Alara's chosen instrument was the seven-string gittern. Her hair was tied back from her face with a red silk handkerchief, throwing her cheekbones into stark relief in the dim light. She tuned the strings lovingly, with long, slender fingers and a concentrated look.
Stefen had come late to avoid being seen; the older Bards were mostly teachers he saw regularly and the Circle, who he had more than enough contact with. The younger generation tended to treat him with an awkward deference he found entirely unnerving. Vanyel must have felt that way, only multiplied a thousand fold. I can't imagine.
When he entered, she looked up, meeting his eyes long enough for him to wink briefly at her. Then the Head of the Circle, an older man named Hedron, gave Alara a nod and the song began.
He let out a soft gasp as she found his face and sang the opening chord.
It was his song, written after his return from Sorrows, and his first great success. Magic's Price had brought his name into certain musical circles, but was more sung for the tale than the music. This song was one of love, and loss, and learning to live again. Her clear, vibrant soprano carried the notes of Stefen's soul-wrenching journey across the crowd, bringing it back to leave.
He felt tears stinging his eyes and didn't bother to brush them away, content to feel the beauty of the moment. The last lines felt like they would rip his heart out of his chest.
"And as I know this pain will never lessen, never lift,
So I know that teaching me to love and live was your great gift."
Mute, the audience sat wiping their eyes. In a swift movement, Stefen drew himself from the shadows in the corner and began to clap loudly. The other students and Bards followed his cure. Setting her gittern down, Alara stood to give a slight curtsy, first to the Circle sitting to her left, then to the room. Her eyes, though, never left Stefen.
Hedron cleared his throat and looked at the Circle members, many who were still damp-eyed. "I think I can safely clear you to Journeyman, Alara. That was—quite a performance."
A huge white smile lit up her normally serious face. "Thank you, Bard Hedron! Although I think the greatest credit goes to the author, Bard Stefen."
Holding up a finger, Hedron said, "I think even he would agree that was one of the finest performances of his song." Stepping up to the stage, he helped her pack her instrument and motioned for the next performer.
The next few performances passed in a blur, none remarkably good or bad, save the last one, a pupil of Medren's, who was actually pretty good.
Alara found him after the performance, shyly wringing her hands. "Uncle Stef, I hope it's okay—the song spoke to me, but I know it's about—painful things for you—"
He silenced her with an embrace, pulling her close. "I've never even sung it that well, love," he said, voice still shaky. "Thank you. You made him—us—alive again."
She pulled away and searched his face for a minute before flashing another brilliant smile. "You're welcome, of course." Pausing, she spoke softly, "I wish—I wish I could've known him."
"Oh, Alara," he said, "You would have loved him."
A loud exclamation from Hedren broke the moment. "Bard Stefen! In the flesh! We haven't had you here for us at Haven in two years." He looked at Alara. "All we get are renditions of your songs, and few so masterful as tonight."
"I am a bit of a vagabond, I confess," Stefen said good-naturedly. "Long stays at Haven tend to be dull and fraught with unwelcome memories."
"Indeed," Hedron replied, laying a friendly hand on Stefen's shoulder. "I understand. But we may have need of you, soon. Bardic's been turning out more Journeymen than I can remember, and they need to be accompanied on their trials."
"Mmm," Stefen replied non-committally. "You are turning out wonderfully talented Journeymen!" He smiled at Alara, who blushed.
"The finest thing in Bardic since a certain wild-haired street urchin!" Hedron exclaimed, clapping Stefen on the back.
With a wry chuckle, Stefen said, "A long gone urchin."
An awkward pause followed. Hedron's tone grew grave and sympathetic, "Well, Bard Stefen, none of us can begin to comprehend life's twists of cruelty and loss. But perhaps being here at Haven will be easier than you think."
"Perhaps," Stefen replied softly. "But I doubt it."
With that, he bid Alara and Hedron goodnight. Off to find my cold, lonely bed, he thought, a bit bitterly.
Feeling sorry for yourself, ashke? That familiar, but long-absent voice asked, shaded with sympathy.
Very, Stefen thought back sourly. A rush of love flowed back at him.
I am always with you, Stefen. I will always wait for you. You have almost earned your place...
He looked out the window, over the flickering candle, to the twinkle of night stars. Thank you, Vanyel-ashke.