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This Used to be About Dungeons, ch 158, Performance
🕑 Added 2022-12-22 16:19:05 +0000 UTCSorry for the one day delay, I was slightly behind because of a longer-than-usual chapter, then decided I was going to take a nap before final editing. That nap ended up lasting eleven hours and just being my normal sleep for the night.
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While the Settlers were off exploring a cave, Vertex had been doing a dungeon, their own descent that hadn’t been nearly such an easy and carefree thing. They had fought a firebreathing dog, a moving yellow slime, and a swarm of small snakes. Those last had been poisonous, though it had only been Tilde who’d been bitten, and they had entad support and Oeyr’s healing to get her through the worst of it. Hannah listened patiently to Marsh’s after-action report as they sat together in Lutopia Two.
The extradimensional house had grown on Hannah, in part because she’d made a number of changes to it. The wood-burning stove had been interesting and quaint, but it would have required a large stockpile of wood, and a wood fire was difficult to keep a consistent temperature, which made baking all that much harder. She hadn’t removed it entirely, but it had been retrofitted to use a burner she’d bought, and she’d put a chiller into the tiny kitchen as well, which allowed her to have a midnight snack of hardboiled eggs and cheese is she chose to. She’d also filled the place with plants, especially out on the rocky island, which had been filled with moss before, and while she’d opted for pots instead of moving in soil, that had meant that it was easy to put them in a nicely symmetrical arrangement. Hannah had no particular green thumb, but she did like plants, especially in comparison to the lichen-covered rocks that the plants were covering up. She’d gotten tiny waterstones for each of them, a minor extravagance that meant they wouldn’t ever need to be watered, especially with the steady and regular rhythms of the false sun of the extradimensional space. She’d also made sure to get plenty of herbs, which not only helped the space to smell fresh, but could be worked into her baking.
“We’re working well together,” said Marsh as he had his second slice of rosemary-bread toast coated in cream cheese and butter. “You wouldn’t think it to look at her, but she’s a beast.”
“I would think it to look at her,” said Hannah. “Would you not, a tall, muscular girl whose hand seems to go to the pommel of her sword like it makes her comfortable?”
“I don’t know,” said Marsh with a shrug.
“It’s the first thing I thought of,” said Hannah. “I thought ‘my, I suppose that woman can fight’.”
“A bit of envy?” asked Marsh.
Despite Tilde being a new member of the team, they hadn’t talked about her all that much. “Envy, ay,” said Hannah. “Jealousy, a bit.” She frowned, not knowing whether to say it. “She’s comely.”
“Is she?” asked Marsh. He seemed a bit surprised. “Also, I’m not sure that I know the difference between envy and jealousy.”
“Envy is when you want what someone else has,” said Hannah. “Jealousy is when you feel threatened. In my case, she arouses feelins’ of both.”
“And … you find her ah, comely?” asked Marsh. “Attractive?”
Hannah nodded, just a bit. “She’s the sort of woman I go for. There’s a complex set of emotions there, to be sure.”
“You mean … the sort of woman you used to go for?” asked Marsh.
Hannah looked at him. “When you met me, it killed all sense of attraction for any other person, did it?” she asked.
“Kind of,” said Marsh. “Mostly, I would say. I can’t imagine I would ever need anyone else.”
“Oh, ay,” said Hannah. “You’re quite sweet.”
“And … it’s not the same for you?” asked Marsh.
“I’ve not had a desire to wander from you, no,” said Hannah. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t look at someone else and see the appeal.”
Marsh was silent for a long moment.
“She really doesn’t appeal to you?” asked Hannah. “I’d have thought she would. We’re cast from the same mold.”
“No, not at all,” said Marsh. “You’re more … soft. Strong, but soft. Firm, but soft. Stout?”
Hannah laughed. “You’ve a way with words.”
“She’s a bean pole,” said Marsh. “We were changing into dungeon clothes, and —”
“Changin’ in front of each other?” asked Hannah.
“We’ve only got the tent,” said Marsh. “We’re low on space. Does that bother you?”
“It’s a surprise, that’s all,” said Hannah. “We don’t change in front of each other. Or, well, Verity and Isra do, or did, but that’s different, ay?”
Marsh shrugged and took another bite of bread. “I think you’ve had too much time to think lately.”
“Mmm,” said Hannah. “Very possible. Might be time to speak with a cleric, in fact.”
