” said Mizuki. “Especially after some good wine. It’s just about chilly enough to make a fire, I think. I’d thought we were done with cold spring nights. I’ll have to complain to Isra when she shows up.”
“I’ll go get some wood,” said Alfric. “Is there a woodpile in the back?”
“Um,” said Mizuki. “I kind of just grab logs from the forest. In the winter there’s a fully powered heating element.”
“Then I’ll go find some logs in the woods, I guess,” said Alfric. He rubbed his hands together and took off without another word.
“Always quick to pitch in,” said Hannah, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t think I could be moved for anything right now.”
“Too much food for everyone,” said Mizuki. “And then wine on top of that. But I suppose lighting the fire will fall to me.”
“You have a firestarter though, don’t you?” asked Hannah. “I could have sworn I’d seen one around.”
“Hush,” said Mizuki. “I don’t get many chances to use my mystical powers for good.”
“Or for evil, right?” asked Verity.
Mizuki bit her lip. “Oh, just a tiny bit of evil, now and then. You know, they say that evil is the spice of life.”
“I don’t think that’s what they say,” Hannah said with a smile.
“What are we talking about?” asked Alfric, who had come back in with armfuls of wood.
“What’s the spice of life?” asked Hannah.
Alfric set the logs beside the fireplace, then stood up with a thoughtful expression. “Verity?” he asked.
There was a chorus of groans from around the room, and Mizuki threw a pillow at Alfric, which he caught with expected deftness, as though he’d been trained for it.
“Sorry I wasn’t able to get proper logs,” said Alfric. “I did my best.” Verity looked, and saw that it was an awkward collection of wood, none of it properly split or chopped. This was something she hadn’t really thought about before, but for a wood fireplace, the kind that was only really for nostalgia or entertainment unless you were quite poor, you needed a fair amount of preparation. The fireplace was fairly wide, but not everything Alfric had brought in would fit.