The Bard's Blood

by D P Rowell

  “Please, dear bard, I have arranged a meeting with the bank to change our filing status. It’s already on the calendar. We exploded with business last verse that we weren’t expecting and I haven’t had time to get around to it.”

  “You haven’t had time?” asked Bard Haefer, his expression growing sour. “I’ll just tell the impoverished community that if we give the rich a little more time, they’ll come around to paying their fair share.”

  Fable’s skin had grown paler. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. Please, Bard Haefer. We’re still far from rich. My family was struggling to survive before our tavern reached success. We’ve only just made up for our losses this verse and are finally on track to building a better life for our children. I beg of you. I can file with the bank today! Right now!”

  Bard Haefer clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Shame on you, begging for another chance. Your children would do with a good role model before a good paycheck. It’s already been settled. The bards have elected to call the loan on your business, and the bankers have complied. They will be sending an auditor to determine what taxes you’ve stolen from us since your failure to report your growth.”

  Tears dripped down the barkeeper’s cheeks. “Please, Bard Haefer. I beg you to reconsider. We can’t pay back the entire loan right now, much less whatever fine the auditor gives us. There must be another way.”

  “Actions have consequences,” said the bard. He turned away, now facing his exit.

  “The bards are the richest of all of us!” the man shouted, seemingly from impulse. Bard Haefer froze at the door. “If the poor are the fault of the rich, the bards are more to blame than I!”

  Bard Haefer slowly turned, a wicked scowl growing on his face. He met eyes with the barkeeper, who now trembled. “Careful with your words, barkeeper. They may just inspire a song. And you don’t want me to sing, do you?”

  Fable’s jaw shook, eyes brimming.

  “Do you?” the bard shouted.

  The barkeeper slowly shook his head. “No,” his voice croaked out.

  “Good.” The young bard turned and slammed the door shut, completing the first curse. As he walked down the stairs the people cheered and raised their glasses again. Bard Haefer raised his cane at them, joining the merriment. He stretched a wide, victorious smile, waiving at everyone as he made his way out the door, down the stairs, and along the cobblestone street with a skip of joy to his step.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Lady at the Ball

  Haefer returned to the Hall of Counselors in the late afternoon, his entire walk back dwelling on the privilege of delivering four more curses. Bard Nao sat in the Grand Passing, her shiny black hair falling on the other side of her face to reveal her nose buried in a book. The lady bard stood as Haefer approached.

  “Good day, Bard Haefer.”

  Bard Haefer tipped his hat. “Evening, m’lady.”

  She snickered, placed her book under her arm, and trotted alongside him. “I was instructed to retrieve you.”

  “Retrieve me for what?” asked the Bard.

  She sang a song of motion and a cloud appeared at their feet, carrying them swiftly through the halls. “The ball, Bard Haefer. Siphon told me he’d already gotten an okay from you to attend, so when it started and you weren’t here, he asked me to wait at the door for you.”

  “Oh. . .” Bard Haefer said. The ball had slipped his mind, but he could do with a celebration. “Well thank you for escorting me, Bard Nao.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  As they approached the dining hall, the light from the hundreds of lit candles in the room glowed off her dark skin, and he only just noticed her shimmering hooded tunic covering her head to her knees. He turned to the hall to find it had been cleared of all dining purposes and replaced with an open dance floor, and several musicians in the corner. They plucked and strummed and banged away as the greyans danced to the music. Those who didn’t participate in this dance stood in crowds around the dance floor, and Bard Nao led them around the crowd to meet Bard Siphon at the long bards’ table with a plate full of meat.

  “There he is!” roared Bard Siphon over the music.

  “Here I am,” said Bard Haefer.

  “You’re welcome,” said Nao.

  Haefer caught a glimpse of the Headmaster at the end of the long table, his eyes glowing through the shadow of the hood on his cloak. He sensed the Headmaster wanting an answer.

  Have the curses begun?

