The troubadours played a jaunty tune while the masses swirled about them in search of distraction, only an occasional among the crowd pausing long enough to toss a coin into the shapeless hat that lay beseechingly at their feet on the small raised wooden platform. This time, it was a pretty woman who took pity on the scraggly-looking lot.
Nodding his thanks, the wiry lute player -who nominally led the group - grinned and did a little jig, eliciting a tiny smile from the well-dressed lady who was quickly ushered along by her protective partner. The man, his arm encircling the waist of the woman at his side, wore a well-used sabre on his left hip, an expensive jerkin, and a warning glare, which he threw over his shoulder before disppearing amongst the revelers.
“Acting the clown for a pretty face, as always.”
Leon stepped back from the edge of the makeshift stage, continuing to play while he turned to look at the young woman who had spoken. Tangled blond hair, freckles and wide blue eyes were Nirina's trademarks, though Leon had always privately thought she could do more about her appearance and look twice as nice. Nirina, on the other hand, seemed to have no interest in attracting attention. The lute player grinned at the drummer who moved in time with her own beat, the skin and wood drum secured to a leather harness she had fashioned herself as her hands danced in a staccato rythm.
“Just trying to get something other than bread and cheese on the table tonight, 'Rina,” replied Leon, nodding as a fat merchant tossed a single copper into the hat as he passed. “Greedy pig. He could have spared a gold by the look of him.”
Axel the flute-player shot Leon a warning glance, fearful as always of Leon's loose tongue. It had gotten the little troupe thrown out of more than one tavern in the past. Leon sighed quietly and concentrated on the final bridge that rounded out their set with a happy sound and a flourish.
“Thank you! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen; we'll be here for the duration of the Exhibition, not to fret!” Leon launched into his spiel while Nirina crouched to collect the hat and Axel tucked his flute into the little leather sheath on his belt. The musician spent as much time caring for his precious instrument as most other men spent on their weapons. “Stick around for our next show tonight after sundown, but first, put your hands together for Bixle, the tumbling dwarf!”
Only a few people in the milling crowd clapped, and none of them very enthusiastically, as Leon and the others left the stage, to be replaced by a clean-shaven, bald dwarf in leather breeches, suspenders and no shirt. The acrobat ignored the musicians as they made their way down the two steps behind him, opening his arms wide to the crowd as he prepared to do a series of intricate physical feats.
“The usual,” said Nirina, handing Leon the near-empty hat with a glum expression. “I hate daytime shows.” Leon counted the coins and sighed. At least we'll have bread and cheese. To Nirina he tried to sound more cheerful.
“Don't worry! By the time the fair's over, we'll have enough to buy a liscence in the city, and then we'll be pulling in cash every day!”
“Mmm hmm,” came the reply. Nirina and Axel walked ahead, familiar with Leon's optimistic promises of a lucritive future. They had been playing at the Exhibition Fair and every other little event or town square for over a year now, with their goal coming no closer. With permission to play in the capital city, they would be guaranteed a regular income that would keep them all comfortable, if not exactly wealthy. It seemed like so little to ask for.
Axel, taciturn at the best of times, mumbled something about wanting a nap as they approached the tiny wagon in which they toured. It was too small for more than one bed inside, but the tall, dark-skinned man seemed content to lay his bedroll out underneath the floor, in the shade of the wheels and it was to this spot that he crawled before covering his head with a blanket to sleep. Nirina unlocked the door at the back and climbed inside to remove her drum while Leon tuned his lute by the cold fire-ring. It was early afternoon and the group would have little else to do before their performance tonight.
“Gonna need a new hide for the small drum,” said Nirina quietly, emerging from the wagon to sit on the log beside Leon. “Old one is tearing at the edges.”
“Can't you re-peg it?” asked Leon, twisting a key gently while repeatedly plucking one of his strings. He liked the sound it made as it tightened and took his time at the task.
“Already re-pegged it once. Don't think there's enough skin left for a second time.” Nirina picked up a piece of kindling and pulled a dagger from her boot, whittling the wood down for no other reason except to be doing something with her hands. They often tingled and throbbed after a performance and she found it helped to keep them active.
Leon said nothing. Nirina knew the only way she would get another hide is by bartering for it – and the drummer had little to offer – or going out and skinning a sheep or cow herself, something she was even less likely to manage. Sighing, she stood up and dusted off her worn brown trousers.
“I'm going for a walk,” she announced, to which Leon nodded absently, continuing his careful tuning. Nirina turned on her heel and strode briskly from the campground and onto the well-packed dirt road that led towards the city.
The campground was an area behind the main fairgrounds where performers, labourers and others associated with the Exhibition Faire could park their wagons, mounts and other belongings with some small measure of security, since there was usually someone around to keep an eye on things. Nirina found it far too dull to sit and wait for the next performance and was happier to be exploring, especially in the relative safety of the thinly forested farmland of this area. When the Faire took place on the fringes of less civilized towns, she was too nervous about the locals to venture far.
