Chapter 09 – Lessons to Learn

Wherein Rose meets a bunch of old men in a park and makes an important discovery.

The main doors weren’t open yet when Rose arrived at campus the next morn. Following a pair of higher-year students, she slipped in through a fire escape and made her way down empty halls to the administration office. The scent of disinfectant was stronger than usual, the floors still carrying a glossy sheen; the cleaners must have left not too long ago.

An older lady in a home-knit cardigan and glasses hanging from a flimsy gold chain opened the hatch in an otherwise blind wall as Rose approached.

"Seasonal morning greetings," the woman said in a flat tone of voice. "Couldn’t wait until I’d had my first cuppa, could you?"  "Uhm… I’m here for my first-year permission papers?"

"I know what you’re here for." The woman put on the glasses, which in no way distorted the face behind them, making Rose wonder whether they were actually necessary or merely an affectation. "Name?"

"Rosa Cerdos," Rose replied as kindly as she could.

"And you’re sure you’re on this list?"

"Yes."

The wait was endless. The woman leafed through three stacks of paperwork, then located a list that had been marred by tea stains and tried to smudge a few letters.

"Rosa…?"  "Cerdos," Rose said stiffly.

"Right." A packet of brochures and forms were shoved her way, along with a chewed-up pen, and a mostly empty jar of watered-down ink. "Fill out and return before noon."

"Why before noon?" Rose ventured to ask.  "Because that’s what the sign says." The woman pointed to one of myriad pieces of paper tucked to the corkboard next to the counter, then turned away to make herself a cup of tea and gossip with her colleagues in the back of the office.

Rose blinked, shrugged, then found a place to sit and fill out the single form that actually needed filling. If Bosra had been here, she would’ve laughed so hard, declaring Rose a fool for pursuing this yet again.

The women were still too busy in the back to take any notice of her when Rose returned. Reaching over the counter, she put the form in the ‘in’ tray and left, praying to Sunfather that it would turn out alright.

The day was hers now. Lessons wouldn’t start until Fielday, which was two whole days from now, not counting this afternoon. Rose planned to spend that time by travelling around the city to learn more of its layout, get to know the people a bit better. She intended to play in parks, and maybe try her luck in a few quieter residential squares too. She looked forward to brightening people’s days with her songs.

Cicada Park consisted of winding walkways and sweet-smelling pine trees. There were little picnic areas secluded between terraced gardens. An expanse of close-cropped lawn made up the lowest terrace. This was where Rose was drawn to, following the sounds of music being made.

Five or so older men, beards ranging from full to scruffy, from dark grey to white, were jamming. People passing were glancing at them in seeming disapproval. Rose, however, was intrigued and stopped to listen. They were odd-looking, sporting beards, bandanas and studded leather jackets full of colourful patches. Their low voices sounded a little rough around the edges, their songs about adventures long past. Their tunes were catchy, played on drums and cellos, a lute mixed in to tie it together.

"Hey girlie," one called out to her as the other four argued about which song to play next. "Why don’t you join? Or are you afraid to get your strings tight?"

Rose laughed at the bad joke. "I could, if you don’t mind my country tuning."

"Eh. All’s good. Been a while since we had young blood in our band."

Rose stepped onto the grass beside them, produced her violin from its case and quickly tuned it. "You’re a band?"

"Used to be, until Thomas there took an arrow to the knee."

"All bards?"

"Aye. Not very usual, I know. Maybe that’s why we didn’t do so well for ourselves. Should’ve taken up with a few fighters instead."

Rose grinned. She could easily see these fellows with a fighter or two mixed in, raising hell in a local tavern.

"Are we going to play, or what?" one of the others demanded. He started tapping out a rhythm on his drum. The rest joined in. Rose waited and listened for a few bars until she thought she caught the gist of it; only then did she set bow to string.

Throughout the next hour, they garnered attention from passers-by. Some stopped to listen for a few beats, while others hurried on. One academic-looking fellow wanted to pay them to stop, preferring to enjoy the park in peace. The old men played their most boisterous song in response.

They didn’t get many coins tossed their way, but Rose couldn’t care less. She’d had fun.

The fun continued when she was invited for lunch. She was hesitant to accept, reluctant to impose.

Thomas, the wild-maned man – the one with the slightest hint of yellowing tusks, and an underbite to accommodate them – threw his arm around her shoulders and grinned: "Com'on, kiddo. It'll be fun. There'll be supervision from a couple wives, there'll be more young'uns too. The more the merrier."

