Breaking Bard (Guardians of Terath Book 3)

by Zen DiPietro

  “Right.”

  “Sure. I was due for a good visit here anyhow.”

  “Is that right?” She squinted at him thoughtfully.

  “I said it, didn’t I?”

  “You did. But you might have made it up to make me feel better about dragging you around. I probably shouldn’t have gotten you involved in all this.”

  “Drag me around?” This time his look of surprise was real. He crossed the room and dropped onto the bed next to her. “The best moments of my life have been when you and I were poking along, doing this or that. I’m just looking for more of those moments. Don’t think that I don’t want to be here, because I do.”

  She leaned against him. “Thanks, Sim. You’re the best.”

  “Damn straight and don’t you forget it. Tell all the cute girls you know about it too.”

  “What, I’m not a cute girl?”

  “The cutest. But you’re far too good for me.” He glanced at his hand comm to check the time. “If we don’t get downstairs, breakfast will be cold.”

  “Cold coffee is evil stuff. We’d better hurry.”

  Élan was impressed to see Sim polish off a stack of pancakes, three cups of coffee, and a thick slice of sloe berry pie.

  “Pie for breakfast? After pancakes?”

  “Pie has no designated time. All times are good for pie,” he declared.

  “How is it that you’re not fat? You eat like you haven’t had a meal in a week.”

  “I was really hungry this morning.”

  “No,” she corrected. “I mean you eat like you haven’t had a meal in a week every single time you eat. It’s bizarre.”

  “Can’t help you out. I have no idea why you’re demeaning my perfectly reasonable eating habits.”

  They were the only people at Bob’s, other than the staff. That was normal for daytime. People wandered in and out, checking to see if anyone else was there. Sometimes a group formed and sometimes the sanctuary stayed quiet until evening. That was okay, because it was a great opportunity to work on some music without distractions.

  Unfortunately, Élan wasn’t working on a new piece of music. She could hardly pick the bards’ brains if their brains weren’t present. “Do you mind hanging out here while I run a couple errands?”

  Sim wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Nope. Where are you headed?”

  “I’d like to get a professional cleaning on my leth and pick up a few supplies. When I get back, you could go and do any errands you have.”

  “Okay. I’ll send you a message on my hand comm if anything interesting happens.”

  “Great.” She stood. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Sanctuary was beautiful. Élan took the long way to the city’s midpoint, savoring the sights and sounds. As a center of commerce, it was a busy place. It was also one of the few cities that had the majority of its commercial enterprises outside of the monorail station. The Council of Magistrates had offered many times to enlarge the station to allow it to house everything, but citizens of Sanctuary liked it all the way it was.

  The city had begun as little more than a waystation for bards. As the haven that eventually became known as Bob’s developed, the rest of the city emerged around it. The entire town served as a sanctuary for bards, thus earning its name. It had long since become popular among non-bards as well. Everyone enjoyed the top-notch shops and artisans. Picturesque fountains and open squares with lots of benches provided excellent places for impromptu performances or classes.

  After she entrusted her leth to Ripley, one of the few people on Terath she’d allow to even touch the instrument, she returned to the footpath and moved down the city’s main commerce strip. It would take Ripley a couple hours to give the leth an ultrasonic and laser cleaning. This would ensure the instrument’s peak performance, as well as maintain its pristine preservation. In the meantime, she needed a new pair of boots and a haircut.

  The haircut was easy enough to get. She didn’t need much, just a trim off the ends to keep her long, one-length hair healthy and tidy. Shoes were always a tougher issue, as her petite feet required custom crafting. She stepped up to the cobbler’s doorstep and the door whispered open. Once inside, she closed it behind her. Circling a display of several pairs of sandals, Élan admired the latest styles. She reached out toward a strappy shoe and found herself swept into a hug.

  “Élan, how kind of you to bring my favorite feet by for a visit!”

  She returned the hug. “Robert, it’s good to see you.”

  “Needing new shoes?”

  “You guessed it.”

  “Excellent. What style? Dress, or casual?”

  “Boots. Something stout and sturdy, for lots of walking. And something else like that strappy sandal, too, for casual wear.”

  “I see. Let me pull up your specs.” He slipped a specialized hand comm with a wide screen from his belt and tapped in a string of commands. “Okay. Any changes or problems with your feet?”

  “Nope, same feet as always.”

  “Good. I’ll just have you come over here and we’ll do a quick scan to make sure you aren’t having any swelling or structural changes.”

  Obediently, she sat where he indicated and he slid a small diagnostic machine over her feet. In less than a minute, it stopped whirring and Robert transferred the images to his hand comm.

  “Right, so the size is the same, and no injuries. But have you been walking on uneven ground lately? You’ve got some stress points.”

  “I spent an extended period in the hinterlands,” she admitted.

  “That explains it. I’m going to put your feet in a restorative bath while I work on these for you. I’ll get the bases made while you’re here and then you can pick them up tomorrow. Or is this a rush order?”

  “No, tomorrow will be fine. Thanks.”

  He went to the therapy chair and punched commands into the control pad. The tub under the chair filled with a greenish liquid. When it was full, he gestured to it. “If you please.”