Humming a new tune under her breath, and enjoying the mild spring sun that warmed her, Nirina walked with long, unselfconscious strides, her bare arms swinging at her sides and her messy ponytail bobbing lightly against her back. The cottages and small croftholds outside the city looked so comfortable and peaceful to her mind. I wonder if I'll ever have my own house. Maybe something like these. Try as she might, Nirina could not quite imagine it. Images of Leon and Axel kept intruding into her quiet little fantasy, insisting on another rehearsal or taking a share in her meals. Sighing to herself, the drummer moved briskly onward, puffing a little as the road took her up a hill and closer to the outer walls of the city.
Jingling tack and the drumming of hooves up ahead alerted Nirina to a mounted rider and she looked up from the path expectantly. A rider was exiting the outer gates of the city, decked out rather impressively in full armour and riding a huge destrier that chewed up the ground with great energy. The horse too was armoured, with a horned face-plate that gave it an otherworldy appearance. Nirina stared as the knight cantered past, staying well to the side of the road for fear of being trampled like a nameless insect. She often felt small and insignificant whenever she saw nobles and wealthy merchants riding upon well-bred steeds, or beautifully dressed women with creamy white skin nestled in carriages like precious pearls in their oysters. Unconsciously, she tucked a greasy strand of dirty blond hair behind her ear and told herself she would bathe the next time she got a chance.
The great outer wall of the capital loomed above her, casting its shadow over the trees and road in front of it and suddenly, Nirina did not want to enter the city. I don't belong there, she thought, turning around and walking back the way she had come. For a change of scenery, she crossed the road before starting back down the hill, wondering how much time had passed and how much longer it would be until sundown and their next performance. By the end of the week, the Exhibition Fair would wind up, the entertainers would count their earnings and pack up their belongings once more and the next few weeks would be spent on the road to some dusty little town or another city, where they would set up and start the cycle once more.
There's got to be a better way to make a living, Nirina thought, watching her boots scuff small clouds of dust as she walked more slowly along the side of the road. Their music was good, she thought, though not particularly unique. They worked hard and kept their ears open for new opportunities, yet were still just scraping by. What does it take to make it big?
She had no answer, and wasn't ready to return to the camp yet, so she stepped off the road and cut through the open, breezy forest westward, in search of scenery or perhaps a berry patch. She had no particular goal in mind, but before she had gone very far, the sounds of a disturbance could be heard beyond a thorny rise. Curious, Nirina crept forward, screening herself with the bushes and peeked through. There, sitting around a campfire of their own, was another group of musicians, only these were not human, but elves.
Most noticably to her was the percussionist; tall, gold-skinned and toying with an instrument she had never seen before. It immediately piqued her interest as she watched and tried to determine its craft. Seemingly carved from a gourd, it could be shaken to produce and interesting variety of rattles , while rubbing a smooth stick over its intricately carved surface created an amazing buzz or hiss of sound. The musician seemed quite talented from the variety of noises he could produce from it.
Beside him, another elf held yet another unusual instrument; this one nearly impossible to see in his nimble hands as he held it to his mouth. It looked like a carved, square piece of wood full of holes that, when blown through, produced a strong, wheezing yet cheerful sound that dipped and peaked with rapid ease. Fascinated, Nirina watched him for a while before turning her attention to the third member of the group, then gasped in surprise.
This elf was stunningly beautiful in a way that was almost unnatural. Her eyes glowed with a strange luminescence and her skin looked almost translucent in its delicacy. While her silver-spun hair was piled into complicated knots and inter-twining braids, her clothing was no more elaborate than her companions and she seemed cheerful while she played her equally unfamiliar instrument. This one was was strung similar to a lute, but was smaller and required something like a narrow bow to be dragged over the strings to produce an eerie wail or a high pitched whine. The elf's slim fingers moved with great agility over the frets on the neck of the instrument to change the tone and pitch of the sounds and Nirina found herself swaying to the siren sound it produced. She leaned forward, resting more of her weight on her hands as she tried to get a better look. In a moment, she realized her mistake.
The ground at the lip of the rise was soft from two nights of rain and her perch was at the peak, where the bushes thinned out and their eroded roots could be seen below the rise. With a startled squawk, Nirina found herself falling though the screen of thorns - gaining several scratches along the way - then tumbling head over heels down the sandy slope, amid a shower of pebbles and dirt. She could feel the soil in her mouth and eyes as she flailed for purchase, before a solid thump to her ribs from a rock knocked the wind out of her. She rolled to a halt almost at the group's feet, coughing and sputtering.
No comments:
Post a Comment