Strings of Chance (The Ballad of Bards and Bastards Book 1) Page 3

  “You're too much. No wonder your husband isn't enough for you.”

  “Thomas?” She laughed. “It's been more than ten years since he came to my bed. He's more Alwin's type. In fact, the two of them were a bit of a thing for a while.”

  “Really? Yet another thing he never told me.”

  “We all have our secrets.”

  “Speaking of which, you still haven't told me how you got me out of jail. You said you would after the deed was done. It's been done four times now, and you're ready for another.”

  “That's not what I said.” Her hand migrated south once more. “I told you that I'd tell the story of how you came to be freed. I never claimed responsibility.”

  “Wait,” he said, sitting up and pushing her hand away. “Are you saying you didn't get me out of jail?”

  “In truth, my role was minor, but I did help. I heard of a witness who saw you leave Alwin's house the night of the murder. I found the man and convinced him to come forward with his story. He also saw Alwin on the balcony after you'd left, and another pair of men saw you as you walked home. They both testified that, in your condition, you were more likely to kill yourself than anyone else.”

  “So, you tricked me into this night.” Not that the night had been unpleasant. He just didn't like being played for a fool. “I did it all for nothing.”

  “That's hardly something a lady wants to hear.” She pouted. “Especially after all we've shared tonight.” The hunger lingered in her eyes. Perhaps Alwin was right, she would've had him no matter what Edson did. There was no changing it now.

  “I'm sorry,” he said, reaching for her. He stared into her eyes as he had each of the other times. There was immense beauty there, along with the hunger and the poorly hidden sadness.

  * * *

  The morning sun nearly blinded Edson as he made his way through the streets of Vonst. He had slipped out when Aileen started snoring after their sixth tumble. The woman really was insatiable. He hadn't wanted to be there when she woke up, hungry again. There was also her husband to think about. Despite her reassurances, Edson remembered too many bad experiences with husbands.

  His first stop was a fence he had dealt with numerous times before. Stinky Ed's shop was a mix of everything and anything a person might want to buy. Most of it was stolen, and all of it was overpriced. Still, he paid good coin and didn't ask questions. Edson sold the jewelry he had taken from Aileen's dresser before leaving. Her husband could afford to buy her more. The coins would give Edson a start.

  The Amber Stallion would be his eventual destination, for the city watch had told him that they held his bags and citole. While he was eager to reclaim his instrument and the rest of his belongings, he wanted to get some rest and clean up before going to the Stallion. This brought him to the Hungry Squirrel, a cheap inn known for tasty food and ample portions.

  Edson gave a false name as he asked for a room, offering out of habit to sing for his meals and a bed. There was already a bard scheduled for the night, so Edson was forced to pay. Even with the cheap prices, it put a serious dent in his limited funds. He would worry about that after some rest. First, breakfast. This turned out to be porridge and hard bread, along with a handful of berries. The barmaid gave him a wink as he ordered a bottle of wine to take up to his room, but Edson was far too tired to return the effort. He threw an extra pair of dulcers on the bar, which brought a smile and another wink.

  Despite the attractiveness and enthusiasm of the barmaid, the bottle was Edson's only companion as he climbed the stairs to his room. He just wanted to drink enough to cloud his thoughts before he passed out. The Challenge was nearly over and was clearly going to be won by Kodran. Edson needed to secure at least one more significant gig to have a chance of overcoming the taint of being charged with Alwin's murder. People wouldn't remember that he had been exonerated, instead they would focus on the fact that he had been charged with the crime to begin with. That alone would make him guilty in some circles.

  A pair of hungry eyes haunted his dreams, and he woke up with a terrible headache. Still, he was free, even if he was nearly destitute. It was a new day and a new start. A bath would wash away the smell of Aileen and the memories of the past few days. He would then reclaim his citole and find a gig. It was what Alwin would want him to do.

