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Bard: Chapter 33

In which someone's music is too loud, too early

By RenaPublished 2 years ago 8 min read
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Trista woke in the dim pre-dawn light with a gnawing sense of dread.

The festival loomed, and she wasn’t ready. She didn’t think she would ever be ready. The piece sounded fine, and she could play it almost without thinking now, certainly without looking at the notes, but the idea of being watched by so many people, of drawing attention…

She groaned, pressing a hand to her stomach. She didn’t quite feel sick, not enough to cry illness and back out of the performance. The festival was required for classes anyway. As everyone insisted on telling her, they were all bards

Trista got ready, slung her violin case over her shoulder, and made her way towards the practice rooms. She had plenty of time before classes started. Maybe more practice would make her feel better about the whole thing, though she doubted it.

Liam was near, walking home from the night shift. They wouldn’t meet on the paths they were taking, so Trista turned the next corner to join the street he was on. He caught sight of her and smiled tiredly.

“Good morning,” he called.

“Good morning,” she said. “How was the night?”

“Fine,” he said, then made a face. He was lying, his unease was strong and distinct.

And he knew she could feel it. He knew she would know he was lying.

“I can’t help knowing,” she said quickly, “but you don’t have to say anything about it if you don't want to.”

Liam paused. He chewed his lip for a moment, looking down. His unease dimmed.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Can I walk you to school?”

“Aren’t you on your way home?”

“It’s not far to the college from here.” Liam shrugged.

“Alright,” Trista said.

“When’s your performance?” Liam asked as they started walking again. He gestured to her violin case. “Do you feel ready?”

“No,” Trista moaned, clutching the case to her chest with a sudden sense of dread. “Not at all, and the performance is tomorrow. First day of the festival.”

Liam narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“It’s that you don’t like people watching you play, right?” he asked. Trista nodded. “Can you play with your eyes closed?”

Trista almost smiled. She could play with her eyes closed, and the suggestion might work for a human, but closing her eyes wouldn’t dampen her awareness of everyone around her.

“I’ll still feel them,” she replied.

“Have you been practicing?”

“Yes,” Trista said. “Every day, nearly all the time.”

“I mean with people around.”

“No. It’s hard with other people listening,” Trista said, cringing. “I mean, of course we rehearse in class, and there are always other people in the practice rooms, but…” she trailed off. Liam had taken her hand and was pulling her towards a low rain cache at the edge of the walkway.

Lightly, he picked her up around the waist and set her on the lip of the cache. He slipped the strap of her violin case off her shoulders and opened it, then set the case down on the ground, and handed her the violin.

“What?” she asked, bewildered.

“Practice now,” he said, smiling.

“I can’t!” Trista protested. “I just told you it’s hard when people are listening.”

“I’m the only one around,” Liam said, spreading his hands and looking around at the empty walkway. He couldn’t feel the stirring human minds in the buildings all around them.

“There are dozens of people around,” she hissed. “They’ll hear me.”

“Dozens are going to hear you tomorrow,” Liam pointed out, taking a seat on a flower box across from her. “At least now you can’t see them.”

“I can see you,” she said tightly. Liam grinned. After a moment his look softened. He looked at the violin clutched in her hands, then back up to her.

“Everything you play is wonderful,” he said, then he shrugged. “Besides, I don’t know anything about music. You could play random noises and I’d think you were brilliant.”

Trista took a long, deep breath. Her nerves jangled, and more and more human minds stirred in the buildings around them, near waking, still sleeping. Liam was no longer uneasy though. His discomfort had faded into nothingness. He sat there now, watching her with a look of patient encouragement. If there was anyone outside class she could stand looking at her while she played, it would probably be him.

Biting her lip anxiously, she set the violin under her chin and set the bow on the strings. Liam watched her, leaning back on his hands.

