Part 6: Opportunity
His friends were seated at a round table towards the back of the room. Two humans–a man and woman of Chelaxian or Taldan descent, perhaps mixed with a bit of Kellid, both of whom had several years on her–and a dwarven man. On the table were four tankards–one presumably Davio’s–and the remains of a communal plate of bread and cheese. They looked up as Aemi and Davio approached.
The human man had a lithe, muscular frame and straight, black hair that came down to his shoulders. There was a casually dangerous look about him, and his relaxed posture belied someone who was keeping track of the room. The woman was equally slender and muscular, with wavy, brown hair tied back in a tail. The expression on her rounded face was more inviting. The dwarf was stocky and a wall of muscle, as dwarves in this area tended to be. His reddish-brown hair was so unkempt it looked like he wore a mop as a hat.
Davio did the introductions. “My friends, this is Aemi Salinus. Aemi, I’d like you to meet Janngu, Annet, and Volkhard,” indicating the human man, woman, and the dwarf.
The first two acknowledged her with a nod. Volkhard said, in a sonorous voice, “Ma’am. It is a pleasure.”
She greeted them in turn, and as Davio sat, he gestured towards the empty chair.
“What did I tell you?” he said to his companions. “She’s good, is she not?”
“You have a lovely voice,” Volkhard said.
Annet turned her head towards Davio, but glanced at Aemi as she spoke. “She’s good. But she’s inexperienced, and…a little young.”
“We were all young once,” Davio answered. “And we don’t need ‘experienced’, just ‘good’.”
Janngu just regarded her silently.
Aemi was uncomfortable. She felt like she was on display, being judged like a prize animal, and her expression hardened. “If this is how you introduce people to your friends,” she said sharply, “you can take your damned flute back.”
Janngu couldn’t suppress his laugh at this response. “Oh, she has got you figured out, Davio.”
She glared at him and started to get up.
“Wait. Please,” Janngu said, suddenly softening. “We apologize for being so rude. You’re right. This was no way to introduce ourselves. And a terrible way of…extending an opportunity to you.”
Davio, who was looking genuinely hurt by the earlier rebuke, smiled hopefully.
Aemi’s anger melted away, and now she was thoroughly lost. A what? She settled back into the chair. “I…I already have a job.”
Davio chuckled. “Please. You spend your days rewriting and editing letters. They value you for your penmanship and your grammar. On the weekends, you’re here, serving food and spirits to a bunch of drunken loggers who only see you from your thighs to your chest, and have a limited understanding of the word ‘no’. You should be up there,” he said, pointing to the stage with his thumb, “but you only do it twice a month.”
Aemi was stunned. “How…how do you know…?”
Volkhard snorted loudly, Annet rolled her eyes, and Janngu gave her a look that said Don’t be naive.
Davio ignored the question and continued. “Listen to me. You have real talent. And it is wasted here. Just…hear us out. Let us make this pitch to you, and we’ll give you some time to decide. We won’t coerce you, or pressure you. The choice is yours to make. Give us that much?”
Aemi thought it over and said. “OK. I’ll listen. What is this ‘opportunity’?”
All heads turned to Janngu. He said, “Let’s find somewhere private.”
Part 5: Macridi
The first few weeks after that evening were ones of mild apprehension and occasional sleepless nights, but Aemi finally concluded that Davio had been true to his word. No one came looking for her. No one confronted her over her name or her past. No one expressed any doubt or suspicion that she wasn’t anyone other than who she said she was.
No one got too close to her, either, but that was by her choosing. She had friends, but kept them at arm’s length. She had suitors, but politely declined them all. The fabrications about her past were a lot to manage, and the closer she got to someone the harder it became. The more it felt like a false intimacy. She had a whole history created for herself, one of humble beginnings—some half-truths taken from her childhood, some stolen from her childhood friends, others completely made up—including the events that led to her traveling alone along the Profit’s Flow. It was an enormous house of lies she’d built, and she took no chances with it.
Another year passed.
Her responsibilities as one of Macridi’s civic scribes had also grown over this time, and it now paid well enough that she didn’t need to work as a server in The Forest’s Drake. She did it anyway, though mostly just on weekends. She liked the people and the atmosphere too much to leave it behind. Erco had even persuaded her to perform for the patrons, not just the serving staff, as part of The Drake’s official entertainment. She agreed to take the stage two nights a month, and though she was not as talented as most of the traveling performers that passed through, she was one of their own.