  * * *

  Edson barely got through the door of the Amber Stallion before the staff surrounded him, greeting him as if he were an honored guest. Perhaps Braden's cards still had some magic left to deal out. Hopefully, the debt was fully settled. Edson didn't think he could pay any more.

  “Welcome back to the Amber Stallion, Edson,” said Tebor Neil, the manager. He hadn't been nearly as kind greeting Edson before. None of the staff had. They had treated him politely enough, but always with the implication that they were doing him a favor by letting him perform there. There was some truth to that, but Edson would never admit it. “We've moved your belongings to our best suite.”

  “Thank you,” Edson said, not knowing what else to say.

  “We were expecting you yesterday.” The staff walked away, leaving Edson and Tebor alone. They were giving him a suite; did that mean he was still to perform? “I was worried you might have gone to another hall.”

  “You have my citole and the rest of my gear. I wouldn't go anywhere without that.”

  “Of course. We were hoping you would perform here tomorrow night. It's the last night before the voting.”

  “I was hoping you'd still grant me the stage. I'd love nothing more.”

  “That's great,” Tebor said as they came to Edson's new suite. It was nearly as nice as the one Alwin had been murdered in. “Take today to rest then. Your entire stay, including meals and drinks, is on the house. Be ready, for it's sure to be a packed house tomorrow.”

  “I'm more than ready,” Edson replied as he stepped through the door. His citole called to him as soon as he entered the room. Sitting beside it were a pair of cases. Alwin's harp and flute were familiar instruments to Edson, but he didn't think he could play them without crying. “It'll be the best show of the festival.”

  “I look forward to it then.” Tebor bowed and walked away. Edson closed the door and went through his gear. Everything seemed to be in place, including the pouch of coins he had left in his pack. Unable to wait any longer, he picked up his citole and tried the melody he had written in his cell. There was a song there somewhere, he just had to find it.

  * * *

  “Alwin spoke highly of you,” Jayme Naral said. He had been Alwin's booking agent. He had also nearly refused to even acknowledge Edson's existence the previous half-dozen times they had encountered one another. Now that Edson had fame, Jayme treated him like an old friend. Just another day in the life of a traveling singer. “He told me you weren't represented by anyone.”

  “Not yet,” Edson replied. They were meeting in one of the Stallion's private rooms. It was Edson's third meeting of the afternoon. Alwin had primed Edson for this moment, and he had every intention of taking advantage of being unexpectedly in demand. “Though I do have offers on the table.”

  “I'm not surprised.” Jayme was a small man, yet still seemed to loom. “I could probably quote those offers within a few finners. Nobody in Vonst is better suited to manage your bookings than me. I took Alwin on when he was slightly older than you. He had just been released from his apprenticeship by Farris Dent, while I was trying to make it as a booking agent. We both took a chance on each other, and it paid off. I can do the same for you.”

  “Yet you didn't take that chance a year ago when Alwin released me.”

  “That was his idea. He said you needed at least a year of being hungry and having only your showmanship to ease that hunger. I would've taken you on last year.”

  “I was definitely hungry,” Edson said. He wasn't sure he believed Jayme, but it did sound like something Alwin would've said. “I eat well now though. What's your offer? Why should I sign with you instead of one of the others?”
>
  “I'll give you the same deal I gave Alwin,” Jayme replied as he slid a piece of paper across the table. It had similar words and numbers to what the other offers held and made even less sense. Why couldn't they just make a simple agreement? “You'll get pretty much the same deal with every agent. With me though, you get years of experience and connections to get you on stage in places most can only dream of.”

  “Where would you send me for the next year?”

  “Across the sea.” That wasn't the reply Edson had expected. The other offers had him going to Rov, which is where most bards would flock, and where Edson had gone in his single year alone. He had been there three times with Alwin before that. “I can have you play before the king in Eblok, sing your songs in the huge amphitheaters of Zorbelix, and tell your stories to the masses at the Wizards' Fair in Eveltour.”

  “What about Bithe?” Alwin had told many stories about the tribes who gathered each winter in the northern city. “Can I sing there too?”