  Élan took off her shoes and socks, then rolled up her pant legs and stepped into the tub. She settled back into the chair and breathed in the botanical scent of the liquid.

  “Mm, what’s in this? It smells nice.”

  “A variety of plant extracts to improve blood flow and remove inflammation. Thirty minutes and your feet will be like the day you were born.”

  Élan smiled. “How could anyone say no to that?”

  “Saying no would be stupid. Why would anyone do that?” Robert seemed perplexed. “Foot health is critical.”

  She had to settle for laughing in her mind and only revealing a polite smile. Robert was very passionate about the care and health of feet.

  A half hour later, her feet felt amazing as she strode along the pathway. She was rounding a corner when a funny feeling tickled the back of her mind, as if she were being watched. She looked to each side and then glanced behind her. She didn’t need more than a peek to recognize the person tailing her.

  “Night!” She threw herself into his arms and he tucked her against him like a precious package. “You’re here.”

  “Of course I am. Where else would I be when you’re also here?”

  “Well, you weren’t here last night.”

  “A minor detail.” He planted a kiss near her ear. “How are you, my sweet darling? All done talking to trees?”

  “For the moment.”

  “And the world rejoices at the return of the rain.”

  Yeah, whatever that meant. Élan had learned long ago not to bother inquiring about Night’s more enigmatic turns of phrase. The inner workings of his mind were, after all, what made him the premiere lyricist and composer on Terath. Although he kept a low profile and people outside the music industry wouldn’t recognize his name or face, much of the current popular music was written by Night. He was also a brilliant performer, but he chose live performances carefully, agreeing only to very private events with music connoisseurs.

  “Are you headed to Bob’s?
” Élan asked. He looked like he’d been traveling. His long black lightweight coat seemed slightly rumpled, as did his well-tailored black pants and shirt. Night had always been a big fan of black. Even his hair was black, and he usually pulled it back into a low ponytail, giving him a roguish look. His skin was naturally medium toned, but he tanned much darker. His eyes were an unremarkable shade of green, but the intensity of his gaze always gave them greater presence. He was without a doubt the most dashing guy she knew. He had some unquantifiable quality that suggested something exciting and outrageous was just waiting behind his next breath. And there probably was.

  “No. I’m headed to the ice cream shop to buy my best girl a sundae.”

  Élan pretended to look around. “Where is she?”

  “Don’t be obtuse.” He began striding down the street and she fell into step with him. He was on the tall side, which meant she had to walk quickly to keep up. “The question is, how adventurous are you feeling today? How bold will be your flavor?”

  She considered. “I guess I’ll see what’s on the menu.”

  “Exactly! That’s what the best ones do. It’s all in the moment.” He nodded with great satisfaction.

  For some stupid reason, his approval warmed her. It shouldn’t have, because it meant nothing and he could have just as easily scolded her as he had a moment ago. But it didn’t have to make sense. She liked it when he was pleased with her.

  Once in the ice cream shop, it took little time for them to place their orders and sit in narrow chairs with their desserts. Night studied her while she tasted her lemon sorbet. It was tart and sweet, bursting on her tongue with bright flavor and beginning to melt before she even swallowed it.

  “Good?” he asked with great gravity, as if the answer were vitally important to him.

  “Delicious.”

  “Lemon sorbet suits you.”

  “And deep, rich chocolate suits you. It’s dark, complex, and a little bitter.”

  He brightened with a grin. “I like that.”

  “So you’ve been well?” She had no idea how he would interpret the question, or how he’d choose to respond. She could only let her interactions with him follow whatever course he put them on.

  “Yes. I went off to write some lyrics, and now I plan to sit at Bob’s and work out the music for it.”

  A straightforward answer was always an unexpected gift from him. “Great. Are you doing any recordings?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Have you heard any news lately that’s stood out to you? Anything unusual?”

  “Life’s full of the unusual but you wouldn’t ask if you weren’t looking for something specific. What is it?”

  She slid closer to him and lowered her voice. No one else was around, but she couldn’t be too careful. “I’m trying to find out about something called sparkle. I figured if anyone had any information, it would be you.”

  He slid a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and contemplated. After he swallowed, he asked, “Are you planning to try it?”

  She felt like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. “You’ve heard of it.” When he continued looking at her, obviously waiting for an answer, she admitted, “No, I don’t want to try it. I want to find out about it. But you can’t tell anyone at all that I’ve asked or that we’ve discussed it.”

  He simply nodded, as if such a caveat were perfectly normal. She knew he would never breathe a word of it to anyone. Night would never betray her.

  “I haven’t seen it. But I was at a gathering recently where some young guy was trying to impress me. He said that sparkle was the new thing, that I should try it, and that he could get me some.”

  Élan’s heart rate picked up. “Who was he?”

  “I didn’t know him.”

  Disappointment hollowed her stomach and instantly killed her appetite.

  “But I could find him easily enough,” Night offered.

  “I need to find him. I need to know what he knows about sparkle.”

  He peered at her intently and she waited for him to ask why. But he didn’t. “And no one can know the nature of your interest, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He slowly spooned up another bite of ice cream.

