Strings of Chance (The Ballad of Bards and Bastards Book 1) Page 4

  As the applause came to an end, the dean said the words Edson had dreaded hearing. “For only the fifth time in our history, our reigning champion shall hold his title. Kodran Novius, you are our champion again this year.”

  The crowd cheered, but Edson could barely hear them. His rage drowned out all sounds, sights, and thoughts. Instinct brought the flask in his hands to his lips. The strong rum numbed him a little, as the reality of the situation sank in. Kodran was getting away with it all. There was no justice. A tainted victory would have been a much lesser evil.

  * * *

  A pair of sailors laughed as Edson nearly fell down. It wasn't his fault the ship moved as he stepped aboard. The taste of rum remained in his mouth, even though he had switched to wine after he and Donovan went back to the Amber Stallion. The tall woman was still in Edson's suite when they arrived, and she had joined in their night of drinking.

  The listings had helped clear the dark cloud hanging over Edson's head. He only trailed Kodran and Alwin, who had received a lot of votes in honor of his lifetime of work. Given that, Edson could look forward to being a favorite when the tournament began again the following year. He would have to be doubly careful. After getting away with murder, Kodran would likely try it again. Only Farris Dent had ever won the tournament three times in a row, and nobody had ever done it four times.

  “First time on a ship?” one of the sailors asked.

  “How could you tell?” Edson asked, bringing another laugh from both of the men. “Do they always move about like this?”

  “This is nothing,” the other sailor said. Neither had shoes on, nor did anyone else Edson could see. Perhaps that was the trick. “Wait until we get out to sea and hit some weather.”

  “I'm so looking forward to that.”

  “It's not so bad once you get your sea legs,” the first sailor said. He was the younger of the two. “For now, though, it's not your legs you need to worry about. It's your stomach. I hope you like the taste of everything you've ate or drank for the past few days, for you're likely to taste them all again.”

  “I've got a strong stomach. Years of drinking will do that to a man.”

  “We'll see about that,” the second man said. “If you can play those instruments you carry, you'll be a popular man among the crew.”

  “I can manage a song or two. I was told I'd have a cabin. Could you direct me to it?”

  “I'd be glad to,” the first man said. He even carried one of Edson's bags. Despite having the bent nose and scarred knuckles of a brawler, the man seemed to be a decent fellow. Perhaps the voyage wouldn't be so bad. Edson could write a few new songs, practice those already in his repertoire, and have his complete act nailed down before they reached Eblok.

  His dark cloud returned a bit when he saw what constituted a cabin. Ropes held what the sailor, Tyler Drees, called a hammock. This was where Edson was expected to sleep! A small, wooden crate underneath the hammock was his spot to “stow his gear.” Edson had hidden in lady's closets that were bigger than his entire cabin. On top of it all, the ceiling was too low to allow him to fully stand.

  “There's a bucket in case you have to get sick,” Tyler said before leaving. Edson sighed and tried to get comfortable in the hammock. After nearly falling twice, he found a position that wasn't bad. The effects of the night before helped him to quickly fall asleep. The ship starting to move didn't wake him, nor did the change in speed as they took on full sail. He slept through the shouts of the officers and the curses of the sailors. Only one thing finally disturbed Edson's sleep. His stomach wasn't nearly as strong as he had thought.

  Bargains and Bonuses

  “I've been told that you're a bard of some significance,” said Captain Janson Matia. He and Edson were seated at a table in the captain's cabin, which was almost the size Edson had expected his own quarters to be. “Is this true?”

  “It is in my mind,” Edson replied with a smile. The captain didn't seem to share his amusement. “I was trained by Alwin Floyd and finished third in the Challenge this year.”

  “I've heard of him.” The captain spoke between mouthfuls. Edson had been seasick the first two days out of Vonst and unable to eat for two more days. This meal was his first bit of solid food, but he was afraid to eat too much. “Third, you say? That's not bad. Not as good as first, but I suppose it'll have to do.”