  “I don't know why you'd want to, but I can arrange it.”

  “I've never been on a ship.”

  “Might as well get it over with then. If you're going to be a successful bard, you'll have to take passage on a ship at some point.”

  “How do I know you're not robbing me with this contract?”

  “You don't,” Jayme said, laughing. “In this business, we're all soul suckers. You might as well sign on with one you know.”

  “You have a point. Besides, I could just kill you if it doesn't work out.”

  Jayme laughed even harder and was all smiles as Edson signed his name on the sheet. He could laugh all he wanted, but Edson had meant his words. Jayme would die if he proved to be a thief. Edson smiled back. He was glad to have this business over with and eager to see the land across the sea for the first time. For now, though, he was anticipating his coming performance. He had been up writing songs half the night and still wasn't sure what his playlist would be. Having the contract signed took some pressure off, Edson could have a bad night and he’d still be booked for another gig.

  He continued smiling as Jayme left. The full bottle of wine he left on the table rivaled any of those in Thomas Sager's cellar. There was no point in letting it go to waste.

  * * *

  “This one's for Alwin Floyd,” Edson said before launching into a song. He fought back tears as his fingers furiously caressed the strings of Alwin's harp. He had never before played or sang as well as he had this night. The final song was his last chance to impress the judges before the voting began in the morning. He harbored little hope of winning but wanted nothing more. Denying Kodran the victory would almost be poetic justice—but such things only happened in stories.

  “Fly on, fair Nightingale,

  Fly far away from here.

  I'll sing your songs and tell your tale,

  And try to keep you near.”

  The Amber Stallion truly was packed. This was nothing compared to the audiences Edson would play for in Zorbelix. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. He was barely holding it together for this show. The harp wasn't his strongest instrument, but he had wanted to use Alwin's instruments in this tribute. The flute part was yet to come. He was more comfortable with that.

  “Sing on, brave Minstrel,

  Your songs shall never die.

  Knives to juggle and stories to tell,

  And never say goodbye.”

  Aileen was in the front row. The hunger was still in her eyes, but there was something else. Pride? That couldn't be it. Satisfaction? That could never be it. Whatever it was, she looked pleased. Not that it mattered; Edson had no intention of going anywhere near her again. There was another woman he had his eye on. She was young and nearly as tall as he was. Her group was made up entirely of couples, yet she seemed to be alone. Edson planned to fix that, at least for the night.

  “Ride on, lost Traveler,

  Follow your road away.

  I'll play your flute as a reminder,

  And we'll meet again someday.”

  Edson raised Alwin's flute to his lips, gliding across the stage as he played. Kodran was giving his final performance this evening too, as were most bards of note. Tradition prevented any serious contenders from performing anywhere after midnight. Edson intended to be drunk and dancing with the tall woman well before then. The day of voting was typically spent drinking, as well as the following day, when the winner would be announced and the listings would be posted.

  “Everywhere, I hear your song,

  It's like you aren't really gone.

  I can't help but sing along,

  Through your music you live on.

  Everywhere, I see your face,

  In my heart, I hope it stays.

  It keeps me from my dark place,

  Remembering brighter days.

  Everywhere I hear your voice,

  Singing to the girls and boys.

  We'll meet again, this I rejoice,

  Until then, I have your toys.”

  He went back to the flute and danced some more. The audience was captivated beyond his wildest dreams. Was he really playing this well, or was this more of Braden's magic at work? It was odd that it mattered to Edson. He had what he always wanted but was starting to feel like a fraud. He had taken a shortcut to get to the top, and the cost had been too high.

  Returning to the harp, he went through the rest of the song in a daze. The ovation he received at the end was overwhelming, and the hunger in the tall woman's eyes nearly reached Aileen's level. Edson took a bow and let it all sink in. All of his dreams were coming true, yet all he could think about was getting drunk and forgetting about it all.