“To deal with, uh, emotions?” asked Marsh.
“Talkin’ to you isn’t goin’ to help,” said Hannah. “Which is just because we’re close, because I know the emotions aren’t productive, because sayin’ them out loud sounds too much like an accusation, which it shouldn’t be, because it goes on in my own head.”
“See, this is why I love you,” said Marsh. “You have a problem, then you solve it all on your own without me having to say anything.” He beamed at her.
“Well, it’s not solved, ay?” asked Hannah. “I’m just sayin’ that whatever I feel, it’ll cause problems to discuss it with you.”
“Sure,” said Marsh. “But do we agree that I’ve done nothing wrong? That it is, in fact, you who has wandering eyes?”
“They’re not wanderin’,” said Hannah. “They’re seein’ a tall, pretty woman and havin’ thoughts. We’ll be in town soon, I’ll find a cleric, and I’ll talk it out, and I’ll keep talkin’ it out until the thoughts and emotions have been handled.”
Marsh nodded. “But … you won’t be happy about it?”
“Course not,” said Hannah. “The mind, sometimes, is the enemy. It’s a crafty beast that you’ve got to be equally crafty to put down, but it’s not like a hunt, where there’s some back and forth, some pride in it, it’s more like gettin’ rid of vermin. No pride in killin’ a mouse that’s taken up residence in your kitchen, in my opinion, just somethin’ that must be done.”
Hannah returned to her baking, interrupted only occasionally by Marsh, who came by either a squeeze or to steal a bit of what she was working on, sometimes both. Her recipes had all been altered to account for this, an extra few percent of any sweets, fruits, or anything else that could be eaten plain or half-baked. He had a penchant for raw batter, which she indulged, always warning him that it was a good way to get sick.
A few hours later, there was another small batch of bread to show for Hannah’s labor, decorated with flowers and in a few cases some pretty patterns, mostly the result of herbs, fruits, and tomatoes. It was a bit non-functional as bread went, since using a dried tomato for a flower meant a lot of the tomato flavor was concentrated in a single bit, but it looked nice, and there was, admittedly, a bit too much bread in the house. Hannah planned to give it away at the town they were stopping in, perhaps to the local church.
Marsh was right that she’d had too much time to think, no clear goal ahead, but it was a line of thinking that she hated. Clerics did it often, because it felt clever and wise: the thing which you say is bothering you isn’t what’s actually bothering you, it’s the second thing that you didn’t even connect to the first thing. This felt very much like offering up enlightenment, which was why it was so attractive as advice, but some didn’t realize the crucial problem that not all issues were like this. Linking someone’s fretting over their romantic prospects to the impending visit of their mother felt good, as a cleric, but sometimes the thing people complained about really was where their central concern lay. In Hannah’s opinion, there was nothing much worse than a cleric who insisted on being clever.
Marsh wasn’t a cleric, so could be quickly forgiven, and it was even possible that he had a point, but that was why Hannah intended to find a real cleric to speak with.
The town they stopped for the night at was a small one, another farming community that mostly existed because of the hex system. You couldn’t have stopped communities from cropping up there if you had wanted to. It was smaller than Pucklechurch, but marked on the map as having a church, and that likely meant a small building that could sit, at most, a hundred people. They’d be lucky to have a single cleric, though sometimes a position like this one was prized, since it meant that you didn’t have to ‘share’ and got to know the community more intimately. Hannah wouldn’t have minded a singular posting like that, though with a town that small there was a risk of advising and counseling the same dozen people over and over, week in and week out. Clerics were meant to help people, but the reality of the matter was often that people could only be helped so long as they helped themselves.
The church was pitifully small, smaller even than the local tavern Verity had arranged to play at, with no room for a proper sermon. Five shrines dotted the edges of the room, each a copy of the others, and when Hannah saw the cleric, it was obvious why: she was a cleric of Bixzotl, God of Copies.
“How do you do?” she asked. She had long straight hair, honey-blonde, which went down almost to the small of her back, and she wore a chasabule with one of the sigils of Bixzotl, twin wolves. They could easily have been made symmetrical, but weren’t, which was something the Church of Bixzotl often did to distinguish themselves from the Chruch of Garos, even though doubling or tripling lent itself well to symmetry. It irked Hannah, if just a bit. She was also frighteningly young, even by Hannah’s standards, as she was only twenty. The girl looked like she must have gotten out of the seminary early, and was perhaps sixteen. That was young enough to be a cleric, if you started very early and went very fast, but too young for a solo posting, at least in Hannah’s estimation.
