The Baker's Wife (part one: Parlay)(Volume One: Trial of the Ornic)

scene two

Evening came and a small crowd had gathered in their backyard. Lejer had somehow managed to find a carpenter willing to make benches for everyone. From the safety of the kitchen, Krysilla watched the crowd murmur and gesture and she could tell from that alone that everyone was curious about a minstrel who could impress Lejer, one of the more stalwart Tothsins in the village.

Krysilla wondered about that herself.

Using only a little magic to keep down the mess, she sprinkled powdered sugar on the little cakes she’d made. Powdered sugar stuck to her hands and to the places on her face where she’d rubbed or scratched as she worked. She’d already used quite a bit getting the house ready and she didn’t want to collapse when it came time to hear Parlay play. The bell at the front of the store rang and she growled. “Coming!”

“Don’t worry,” Parlay said, walking down the hall to the kitchen. “it’s only me.”

She brushed a strand of hair from her face before realizing she was coating it in powdered sugar. “Oh!” And then she saw him. “Oh.”

He wore the garb of a traveling minstrel with some money to spend. He wore the dark purple vest that showed he was a performer, with a bleached and starched white handkerchief in the pocket, yet both were of a somewhat higher quality and better cut than what she’d seen him wear at the market. His shirt, of the same quality as the vest and handkerchief, was a patchwork of light purple and off-white, a direct contrast to the plain brown slacks and laced boots he wore, and the sleeves were only slightly more full than the shirt he had worn previously. He looked both adventurous and calm.

“Is that what you’ll wear at the Felldesh manor?” she smiled and went back to dusting the cakes.

“If only. My clothes for that event will be much more flashy.”

With no one to see them because of the invisibility, she smiled. “I thought, being the kind who enjoys the ladies, that you would want something that got attention.”

“I can get attention no matter what clothes I wear,” he said, with a sly look that made her blush.

“Well,” she said, regaining her composure, “you’ve certainly gotten this town’s attention. I think half the village is trying to squeeze into our backyard.” She hesitated, looking at the crowd. “How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Some of the people out there say you can’t be as good as Lejer says you are because you don’t use magic.”

“That’s the draw. Magic is used by everyone, even minstrels, so what would music look like without it?”

“Then how do you do it?” She looked back at him. “How do you keep them from walking away disappointed?”

He leaned his back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Some do. Can’t help that. As for the rest, I practice very, very hard, and hope for the best. What about you?”

She blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes this time, instead of touching it. “What about me?”

“A baker’s wife. Is that all you do?”

She chuckled. “It’s all that matters.”

Though the smile remained on his face, his tone was serious. “Is it?”

Not liking the direction the conversation was headed, she looked out the window. “Looks like it’s about time for the show to start.”

“It starts when I appear.”

She turned to him in surprise at his arrogance. As if realizing how he had sounded, he shrugged. “There’s no other way to say it.”

“You think you’re that important. What’s to keep them from getting up and walking away?”