For the first time since leaving Kerse she wasn’t worried about her future, but she admitted to herself that she was lonely. To solve that, she’d need to move on. Start fresh somewhere else, only this time as herself, not the person she had made up. It would be a big step, and one that she didn’t think she was quite ready for.
On a Starday night in early Rova, she had just finished a performance in The Drake, and when she stepped off the stage, she was shocked to see Davio beaming at her.
“A hug for an old friend?” he asked.
She laughed excitedly, and they embraced.
“Thank you for the flute!” she exclaimed. “It’s so beautiful. I still can’t believe you did that for me.”
“It was far less than you deserve,” he said. “Come! I want to introduce you to my companions.”
Part 4: The gift
Aemi worked her shift half-distracted as she listened to the rest of the bard’s news. Thankfully, there was no mention of a daughter, much less a search for one, and she was finally able to relax once he was done. Her fingers and muscles ached. She had not been aware of how tense she was.
The bard was still there, talking with Erco, the Drake’s manager, as they closed down the common room. She just needed to clean the bar, and she’d be free to go home. There’d be no private performance tonight.
She was wiping the countertop dry when she heard the bard’s voice behind her. “I’m truly sorry about your father.”
She stiffened up for just a moment, then quickly resumed drying the counter with her cloth.
“You have me confused with someone else.”
“I’m not here to spill your secrets. If I wanted to cause trouble for you, I would have done it already; I wouldn’t be talking to you now.”
When she didn’t answer, he continued, “I assume you’re using a pseudonym. No one even looked at you when–”
He cut himself off as she turned to face him. He was a few years older than she was, and had the look of someone who spends a great deal of time on the road. It was a look she had come to know well. He met her gaze with hazel eyes.
A quick glance showed there was no one in earshot. She said, “I’m Aemi Salinus here.”
He nodded in understanding. “Smart. Though perhaps smarter to change your given name, as well.”
“I…couldn’t.”
He regarded her for a moment, then nodded again. “I understand.” He paused, then said, “They searched for you–”
“I don’t want to know,” she said sharply.
He held up his hands as an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed.” He hesitated before adding, “And I’m not one to judge. Your choices are your business. If you’d rather I leave you alone…”
“No, it’s fine.”
He didn’t seem convinced, but then again, she didn’t sound very convincing. She added, “This is the first time I’ve spoken of it. And…you’re the first that's known.”
He gave her a sad smile, acknowledging the difficulty without being patronizing. “We were in Kerse when…” he started, then thought better of it. He shook his head, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m being rude.” He bowed slightly to her and added, “Let’s start over. I’m Davio Helenus.”
She smiled in turn. “Davio. Thank you for your discretion.”
“Of course. The manager here says you play the flute, and that you have a lovely singing voice.”
Aemi blushed. “I…Yes. I’m not as accomplished–”
“I’d like to request a performance, if I may. He also said you sometimes do this for the staff here, after the room has closed.”
Aemi hesitated for a moment. She wanted to say “no” because the news about her father had hit her far harder than she was expecting. She wasn’t in the mood to play for anyone, much less someone she just met. One that already had her at a disadvantage. But something about the moment felt significant in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, and over the past year and a half she had learned to trust those instincts.
“OK. But just one song.”
She stepped up to the stage, pulling her familiar wooden flute from the deep pocket she’d sewn into her work clothes, breathed deeply to center herself, and began to play.
It was a melancholy tune, one she had learned during her second year at the Conservatory, and she leaned into that feeling, letting her unexpected grief flow through it. The piece was challenging but not difficult, and though she felt as if every mistake was magnified, she didn’t falter. Did not lose her composure. When she finished, the room was dead silent. One of the other servers, the barkeep, the cook, and of course, Erco, had come out to listen.
Then the applause came. Davio was smiling wide when he thanked her.
“I made so many mistakes,” she said.
“Small ones, only, and not as many as you think. It’s also a difficult piece, far harder than many realize until they try it. You have a real gift.”
She blushed again, and only said, “Thank you.”
_________________
The next evening, when she arrived at The Forest’s Drake for her shift, there was a wrapped package, long and narrow, waiting for her.
“He brought it in this morning,” Erco explained. “Just before he and his companions left.”
