The Night Out
Lute in hand, I crept down the stairs as silently as I could. I walked quieter than normal, but I'm far from sneaky. Five more steps and... four... three... creeeeeek! I cringed at the sound and stopped moving as to not create anymore sound. I always knew about that step, and always forgot about it.
A few seconds passed without anyone stirring, so I finished the last of the staircase and peeked around the corner. Just the empty fireplace, as it was the start of a warm summer. Glow lights were out making the only light from the glowlight in the street. Azabooth and Kayle were obviously in bed, and I shouldn't take my time.
As successful merchant families go, our home was relatively "small". Changelings are understandably reclusive, so having a house staff only increases the chances of discovering our... secrets. This seemed fine for Azabooth though, because he wasn't one to waste coin on idle luxuries. Nope! We had to do everything ourselves. And that's on top of our daily lessons.
"An ignorant changeling is a dead changeling," was one of his favorite phrases.
As small as it was in comparison to others' homes, it was still very large. The whole two story shop-home was centered around a large brick fireplace with openings on all four sides, upstairs and downstairs. The top floor consisted of 6 bedrooms lining the north and east walls. In addition, there was a store room on the north wall and a study on the east. With the exception of a room we used for musical practice, the rest of the floor was the great room, and a staircase on the southwest corner.
The staircase entered into the lower great room where Azabooth would entertain guests. The dining room was on the northwest corner with the kitchen occupying the entire rest of the north wall, exiting to the alley on the east wall. It snaked past the shop on the east wall, which opened to the show room on the southeast side of the building.
We didn't need a showroom, as we dealt primarily in bulk gem sales and gem cutting, but it came with the shop-home.
I strode to the closet on the other side of the staircase, next to the door, and threw my cloak on over my tunic. My klee form, is a young female about my age, 16, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. Singing in taverns after dark as young girl would surely be asking for trouble. I shifted into Simti, whom I have performed twice as, at each of the two taverns in town. As my hair retracted I stifled a sneeze. I always do that when growing or retracting my hair. It's a trait Haut finds funny, but one Azabooth says could get me in serious trouble. I simply can't help it!
Simti is a guise I use every now and then, which I patterned after a man I once saw on the docks in New Harbor. He stood just short of six feet, having short dark hair with day old stubble, and brown eyes. Not too handsome, but far from ugly.
Shifting guises is an everyday function for many changelings. Despite that fact, it always feels weird as I feel my weight shift in different directions and my hair grows or contracts to fit my new form. Shifting from female to male is especially strange, as the shift can be dramatic due to size and shape. The process only takes about a second though, and once it's over, it doesn't take long to become accustomed to the new form.
Slipping the cloak on around myself, I turned and walked to the kitchen as its door leads to the side alley. Our shop-home is centrally located in a large town, and the last thing I need is Mrs. Gible to see me out her window as I left. Not only would she speak with Kayle, but they'd probably mistake me as a burglar if I had already shifted.
I went back through the kitchen, passing the stove, twisting the lock, I opened the door and quietly shut it behind me. Freedom! Throwing the lute over my shoulder, I made my way down the street towards town square.
It still amazed me to see the new light stones being put into the town streets. One could say that men have always been behind in the magical schools. Azabooth said that the new things we've been seeing is due to the discovery of magical properties in various materials. Namely gemstones. It was an an exciting time to be alive, as these advances have started to become more commonplace throughout the Lontic Colonies.
Indeed, the older races have a firmer grasp on the magic arts, but they aren't ones to share their secrets with others. Azabooth tells stories of his trips to the gnomish city and all the wonders of their towns in the east mountains. Apparently, glowstone lamps are everywhere, and shop doors open for you without touching them. Elves and dwarves have their own magics too, he said, but they're more reserved with their use of magic.
As I neared the Pig and Hallow, the street was less vacant. Groups of people talked amongst themselves here and there. There was a group of dwarves, obviously drunk, laughing and conversing near the door. They eyed me as I opened the front doors.
"Ey eou. eou singing o'night?" one asked, with a northern accent which was common among dwarves.
