Bard: Chapter 18

Trista let the final note shiver in the air, then lowered her violin. The piece of paper the grandmaster had ripped in half and laid on his desk had pieced itself together perfectly, no sign of the tear remaining.

The grandmaster picked up the paper, examining it with his fingers while keeping his milky gaze locked on Trista. She held her violin across her chest, meeting his eyes and trying to appear nonthreatening. His fear had diminished but he had remained on his guard and she didn’t have any real idea of what he could do.

“Curious,” he said after a moment, tossing the paper aside and gesturing for her to sit down again. “You are using the energies of nature, as humans do.” He turned his chair more towards the fire, steepling his fingers and falling into thoughtful silence.

Trista waited, her own fear growing. Regardless of what he might be able to do to her in a fight, he very much had the power to expel her from the college, or reveal her for what she was. Unless she altered his mind, overriding his will or erasing his memory of the encounter entirely, she was at his mercy. She hated it, but she hated the idea of falling into old habits even more.

“What else have you learned to do with this magic?” the grandmaster asked after a long silence.

“Only the mending, and making things warm—lighting candles and such,” Trista said.

“What got you started on mending?”

“I was trying to heal my friend’s hand,” Trista explained. “He cut it on the ice when the docks were overrun.”

“You healed someone?”

“Yes.”

The grandmaster drew in a long breath and blew it out through his nose. He leaned back in his chair, rotating back towards her.

“Your friends are human?” he asked.

Trista nodded. “I’m the only demon in the city, that I know of.”

“Only demon…” the grandmaster raised an eyebrow. “Any other non-humans I should know about?”

“I don’t know of any.”

“Do your friends know what you are?”

“The friends I live with, who I came to the city with, they know,” Trista replied. “No one else does.”

“And what have you done to assure their silence on the matter?”

“Nothing.” Trista bristled, drawing herself up. “I haven’t used my power on them. Only they understand I don’t want others to know.”

“Hmph.” The grandmaster sat back again, hands folded, gazing at the fire.

Trista waited. He hadn’t called for anyone, or made any threats, or even tried to attack her. She supposed there must be some encouragement to be taken from that. Her anxiety grew, nonetheless.

“Sir,” she said, breaking the silence. “Are you going to expel me?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he replied, rubbing his knuckles against his chin.

Trista slumped, and waited. The fire crackled in the hearth, and shadows danced over the walls, looming over them. It was very dark in the room for a human, and she wondered if there was something to the grandmaster’s eyes other than they’re coloring.

“Using the violin as a focus, that’s not typical,” the grandmaster mused, not taking his eyes off the fire.

“Sir?”

“Most of us use objects more easily imbued with magic,” he replied with a shrug. “Gemstones, wands, staffs, and such…your violin is not magically imbued.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Where did you get it?”

“It’s the one I borrowed from the school, when I enrolled,” Trista said, turning the instrument so he could see the crest etched just under the neck of the violin.

“You’re wielding magic with a shitty first-year loaner?”

“It’s not shitty,” Trista said quickly, feeling defensive of her first violin. The grandmaster laughed.

“I have a friend—another bard, and a mage—he travels often, and uses an ocarina as his focus,” he said, rubbing at his chin again. “It’s not magically imbued either.”

Trista nodded, waiting for him to continue. There was a worry growing in him, and quite the sense of dissonance. Her stomach went tight.

“I asked you here because I thought you were an adept, and it appears that is exactly what you are,” the grandmaster said wearily. “Though you will understand I have some misgivings about making my intended offer, considering...”

“What offer?” Trista asked.

“Do you want to learn more?” the grandmaster said with a sigh. He leaned his elbows on the desk. “Do you want to learn how to control the magic you’ve tapped into, and become a conduit for the majesty of the universe.”

“Yes,” Trista breathed.

“As I said,” The grandmaster sighed again, shrugging his shoulders. “I have misgivings.”

Trista nodded, relieved at least that his misgivings had not led him to drive her from the school yet. “I understand.”

“You only came here to learn the violin?”

“Yes,” Trista said. “It was all I could think to do after I left home, and…I don’t really have any other idea of what to do.”

The grandmaster quirked an eyebrow.

“Why learn more magic?” he asked. “When you already have power at your disposal? What do you want it for?”

“I don’t like my house’s power,” Trista said. “It only feeds and harms and destroys. I like this new one, that I can make things with, and heal things with.”

“What exactly will you make?”

“I—I don’t know,” Trista admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I’m just trying things as the need arises, or as I think about it.”

“You’ve no plans from your house, and no plans of your own.” The grandmaster cast her a chastening look. “If you’re only studying music, you’ll graduate fairly quickly. What then? What will you do with your life? Go back to your house?”

“I’ve told you I don’t want to go back.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I—” Trista faltered, “I don’t know.”

The grandmaster sat back, watching her. He didn’t question her further, simply looked on with an air of expectation. Not knowing the answer would not suffice.

“I…I don’t know what—I don’t know what humans do with their lives,” Trista tried to explain. “I’ve seen a bit, but I don’t—I don’t know what I can do, outside of the school. I want—I want to stay with my friends, but other than that…” She shrugged, and hoped that would be enough. It was all she had.

“A mage will always have doors open to them,” the grandmaster said, giving her a surprisingly sympathetic look. “If you choose this path, you will have offers when you leave the school. You will not need to stumble about.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Nodding the grandmaster leaned onto the desk again.

“It occurs to me that Trista cannot possibly be your real name,” he said conversationally. Trista ducked her head. “Unless your house gives names very differently than the one I encountered.”

“It’s my name now,” she said. “I don’t want the other.”

“I see,” he gave her a tight smile, then sighed. “I will teach you, Trista, as much as I can.”

“You will?” Trista brightened, smiling and leaning in closer.

“I will,” the grandmaster replied, drawing a paper closer so he could make a note on it. “We will begin next week. I will send for you when I am ready to begin.”

“Thank you!” Trista said earnestly. The grandmaster only sighed again.

“Gods preserve me.”