  “Have to do for what?” Edson avoided clarifying just how difficult finishing third was, especially since it was his first year in the competition. One of the professors at the university had remarked that he was only the second bard in the past ten years to debut in the top three.

  “I need you to keep the crew's spirits up. Sing for them, tell stories, juggle, or whatever else it is that you do. We're on a deadline to reach Eblok and will only make one stop. Most of the crew will remain aboard the ship there. Normally, we'd have two stops on this voyage, and they'd be given leave in both ports.”

  “Do they know this already?”

  “No, but they'll figure it out quick enough.”

  “What's in it for me?”

  “You get to make it to Eblok alive.” Edson couldn't tell if the captain was joking or not. The man would be a master at cards. “I'm not asking much. Nobody avoids working on my ship, even passengers. You'll help out the ship's carpenter when he needs it and entertain the crew when they need it.”

  “Since you're asking so nicely, I suppose I can't say no, though I don't know what help I'll be to the carpenter. The only thing I know about wood is that this ship and my citole are both made of it.”

  “He'll show you how to do everything he needs done. He asked for you and has never asked for any help before. I could hardly turn him down.”

  “I don't suppose the job comes with a bigger cabin?”

  “Space is limited,” the captain said. The man chewed with an open mouth. With Edson's stomach still recovering, he avoided watching. His own bowl was still nearly full, while the captain was spooning out his last bites. “You should see where some of the crew sleeps.”

  “I can only imagine. I'm finding that my appetite has yet to return. If there's nothing else, I'm going to return to my hammock for a bit.”

  “By all means. I'm expecting a performance tonight though.”

  “Of course,” Edson said. He bowed slightly before making his exit. He had no real issue with entertaining the crew—he could use the practice—but didn't like being told to do so. He was more bothered by the prospect of working with the carpenter. People lost fingers, and even hands sometimes, cutting wood. Edson's hands were as important to him as his voice. Without them, he couldn't play his music.

  * * *

  “I've set my sights on the port of Bithe,

  For there I shall see Lavena,

  She is the one I want to be with,

  Or perhaps it was Carlina.”

  With bare feet, Edson danced across the deck. He strummed his citole when he was singing and played Alwin's flute when he wasn't. The Merda was a cog, whatever that meant. The captain sat with the crew, watching the performance. This was Edson's first time entertaining the crew, but he was on his fourth song.

  “From there I'll sail to Eblok,

  Where I know a lass so fair.

  We'll hide away near the dock,

  For her husband's not one to share.”

  The song was a favorite among sailors. Nobody knew who had written it, and it was rare to find a minstrel who didn't sing it. It was tradition to include at least one original verse. Edson had rewritten all the words, other than the chorus. He left that unchanged so listeners could sing along.

  “The sailor's life, the sailor's life,

  Your family's the crew, the ship is your wife.

  The pay is too low and the food is the worst,

  There's never enough rum to quench your thirst.

  If the pirates don't get you, the scurvy will.

  Yet here we are, all sailors still.

  The sailor's life, the sailor's life,

  With a lass in each port, who needs a wife?”

  Most of those watching joined in. That was a good sign. Getting the crew to sing together would go a long way toward keeping the peace. Even from his short time here, Edson could sense the tension in the air.

  “Maybe I'll sail to Valotar,

  Though I swore I'd never return.

  My girl there is the craziest by far,

  But I fear I'll never learn.”

  If a mutiny were to start, there was little Edson could do. Being new to the crew, nobody was likely to trust him. He had to hope there was time before anything would happen. Otherwise, he would probably be thrown overboard with the captain. Edson knew how to win people over though. He would use all the tricks Alwin had taught him. Within a week, they would love him.

  “Vonst is the next place for me,

  Where the minstrels gather to sing.

  I've a lass there as fine as can be,

  To her I'll give my ring.”

  '

  He repeated the chorus three times before breaking into another song. This was another old sailors' favorite, and it brought the crew to their feet. They danced, drank, and sang along with Edson. He met the captain's eyes. The man smiled, but there was little mirth. He would be a bit harder to win over than the rest.

