I walk through the early morning light and sigh into the wind. The good feelings of pleasure having been dispersed by the truth of me having used someone for my own purposes. That and the unpleasant memories of knowing he had been used before. The cruelty of the world being thrust into my face. I had hoped not to participate in it but I wanted to attack the greater corruption that had plagued the city I now found myself in.
The skies slowly grew more and more blue between the thick clouds that floated above cloaking the god’s playground above. I stretched my arms above my head and reached left and right stretching out the muscles of my flanks and back. They slowly loosened as I turned down a few shortcuts I had learned from plundering Trevor’s mind. I skipped going to Featherdown and instead headed to a different eatery. I had a few coins left from the night of drinking as Trevor had spent plenty on trying to get me drunk.
I sifted through all the background noise I had learned from Trevor and came upon a place where there might actually be real sausages with eggs. It would have no bread or cheese but that would be fine. Something beside rat stew would settle well right about now. The sign above the door was a plate piled high with various foods.
The crowd is full of apprentices of all shapes and sizes. Most of them lack the underfed look of those that struggle with the work that is given to them by their masters. I sit upon one of the empty chairs. None of the tables were empty enough for me to sit alone so I am with several men that have ink stained fingers. I knew that many inks couldn’t be washed free of skin no matter how hard one scrubs with water and soap.
There is no menu, everyone gets the same mix of sausage, and eggs. I hand over the half bit that it would cost and wait for my steaming plate of food. I attempt to strike up a conversation with those I was sitting with.
“I see most of you have stained fingers. Are you working as scribes or maybe clothes dyers?”
The men look at one another in silent conversation as they stuff their faces with more food almost determined to ignore me before one of them gives into the silent pressure I was exuding.
He was thick in the jowls and had a lot more fat around him than the other people sitting at the table. Either he worked for a more affluent member of society and could splurge more on the finer things in life or he was more sedentary than the rest of us. Since the dawn of time it was known that those that sit most of their lives were and had the biggest asses. So I wasn’t surprised when his tone was snotty and better than thou in tone. “I am a scribe of the most holy order of Klaxu. We have been tasked with taking measurements of the latest tithe and see what places in the land might be shirking their duties and not providing their fair share of crops to the lord.” He motioned to the other two, “These two manage ledgers though. Nothing as prestigious as working for the crown authority.”
“You bastard, you count the weight of grain. You don’t do any of the math. Your head is too full of rocks for that to be any part of your work.” Said one of the other two. Both erupted in laughter.
With a face flush the larger man spluttered and coughed on the sausage he was eating. After a few moments of close to choking he cleared his throat. “My job is so much more important than yours so you better watch your mouth. You're lucky I bought your meal today!”
The two men rolled their eyes and looked at the large man seriously, “You asked us for help so that you could keep up with your work and we charged you a meal. We both were supposed to have the day off to ourselves to recover but instead we are gonna help your far arse catch up now that you’ve fallen behind.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The large man hissed, “Not in front of the stranger you dolt.”
I shook my head and held my hands up in surrender, “I didn't hear anything. I was struck deaf by the gods just now.” A plate full of food was placed before me and I turned my attention away from the short conversation.
My table companions continue. “Do you have any experience in writing sir. I’m sure that our compariot would be willing to pay you some coin if you have any skills worth buying.”
I shake my head along with the larger man, “My skills with the quill are nothing worth spending coins on. I specialize in writing music and most importantly playing it.” I stuff another spoonful of eggs into my mouth and chew through the soft salted goodness.
The large man’s complexion cleared as he stared daggers at his compatriots. “Don’t go trying to buy people’s services with my coin you bastards. I can hire my own help.”
The table lapses into silence as we all continue to eat sausages and eggs. The salt in the sausage is heavy and almost unpalatable to the tongue. I lamented the fact that there was no music to listen to. Not every place I visit would have music playing at all times. Otherwise bards would be the most employed people in the realms.
The three companions at the table finish their meals and one of them goes to pocket the wooden tableware but I clear my throat and give him a pointed look. He mutters a curse under his breath, “Should mind your business next time.”
The food goes down well with a swig of water. It had the tang of having been boiled in a pot used for foods. An awful mixing of flavors not usually wanted in water. Too bland for a soup mix but too potent to be normal water.
Once I finish the meal I thank the establishment with a call and head out into the greater town and wind my way through the streets to the Rutherford estate. I knock lightly on the door and wait to be ushered inside. The servants were well aware of what I was supposed to do when I arrived and the children were gathered into the living room and the two flutes were brought forth for them to practice with.
I take the children and pull out the flute to show them how things work. I point to the very end of the flute, where one breathes life into the instrument. “This young sires is a flute. You blow air in one end known as the mouthpiece and the shape of everything inside it helps it form music. I motion just forward of the mouthpiece to the block nest and continue speaking to them. “This is the block nest and further down are all the finger holes. When you plug the finger holes properly it changes what note the flute makes. The area beneath the finger holes is known as the sound chamber. That is where your breath turns into music with the right timing and placements.”
I twist and show more sides of the flute and let the children marvel at it and motion for them to repeat after me and name all the things about the flute that I had told them about. They were studious and it only took a couple reiterations for them to get everything correct. Their impatience was clear on their faces for they wanted to play and practice.
I handed each of the flutes to the children and helped them position their lips correctly and then they started to play discordant and awful noises out of them. I stop them and begin helping them shape their breaths to make them even and slow. Exhaling not too quickly or slowly so that the sound would be even and clear.
It took all morning for them to start getting things correct and play long continuous notes that rang true to my ears and I clapped for them in encouragement. The older of the two had taken to the lessons a lot quicker than his younger sibling. It was easier to learn in that age, just old enough for the mind to soak up every bit of knowledge it could. Like a dry sponge to water.
We stopped for lunch and a veritable buffet of fruits and vegetables were brought before us. The natural sweetness of the fruit was a welcome way to cut through the lingering taste of sausage and eggs on my tongue. The vegetables were overly boiled and were so soft to the teeth and mouth that it was practically mush. The children seemed to choke down the vegetables at the behest of the servants, encouraging them with a sweet pastry should they eat enough of the unpleasant things.
They chatter on and ask me dozens of questions now that we were not playing on the instruments. They varied from how long I had been playing music to what I preferred to do with my skills. How much I was getting paid and how important would it be for them to learn the skills I had to offer. I entertained all the questions and kept some of the more intimate details out of the conversation such as pay and other instruments that might be easier to learn than the flute.
After a lunch break the students were pulled to take other lessons with another tutor and I was approached by one of the servants.
“Thank you for your tutelage. It is nice to see the young masters interested in something. We will see you next morning and maybe each morning except for Sunday. The kids have no lessons on that day.”