She pulled the cloth away to reveal an ornate wooden box. Inside was a beautiful flute of polished ebony, and attached to it was a hand-written note:
Play on
Davio
Part 3: A New Life
Five months and over 140 miles later, Aemi, now using the surname Salinus, arrived at the logging town of Macridi. Her coin had depleted faster than she had expected, and at the current pace she had, maybe, another three months before she would be forced to let go of "only if necessary" and fall back to "total desperation".
Work had been difficult to come by. The cities and towns became progressively smaller as Aemi traveled the Profit's Flow away from Kerse, and most had nothing for her, especially since she had little to offer in the way of skilled labor. She gave each stop a few days, sometimes weeks, looking for something more substantial than part-time menial labor, before giving up and moving on. The one job she managed to find that was well-suited to her was at the Torch Orchard as a sort of receptionist for visitors–mostly merchants and tourists–but it was just a temporary thing, lasting only a couple of months until the season changed. Even if it could have been something permanent, the "only if necessary" expenses in such an exclusive region were barely covered by her income, so she couldn't stay there forever, anyway.
Aemi's frustration, and sense of desperation, was steadily growing. She nursed a lot of anger at her parents during this time: at her dad for bringing financial ruin on them all, and at her mom both for the depths of her deception and for cutting off the trust out of spite. That Aemi's own financial situation, at least the part where she was spending more than she was earning, now mirrored her father's was just more fuel for that fire. And while the anger did wonders for her resolve, in the back of her mind there was this tinge of guilt for what she had done, and how she had done it. Acknowledging that guilt, though, was an unpleasant thought, and it threatened to release a floodgate of mixed emotions that were worse, so she buried it deep and focused on the future. Besides, she thought, it was too late to change anything now.
Macridi was the first significant settlement after the three-day journey through the heart of the Palakar Forest. The forest itself was home to three faerie courts, each with differing opinions on trespassing by outsiders, so settlements along the river were rarely more than small and transient logging camps. In contrast, Macridi had come to an accord with its neighbors, and by exercising restraint over its logging activities, the town was able to grow both its industry and its population. It was home to over 3,000 permanent residents and responsible for the choicest darkwood and paueliel in all of Druma. That restraint in the logging industry also carried over to other aspects of life in town: unlike those in most of the polity, Macridi's residents did not find it necessary to flaunt their wealth. To Aemi, it felt like a real city, and one that wouldn't pass judgment on her currently nomadic life.
It was also the first place Aemi found steady work. In the mornings, she was a civic scribe for the city, a somewhat thankless job that just happened to require the services of a person who was both erudite and articulate. In the evenings, she was a server at The Forest's Drake, an upscale inn and tavern complete with a common room and stage. Serving food and drinks to (often time) drunk loggers and fighting off unwanted advances were items not high on her list–she had settled into "only if necessary" territory long ago–but seeing musical performances from both local and visiting musicians provided a connection that she felt she had been losing. There was also a more direct and personal benefit that her manager was kind enough to indulge: after closing, she would often take to that stage herself to play her flute or sing, granting a short, private performance to the rest of the weary staff.
She had been living there for over a year when a bard traveling from downriver passed through town. In addition to his musical performance, he shared news from the capital.
Aemi almost dropped her tray of ale-filled mugs when he announced that the now-disgraced noble Quaris Sura had hung himself.
Part 2: Flight
Aemi had three days to figure out what she would do next, as that was when the term ended and she'd be expected to move out of her suite. Three days to come up with a plan that would get her through the start of the rest of her life.
The first step was figuring out how long her money would last. She had only a vague understanding of what things cost, but she was resourceful and rather good with people, and motivated to learn. She visited flats, tenement buildings, flophouses, and communal lodges; markets, bazaars, dispensaries, tailors, general stores, and farm stalls. Two days later, sore and exhausted beyond all measure, she stumbled back into her room with a better understanding of where she stood.
Aemi considered the three lowest buckets of living conditions: "can make it work", "only if necessary", and "total desperation". Without any source of income, her money would support her for six to seven months in Kerse, and up to twice that long, depending on how far she was willing to travel, and how much she was willing to compromise on her standards.
Living in Kerse was not an option for more than just financial reasons. She couldn't go home—she couldn't put herself through the shame and embarrassment of her family's collapse—and staying in the city would just stretch out the humiliation. Eventually, someone, somewhere, would recognize her, and then the questions would come. And, besides, the city's gossip rags found the Sura family's fall from its noble heights a perpetual source of entertainment. It was hard enough to live through it (you mean "run away from it", that voice in her head corrected; she ignored it), she didn't want to be reading about it, too, especially when you never knew when the next column would print. So, travel it was.