“Sorry, I’m just passin’ through,” said Hannah.
“I’ve time to talk,” said the girl, smiling. “There are two back rooms, if you’re more comfortable somewhere away?”
Hannah gave a weak smile. Clerics weren’t supposed to push too much, but they were supposed to push a little. “Alright, if you’ve the time.”
The back room was one of two, with three chairs in it and an assortment of cookies in a small tin on the table in the center. It was a dangerous thing, offering snacks, because then sometimes people would come by for the snacks, rather than because there was anything in particular on their mind.
“You’re from out of town?” asked the girl. “Any relation to the monstrously large walking house?”
“Ay, he’s my father,” said Hannah, grinning. “But no, that’s my party, we’re dungeoneers, though not in town for that reason. We’re travelin’, I suppose.”
“That sounds lovely, if you like time on the road,” said the girl with a nod. “I’m CeeCee, by the way.”
“Hannah,” said Hannah.
“Very symmetrical,” said CeeCee. “You’re a devotee of Garos? Or your parents were?”
“I’m a cleric of Garos, actually,” said Hannah. “Spent some time in the church, but it didn’t work out, so I’m on the road now.”
“Oh,” said CeeCee, frowning slightly. “Usually when the clerical life isn’t for someone, they find out while in seminary. That wasn’t the case for you?”
“I’m not here for that,” said Hannah, though of course it would be the obvious thing. “There’s this new girl who I’m havin’ some complicated emotions about, and just needed someone to speak with. I’ve been through seminary, of course, know all the things I’d say to someone in my position, all the usual platitudes, the things that work ninety percent of the time … but I think I might need them said to me, since three hours’ bakin’ didn’t get it out of my head.”
“Sorry, the problem being?” asked CeeCee. “Attraction … ?”
“Och,” said Hannah. “You know, I know people do this, come into talk with a cleric havin’ everythin’ set in their head, then sharin’ none of that, and here I go doin’ it just as they do. Give me a moment, let me get my thoughts in order.”
Sometimes, in these matters, talking about things was enough to make them better. Relating emotion to other people, being forced to describe them and your relationship with them, ruminating on it all … that was something even without a cleric to provide their input or try to tease apart your blind spots.
To Hannah’s surprise, even knowing that happened sometimes, it almost worked on her.
“It’s the allure of the unknown, I s’pose,” said Hannah. “I love Marsh, truly, but he doesn’t give me those wild and free feelins’ anymore, he’s more soft and comfortable. And the girl, I know little about her, so my mind’s free to fill in the details, speculate and ponder. I know every inch of Marsh, and he’s a good man, would make a good husband, but I’ve plumbed his mysteries. The well is dry.”
“Is that what happened with the church?” asked CeeCee.
Hannah frowned. That’s not the direction she would have taken it. “Ay, a bit. Not the Church itself, not Garos, but I do feel that, ah, I was done with my postin’ at Pucklechurch, that I’d seen what it had to offer and knew that when Alfric came in that door I had a way to leave that would satisfy me.”
“And you think that you’ve seen what Marsh has to offer?” asked CeeCee.
“Ay,” said Hannah. “And it’s a good offer, it is.” She bit her lip. “I worry he’s seen what I have to offer, or that he’s still thinkin’ that I have some mystery left, which I don’t. I got to know myself in seminary, I’m a pretty full person, pieces fit into place. I had planned for a wild time as a dungeoneer, but only to get some bit of myself out, to be able to say that I had my wandering.”
“You’re in a large moving house now, yes?” asked CeeCee.
“Ay,” said Hannah. “But it’s only the view that’s changed. And with the others … I’ve helped them, I think, as both a friend and a cleric, but there’s less to help now, fewer things Isra needs explained, less coachin’ that Verity needs on how to handle herself, we’re doin’ well, overall, and to the extent that they ever needed me, they need me less. Maybe I liked feelin’ like I was useful.”
“You don’t feel useful now?” asked CeeCee.
“I feel restless,” said Hannah. “But that shouldn’t mean a thing when it comes to Tilde, she’s not a source of restlessness, and I can’t imagine how she’d be an refuge from it.”
