Bard: Chapter 7

It was quiet, and Liam liked it that way.

Not literally quiet. The docks were always loud and bustling, crowded with merchants, sailors, laborers, and hawkers from dawn until nightfall. Wagons creaked by, and people shouted to each other, and bells rang on the ships gathered in the harbor. The whole district was alive with noise and activity.

But no one gave him any trouble. That was the important part. He could stand guard all day and not so much as get heckled by some arrogant prick who might think he could get a rise out of him. There had been an attempt at the goods in the warehouse, but it had been easy enough h to deal with. One attempted robbery in two months was nothing, not with so many other men to help handle it, not with a steady income and regular meals. It was nothing compared to what he was used to. It was quiet, and he liked it.

Most days, he was partnered at the side door of the warehouse with another former mercenary named Travis. He was a big man—head and shoulders taller than Liam, with a scar along his jaw and a great sword strapped to his back. He wore beaten studded leathers and looked like he could punch a whole through a brick wall, or rip a man in half with his bare hands. Liam wouldn’t have doubted that both of those things had happened, but he had also seen the man gently pick up a little green frog that had wandered into the walkway and move it aside so it wouldn’t get squashed.

They sat just inside for their midday meal, out of the wind, door propped open so they could still see what was going on outside. Liam untied the little parcel Trista had left out for him. She made them every morning, though he and Laura had insisted she didn’t need to. Today she’d packed a roll, some dried squid, apple rings, and folded note. He picked it out and unfolded it, looking over Trista’s small, graceful writing.

“You want to know what it says?” Travis asked him, around a mouthful of meat pie.

“Please,” Liam replied, handing the note over. Travis swallowed and gave the note a quick glance.

“Have a lovely day,” he read. Trista’s words sounded almost comical in the man’s deep voice. “That’s sweet,” he added, handing the paper back. Liam folded it along its creases and slipped it into his inside coat pocket.

“Thank you.”

“Is it your sister packing your lunches every day?” Travis asked.

“No, it’s Trista,” Liam replied. Laura knew better, of course. He could be sure the notes weren’t from her. It gave him a funny feeling, knowing that Trista thought he could read. It had been a very long time since he’d run into anyone who’d make good assumptions about him.

“Why’s she sending you notes if you can read 'em?” Travis asked.

“Apparently she thinks I can.”

“You haven’t told her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she thinks I can,” Liam replied. “There’s been several of these already, I don’t want to go telling her I can’t read now.”

“She your sweetheart?” Travis asked.

“No,” Liam said quickly. Gods, he hated being asked that question. He and Laura looked enough alike that no one had asked when the two of them had traveled together, but now that he was within arm’s reach of another woman people would probably start making assumptions again.

“She’s packing you lunches with little notes in them every day,” Travis pointed out.

“Because she’s kind,” Liam protested, “and because she’s the first up in the morning. That’s all it is.”

Travis chewed his meat pie thoughtfully and Liam ripped his roll in half.

“They’ve got classes in the lore hall after dark what teach reading and writing,” Travis said after a moment, looking up expectantly. Liam breathed a sigh of relief that the subject had changed, even if it was still something he wasn’t terribly comfortable with.

“Why they run them so late?”

“For people like us,” Travis explained. “So’s we can do some learning once we’re done out here, I expect.”

“Ah,” Liam made a noncommittal sound and started tearing the dried squid into strips.

“It’s how I got educated, few years back,” Travis went on. “They’re free and everything.”

“I don’t know,” Liam said. “I don’t really fit at the school.” He’d been nearby a few times to check on Trista when they’d first arrived. It was too clean there, too polished and shiny. All the students were in their matching robes, and the instructors were just as fine. In scuffed leather armor, wearing twin swords, he stuck out there, and a nail that sticks out is just begging for a hammer.

“So?” Travis asked. “It’s not the same as them bard classes. You don’t have to learn all 87 stanzas of ‘Journey in the Dark’ by rote or anything like that. It’s all drop ins. You don’t even have to show up every week if you don’t want.”

“I’ll think about it,” Liam conceded. “They have those classes every week?”

Travis nodded, describing in more detail the rooms where the classes were held, and what day they happened on. Liam committed the directions to memory, chewing his lunch and absentmindedly toying with the folded paper in his pocket. It was worth a try, and after dark there might not be as many regular students running around. Maybe he wouldn’t stick out quite as much if other off-duty guards were going to the same place.

It would be nice not to have to ask for help reading a note every day, too, though Travis had never given him any real trouble about it.

There was no harm in trying after all, and with the three of them all sharing a space he had free time to work with. Even with the rent on their flat being raised, they had time and funds to spare. It was nice, not having to spend every waking moment focused on survival.

“Thanks,” Liam told Travis as they packed up and headed back outside.

“Anytime,” Travis replied.