  Bard Haefer gave a slight tip of his head as if to say, yes. The Headmaster raised a glass, his aged bones shaking. Haefer half smiled and returned to Siphon.

  “Come with me, come with me,” said Bard Siphon, breath stained with celebratory drink. He led Haefer into the crowd, leaving Nao behind, and introduced him to two young ladies, one blonde, one brunette. They both looked to be a couple verses younger than Haefer or Siphon.

  “Tia and Myra,” said Siphon, a hand to each of them.

  The ladies greeted Haefer timidly.

  “Go on,” Siphon said, nudging Haefer with his elbow. “Ask her to dance! Myra’s already got a partner though.” He grabbed Myra’s hand and began leading her toward the dance floor. She giggled the whole way.

  Haefer coughed a laugh and held out his hand toward Tia. “Care to dance?”

  She smiled and hesitantly took his hand.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t curse you,” he said with a sly smile.

  She snickered.

  BARD HAEFER CONSIDERED dancing at balls a way to keep up his image, but if he had to choose, he probably wouldn’t dance. At least, he thought so. After the first few dances, he and Tia had taken a break at the bard’s table, and Haefer had gone to fetch them some food at the buffet, but on the way he caught eyes with a lady so beautiful it stopped him in his tracks. She stood by a pillar bobbing her head to the tune of the music. She wore primary clothing, and her dark hair had been braided down the back. But more than her beauty, something alluring stirred the atmosphere around here. Something deeper than beauty. Haefer approached her is if a song of the grey had pulled him in.

  “Good evening, miss,” said the bard, tipping his cane.

  She gave a shocked look at him, probably wondering why a bard would be speaking with her. “Good evening,” she said in response.

  “Enjoying yourself? Tonight’s no night to be alone.”

  “Yes I know,” she said softly. “But that’s okay, I’m not one for dancing anyway.”

  Bard Haefer smiled. “Me neither. I do them to keep up my image is all.”

  She smiled and tapped the tip of his cane. “Well, you’re doing a fine job.”

  “Sometimes the balls aren’t so bad though. Care to dance? I can show you.”

  She half smiled and lowered her head as if embarrassed. Then she lifted her left hand and tapped a ring on her finger. “I’m flattered, dear bard, but I do feel that wouldn’t be fair to my husband.”

  “Ah,” said the bard. He then scrunched his face and looked around. “Wh—where is he, then?”

  “He—uh—he’s not a greyan. He hasn’t studied in the halls.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. He says he’s skeptical. But I’m intrigued. We agreed that I could study in the halls to learn more about the grey and decide together how we feel about it.”

  “And what do you think so far?” asked Bard Haefer, lowering a curious gaze at her.

  She smiled. “It’s. . .still intriguing.”

  He chuckled, then tipped his cane again. “Good. I sense a powerful greyan on the rise among us.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, young lady. Good luck with your studies!”

  “Thank you, dear bard.”

  Bard Haefer stepped away and returned to his venture for food at the buffet. He turned to give the young lady one last look, but she’d disappeared. “Hmm,” he said to himself. Something about that lady gave him an unsettling feeling in his gut. Like she’d kn
own more than she let on. Like she was here for a reason he didn’t know yet.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The King and the Dragon

  The young bard stayed only as long as need be at the ball, and left at his first chance. Tia wanted to dance more, but he assured her they’d have more chances in the future. He spent the night in dream, searching for whom he might curse next, but did so cautiously. He still didn’t want the other bards knowing his intentions, especially Siphon. He double and triple checked his surroundings before following the path of a curse to his desired outcome. Things had changed since his last dream. . .someone had gone after something different. . .but not a bard? His dreams felt strange, as if something had shifted in fate, and he had to change course in order to to find his desired outcome. He fell further into the depths of dream, wondering if there existed a trench so deep it had no escape. Nevertheless, he woke the next morning with purpose and focus. Today he would deliver the second curse. Bard Haefer looked out his window when he woke. It still looked dark outside, save for the faint line of orange on the horizon. Now would be the best time to leave and execute his plan.