  Élan threw her arms around him and gave him a hug, which he returned with one arm as he held his spoon with the other. She dropped a light kiss on his mouth. “That’s why you’re the best.”

  “No, that’s not why, but I’m glad you’re happy.”

  He popped the last spoonful of his ice cream into her mouth. She rolled it around, experiencing the rich creaminess and the edge of shivery bitterness before swallowing.

  “Wow. That’s heavy.”

  “Beware the dark stuff,” he warned. “It will ruin you for anything light.”

  “You’re not just talking ice cream, are you?”

  “We’ll see.”

  They dropped their trash into a recycling unit and went back out to the street.

  “Did you have anything else to do before you head to Bob’s?” she asked him.

  “No.”

  “I just need to pick up my leth. It should be ready. But that’s on the way, so do you want to walk to Bob’s together?”

  “It would be silly if we didn’t.”

  She retrieved her leth with effusive praise and thanks, and a significant transfer of credits. It was a good thing she had a regular paying job these days. Masterful work did not come cheaply.

  Night was right behind her as she passed under the identity scanner and into Bob’s sanctum. A quick survey showed Sim and one other bard, an older woman named Marta. The two had their heads together discussing something or other when Sim looked up and spotted them.

  “Well, of course you found him yourself. You’ve never been one to simply wait around.”

  “What can I say?” she teased back. “I’m a woman of action.”

  “Yeah she is,” Night cracked, with a smarmy leer and a pat on her behind.

  Élan snorted and gave his shoulder a not-gentle whack. Anyone else would have gotten far, far worse, whether or not he had reason to know what Night was professing to know. Which he certainly didn’t.

  They joined Sim and Marta in the middle of the room, where a recessed area was outfitted with mats, cushions, and lots of space. Here, she’d experienced thousands of jam sessions, and more hours than she could count of joking, laughing, learning, and teaching. Relationships had both sparked and died here, and lifelong friendships had been made and maintained. A few weddings had even taken place. Of all the different spaces at Blind Bob’s, the pit was probably her favorite.

  Sim sent Élan a look of silent questioning. She lifted her chin slightly in affirmative. A smile broke across his face and he rubbed his hands together.

  “Who’s up for some music? I learned a fun tavern song last week,” he said.

  No one ever said no to music at Bob’s. So Sim settled a dulcimer in his lap and began singing a tale about a blade with a cheating wife and a smelly dog. The rollicking song bounced up and down the scales with jaunty flair, and it was impossible not to join in for the chorus, once she knew it. They all laughed at the final stanza, which revealed that the blade chose to keep the offensive-smelling dog while kicking the wife out. They enthusiastically sang the last chorus together and finished the song with a flourish.

  They took turns singing tavern songs while a few more bards drifted in. In time, the newcomers joined in with their own verses. Élan loved Bob’s best when people kept packing in and joining the music and fun. Several hours slipped away in no time at all. Only her yowling stomach forced her away from the pit. She loaded up some trays with finger foods and snacks and organized help in taking them back and distributing them for everyone’s easy access.

  With refreshments at hand, they continued the session for several more hours. Finally, Élan had to surrender. The late hour combined with the lack of sleep the previous night had caught up to her
. She passed around lots of hugs before dragging herself upstairs. She knew someone would slide right into her place back in the pit and the party would continue on. Such was the way of bard gatherings.

  Élan changed into her pajamas, cleaned her teeth, and fell into bed with a contented sigh. She pulled the covers up to her chin and hoped that the next day would yield some information she could work with. Kassimeigh was counting on her for some answers, and if there was one thing in the world Élan did not want to do, it was disappoint Kassimeigh.

  3

  Will nodded to Kassimeigh, giving her the final go-ahead. Her eyes widened and she radiated a quiet intensity, but that was all he could perceive. As someone without any mana talent, Will sensed nothing at all until the ground shuddered violently and a thundering blast assaulted his ears. He felt the rumbling impact in his chest as the abandoned mine collapsed on itself. Trees fell as land turned sideways and fell into the old shafts and passageways.

  After the initial blast, Kassimeigh shoved more land and dirt into the crevasse. She used her immense mana strength to crush it all down and solidify it into safe, stable ground.

  “That’s eight down, and about a hundred to go,” Will said when she was done. “I’m glad you were here for this one. It’s bigger than most and we’d have needed a lot more time to do it by hand.”

  “Like you mind playing with the explosives,” she scoffed. She smoothed her hand down the side of her black shoka. They’d agreed that it made sense for her to wear her shoka with her Guard rank insignia on the front rather than a Guard uniform. The hybridization of uniforms was unusual, but Will found it as impressive as if she’d worn the hood and gloves of full shoka. He also acknowledged a smidgeon of pride in seeing that Guard insignia. His contingent had come a long way.

  “I can’t deny a certain enjoyment in igniting a bunch of strategically placed charges,” he allowed. “But I do prefer it when a manahi handles the boom part of things. Even with an expert calling the shots, explosives are needlessly messy and dangerous compared to a manahi’s control.”