"Yes sir!" I said, winking and pointing at him with a smile. With all guises, a personality is just as important as the appearance. I'm told I'm a bit spunky already, but I thought it best to keep a flighty positive attitude if I'm seeking to entertain others. When re-using guises, it's also important not to talk about yourself much, lest you forget details when talking to people again in the future.
I entered the tavern, and surveyed the venue. The room was dimly lit by covered lanterns on the walls and the two rows of wood columns placed at regular intervals. A couple private rooms were visible on the back wall, with cloth hangings blocking the view of onlookers. To the left was the bar, with two bar wenches making their way in and out of the door just beyond it leading to the kitchen. The stage was on the right wall, near the stairs leading up to the inn rooms. A large fireplace was on the near wall to the right as well, which was not lit. There were a number of rectangular wooden tables of varying sizes placed throughout the establishment. One wouldn't consider this a crowded night, but if the stragglers in the street were to come inside, it would be a decent sized audience.
I walked over to Broogle, the barkeep, with a broad smile. He was listening to a story from a man in a group of patrons.
"Are you looking for a good notewrite, sir?" I asked, projecting a bright voice over the crowd.
He turned slightly, maintaining his smile and attention on his guest, and put up a finger to me. As the man's story reached its climax, Broogle followed with facial expressions of equal excitement. Finally, he let out a bellowing laugh as the story concluded, all guests seemingly as entertained by Broogle's laugh as they were the story. It's his hospitable personality alone that kept the Pig and Hallow going.
Broogle slapped the bar twice, "Much fun, my friend!" and excused himself turning to me. Still grinning and wiping his hands on his apron in habit, he asked "A notewrite, huh?" He looked me up and down, and said, "this place could use a good musician tonight! If you're good, you can keep any tips you make. If not, 'ol man smokie will show you to the door in good time. Stage is o'er there." he said nodding at the platform.
"O'l man smokie," is the nickname for the inn's grumpy owner, who is also the cook. People don't see him much, unless there is a disturbance. In that case, he's a known brawler, and tends to keep the peace when peacekeeping is needed.
"Well alright then!" I said. With a nod and a wink I smiled widely. Then I turned around walking to the stage with a good deal of hop in my step. Maybe too much. My lute was still over my shoulder, and I could feel my bravado gaining a few eyes as I walked past. It's funny what sort of attention one can draw when they merely act a little different than those they are in the company of.
I stepped up on the platform and strummed my lute to both check the tune and gauge the volume of the room. The lute's tune was perfect, as usual, but I'd have to work on my volume a little. A tip pan was already on stage, making it unnecessary to provide my own implements.
The guests looked fairly settled, and I learned on previous occasions that you cannot simply walk into a room that lacked energy and start strumming drinking tunes. One had to work the crowd into it. A skill I was still learning, but had some success with in recent.
Considering songs with a moderate tempo, I started singing "Ealin's Joy". I began with the intro which was somewhat light and slow. This was important, just to introduce music into the room, and blend it into the surroundings without being too abrupt. Soon, I began speeding up to the normal rhythm of the song. The transition was gradual, but not without purpose. Finally, I introduced the singing component. Simti's voice was a high baritone, which I chose for my own enjoyment more than others'.
As I sang I noticed the attention of several patrons. They would sway in time with the music and my voice. This was a great start, but just that... a start. As I neared the end of the song, I made the transition into "Little High Cap," which was a popular song among the locals. I skipped the song's intro, which was something I began doing two weeks ago to keep the momentum of the performance. It's a trick I found to work surprisingly well in keeping the attention I gain from the previous song.
The night only got better as I swung into my main performance. I drove into "Sabien's Fire," which is a very popular song with the locals. I started thumping my foot on the stage, encouraging a response from the crowd. Most stages, so I'm told, are somewhat hollow so a performer can get a beat rolling. It was certainly working tonight, because soon after I started, it didn't take long for one table to join in. Thump Thump Thump. Others had started clapping.