  * * *

  One look at the tall woman's leg, sticking out from beneath the blankets, nearly drove Edson back into bed. They had spent two nights together, and he was still eager for more. Instead, with a sigh, he strapped his citole across his back and left the suite. The winner would be announced soon. As a contender, Edson was expected to be on the university lawn, where the announcement would be made. If he won, they would expect him to play a song.

  The crowd was thick by the time Edson arrived. He pushed his way about halfway through before someone recognized him and the crowd began to part. Edson tipped his cap and made his way to the front. All the favorites were there, including Kodran. He barely looked Edson's way before returning to the conversation he was having with a pair of noblemen.

  “I saw your show last night,” a man said. Edson barely knew any of the others and didn't recognize the man who had spoken. He had a lyre strapped to his back and a tambourine on his belt. “It was incredible. It's down to you and Kodran. The rest of us are just here to see where we fall on the lists.”

  “Thank you,” Edson said. Alwin had given Edson lessons on the way speech varied in different regions. Those lessons did little to help, as Edson was unable to place the man's accent. Wherever he was from, Edson didn't share his hopes. Kodran would be the winner. “Going into the Challenge, I would've been happy just to make the lists.”

  “I'm in the same boat.” The stranger passed a flask over to Edson. It held rum, which brought Braden and his card tricks to mind. Edson forced down a swallow. “I was in the right spot at the right time and landed your gig at the Amber Stallion while you were in jail. Then you got out and I was out of work for the most important night of the festival. Fate's a fickle bitch sometimes.”

  “That she is.” Edson had heard something about this man but couldn't bring it to mind. Too much wine and not enough sleep. “She's been playing with my life for some time now. I didn't get your name.”

  “Donovan Allenson of Eber.”

  “You're a long way from home,” Edson replied. Alwin's lessons hadn't touched much on Eber, or the rest of the western part of the continent of Aern. “I'm Edson Pye, but you already knew that apparently.”

  “Yes, but I'm glad to meet you. None of the others here will even speak to me.”

  “They
aren't likely to say much to me either. We need a few more years before they'll accept us. They'd still gladly shove a knife in us then, but they'd at least acknowledge us first.”

  “Where are you going from here?”

  “To your side of the sea,” Edson answered. “Eblok and Zorbelix. From there I'll go to Eveltour for the Wizards' Fair, then on to Bithe.”

  “Be careful in Zorbelix. It's been said that nine of every ten people there are thieves, while the tenth is a murdering thief.”

  “Lovely. Where are you off to from here? Rov?”

  Donovan laughed and nodded before passing the rum over again. Edson took a swallow before pointing at the temporary platform built each year for this occasion. The dean of the university was climbing the steps with a piece of paper in his hands. Silent anticipation took over the crowd, and each step seemed to take an eternity. Kodran looked as smug as ever, as if the ceremony was a mere formality. Even if that was the truth, Edson wished he could punch the smile off the man's face.

  “This has been one of the more memorable Bardic Challenges in my lifetime,” the dean began. “Marred as it was by the tragic murder of Alwin Floyd, this festival will stand out for its performances. Alwin's last rendition of Edla's Rose was said to be his best ever. Kodran Novius showed why he's the reigning champion with a daring version of Her Majesty's Bedchamber, while a newcomer, Edson Pye, dazzled audiences with fresh hits such as The Angry Farmer and Nightingale, his tribute to Alwin. Many others stood out, too many to name, but in the end, there can only be one winner. Before I name that winner, please join me in acknowledging all who competed this year.”

  Edson barely joined in the cheering. Alwin would never sing Edla's Rose again or any of his songs. Kodran was at fault, but Edson shared the blame. He had allowed Braden to work his magic, despite being warned. Alwin had died so Edson could be famous. Even if, by some miracle, he won, what would it matter? It wouldn't bring Alwin back. Edson would spend the rest of his life wondering if he had earned his prestige or simply gained it through Braden's tricks and his mentor’s death. Was that any better than Kodran winning?