  * * *

  “This is outstanding,” Edson said. He was looking at a dulcimer made by Welby Dinan, the ship's carpenter. It wasn't as ornate as some Edson had seen, but it was still a fine instrument. “You have a gift.”

  “It was our family trade,” Welby explained. All of his fingers were fully intact. That was good. The man made instruments as a hobby. This was apparently his reason for asking the captain to assign Edson to his service. “I thought I would inherit my father's shop, but his gambling debts did him in. He sold everything, but was still short. Rather than allow them to take me as payment, he put me on a ship. When the captain discovered my knowledge of woodworking, he apprenticed me to the carpenter. That ship was taken by pirates though. We were set adrift on rowboats. Captain Matia found us. His carpenter was an unskilled drunk. I replaced him within two weeks.”

  “You should be making instruments,” Edson replied. “Your talent's wasted on this ship.”

  “I've came to love life at sea though. I play around in my spare time. I usually try to sell off whatever I make when I get liberty.”

  “Have you ever made a rebec?”

  “I made two of them last year,” Welby answered. Edson liked using the rebec for writing songs and had a few that didn't sound as well with the citole. “I have everything I need to make another pair. They were easy to sell.”

  “I would think so. If I could afford it, I'd buy one of them.”

  “Why don't we make them together? You can keep the one you make and I'll sell the other.”

  “That sounds great,” Edson said. That was the answer he had been hoping for. “Do you know how to play any of the instruments you make?”

  “Not really. I can keep a simple beat on the pipe and tabor but not much beyond that.”

  “The dulcimer is fairly easy. I can teach you a little.”

  “I'd like that,” Welby said as he put the instrument away. “We better get back to work though. The captain doesn't abide slackers.”

  * * *

  It was good to be off the ship. Edson's afternoon would be spent chasing down a list of things that Welby needed. Still, he hoped to find a few free moments. The odd part was, after finally getting used to moving about on the ship, Edson was having trouble adjusting to walking on solid ground again. He had nearly fallen twice on the docks.

  He stopped at the first tavern he found. With nothing other than rum since they left Vonst, he had a taste for some wine. His time was limited, so whatever swill they had to offer would have to do. The only sign was faded so badly that it was unreadable. If not for a crudely depicted jug and mug, Edson would've passed the place without a thought. As it was, he hesitated for a brief moment, but what was one drink going to hurt?

  A few scattered candles served as the only light, which was likely for the best. Zain only knows what kind of bugs might be crawling around this island. The place was nearly empty. Edson smiled as he approached the bar. A lute was hanging on the wall, and it surprisingly had all its strings. Why pay for a drink when you can sing for one?

  “That's a beautiful instrument on the wall there,” he said, keeping the smile on his face. “I'll play you any song you like in trade for a bit of wine.”

  “How do I know you can really play?” The barkeep was a large, bald man. He had what looked to be a knife scar across his left cheek. “We get all sorts of tricksters in here.”

  “I bet you do,” Edson replied, widening the smile. “What if I told you I finished third in the Bardic Challenge this year in Vonst?”

  “What if I told you I could shit gold bricks? Both statements are likely just as far from the truth.”

  “Pick your song then. If you don't like my performance, I'll pay for the drink.”

  “Deal,” the man said as he turned and retrieved the lute. Edson was surprised to find it was in tune. Lutes were fine instruments, but every bard under the sun seemed to carry one. Edson liked being different.

  “You still haven't picked a song.”

  “She Dances Under the Moon,” the man replied. Edson fought back a groan. Of all the songs, he had to pick Kodran Novius' biggest hit. Edson could play it but wasn't sure a bit of wine was worth it. “I love that song.”

  “Many do,” Edson said. It wasn't a bad song. If Kodran hadn't written it, Edson would likely cover it now and then. It was good to mix things up. Using the same playlist every show was a quick path to mediocrity. He had learned the song from Alwin, who had put a new twist on it, mocking Kodran. Edson's smile returned as he began to play.