As the song neared an end, I strummed hard, and let the last chord roll for a long second, giving the illusion I might be done. The energized smile on my face and my outstretched hand was probably a good hint that I wasn't though. Then, right back into it with "Crack Fiddler." Thump, Thump, Thump, my foot was hitting harder. I couldn't help it, the energy was just that good, and it showed with the patrons.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group at one of the tables get up and start dancing. There were 4 men and 2 ladies dancing in the way the locals do. This involved holding your right arm out, while placing your left on the next person's shoulder, and stomping in rhythm to the song. Some would stomp in single time, while others would stomp in more intricate timing. Every 16th beat, the line would dip, and hop up, turning to face the other direction, and repeating the process.
This night was better than the all of the rest, and was marked by the distinct odor of spilled ail, pipe smoke, and the smell of men and women alike as they worked to a perspiring frenzy of fun and excitement. It was hard to end the performance, though I knew it was getting late. I still had to wake up in the morning for mathematics with Kayle tomorrow after all.
I finished my last song, lute in hand and spreading my arms wide to boths sides, wielding a gleeful smile. "Well, good folk of Geaury ," I said, projecting my voice, "I bid you thanks, and good night!" I bowed deep and stood, taking in the applause. As I found in other performances, some patrons felt compelled to share their enthusiasm with me, and sometimes shake my hand with a "thank you" or some similar gesture. I responded with genuine gratitude to each of them, saying "thank you" or responding with short responses to comments.
I must have played for 4 hours, not once looking at the tip pan. I was astonished to find it overflowing with coppers, and a few silvers! The coin wasn't as important as the appreciation it conveyed. This meant my craft was getting better, and contrary to what Kayle preached, the tavern was not nearly so scary as she let on.
After a couple minutes, the patrons started finding their way to the exits, upstairs to their room, or back to their seats. I turned to the pan, not wanting to make a spectacle of it, and quickly tipped its contents into my purse. I had to smile to myself at the weight of the purse, and the fact that it was a bit undersized for its payload. What an unexpected surprise! I only wish I could share it with my podimae, but know it would only get me in trouble.
As I walked to the door, some of those close to my path patted me on the back, with a couple of nice words. Smiling, I thanked them, while keeping a certain momentum to the exit. Then, I finally pushed out to the cool air of the outdoors. The night air never felt so nice on my hot sweaty skin! It accented how drenched I was from perspiration.
I took in the cool air basking in such an exciting night. I continued to replay it in my head as I walked home. The men dancing... the giggles of the bar wenches, as they occasionally danced with some of the patrons. The songs... the entire PERFORMANCE seemed so perfect! Oh, and let's not forget...
...wait...
I suddenly noticed how quiet it was. The silence accented the other sets of footsteps that weren't my own. I was nearing town square, and out of site of the tavern and much too far from the shops. The streets ahead of me were absent of people as it should be at this late hour. It must be about 2 bells.
I chanced a glance behind me, and saw two shadows against the lightstone lamps. One average height and the other a head shorter. They were walking at a fast pace, and following my direction. They must have seen me look, because one started calling to me in a husky tone, "Hey, music guy, wait up!"
"Yeah, don't run off," the other laughed in a remarkably higher pitch.
It was pretty obvious these men weren't looking to pay me complements. I needed to get out of here.
Obstructing one's line of site is one of the main defenses of a changeling, because even brief obstructions gives us time to take action without giving away our true nature.
As I rounded the corner near the fruit stand, I ducked down sliding the lute under the baskets while simultaneously pulling my cloak off over my head. I cringed, knowing that I slid the lute a little too hard. I quickly pulled at the knot on my purse and bundled it in my cloak. Then, I tossed it in the back of the next stand near the bench and took off in a mad sprint.
Changelings are unnaturally fast, due to our ability to extend and retract our legs. Azabooth says that we get extra power from our telescoping bones but we're more prone to fractures and breaks. All I knew was that I was quite fast when I wanted to be.
I made it three quarters the way to the end of the square, and shifted to an old woman. In the matter of a second, I shrunk about three feet. My muscles contracted, allowing my skin to wrinkle and fall more loosely. My back hunched. I felt the familiar tickle as some of my hair grew out while some of it retracted into my scalp and turned gray. I put my hand to my nose, but couldn't stop it.
a'chew!