“She would be new and exciting,” said CeeCee. “For a time, anyway.”
As a rule, clerics of Bixzotl were fans of repetition, monotony, monogamy, and all things of that ilk. Hannah appreciated that, in her own way, but it did color the sort of advice that they were likely to give. CeeCee was dismissive of the idea, which was probably the right way to be given that Hannah had never actually exchanged all that many words with Tilde, but some of that was colored by how a cleric of Bixzotl was trained to see the world.
“And you think it’s that, with my worries about Marsh?” asked Hannah. “I see a threat because I’m in a rut and project that onto him?”
“Are you in a rut?” asked CeeCee. “That’s the first time you’ve used that word.”
“Ay,” said Hannah. “Now that I say it … but we’ve dungeons comin’ up, new and different dungeons it’s hoped, so the rut might go away on its own.”
“I think there’s a lot to enjoy about a proper rut,” said CeeCee. “But a comfortable groove that you’ve happened into, that you didn’t choose for yourself, that’s something to be wary of.” She tapped her fingers on her knee. “You came here because you wanted to deal with the uncomfortable feelings surrounding Tilde, and I don’t want to give those short shrift, but it seems to me that some of this runs deeper, and is much more about a lack of purpose. You liked the process of talking, the clerical duties that you no longer have, and if the Church got in the way … you wouldn’t be the first to feel that.”
“I still might go back to the church,” said Hannah.
“Would you feel happier if you made some plans right now?” asked CeeCee. “If you left here today with some kind of actionable list of things you needed to do in order to rejoin, conditions you wanted to meet, people you’d want to meet with, would you feel better?”
“I … don’t know,” said Hannah. “Havin’ a direction at all might be nice. None of the dungeon stuff is, to be honest, pointin’ me down a path.” She frowned to herself. “You know, Marsh said as much, and I don’t think I took him seriously enough. I hope it’s just time on my hands, but … I’ll give it some thought.”
“Good,” said CeeCee with a nod. “Now I don’t mean to rush, but this copy isn’t long for this world, and it’s best to get back together in person.” She stood up from the chair.
“You can do that?” asked Hannah. “At your age?”
CeeCee smiled. “I was considered a prodigy among my class.”
“Then why … here?” asked Hannah. She had tried not to make it sound as though this small town, whose name she’d already forgotten, was some kind of consolation prize, or something to be ashamed of, but she failed. She’d met her own appointment to Pucklechurch with disappointment.
“It’s home,” said CeeCee with a shrug. “I grew up here, went to the seminary, then returned. It’s a path that appeals to many who feel Bixzotl’s calling.”
“Mmm,” said Hannah. “I suppose I can see that.”
“I wouldn’t imagine you’d be interested in giving a sermon next temple day? Or will you be long gone by then?”
“We’ll be some distance … but I could return, I s’pose.” Hannah felt unexpected buoyed by that, some of her haze of discontent lifting. She’d have to prepare for it, of course, pick a topic that would resonate, maybe something about Verity’s yet-to-come performance, or the walking house, or the dungeons, or something. It had been some time since she’d done public speaking, and of course she was worried that she was rusty … but she could do it, of course. “We’ll plan for it.”
“Good,” nodded CeeCee. She smiled. “Now I must go, before I melt into a puddle.”
Hannah did feel better about herself once she’d left the small church, just as she’d imagined she might. It had even gone in the expected direction, in a sense, diverting from the issue of Tilde and toward a lack of direction or meaning in her own life. She had not, as CeeCee had suggested, left with a firm plan in place for her grand return to the Church of Garos, but it had been a surprisingly revealing trick, and one that she felt compelled to remember for later.
By the time Verity’s ‘concert’ rolled around, Hannah was in a much better mood, helped in part by Marsh, who had gotten Verity’s permission to do a bit of a pre-show of light and magic, what were called ‘pyrotechnics’. It was done away from the village, where nothing would catch fire, and as the sun set, Mizuki grumpily showed up and proclaimed that he really should have waited for her. Any sourness faded when Marsh presented her with a special flower made of fire, small and tightly controlled in comparison to his other workings.
Verity was playing in a small tavern, the only tavern the village had, though it was easily larger than many such places Hannah had seen, and seemed to serve as a meeting hall when it wasn’t serving its simple fare. It was a step down from the Fig and Gristle back in Pucklechurch, but Verity seemed quite enthusiastic, and the turnout was good, in part because of the advertising — which had consisted of Bib coming into town the day before and talking up a storm, Marsh’s pre-show, and of course the house on stilts, which would have attracted attention even if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere.