On the third day, Aemi packed up her essentials, sold the ornate, ivory flute her parents had given her (and purchased a modest wooden flute to replace it—she wasn't an animal), and walked out of her suite, leaving the rest of her belongings. She spoke to no one and left no message behind. She didn't even shut the door. When the staff at the Conservatory checked on her that evening, it was as if she had simply disappeared.
The Fall of House Sura
Aemi grew up in the minor noble House Sura in Kerse, the capital city of Druma. Her paternal grandmother, Euphema, had a reputation for wisdom and careful judgment, and was widely respected among the city’s merchants and minor nobility. Her grandfather, Mercus, had built the family’s standing from modest beginnings through successful trade and careful investments. When they died unexpectedly, their only son and Aemi’s father, Quaris, inherited their estate.
Quaris moved his family into the manor when Aemi was eight years old. His parents had left behind a respectable inheritance: the house itself, a modest reserve of gold and liquid assets, and several steady sources of income tied to property and investments. For Aemi, Euphema had also established a trust intended to ensure that she would receive a proper education in the cosmopolitan city, with her parents named as its trustees.
But while Quaris inherited the estate, he did not inherit the instincts that had built it. Over the following years the family’s finances began to unravel. At first the problem was simple enough: they spent more than they brought in. But Quaris tried to solve it by chasing new income rather than tightening their spending. He poured money into increasingly risky ventures, and those that were not ill-conceived to begin with faltered under his poor management.
As Aemi grew older, the signs of strain became impossible to miss. The staff was slowly shrinking in size, items were wearing out or breaking without being repaired, the grounds were deteriorating as caretakers were dismissed, and so on. By the time she was fifteen, the manor had developed a shabby appearance, and she could see more clearly the differences between her own standard of living and those of her friends—especially when she visited their homes.
And then there were the fights. At first they had been muffled arguments behind closed doors, but over time even that pretense disappeared, and they grew louder, and more frequent.
During one particularly bitter argument, Quaris accused Verana of stealing from him. The accusation struck Aemi as absurd. Their troubles were plainly the result of his own mismanagement, not some conspiracy involving his wife, and besides, their assets were shared by law. The idea that Verana could somehow steal from him felt less like a claim and more like desperation.
Aemi’s only escape from the chaos at home was the Kerse Conservatory of Music, where she enrolled at the age of eighteen. For a time it offered distance from the tensions of the manor; distance enough that she could almost pretend they didn’t exist.
It didn’t last.
In her second year, her mother appeared at Aemi’s student suite and said to her, “I’m leaving your father. I hope you understand.”
The only thing Aemi didn’t understand was why it had taken so long, but when she asked, “Will you be all right, financially?” she learned a shocking truth.
Her mother had seen the decline of the household years earlier, long before Aemi reached her teens. Unwilling to watch her life collapse alongside it, Verana had spent that time quietly skimming money from the family accounts and placing it into a private reserve for the day she would leave.
The revelation left Aemi stunned. Years of quiet deception sat uneasily beside the image she had always held of her mother. Verana, however, spoke of it as though it were the most practical decision in the world. When she asked Aemi to withdraw from the Conservatory and leave Kerse with her, the request felt less like an invitation and more like the final step in a plan that was years in the making.
Still reeling, Aemi refused.
This response touched off a bitter argument, and what began as disbelief quickly hardened into vitriol on both sides.
“Fine,” Verana snapped at last, the word dripping with contempt. “Then you can stay here with your father.”
She turned and left in a fury.
Aemi didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time she saw her mother.
When the term at the Conservatory ended, Aemi was informed that she would not be allowed to return because her tuition for the coming year had not been paid. Assuming some mistake had been made with the payments from her trust, she arranged a meeting with the trust’s protector. As the explanation unfolded, she could feel her life steadily unraveling. Years earlier, Euphema (believing she was making the responsible choice) had named Verana as sole trustee in the event the marriage dissolved.
Her own mother had modified the trust and assigned a new beneficiary.
Unwilling to live with her father as he spiraled into financial ruin, and even less willing to seek out her mother (assuming she could find her), Aemi was, for the first time in her life, completely on her own. With only her meager accounts and half-completed music education to support her.
|
