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Before this moment can last a heartbeat longer, I tear myself from where I stand and hurry out of his tavern. Only when I am outside, with the chilly night air biting my cheeks, do I realize that I didn’t bid him good night.
Twenty-Five
Abard’smelodiousvoicecutsthroughthebusynessoftheUpperCity’ssquare.Thoughthecrowdsarebustlingthismorning,everyonestopstolistentoherluteandhercaptivatingvoice.Thefountainatthecenterofthesquaretricklesinthebackground.
I swing my legs back and forth from the bench I sit upon, watching the bard serenade her audience. The bowl at her feet is already brimming silvers, and I even spot a few gold coins thrown in there.
One gold coin is enough to cover the annual salary of a well-paid dockhand. Or at least, I think it is. Since I’ve never held that job role myself, I can’t be certain of their exact income. But what I do know is that this bard would never receive this kind of money down in the Lower City. Here, we are just a stone’s throw from the Arcanium, and plenty of nobles pass by. To those who are as rich as Eliya’s uncle, a gold coin is nothing compared to the talent of this bard.
Apparently she only started playing here last week. And according to the murmurs amid the crowd, she worked as a barmaid in the Lower City prior to her newfound fame. Already she must have earned a fortune. I can’t deny that I’m envious. Unfortunately, I’m unable to play a single instrument. Nor can I sing. Now I realize what a mistake that is.
Since I’m long out of my monthly adept’s stipend, all I can offer the bard is applause between each song. I wish I could offer her more, seeing how her gentle music is doing wonders for my headache.
When I woke up, my temples were filled with excruciating fire. I took a large dose of Ice Honey to numb the pain, but it has worn off. And I don’t dare to take any more.
Moon-blossom wine really is strong. And I drank so much of it.
I clasp my head in my hands. Even the thought of alcohol nauseates me. Right now, I don’t intend to drink another drop of wine ever again.
All I hope is that I will have recovered by tomorrow morning. Or else raiding Garon Whiteford’s warehouse will prove to be a very costly mistake.
Too busy nursing my headache and listening to the bard’s silvery voice, I don’t notice Eliya sliding onto the bench beside me.
“You look worse for wear,” she chirps, startling me.
I look up at her and groan. “Do I honestly look that bad?”
“Oh yes,” she replies. “You should have fixed yourself with an illusion before heading out.”
I sigh. Compared to me, she looks well-rested. But I suspect that’s only due to carefully conjured illusions. With how much Eliya drank last night—which was even more than me—she should look dreadful.
I should have probably done the same and hidden my awful appearance with illusions. But the headache made it impossible to concentrate on casting any spells. Clearly Eliya has a higher pain threshold than me.
“Remind me to never again agree to one of your plans,” I grumble, rubbing at my temples.
“Why?” she asks. “Didn’t you have fun last night? Isn’t the headache worth it?”
“No,” I growl. “And neither is it worth the mess I’ve gotten myself into.”
Her magenta eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Mess? What mess?”
“After you left, I miscalculated my teleportation spell.”
“You didn’t accidentally teleport yourself right into the middle of the sea, did you?” she asks, choking on a laugh.
“No, but nearly. And it was far worse than that.”
Eliya taps her chin as she contemplates all the possibilities which might have befallen me. “Did you teleport yourself into the sewers and get covered in waste?”
“No, but that probably would have been far less messy.”
“Just tell me,” Eliya demands. “I’m already out of ideas.”
“I teleported myself to the docks.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad. Not like teleporting yourself into the sea or the sewers.”
“Yes, but when I was sprinting home, I ended up crashing into someone because I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