The party found a table for themselves and ordered rather a lot of food, and Vertex came in right after them, taking the table next to them. The tables were rectangular, and after some negotiation, they were merged together so that it was a single long table that held both parties plus their two hangers-on, Bib and Pinion.
The food was what Mizuki called a ‘half-stew’, meat that had been cooked low and slow in its own juices, root vegetables that had likewise been cooked long enough that they were nearly mush, and then a sprinkling of other, greener vegetables that had been a bit less cooked. These three things were all served in a bowl together, but separate, so they could be eaten individually or swirled around. It was good, hearty food, if a bit fatty, and they had a curious custom of having a dish of salt at the table so that more could be added as you wished.
“Does this salt taste funny to anyone?” Grig asked. He’d taken a pinch of it and was inspecting it, then touched it lightly to his finger.
“A bit,” said Alfric. “It’s also sort of … brown? Black? It’s got something added to it, I think.”
They all took turns licking the salt and commenting on it. Isra thought that it might be smoked salt, but the taste didn’t quite seem right for it to be smoked to Hannah. It was almost sulfurous, in fact, and she ended up adding quite a bit to her dish as she tried to place the flavor of it and see what it was doing to her meal.
“See, it’s a half-stew because it’s a bunch of things that weren’t cooked together,” said Mizuki. “I’d almost call it three stews, except we’re also kind of missing a lot of stewing liquid for each of them, which is kind of a rip off.”
“Do you cook?” asked Pinion.
Mizuki stared at him. He was sitting beside her, and she leaned in slightly, looking into his odd eyes. “Have … I never cooked for you?”
“Er,” said Pinion. “No?”
“Oh,” said Mizuki. “It’s sort of my special skill.”
“Not wizardry?” asked Pinion.
“Er,” said Mizuki. “You know what? No, not wizardry, I think I’m a cook before I’m anything else. So I should cook for you.”
“Just him?” asked Alfric.
“Oh come on,” said Mizuki. “It hasn’t been that long. And you guys have overall been doing great.”
“Not great,” said Isra. “Adequate.”
“Wait, so Mizuki used to do all the cooking?” asked Pinion.
“Isra was my helper chef,” said Mizuki. “Sadly, the student has grown beyond the master.”
“I really, really haven’t,” said Isra. “I mostly just make meals that are difficult to screw up. No delicate balance of flavors, no finicky meats, nothing that has touchy timing.”
“Should we be paying more attention to Verity’s playing?” asked Pinion. He looked behind him, where Verity was up on stage with her lute. They were having a relatively early dinner, though this was one of those places who served everyone at around the same time.
“I think she’d plannin’ to wait until people are done,” said Hannah. “Then the big songs come in. She’s only playin’ it as a normal lute right now, that thing can get loud enough to hurt your ears if she lets it — though it’s nothin’ compared to the other one.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” said Pinion. “Though I feel like I’ve heard all her songs by now. It’s been nice having her to listen to over the course of the day.”
“Living in that house, you either learn to appreciate the lute or go insane,” said Mizuki. “Though it’s not like her practice is bad.” She turned to Isra. “Remember when you were taking up the lute? Gods that was awful.”
Isra laughed. “I think that anyone would sound awful next to Verity, but especially a beginner. And Verity said that all beginners sound awful anyway.”
“Did you drop it then?” asked Alfric. “You’re not going back to the lute?”
“Maybe,” said Isra with a shrug. “But you’ve seen how much time is taken up by practice for Verity. I’m not sure I’d want to give up my time. And the lute … I think I would rather have some kind of wind instrument, something that I could store in a pocket.”
“We have so many lutes though,” said Alfric.
“We’ll find a good aerophone,” said Isra with a shrug. “Or I can just buy one.”
“I can’t imagine taking up a new hobby,” said Mizuki. “It seems so daunting.”
“I’m not very serious about it, to be fair,” said Isra.
“Wait,” said Pinion. “I know this song.” He turned around in his seat to look at Verity, and began to sing along, softly enough that only those at the table would be able to hear him. His voice was high and unexpectedly sweet, clear and confident. It wasn’t a talent Hannah had expected from the researcher.