Wiping my nose, I sat down at one of the stalls, and as I did so, I saw them round the corner. All I could do was hope I didn't give myself away being the only person moving when they appeared. Their run slowed to a hasted walk, arms swinging quickly at their side. It was hard to see them from where I sat, but I could tell they were looking for Simti in the stalls as they passed. As they did so, they continued to walk in my direction with a certain purpose. It appears the first half of my escape was working, and all I had to do was work the guise.
As they approached, I scrambled feebly to my feet, accentuating the age of my new form. I contracted my vocal cords mimicking old Mrs. Avery almost perfectly, "you b-boys w-w-want your palms r-r-read? Th-Th-Three coppers each, f-five for for th-the both of y-you."
As they got near me, the taller man looked at the other and I could almost make out a smirk in his shadow. "Yeah lady, read my palm." Unexpectedly, he struck me bluntly with his open hand. The joint of his palm and wrist struck me hard in the cheek, sending me down.
In my fall, I instinctively reached out my hand grasping at anything to catch my fall. My fingers caught under the man's shirt collar, jabbing him under the chin. My hold on his shirt slowed my fall, but I inadvertently pulled towards me, causing him to stumble past. I heard the quiet thud from him hitting something stationary behind me.
I landed on my bottom side, and cushioned the rest of my fall with my right hand. My left hand covered my eye, and my head swam as sharp waves of pain rippled from below my eye like a rock dropping in a still pond.
The short man let out a short high pitched laugh in amusement and dashed behind the stall. "Come out little singer!" he called, his voice moving away towards the way we came. He left at a quick pace through the stalls, moving back the way we came.
Aside from his growing distant calls, it became quiet for a long moment.
"Stupid bitch..." the bigger man said. His voice was at a low volume and without excitement.
I turned, trying to look at him through my clouded vision. He was standing with his back to me and head down, possibly holding his hand to it.
"Hah!" the short man cried in the distance. A short time later, another cry of uncontrolled glee. "Richmond! HAAaaaa, Richmond, he left it all!" he cried. It was almost like a whining laugh.
Though, still in pain, my mind started to clear along with the fear of my current situation. I was still in danger! At that moment the man turned, walking the short distance to loom over me. I started. My instinct was to escape and run.
Something said in the back of my mind "Work the guise"
I paused momentarily, and then rolled my eyes back and let my body fall back limp. I exhaled all of the air from my lungs as loud as I could, and laid silent.
The man paused, taking in the seen. He stared down at my still body. In a moment of realization "Oh, gods..." he said.
I couldn't see him with my eyes rolled back, but I heard his feet shuffle. He was quiet, save the quickening pace of his breathing. He whispered something to himself, and shoved me with his foot.
I didn't move.
The man cursed to himself and ran back towards the other man. I could hear a verbal exchange between them in the distance, and then running footsteps in the distance. Then it was completely silent. The smell of something rotten permeated from the shop tall next to me, becoming a metaphor that summed up the entire night.
I checked to see that they were indeed gone, and then laid my head back on the ground, all urgency having left me. I laid there for many minutes, thinking how I was going to get out of this situation, but no answers came. I'm simply going to have to tell Azabooth what happened and take the beating. Kayle will increase my chores, and Haut will heckle me non-stop. Accepting the inevitable outcome brought me a sense of peace.
I rose from the spot I lay and shifted back to Simti. As my muscles expanded, my cheek throbbed even worse causing my eyes to water non-stop. The pain was so bad.
a'chew!
I winced at the brief aggravation of pain.
I walked slowly back to the stall where I threw my cloak and purse. Shoulders slouched, I picked up the empty cloak, exactly where I threw it. I chanced looking for the lute in the next stall from the merchant side. Bending over, it was just as I expected. I saw straight through to the cobblestone on the other side of the stand.
Standing, I cursed quietly to myself, and started walking home. I threw the cloak on, and looked around. The streets were bare, and decided to shift back to my klee form. The stubble was getting itchy, and really didn't prefer the added hair.
a'chew!
