Bard: Chapter Nine

The hall where the reading classes took place was just a few streets over from the music hall. Liam shot glances through each of the open doors and arched courtyard entrances in case Trista was still around, but there was no sign of her. He circled around until he found the building Travis had described, and the correct door. There was light under the door, which either meant it was the right place or a proper bard class was going on. Before he lost nerve and went home, he tugged the door open and stepped inside.

There was a small handful of people already seated at tables around the room. A few wore leathers and carried weapons, much like himself, there was a woman old enough to be his grandmother, and a young man with dark circles under his eyes who looked like he was a clerk somewhere. It was definitely not a classroom of student bards, and for that he was grateful.

Liam took a seat near the back, and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. No one paid him much mind, and the room slowly filled. There were even a few exhausted looking students wearing their bard uniforms in the mix. He wondered what it would be like to enroll in the college and not know how to read yet. They pulled out folded papers and pencil cases and small books. Liam hoped he wasn’t supposed to bring anything. He certainly never kept books and paper on hand. Travis hadn’t mentioned anything, but then again, Liam hadn’t asked him many questions, just where the place was and what time to be there.

A bell rang in the distance, and a few moments later a gray-haired man in professor’s robes strode into the room, followed by two students in the bard’s uniform, each carrying a wooden case. One of them, was Trista.

Liam instinctively sank down in his seat, but her eyes went straight to him. She smiled, and he wanted to fall straight through the floor. He tried to muster up a friendly expression in return but she had already looked away, smile fading. The instructor directed her and the other bard to set the cases down and distribute materials, then he set about dividing the students into groups. Liam was identified as new, with three others, and directed to join them near the front. He considered leaving, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Throughout the class, Trista seemed to actively avoid his side of the room, even after the instructor left them to work independently and the two assitants made rounds to check in with the working students. He realized, as the class neared its end, that she would know what had shot through him when he'd seen her. She wouldn't know why he wanted to fall into the ground, only that he did, and that seeing her had triggered it.

After class, Liam waited for Trista outside the room, leaning against the wall in the shadows alongside the building. The professor left first, then the assistants stepped out, carrying their wooden cases. Trista looked over at Liam as if she’d known exactly where he’d be. She said something quickly to the other bard, then walked over to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, and Liam felt taken aback.

“No, Trista—”

“I didn’t know you were going to be there until we were right outside, and now I’ve embarrassed you, and I should have—”

“Trista, you haven’t embarrassed me,” Liam cut in. Trista watched him anxiously. “I’m just…It’s… it wasn’t you.”

“But I caused it,” she said. “You were fine until you saw me.”

“I’m not—you didn’t embarrass me,” he said, running a hand through his hair and resting the other on the hilt of one of his swords. Fighting with people really was so much easier. “I am embarrassed, but you didn’t—it’s not your fault.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” she asked. She looked so genuinely concerned and confused he almost couldn’t help his guard going down.

“I’m—I’m not smart, Trista.”

“Yes you are,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

“I can’t read,” he protested.

“So?” she retorted. “That’s why you were here tonight, I imagine.”

“So…smart people can read,” he said lamely, wishing the earth would open up and swallow him. The wind picked up, and he shivered, pulling his coat closed and turning toward the street. “Let’s walk, it’s freezing. Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m fine,” Trista replied, hefting the wooden case. “I need to drop this back at professor Iln’s office. I’ll meet you at home.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offered, reaching for the case.

“I’ve got it, it’s fine,” Trista protested. “Thank you though.”

“Where to?”

“This way,” Trista gestured with the case and led him through the courtyard and down a side alley. The professor’s office was nearby, and Trista set the case on top of the other one her fellow assistant must have dropped off.

“Would it help…” she began as they started towards home, “if I wasn’t an assistant in the class?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It isn’t your fault, I just…didn’t want you to know.”

Trista raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because you thought I could,” he said. “Read, I mean. You didn’t know I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I really—”

“Have you had a chance to learn how to read before now?” she cut in.

“Not particularly,” he answered, pulling his collar up to his chin. They had turned onto a street that ran down to the harbor and the wind was sharp. “Vultan didn’t much care if his thugs were educated.”

“So you’ll learn now,” Trista said, “because you are smart, Liam.”

“It’s kind of you to say,” he conceded. Trista nudged him with her shoulder and he shrugged. Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “I like that you thought I could.” He tugged that day’s note out of his pocket and held it out to her. “These are nice, even if I can’t read them.”

“I’m glad you like them,” she said quietly, taking the note from him. “Do you want to keep getting them?”

“If it’s not any trouble,” he said. “I know you’re busy in the morning.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said, smiling. “Do you want to know what it says?”

“Travis read it for me” he told her.

“Ah.” Trista nodded and handed the paper back. He quickly tucked it away again and stuffed his hands into his pockets, shivering. “Is it that cold?”

“You don’t feel it?”

“It stings a bit,” she said. “How is it down at the harbor, usually?”

“Frigid, these days,” Liam said, shrugging. “We get to sit inside for lunch though. It’s fine.”

Trista slowed, and Liam changed his pace to match her.

“Do you mind if we stop into the practice hall on the way home?” she asked. “It’s on the way, and out of the wind, mostly.”

“Am I allowed?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied, without hesitation. “Here.” She led him through an archway into another courtyard, then to a narrow wooden door that was practically hidden in a corner. It opened into a short, low corridor that reminded him of being in a barge more than a school. The air inside was blessedly warm compared to the street. He could hear the sound of drums, someone singing, and distantly, something that sounded like bells. There was a stack of lockers against one wall, and Trista fiddled with the lock on one before opening it and retrieving a scuffed wooden instrument case.

“Is that your violin?” he asked.

“Yes—well…it’s borrowed from the school.”

“You never bring it home.”

“I didn’t want to be a nuisance,” she said a bit sheepishly. “It seemed like there was always someone sleeping, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone. There’s something I’d like to try this evening though.”

The door behind them opened, letting in a gust of cold, and Liam moved against the lockers to let whoever had come in past them. Trista did the same, putting her back to the lockers.

“Hello Trista,” a boy who looked like he was barely old enough to be away from home greeted her as he passed. He had on a uniform that matched hers.

“Hello Bart,” she replied.

“Are you practicing?” the boy named Bart asked. “I don’t usually see you in so late.”

“No, I was just picking up my violin,” Trista told him. Bart shifted from foot to foot, casting a shy smile at Trista and a suspicious look at Liam. Trista seemed to notice. “Oh! Liam this is Bart, he’s a violin student as well. Bart this is my friend Liam, we were just walking home.”

Liam gave him a nod and Bart’s shoulders fell almost imperceptibly as he nodded back. He almost laughed at how quickly the boy had gotten entirely the wrong idea, but that seemed rude, and Trista was already moving them back towards the door.

“Have a good evening,” she called back to him. Bart waved feebly as they stepped outside.

“What do you need your violin for tonight?” Liam asked as they walked briskly towards home. Trista hugged the case uncertainly.

“I’ve been trying different magic,” she said slowly.

“There’s different kinds?”

Trista nodded. “I’ve been able to do a few things while I’m playing the violin,” she explained. “I thought…I might be able to make something that will help you keep warm.”

“Is that hard?”

“I don’t know yet.” She smiled, her voice almost giddy. “It’s all so new.”

“Good new?”

“Yes,” she said brightly.

When they got back to the flat, Trista asked to borrow a knife and set about quietly plucking out a tune on her violin while Liam huddled near the stove to warm up.

She was still plucking when he fell asleep.