“You can sing?” asked Isra once the song had concluded.
“Oh,” said Pinion. “A bit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have, I got carried away.” He blushed and returned to his food. “I’ve been in and out of choirs throughout my life. But anyone can sing, really.”
“I actually don’t think that’s true,” said Mizuki.
Hannah looked over to the other table, where they were having their own conversations. Marsh had sat next to Tilde, which was almost unavoidable given that there were five people in the party, but it still drew out a pang of jealousy. It was getting easier to tamp down though, which Hannah was grateful for, because jealousy was an unattractive emotion — not just (presumably) unattractive to Marsh, but unattractive in herself.
Tilde was fitting in with the group a little better, it seemed, engaging in conversation a little more, but not nearly so loose and free with them as Pinion already was with the Settlers. Vertex was a less welcoming party overall, still healing from the pains that Lola had inflicted on them before she left, and they conversation often went to various bits of arcana — which were interesting in a way that Hannah didn’t imagine most people would appreciate — or toward relationships, which were hard to get a handle on from the outside, and possibly awkward because of the faint whiff of romance that seemed to come anytime there were two young people next to each other.
Once all the food was finished, they were left with their drinks, a rather sweet and slightly alcoholic drink that had been made with the first of the season’s crop of apples. Hannah had resolved not to get too tipsy, as she sometimes did when they went out, but it seemed that Mizuki had no particular compunctions in that regard, and had stolen a bit of Alfric’s drink for herself, which he’d indulged. It was her last day of schooling for the week, and she seemed intent to let loose, especially since she had no cause to get up in the morning — save for the dungeon they were about to do.
Verity had been playing what she called ‘background music’ until this point, the kind of music that filled pubs and taverns across Inter. It was relatively soft, steady, and unobtrusive, the sort of thing that people could easily talk over. Now though, as the lights were half-shuttered around the tavern, and a main light was opened up to shine down on Verity, the music grew louder, with larger crests and falls.
It was during that opening song that someone slipped into an empty seat at their table.
“Hi!” said Xy. “Did I miss anything?”
“Xy?” asked Isra. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’m a cartier, I go everywhere,” said Xy. “You’re also moving at a snail’s pace. You’re still within the territory of my deliveries.” She was keeping her voice low as the song ramped up. “I’ll hush now.”
It was surprising to Hannah how quiet a tavern could get with just a simple change in the lighting and song. It helped that the lute Verity was using could get quite loud, like five lutes playing all at once, and while she didn’t play to the full volume often, she did it enough that people knew their talking might be interrupted.
Hannah hoped that Verity would get what she wanted from this. The girl had talked about doing a little show like this a few times a week as she attempted to hone her craft and work on new songs, which seemed absolutely grueling to Hannah — but Hannah was also growing bored and listless, and if she’d had three sermons to give every week, she might have felt energized. She did feel energized by the prospect of a sermon at this town’s small church, and tried to look around at the people to see what they might be most interested in.
Verity played three songs in a row, taking only mild breaks between them, and Hannah found herself captivated. She’d been in Lutopia Two quite a bit, and missed out on hearing Verity’s near-constant practice, which meant that some of the songs were genuinely new to her. It was difficult for Hannah to judge, but it felt as though Verity had improved as a songwriter, and beyond that, was taking better advantage of her entad lute. There were songs of sorrow, songs of love, of adventure, mystery, and longing. It wasn’t until she was reaching the end of her fourth song that Hannah realized these were going to make a part of a set — one for each of the gods, in their own ways, a very old religious tradition that predated the Churches coming together.
There was a brief break from the songs then, and Verity spoke to the crowd.
“Thank you all for joining me here today,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve seen our walking house, and if you haven’t, I’d suggest you take a look after the show, which will only last another two songs. As we make our way west to Plenarch, I’ll be playing a number of these shows, but it’s a work in progress, so if you’d like to talk with me after the show, I’d love to hear anything you have to say.”
Verity was putting on the charm, which in her case meant that her natural chilliness was more of a brisk breeze. It didn’t feel like she wanted to be your friend, but like she wanted to make the trees wave back and forth a bit, which was fun in its own way. Hannah was mildly surprised that Verity was soliciting feedback from the audience, and worried that it wouldn’t end well, or that Verity was taking on too many things at once. Hannah felt an urge to meddle and tried to tamp down on it, but among friends you expected some amount of meddling, or at least friendly advice. There was no particular consequence to Verity burning herself out on a rigorous schedule of concerts — she could simply cancel them — but Hannah hoped that wouldn’t happen.