  He wore his master’s robes this morning over his bard’s suit, and threw the cloak over his head as he made his way through the sparsely occupied halls. The bards and greyans remained asleep, save for those meant to keep watch through the night. He dashed by like a breeze, singing swift songs of motions from one spot to another, until he approached the masters on watch at the exit. Upon his arrival, the masters sang open the gates, and Bard Haefer thanked them and stepped through. He walked out to the hill overlooking Anchorton, ready to find his next victim when. . . Bard Siphon? The large man stood outside the Hall of Counselors, the breeze brushing his trench coat over the grassy surface.

  As Haefer approached, Bard Siphon said, “Another errand I presume?”

  “Bard Siphon. What are you doing out so early?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I spent a while in dream searching for a friend, hoping we could discuss something that’s come up. It’s been nearly impossible to reach you lately.”

  Haefer stood in silence.

  Siphon turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Have you ever heard the story of the king and the dragon?”

  Bard Haefer shook his head, a perplexed look on his face.

  “It’s an old children’s tale. It tells the story of a king, a peasant, and a dragon. The dragon mostly stayed in his cave, except when he needed to get food, protect his family, or gather a slave.”

  The young bard’s ears perked up. Something in Siphon’s tone didn’t sit well with him

  Siphon continued. “Yes, the dragon would take slaves from the humans in the town to help him build his dragon army to eventually take over the world. Soon the dragon would enslave all the humans and dragons would be the supreme rulers of Vranon. The dragon offered generous rewards for anyone who would turn in a human, but the most generous reward was given for a human of innocent blood.

  “Meanwhile, the king befriended a peasant. It was deemed odd by all of the people, why a king would take interest in a lowly peasant, and it caused many controversies and political issues. Well, one day, the peasant had grown envious of the king’s power and sought to obtain power of his own. He made a deal with the dragon and betrayed the king, delivering innocent blood to the dragon in exchange for immense wealth; wealth he used to practically purchase the town and rule it himself.”

  Bard Haefer stared intently at Bard Siphon.

  The large man lowered his gaze, the faint light of early morning grazing his scowl. “You sure you’ve never heard that story?”

  The young bard shook his head. “Sounds interesting.”

  “It is. It’s always intrigued me. It’s taught me a valuable lesson. Being in power doesn’t mean being safe, and being under power doesn’t make you powerless. That’s why I always keep my eyes open, and keep an extra pair on the back of my head. I’m always watching, Haefer. That’s how it has to be as a bard. People want what we have. They’ll do anything to get it.” Bard Siphon leaned closer, his next words felt like venom. “Anything. Remember that, Haefer. And remember you wouldn’t even be a bard if it weren’t for me.”

  Bard Haefer knit brows and straightened his posture. “Have I offended you in some way, Bard Siphon?”

  The meaty bard leaned back and gave a nonchalant frown. “No. ‘Course not. Why would you say such a thing?” He turned and made his way back into the Halls. “Good luck with your errands, Haefer!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Soon to be Headmaster

  Clouds hung over Anchorton this morning, and for some odd reason, Bard Haefer delighted in the gloom over the city. Almost as if it foretold his coming. This curse would take a bit of travel, as the offender lived all the way in the West Hall of Counselors, which lied far northwest outside the city limits. The young bard paid for a carriage ride all the way there, a pretty penny, but nothing the wealth of the bards wouldn’t miss.

  He worried the driver had lost his way when they found themselves steering through rough dirt roads hidden by the woods. Nevertheless, the young bard reached the Halls by midday, surprised by how different this Hall of Counselors was than the one he’d studied in. Rather than one large castle, the studies took place in different buildings inside a small village-type structure. Only a small, single-spired castle, less than a fourth the size of the halls at the end of Anchorton, lay at the end of the main road. The buildings did have an elegant look to them, like miniature Halls of Counselors all across the village. As the bard walked the main road toward the small castle at the end, the greyans about the village took notice, including the many bards. One greeted him at the castle, a lady bard dressed in the same black dress as the lady bards from his home Halls. Her braided auburn hair, all gathered together, fell to the right side of her neck, leaving her smooth bright skin exposed on her left side.