"If you're sure?" 

"Solid ten/ten sure. Besides... we can't wait forever to talk shop with you." 

"Really?" Rose was dumbfounded to be taken in so openly by people she'd just met. The consistent disregard or even outright hostility she had encountered at Bardic College had led her to expect nothing less from strangers. Forgotten was the easy acceptance Bosra had shown her, and the ease with which Valentina fit into her life.

"Yeah, kid. You bring that cuteness to the jam, you come have food with us." 

"Okay." Rose’s enthusiasm grew. She was curious to talk more with these men. None of them gave her that creepy, unsafe vibe a lot of the teachers at campus did. Or some of the men she had encountered in the tubes. 

"You've gotta come, kid. We might be old farts, but we can still tell when a girl's got groove. Gotta feed the next gen or we're toast, with all those Bardic College alumni and their so-called 'music'."

Rose decided then and there that she really liked these guys, and she was sure Bosra would too.

As soon as she entered the private yard, Rose felt at home. A monstrous looking bungalow – it had several extensions in a mishmash of colours – stood watch over a collection of assorted individuals that were loud, rambunctious and affectionate.  

There were children screaming, men shouting, women busying themselves with all sorts of tasks. Long tables had been set out on the grass, flanked by benches.

"Is today a special day?" Rose had travelled here perched on the back of a motorised trike. The crystal that powered the death trap had hummed ominously the entire way. Her butt was still a little numb from the hard saddle and persistent buzzing. 

"Nah, just Thaumday."

"You feast like this every week?"

"Pretty much. It's a good life."

"How...? Doesn't anybody have a job?"

"Do you?" was the return question. 

Rose shook her head. "No job, just college."

"The perks of being your own boss, missy. We all have Thaumdays off to spend with family." 

"That used to be Sunsoulday for me... after service in the village temple..."

"Not anymore?" 

Rose shook her head again. "I left my family to go to college."

"Bardic," somebody spat. 

Rose nodded. She looked at her hands, at the violin case she had not yet put down. "It's... it's not been what I expected."

"All the kids go these days," Thomas complained, catching a toddler that threw herself at him and proceeded to plant kisses all over his face until he set her down again.

"Yes... and they suck!" Rose couldn’t hold back a passionate flood of words. "I thought Bardic College would help me grow. Help me get better at my craft. I wanted to learn new techniques, learn new tunes, maybe pick up another instrument to play. But it's been... it's been..."

"CRAP!" somebody interjected from the other side of the yard. Rose felt like crying in absolute mortified relief. "THAT!" she shouted back. 

She was patted on the back by an old lady with a toothless smile. "Sit down, deary. Let us feed you and don't let them turn your ear sour with their moaning." 

Purely out of respect for the crone, Rose sat down. The old biddy didn't want help sitting down herself, so Rose waited patiently, cringing several times during the slow process of lowering an old body into a cushion-lined chair. 

"If you have something that tells you to go to college, you should go. Maybe the lesson there isn't about music. All my boys can tell you about music. Maybe your lesson there is people."

Rose pondered this wisdom. She frowned. "If I go to college to learn about people, shouldn't I go to a different one? One that teaches classes on people?"

"Hah! No. You keep going to Bardic, deary. Learn about the core of people there. You go to a different college, there will be different people. You know these ones already. Better for your case study." 

That was again a wisdom Rose didn't know how to react to. 

"Besides... maybe they’ll teach you something new and wonderful about music. Who knows?" the old crone cackled, before letting herself be supplied with wine and food. 

Rose really enjoyed the party. The women were kind to her. The young men were courteous. She talked shop with the musicians. It turned out they had been in a quite successful adventuring group years before. All bards. All had gone to Bardic College for various lengths of time. None had graduated. One of the grumpiest of them had made it the whole four years and dropped out just before graduation, after a big row. 

They'd started bets on how long Rose would make it before she decided, as they colourfully expressed it, to "screw it all" and move on.

The stakes were high; the loser had to eat an earthworm and the winner would get the biggest slice of the old crone’s prize-winning pie.

At the end of the day, as she was hurriedly grabbing her things so she could meet Bosra at their usual place, she was invited to return whenever time allowed – either for a get-together on Thaumday or for a local holiday.

Rose promised she would be back, though she didn’t yet know when that would be. She also promised to bring Bosra next time.