I wiped my nose with my arm, and continued walking.
The rest of the walk was just as expected. Lightstone... shadows... lightstone... shadows...
When I arrived at the door to my kitchen from the alleyway, I noticed I left the door slightly open. Add this to my list of careless acts for the night! I had to wonder, "am I really this careless?" Perhaps I am, but not wanting to repeat the pattern, I locked the door behind me.
Quietly, I walked through the great room to the closet, and hung up my cloak, noting the scuff marks. No sense in worrying about a few scuffs, I just lost a lute costing no less than 3 gold. Something looked different in the closet though. Was it different? Another tear streamed down my face from my bad eye... My eye blurred... Everything looked different to me right now.
Not caring to answer for my crimes until morning, I crept up the stairs, this time avoiding the 3rd step, and slipped myself into bed. Although I wanted to close my eyes and sleep, this was the last thing on my mind. I started thinking in circles, the same questions repeating in my head. Occasionally, I considered the good parts of the night, but it didn't take long for the night's conclusion to crush any joy of the first half of the night.
I recounted the fear I felt at the hands of the two men, and in hindsight, felt intense anger at the helpless feeling they gave me. The helpless feeling I had even now, as I had to answer for the theft. It was probably the first time in my life without someone in my podimae to handle a bad situation for me.
The thoughts seemed to go on and on. I'm not sure when I fell asleep.
---
"Minli, wake up," I heard Azabooth say, as he did every morning. "Are you up?"
I roused. "yes," I responded, my mind foggy from sleep.
"Alright, it's time to start mathematics soon," he replied.
As I slowly regained my consciousness, my cheekbone and lower eye was throbbing. I touched it wincing, and at that moment, the memory of my evening cracked me like a whip. My eyes open wide, and my heart started pounding. I was pretty certain Azabooth was waiting to talk to me about the lute before we started my lessons. It was just Azabooth's way to have a discussion before disciplining his podoo.
I lay my head back down, wincing as I put my hand to my cheek bone. No doubt it was swollen, and the pain had changed from the sharp fresh pain on the flesh to a dull throb in the bone.
Delaying the inevitable, I considered what I would say. What could I say? That a thief quietly entered the house to steal the lute from the second floor, and I narrowly fended him off from stealing the silverware, so he punched me and took off with the lute?
"Maybe he hadn't seen the lute was missing," I thought, smirking to myself. Then I thought about it. Actually, maybe nobody did see it missing. No one goes in the music room unless we're practicing or getting an instrument to play.
"But he would see it eventually," I thought to myself. I pondered whether I should just go tell Azabooth and Kayle, or wait until someone saw it.
"I could just play dumb when they found out," I thought, smiling briefly to myself. Then I sighed. Someone would have to take the blame, and I'd just get Haut and Bradley mad at me... or each other.
Or... "I could get the lute back," I thought to myself. It really wasn't a serious idea at first, but then I thought "why not?" As I considered the idea more, excitement began to return to me. The feeling wasn't just excitement, however. It was a way to reclaim the security they stole from me. In some way, this felt more important than the thrill, though that was there too.
This was a strange thought to me. As a changeling, it's simply a way of life to shift and use different guises for different situations - like a tool. In fact, that's how the god Amerish made us. The intention driving the use of those tools were the strange part. For me, I've never used my guises to manipulate others or pretend to be another person, except as part of our legitimate pod business. This aspect introduced a new dimension to who I was - or could be, and it was both exciting and frightening. What's more is, these men didn't just steal the lute and money. It made me question if I could accept living a life of a victim when I had recourse not to.
I got off the bed and closed my bedroom door, thinking through the details of my ordeal with a new vigor. Then, I walked to my wardrobe, and disrobed. I shook my head, realizing I was still in my tunic and trousers from last night. We each have different cloths, male and female, for different situations. If Azabooth saw, he would have questioned it though. Another mistake... I really must be more careful.
I slid into some fresh undergarments and pulled out a simple white blouse and brown day-dress. My mind raced as I considered what I knew and what I could do.
