“Fine,” said Verity. “Fine, I just… if my parents hired him, even if he’s not going to do the work, that means they’ll hire someone else when he doesn’t report, or if he reports and says he’s not going to do it. I was doing fine, I had a room and a job, it wasn’t like I was dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“Were they just worried, or was it somethin’ more?” asked Hannah. “When someone runs away, it can be hard on the parents.”
“I didn’t run away,” said Verity, but there was no confidence in the statement. “I talked to them and explained that I was an adult capable of making my own decisions and finding my own way in the world. They disagreed and shut down any further discussion, like I was going to change my mind if they just refused to entertain the idea.” She shook her head. “I’m not even that upset with Alfric, though maybe I should be. I’m more upset that I wasn’t trusted to be my own person. I’m upset with them.”
“Ah, I hear ya,” said Hannah. “My own parents didn’t fancy havin’ a cleric for a daughter.”
“They didn’t?” asked Verity. She hadn’t been looking at Hannah, but at this she turned, frowning.
Hannah nodded. “They tried to talk me out of it. My da thought that I was goin’ for the wrong reasons, and my ma just didn’t like the idea of me not gettin’ to see them so much, which I suppose she had a point about, but it wasn’t goin’ to stop me.”
“What are the wrong reasons to become a cleric?” asked Verity.
“Oh,” said Hannah, waving her hand. “My da had some ideas about why I had such a strong interest in Garos, mostly havin’ to do with him thinkin’ I was interested in women, given a certain reputation of the church, not that it’s not warranted. He said to me that I didn’t have to go, that we could find me a woman at home if that was what I wanted.”
“And… it wasn’t?” asked Verity. She had one eyebrow slightly arched.
Hannah laughed. “Oh, no, not at all. Da wasn’t wrong, there was a lot of that goin’ on in the seminary, and I did end up havin’ a few girlfriends. It’s a bit… well, I wouldn’t say encouraged, but—” She shook her head. “It’s not important right now. The point I was tryin’ to make was that parents can be a bit difficult, and if you didn’t want to be a bard, or not a bard like they wanted you to be, that’s somethin’ for them to deal with on their own, with no spyin’ on you. I don’t blame Alfric for seekin’ you out, if he thinks you’re the best bard he could get, but I wouldn’t blame you either if you decide you don’t want to deal with him. Now, to my mind, he gets some credit for ’fessin’ up when he did, but that’s me, not you.”
“I suppose,” said Verity. “You know, all I really wanted to do was to make music.”
“And were you not allowed to, in the conservatory?” asked Hannah. “Or the life you were to have beyond there?”
“There was too much focus on the magic,” said Verity. “And if it wasn’t the magic, then it was dealing with other people, scheduling time with a group, arranging gigs, learning new songs that needed to be played with demanding technical precision… There was so much pressure, so much demand, so much that wasn’t even remotely about the music itself.”
“And goin’ into dungeons doesn’t really help that, does it?” asked Hannah. “Alfric doesn’t want you because you can improvise a nice melody, or because he appreciates what you do with lyrics, it’s ’cause he wants to be forty-six percent stronger or some such.”
“Yes,” said Verity. “Yes, exactly, and I understand it, the value that I have, but it feels like that’s the only thing that anyone cares about. It’s maddening.”
“Is it better at the tavern?” asked Hannah.
Verity thought for a moment. “People feel the effects, and that’s why I was hired, but I do get complimented on my songs. People notice, I think. They appreciate more than just having flavorful food. And I am good at the effects, better than most, I just… I didn’t want to be that lute player who gets hired into a guild so she can sit in a room somewhere and play away with no one hearing her.”
Hannah nodded. “Well, if you stick with us, know that you’re here for more than that. Everyone’s got a role in the party, and that role is important, but it’s not the sum of what it means to be a party member. For my own part, the song you sang on the way back from the dungeon was what made me think we could really be a party in the long term. That I wanted to, with you specific people, above and beyond any interest in dungeons.”
Verity blushed and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Now,” said Hannah, placing her hands on her knees. “I’m goin’ to give you a bit of time to yourself, to collect your thoughts and such, but Mizuki has some lunch bubblin’ away, and I doubt you’d want to miss it. There’s some strawberry bread to go with it, fresh baked this mornin’.”
As Hannah left, Verity was going for her lute, ready to sing a song to herself.
Chapter 15 — Good Next Steps, I Suppose
“How is she?” asked Alfric once Hannah came back downstairs.
“Never mind that,” said Mizuki. “Look at this cat.”
Sitting on the kitchen counter like a proper gentleman was Tabbins, an enormous black cat with a white belly and white paws that looked a little like mittens. He was nominally Mizuki’s cat, though he spent most of his time outside, and Mizuki only ended up feeding him once a day. He caught his other meals, usually mice, but occasionally a rat or a bunny, and he sometimes left pieces of them outside the door for Mizuki to find. On balance, this felt like it was better than having mice in the house, but Mizuki wasn’t always so sanguine about their relationship.
“Look at him!” said Mizuki.
“Yes?” asked Hannah. “You have a cat?”
“Kind of,” said Mizuki. “I would say it’s more like there’s a cat who uses the home from time to time. More in the winter than the summer, and sometimes I don’t see him for days.” She stroked his head, and he tilted it back, closing his eyes. “Look at him though! Isra is a woods witch, she told him to jump up, and he did it, just like magic.”
“It is literally magic,” said Alfric.
“This cat has not listened to a single solitary thing that anyone has ever said,” Mizuki beamed, as though she was proud of that fact. “But he listened to Isra.”
“Isra might be a druid,” said Alfric.
“Woods witch,” said Mizuki. That was the term she’d grown up with. ‘Druid’ didn’t sound right to her ears. It was like something having to deal with ‘dru’, whatever that was. “Which is neat, but not really something that needed to be kept from us, I wouldn’t think.”
“It came up on our walk,” said Isra, who was looking at the cat. “I’m not certain. Most cats don’t listen to me though.”
“Most cats don’t listen to anyone,” said Mizuki. “But if you can get a cat to listen to you ten percent of the time, then you’re a woods witch for sure.”
“You’re all saying that what I can do is… not the same sort of thing you can do,” said Isra. “You’re saying that it’s not… natural?”
“Well, if it’s what you are,” said Hannah. “And I won’t say that it is what you are, not until I’ve seen some better evidence. Some might say it’s the most natural thing you can be. It’s a power, certainly, but bein’ a druid is almost like bein’ a cleric, though not quite so much and without the power of a miracle.” She didn’t seem entirely sure about that.