The melody was not complicated–she was still a beginning music student after all–but she went around the opening measures a few times until her hands stopped shaking. Once she had it though, everything felt better. The music lit up the world around her, drawing out threads and pulses of power that were ever present. This particular song didn’t send the magic spinning in any particular way, but she was aware of the steady, soothing stream of it all around her.

Liam had leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and smiling brightly.

Behind her, there was a sudden spike of aggravation, the screech of a window being yanked upwards, and a shout.

“It is barely dawn! Don’t you have anywhere else to practice!”

The music ended with an unpleasant squeal, the bow skipping over the strings. Trista hopped down to the paving stones, reaching for the violin case.

“Sorry!” she called out.

Liam was on his feet. He took her hand and pulled her further along, down a street that led away from the college.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a market square a little ways down here,” he said.

“What?”

He led her to the raised platform at the end of the space, where a crier might make an announcement, or a real bard might perform. He took her around the waist again and lifted her up onto it.

“Have another go,” he said. Trista blanched.

“What?” she cried, hunching her shoulders and looking at all the darkened windows around the square. There were plenty of sleeping humans here as well. “What if I get yelled at again?”

“Keep playing,” Liam said simply. “You never know what might distract you during a performance. Keep playing anyway.”

He had a point.

Shaking, Trista raised her violin, and began again. This time she had only made it a few measures in when a window flew open. She could feel the flash of anger, and stopped even before the shout, dropping down off the platform.

“What kind of time do you call this?” The complaint came from across the square. Trista could see the man, hanging out the window in his nightshirt, red in the face. “I’ll have the guard out!”

“Oops.” Liam grinned and took Trista by the hand, running out of the square, the man’s indignant yells echoing behind them.

With the threat to call the guard, Trista thought they must be done, but Liam found them another square, set her up on an overturned crate that had been left near an alleyway, and asked her to start again.

There was nothing else for it. She played.

She kept playing, and people kept yelling at her. It was too early for music in the square, everyone was in agreement on that. And every time she jumped and tried to run, Liam took her by the hand and sped them towards the next square or fountain or moderately wide walkway, set her up on a ledge, and told her to play again.

“Get to class, you nuisance!”

“Am I making you late?” Liam asked over his shoulder as they bolted again.

“No,” Trista said, clambering to keep up. He was a fast runner, and she wasn’t used to running. They came to a smaller square, completely surrounded by homes, only a low laundry fountain tucked into one corner. Liam led her up the small step to stand on the fountain’s edge and took a seat on the ground since there wasn’t anywhere else.

Trista let out a desperate laugh, and played again.

“Keep it down, dammit!”

“You almost got all the way through that time!” Liam called back delightedly as they ran. Trista felt almost giddy. They were going so fast from one place to another, playing and running and being shouted at, that she didn’t have time to feel nervous before starting up the song again. She laughed as he pulled her along, the sheer, ridiculous glee of what they were doing drowning out everything else.

They reached a courtyard near the college, and Liam hoisted her onto the base of a statue she couldn’t have clambered up on her own. She played again, all the way through.

“Not everyone wakes with the sun, you bastard!”

They skidded into the walkway outside the practice rooms, Trista out of breath and laughing.

“Some–someone is going to complain to the c-college,” she managed between gasps and chuckles.

“Oh no, the bards are making noise,” Liam said sarcastically, and Trista snorted. “What time is your performance tomorrow?”

“Noon,” Trista said.

“I’ll be there.”

“You’ll be sleeping,” Trista said, finally catching her breath.

“I’ll be there,” he repeated, smirking.

Trista stood outside the practice rooms and watched him walk towards home until she lost her sense of him. She felt…lighter. Her knees were wobbly from all the running, and her heart was still pounding, and her skin buzzed with the adrenaline of it all, but…

Playing in front of people who were awake, and expecting music, probably wouldn’t be so bad.

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About the Creator

Rena

Find me on Instagram @gingerbreadbookie

Find me on Twitter @namaenani86

Check my profile for short stories, fictional cooking blogs, and a fantasy/adventure serial!

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