The last of the songs was the one to Xuphin, if Hannah’s reading was correct, and it ramped up slowly until it was a thunderingly loud and fast piece, frantic crashing of strings, including something that Verity was doing that sounded almost like background percussion. The start of the song had lyrics, but they went away toward the end, as they’d have been drowned out by the lute.
When it was finished, Hannah stood and clapped, and she wasn’t alone, nor was the applause limited to just their party.
“Encore!” called Pinion. “Play the lewd one!”
Verity heard and stuck her tongue out in his direction, but she was smiling, and she sat back down after a brief curtsey. She stuck her hand out and lowered it slightly. “Alright, there’s one more song I’ve been working on, if you’ll indulge me.” She launched right into it without waiting, and the crowd quieted down.
This song broke the symmetry of those that had gone before, as six was a lovely and holy number, and seven was not. It was on a different theme though, that of an interloper, and Hannah suspected that it must have been made up on the spot. Pinion didn’t seem to cotton on until the line about the ‘researcher with pretty eyes’, and while the gender of the researcher was left ambiguous, it was pretty clearly aimed squarely at him — in a teasing way, and not seemingly directed at his appearance, or at least not in a derogatory way.
While there was more applause at the end, Verity took that as her cue to leave, and she packed up her lute as the lights went back to normal. There was another full night of drinking and carousing for most of these people, and there would be another bard along shortly in order to keep the spirits up.
“Was that for me?” asked Pinion when Verity came back.
“Just a trifle,” said Verity with a shrug.
“Improvised?” asked Hannah.
Verity smiled. “Am I that obvious?” She was sweating slightly, looking around, and her eyes finally found Xy. “You came!”
“I came!” said Xy.
“How did you even know?” asked Verity.
“I’m a cartier, people tell me things,” said Xy with a smile. “I saw your house out there, which almost made me late. Do you have plans for after?”
“None,” said Verity.
“We were just going back to the house, I think,” said Alfric. He looked to the side. “Vertex is invited, there’s plenty of baked goods, we’ve got meats, cheeses, chocolate, —”
“Wine,” said Mizuki.
“What’s chocolate?” asked Pinion.
“Do you mind if I stop by for a bit?” asked Xy. “I’m done with delivery for the day.”
“No problem!” Verity squeaked.
It took some time for them to leave the tavern, since the whole group was a dozen people or thirteen including Bib. Twelve was another holy number, but as it turned out, moving a group of twelve took far, far more effort than moving a group of five or six. Hannah had sought out Marsh, who’d had a bit too much of the apple drink, but alcohol made him cuddly and affectionate, so that was okay. There were a fair number of people who came up to thank Verity for the music, and the tavern owner had wrapped her up a meal to take with her, which was nice … but then again, Verity had done this little concert for no pay, which made Hannah frown.
Twelve people proved to be too much for Bib, who ducked out quickly, but the adults gathered in the living room, where they had just barely enough room if some people sat on the floor. Alfric apparently had some party games planned for the next time they were hanging out with Vertex, and launched into them with gusto, while Mizuki took great pleasure in cracking jokes and trying to throw things off course.
This was more like what Hannah had thought being on the road would be, and she liked it more as the night went on, even as ‘tipsy’ began to turn into ‘drunk’. Grig was practically fawning over Verity, as he saw himself completely outclassed as a musician, and as Alfric tried to get the games back on track, he ended up getting into an extended — if friendly — argument with Josen about the rules they were supposed to be playing by.
“We should go somewhere more private,” said Marsh, loudly whispering into Hannah’s ear.
“I think you might be a bit far gone for that,” said Hannah, who was mostly sober. “But I’d be willing to give it a go.”
They said their goodnights, and their spot on the couch was taken far more quickly than the goodbyes were said. True to Hannah’s prediction, Marsh had overdone it, and he was asleep in their bed in Lutopia Two before she was done undressing. She sat for a moment, contemplating going back out there, but things were churning in her mind, and it was nice after all that talking and music to be alone.
She looked at her desk, where the scraps of her dungeon book were, and began setting it all aside.
For as much fun as she’d been having with the others, she had a sermon to write.
Comments
fbt
great stuff, tyvm!
