Page 31 of Awariye

Though I knew that to be true, as I'd witnessed it and had been there with him every step of his recovery, hearing the defeat in his tone shattered me. Here was the darkness he'd hidden deep down that I had to pull into the light so he could fix it. "If you could afford to have a dream, what would it be?"

He barked a laugh, but it was a bitter thing. "Before my vocal cords got so strained, I dreamed of training in the opera halls of Vienna."

He shook his head, then shrugged and stamped off ahead of me on the path, but I sped up and kept pace.

So he'd had bright-shining dreams back before he'd gone into the world to seek his fortune, and the brutal reality of our dark age had hit him hard. But Awariye's voice, albeit injured, was still so beautiful, I wouldn't give up on him having some kind of dream, even if it had to change.

"What would your dream be, with the current state of your voice kept in mind?" I asked.

"Igor..." he said in desperation, shaking his head again and stamping off.

Yet I followed and pressed. "I want to support you, Awariye. I love you. I get a salary from Ulbrecht, fighting for him as his soldier. Other than the lodging house, I have nothing to spend it on. My mother and sister are gone; if I can ever find them again, then I'll support them, but for now, I don't have anyone and I don't spend my money on anything. Ulbrecht could hire you as a bard—he'd be foolish not to—but even if he doesn't, I want to know what your dreams are, what you want to work toward."

"I won't be a burden!" he shouted, then growled in frustration. "Not on you, not on Ulbrecht or Wren, not on anyone."

I caught up and grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt and forcing him to turn to face me. "Oi."

* * *

AWARIYE

My heart in my throat, with courage I met his eyes, even as my cheeks burned in shame and every cell in my body told me to run away from this.

"I don't want to face it," I managed to say, my voice trembling, "that I might lose my ability to sing. As a bard, that's everything. All my training is for the sake of transmitting the legends of the past to people. So much is lost when cities get sacked and the invaders burn the libraries. Entire civilizations have winked out of history that way. But bards train their minds to memorize and sing gigantic stories. You'd have to somehow find and kill all the bards for their stories to die. Even then, the children who listened to those legends will remember the fantasies of their youth and tell them to their children."

Igor tilted his head and sent me an expectant look. "You just solved your own problem, Awariye."

I blinked. "What?"

He shrugged, tugging me along with him, back down the path we'd come. "So you sing while your voice is still with you, and if it continues to get worse, you can begin training other bards for the future. You could take a student around with you on your travels, and if you enjoy teaching, then you could start up instruction in town for the select few that fit the bill and have the dedication."

I squeezed his hand as we walked, taking a few deep breaths and letting that option really sink in. "The monastery was able to train me in memory techniques, ceremonial magic, and prayer. They trained me to be a mage, in other words. But my musical training came from my childhood, and from any quick notes I could get from bards that passed through. The monastery is ultimately not a music school. I could pick up the slack there, send students back and forth if I find one that wants to train as a monk in addition to bardic training with me."

Igor's smile was so pleased. "Genauso, Awariye. Just like that. You are poor in money but not in tangible skills. Now that you've found a home here with us, you can use this as your foundation to make your dreams come true."

I met his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, but I had to look away as mine burned with tears. I had gotten stuck for a good long while and had struggled to find solutions to get myself out of my situation. Now this sweet, generous man was offering to help me build a new path. All I had to do was slough off the fatalism and desperation that had been plaguing me. It made sense how that negativity had come to settle in my thinking—I had been going through a hard time and it felt like everything I tried didn't work—but such patterns no longer served me, if they ever had. Maybe it would be easy enough to let them go, since I'd never wanted to feel that despair to begin with, but if they'd become ingrained as habits, then I would have to notice and put in the hard work to unbind and release them.

"Thank you, Igor," I said with my whole heart. "I have so much more life to live."

"Of course," he replied. "You struggled, but you made it through."

* * *

That evening, after dinner, I jumped up before the king could leave the hall. "Ulbrecht, could I have a moment of your time?"

Wren was in the process of being scooped up into the king's arms and blushed. "Should I give you two some privacy?"

"Either way," I responded.

Everyone cleared the hall, helping Sigrid and the kitchen staff by bussing the table as they went. Wren slid to the ground with a bashful smile. Then Ulbrecht met my eyes and I got to the point.

"I would like to offer my services to you," I said, my heart pounding with nerves. "After winter is done, I would like to travel your lands and sing of you to the people, and also listen for what they think of you, and any songs of you that might already be forming. For that I would need your financial sponsorship, your patronage. If you'd like to try something temporary at first, I can do that."

As I spoke, Ulbrecht's expression filled with mirth. "Awariye, you are my lover's close friend. Did you think I would let you go? The only reason I hadn't spoken with you yet is because Evelyn was trained to serve as High Queen and thus runs a lot of the statesmanship mechanics, and I haven't had a chance to talk with her about it."

Wren gasped, then shrieked with joy and leapt into my arms. I caught him, laughing despite myself.

"Spend each winter with us," suggested Ulbrecht. "I know Wren and Igor will be happy about that. Travel to the monastery and learn what you can about how to write the songs yourself. When the time is right and the lantern gods are ready, you can sing about them, too."

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