I've lived in Geaury my whole life, and never seen these men before. This must mean they're here on business somehow - likely part of a merchant caravan or the like. I'd have to find them, and hope they hadn't left yet.
Walking to my birth mirror, I looked at the dark puffy area around my eye.
It's a changeling tradition to receive a mirror on your 3rd birthday. All changelings are born with the ability to shift, but our early years are spent simply understanding how to control the complexities of our bodies. In fact, we most changelings can't even shift from klee until around their 3rd year. With the exception of our klee, it's not until around 13 years that a changeling can confidently shift into a guise intentionally without viewing our reflection. Even then, we don't stop growing until early our early 20s, so like an adolescent man-child going through puberty, we are continually learning and understanding our bodies as they mature.
As I started to contract the bruised muscles, pain coursed through my face, and I released. It hurt so much, but I had to do this if I didn't want to explain it. I strained, and tears formed in both of my eyes as I forced the contraction. One could think of shifting like making a funny face. There is conscious thought in the change, but the difference for changelings is that once we've achieved the desired differences, we didn't have to concentrate to hold the new form. On the other hand, the pain still lingered, only less intense.
After I pulled my cheek to its normal size, I played with the color. We can shift the color of our skin in patches or our whole body. Shifting the color of our normal skin tone isn't a big deal, but covering up a bruise's discoloration wouldn't be considered normal.
I mentally pushed and pulled, trying to get the right color. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible. I'd have to live with it, and hope it would pass. Looking closely, it was slightly more red, but not terribly noticeable.
"Minli!" Azabooth called, "I'm waiting!"
"Coming!" I replied. I walked into the upstairs great room where Azabooth and Haut were.
My bedroom was one of the two on the east wall, which opened up to the fire place. Bedrooms lined the wall to my right, which also passed by the fireplace. Walking either direction around the fireplace lead to the great room, which was separated into two sitting areas. The one that lined the far wall was centered around a huge bear skin rug with a center-table in the middle . A large sofa that can fit three lined the far wall and sat under a large painting depicting the god Amerish's creation of the moon by stealing sunlight from the god Emutis. Two padded wooden chairs were set across from the sofa where Haut and I sat for lessons. A table was placed between them with one of the new glowlamps for light.
The other sitting area was in front of the fireplace, and only used in the winter. Another large sofa stood in front of the fireplace, forming a walkway with the wooden chairs that Haut and I sat on. A table separated the fireplace and the sofa, with deep, comfortable chairs lining either side of the space.
Kayle loved to decorate our home with many paintings of her three podoo, and Azabooth, in our klee forms. She would place little shelves in various places on the walls with miniature statues of animals in different scenes. Some had deer at a pond. Other shelves formed clouds where pegasi and unicorns dancing on their tops.
Azabooth sat the large sofa where he always does for lessons. Haut was sitting in his chair already working on a lesson, seeming in less than cheery mood. He was 3 years older than me, and our lessons were not the same, so Azabooth would typically start with him earlier than me.
"Did you sleep well?" Azabooth asked.
"No, I was restless and didn't get much sleep," I said. "My eye is sore too, but it wasn't when I went to bed." This was a little insurance, in case he noticed my poor job of coloring.
Azabooth came close, holding the bottom of my chin gently. "Yes, it looks a little irritated." He continued to look at it for a short time, and then said, "Maybe you bumped the bed post while you were asleep. If it gets any worse, let me know and we can apply some polythack cream to it."
Azabooth, believed it was a changeling's responsibility to have a basic understanding of their bodies. Since visiting a physician could likely get your pod discovered, it was important for us to be able to treat common wounds and ailments. Azabooth was very knowledgeable on the topic, and made sure to teach us in monthly lessons as well as when opportunities presented themselves.
"We left with simultaneous equations yesterday," Azabooth said. "Do you remember the concept?"
Azabooth's klee form was a tall handsome man with short jet black hair with a matching short beard and mustache. He had grey in his temples. He was in fit condition, which was not only the appearance he chose, but a result form him being very hands-on with the various activities tied to our business - both physical and otherwise. He typically wore a fine tunic and trousers. When making appearances for business, he'd tend to wear merchant robes and a few pieces of jewelry. This was largely for show, as he was a practical man.
