“What are you doing here?” Reven asked, greeting her with a hug and kiss that Serai copied. “Liam said you weren’t coming.”
“Have you not learned to not listen to Liam?” Ajana giggled. “I had a job to do. Do you need me to dance tonight?”
He watched her remove the satchel settling it between a stack of crates used to store props and small instruments. There were trunks of costumes and fabrics for curtains or decoration and dusty candelabras with fat beads of wax crusted to them. Everything was dusty despite the good cleaning Reven had given the theatre for his use. The downfall of working and living in a desert. “I would love for you to dance if you’re feeling up to it. What job?”
Ajana only opened the flap of the satchel, flashing a palm-sized gem of a color so dark it looked black. He smiled at her already imagining the payout for that lovely bauble - - and then grimaced at the argument he knew such a payout would inevitably bring.
“I’ll get dressed,” Ajana said, already stripping off her outfit for something more suitable to the stage. That was until a large, dark man with a scowl on his scarred face nearly bowled her over. He worked for Luca, the ruling cartel lord of Azucena. The scarred man’s specific job was unclear, but he was always with Senor Luca and his runeli mistress. Regardless, Tomas was a highly unpleasant fellow.
Reven groaned. “If you insist on interrupting me the show will be awful and Senor Luca will have your head on a spit for appetizers. I’m busy Tomas.”
The man’s scowl deepened but he remained silent, shoving a young boy at Reven instead. “From Liam.”
That was all the henchman said, leaving the boy wide-eyed and confused. Reven glanced at the women who both shrugged. The boy had large teal wings and a mop of overgrown hair that was a slightly darker color than his wings plastered to his brow. He wore dirty clothes that might have once been fine but otherwise had no other belongings to speak of save a guitar that he was unsuccessfully trying to disentangle from his wings and cloak.
“Wonderful,” Reven grumbled. “Can you actually play that, or do you just carry it around for show?”
“I… you… uhm…” the boy started. He was distracted and in desperate need of a good wipe-down among other things. “What?”
“You can play, correct?” Reven asked. The boy paused long enough to glance around at his immediate surroundings, but nodded. “That, I’m assuming, yes?”
“Uhm… the guitar?” the boy answered with so much uncertainty Reven nearly snapped the violin bow in his hands. The child was still spinning himself in a small circle, trying to get the strap out from underneath his wing. Reven watched, eyebrow raised and face full of annoyance.
“Seriously, I’m picking the next one. Where does he find these people, on an urchin trade block??”
The boy frowned, face growing red to the point Reven thought he might cry. In fact, he caught the distinct sheen of tears in the boy’s eyes once he stopped spinning that made the annoyance in the bard grow. Instead of crying, however, the boy stepped in front of Reven and said, “That great giant lout just grabbed me off the fountain and dragged me here while I was eating the first decent meal I’ve had in days! I know how to play; my father taught me. Guitar is what I’m best at but not the only instrument I know. Is that good enough for you Master Bard, or shall I find you a different urchin?”
Reven stared at the boy with narrowed eyes. The boy stared back with defiance in his green eyes. So, he was not full avian. The colorings of the winged race always matched - hair, wings, eyes. If they didn’t, then they were not ‘pure’ and usually given to the life of a troubadour or thief-taker. Still, he had moxy, which made Reven smirk.
“Does the urchin have a name?” the bard asked.
“Kaleo,” the boy answered, once again trying to disentangle himself from his guitar.
The voice. Reven liked the kid already.
“Talk to Ajana,” Reven said. “She’ll find you something to wear. Stop spinning.”
The boy froze for a moment, watching Reven closely while the bard removed the strap on the guitar and freed the boy’s wing. Reven handed the instrument back then gave the boy a little turn and shove toward Ajana. Kaleo maintained silence until the show, quietly going over music Reven wrote specifically for this performance. It was important to Senor Luca that the monks be impressed with festive music that paid respect to the Trinity, a triad of deities that were worshiped in Mahala. Periodically, Reven glanced at Kaleo, watching the boy go over the music carefully. The boy, he noticed, watched him just as carefully.
“You like him,” Serai said, walking up beside the bard. Reven glanced at her and grinned, sliding his arm around her waist to pull her close. She smiled.
“Maybe,” Reven replied. “I feel like I know him. And, he still has to actually play for me to really like him. ‘Pretty’ better not be his only talent.”
Serai looked at the boy, watching Ajana drape the poor thing in fabrics and bangles while he tried to study music. Every time Kaleo glanced at Reven, there was a silent plea in the boy’s eyes, a look that begged for recognition. It was a look Reven ignored until after the performance. Kaleo was, in fact, more than just a pretty face and quite a treat to listen to. He had phenomenal talent with the resonance that could one day lead the boy down the path as an actual bard like Reven. He learned quickly