  “Good day, fellow bard,” she said. “From which halls do you visit?”

  “The halls in the east, by the shore and the Overdepth Cliffs.”

  Her eyes widened. “Quite a travel for you. Welcome!” she shook his hand, and he shook hers back. “I’m Bard Lorianne. You?”

  “Haefer. Bard Haefer.”

  “Well, Bard Haefer, what can we do you for?”

  He cleared his throat. “In honesty, Bard Lorianne, I wish I could visit on better circumstances. Unfortunately, dream has informed me of a traitor in your midst.”

  She gasped. “A traitor? How so?”

  “One of your counselors has engaged in false teaching. I should like to speak with him if that’s alright with you.”

  “Certainly. Mind if a few of us bards join you? We’d like to learn of this false teaching.”

  “Of course.”

  Bard Lorianne raised an eyebrow, then she looked toward the village. Her expression changed as if an epiphany had struck her. “It’s Hordren isn’t it? Hordren Bescasti?”

  “As a matter of fact that’s exactly who I’m looking for.”

  “Mmm. I knew it. You know he’s been stirring up trouble lately. His material is a bit off-color; his teaching methods, odd; what he teaches, odder. This really comes as no surprise.”

  “I’m sorry to hear he’s causing you trouble. He won’t any longer, I can assure you. The grey has informed me of his misconduct so something may be done about it.”

  Bard Lorianne smirked. “Good. Follow me, then! I shall arrange a meeting and have Bescasti with you at once!”

  She led the young bard into the Main Hall, through the candle-lit, narrow corridors, and into the meeting room. All the while, she whispered into the air, using psy to reach the minds of the bards in these Halls all at once.

  “Good day, bards of the West Hall of Counselors. Might I request a meeting in the bards’ forum? And, Hordren Bescasti, would you care to join us? Thank you in advance.”

  By the clarity of her voice in Bard Haefer’s ear, as if she stood inches away it, the young bard inferred this lady had a d
eep gift with the grey. Then, by the way she carried herself and the confidence of her request, he inferred further. This was the Headmaster of these Halls.

  The forum was a small meeting room with nothing more than an oval-shaped table and candle light. They only waited a matter of minutes before three bards and Hordren arrived, taking a seat while greeting Haefer. Hordren, a tall, big-shouldered man with a dark brown beard and hair pulled into a pony tail, gave the least genuine greeting. He eyed the young bard with uncertainty all the way to his seat.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” said Bard Lorianne. “Thank you for coming so promptly. This here is Bard Haefer, from the halls in the east—arguably the largest halls in Anchorton. He’s come by the demand of dream, requesting a hearing of Hordren Bescasti.”

  The bards at the table exchanged looks of withheld glee. Apparently this counselor had been causing more trouble than Haefer had realized.

  “I’m sorry, Bard Lorianne,” said Hordren. “Dream?” The twitch in his eye made Bard Haefer unsettled. This man had a strange way about him. He’d seen things he shouldn’t have. And perhaps done things he shouldn’t have as well.

  “Dream. Yes,” she replied with a cold sternness. “Dream is a gift only bards can obtain, Mr. Bescasti. It helps guide our decision process, it brings balance to all Anchorton, and unless you have the gift yourself, it’s nearly useless to try and explain. The point is, the grey has informed Bard Haefer of misconduct on your behalf. Such that it needs addressing.”

  All eyes went to the young bard. He positioned himself and folded his gloved hands atop the table. “Thank you, Bard Lorianne. Mr. Bescasti, how long have you been Counselor of the Metaphysical in these halls?”

  “Just over two verses I believe, Bard Haefer,” said the counselor. The young bard noted the persistent tapping of the counselor’s thumb against the table.