"Yes," I replied. "It's when you have multiple variables and multiple equations. By subtracting variables from the equations, it's possible to reduce formulas to have only a single variable and solve for it. Then use the answers in the other equations until all unknowns are solved."
"Very good," he replied, "I guess we were further along than I remember."
After working through some examples with me, he left me with some problems to do on my own and went downstairs to talk with Kayle.
Haut seemed to watch Azabooth as he left, still wearing a frown on his face.
Haut is my older aundin, which is sort of like a sibling for men. In his klee form, he is a skinny 20 year old with short orange-blonde hair and light brown eyes. His skin was pale with patches of a very light beard on his cheeks and neck. He's not exactly ugly, but his klee form doesn't turn many heads either. I think that's why he tends to shift guises more often when he's out.
After Azabooth was gone, his face turned to glare at me. He said "Thanks for locking me out last night."
I froze for a moment. My jaw hung there as some things fell in place and other things became more of a mystery. The odd details of my arrival lingered in the back of my mind, but the bigger issues dominated my mind until now. Things like the open door - careless on his part, but not mine. Now that I thought about it, there was a missing cloak in the closet - something I was too distracted to care about when I returned my own.
I squinted my face as things came together. Finally, breaking my stupor, I turned to him sharply. "What do you mean?!" I asked, a bit too loudly. Realizing my stupidity, I repeated myself in a whisper, "What do you mean," as though repeating myself quietly would correct my mistake.
Haut said, "You locked the door on me, and I couldn't get back in last night!" he said sharply. Then in an exaggerated display, threw his hands up a few feet from face, reveling his palms. They were scratched and splintered.
Covering my mouth with my hand, my shoulders shrugged as I stifled a snicker. My eyes were open wider in amusement, and I looked back at the stairs, checking that we were still alone. I looked back smiling, "What happened to your hands?!" I asked.
"I tried climbing up the posts in the front to the overhang, and kept slipping," he said. His lips pressed together. Retracting his hands, he continued, "when I finally got to the top, the study and music room windows were closed."
"When I got back down, I tried the kitchen door again. Azabooth came around from the shop door and caught me." Haut turned, falling back into his seat. "Now, I'm on restrictions..." he trailed off while staring at the wall. "At least, Azabooth said I would be, but he hasn't told me what that meant yet."
"Oh," I said, pausing. I knew I wasn't at fault, but I wasn't sure what to say. "I'm... sorry..." I was a little confused. "Where did you go?" I asked.
He cocked his head and raised one eyebrow, accompanied with a smirk. His eyes not leaving the wall he said, "I went to the Pig & Hallow." He turned his head back to me, and his smirk morphed into a smile.
I was a little confused at his meaning. He obviously knew I was there too but where was he when I was being chased? Getting hit by strangers? My lip trembled. "So... you know about the two men, and the lute?" I asked. My face twisted in pain of the memory and the immediate confusion of his meaning.
"Men?" Haut, pushed forward in his seat, and fully faced me. "What men?" he asked.
"The men who stole my purse. They gave me this bruise on my face," I pointed at my reddened cheekbone, "and stole Azabooth's lute." A tear rolled down my face. I wiped at my eyes with the back of my arm sleeve.
Haut shook his head, clearly affected by my emotions. "No, I was with Lisa Strandas after you left. Tell me what happened." He moved his lessons to the table and turned himself in the chair to give me his full attention.
Glancing at the stairs again, I sat upright, and fought to regain my composure. If not for Haut's benefit, then to at least prevent questions if Azabooth returned. I reminded myself of my resolve to avenge myself, and after a number of seconds, brought myself back into control. I turned to Haut, "Well..."
I conveyed my story to Haut, which didn't take long, recalling the details I remembered.
"...I'm going to get the lute back," I finished.
Haut fell back in the seat in thought. After a few seconds, staring at the wall in front of us, he ask, "Do you need help?"