  * * *

  “This is too much,” Ulrik Bacher said. He was one of the loudest complainers on the ship. Edson continued working a piece of wood with a cabinet scraper. This would be the neck of his rebec, and he wanted it perfect. “I wouldn't have signed on for this voyage if I'd known there'd be no fucking leave.”

  “At least Delar isn't far,” Tyler Drees replied. He was nearly as loud as Ulrik. In Edson's eyes, Tyler was the bigger threat. He seemed to be a completely different person than the pleasant sailor who had carried Edson's bag as he boarded. Tyler was likely to act, while Ulrik was all talk. “The captain has to let us go ashore there.”

  “I wouldn't count on it.” Even Ulrik might be motivated to act when the captain announced that they would be sailing straight through to Eblok, skipping the island port of Delar altogether. Mutiny was a definite possibility. “He's been in a hurry since we left Vonst.”

  “He'll have to find a whole new crew in Eblok if he doesn't give us a rest in Delar.”

  “I don't think he cares.”

  Edson frowned as the pair of sailors moved on, leaving him unable to follow their conversation without being obvious. Trouble was brewing aboard The Merda. Edson just hoped it would blow up in Eblok rather than before they reached the city of the knights. A stop in Delar would do wonders for everyone.

  There was one huge part of this that Edson wasn't understanding. Why was Captain Matia in such a hurry? Edson had managed to get a look at the ship's manifest. There was nothing on board that was in danger of spoiling. None of the cargo seemed to be something needed with urgency. As far as Edson could tell, he was the only passenger, so it wasn't a case of someone offering a bonus to speed up the voyage. What was he missing? Why risk the wrath of the crew for no apparent reason?

  Edson’s focus returned to his work. The neck was as straight and smooth as it was going to get. Welby had already finished his and was waiting for Edson to catch up. They would mount the necks to the bodies soon. That would be the biggest test of Edson's work. He almost regretted the voyage's eventual end; there were many instruments he would like to add to his collection.

  Shouts interrupted Edson's thoughts. Another argument had broken out. It was over quickly but still served as a reminder of just how fragile the situation was. Finishing the rebec would have to wait until evening. Brandishing his citole, he broke into a song and danced across the deck, his bare feet fully accustomed to the ship's movements by now. The crew laughed and sang along. The distraction wouldn't last, but it was all Edson could do.

  * * *

  “It's not the prettiest thing I've ever seen, but it holds a tune.” Edson was thrilled with the rebec he had made. Sure, Welby's was far better, but that did little to diminish Edson's pride. “Thank you for this.”

  “I should be thanking you,” Welby replied. “Getting the perspective of someone who plays the instruments I make has helped me a lot. Then there's the dulcimer. I'm having so much fun learning how to play it that I might keep it.”

  “You should. You can keep a beat. Many can't do something as simple as that.”

  “It's simple for you. For me, it's one of the hardest things I've ever learned.”

  “Fair enough,” Edson said. Music came naturally to him and sometimes hardly even seemed to be a skill as much as an instinct. The way Welby worked with wood was a true example of skill. “What are you going to make next? These are almost finished.”

  “I don't have the materials to make much. Perhaps a tambourine or two.”

  “I wouldn't mind having one of those. They're small and light. I'm already going to need a packhorse, if not a wagon.”

  “Get an apprentice and make them carry the load.”

  “The horse would be less work,” Edson said. He wasn't ready for an apprentice yet. Perhaps in a few years, when the road started getting lonely. “What about you? Who's going to replace me as your helper?”

  “I don't really need anyone,” Welby said. It was the truth. The biggest task he had given Edson thus far was the shopping list in the island port of Rense. After playing his song in the dockside tavern, Edson had convinced the barkeep to send a worker to do the shopping. Instead of chasing down every item, Edson had spent the afternoon drinking and singing. With a local man doing the shopping, everything on the list was delivered to the ship at a cheaper price than Edson could've ever dreamed of negotiating. The skimmed difference had bought him a supply of wine to see him through to Eblok. The hardest part had been acting sober upon his return to the ship.