Part 38 of Rob Donovan’s free serialised story set in the same world of Frindoth as his newly released book “Ritual of the Stones”. In this story we follow the journey of Pewtory the Lesser bard as he travels to Lilyon to witness the Ritual.
Pewtory the Lesser Bard part 38 – Take a bow
He did not bow as the vision suggested he would. The crowd was deafening and rose to their feet as Willow followed Wisp into the bowl. Rumena slapped his back and hugged him and Jagger pumped his hand in a firm handshake yet he did not bow. Hanley got to his feet after two attempts, (his huge belly hindering his progress), he too shook Pewtory’s hand as the crowd began to chant his name. But he did not bow. He couldn’t bring himself to.
Pewtory stood numb to the applause. His performance had been authentic yet he still felt like a fraud. Everyone in the room worshipped him at that second, revered him, oblivious to the harm he was about to inflict on them all. How could he bow with such knowledge?
Bard Kallum hopped onto the stage applauding harder than anyone else. He put two fingers to the corners of his mouth and whistled loudly. The genuine pleasure on his face was so commendable that it made Pewtory sick. Pewtory had put on a performance that Bard Kallum could not even hope to follow but rather than be worried or jealous, his conduct suggested he was Pewtory’s biggest fan.
Pewtory glanced down at Elsie who smiled the smile of a proud mother whose son had just excelled beyond all expectations. Beside her Arthur drummed his fingers together, which was an Eastern sign of high praise.
Pewtory felt lightheaded and wobbled on his feet. He stumbled to regain his balance, the crowd gasped at the strange behaviour and so Pewtory exaggerated the motion to pretend to be fooling around. The crowd laughed along with him.
He wanted nothing more to get off the stage. The attention, the highly decorated room, the waves of adulation were all too much for him. The wave of dizziness continued and this time he stooped down to collect Willow and Wisp to cover it up.
“How about that ladies and gentlemen? Didn’t Baron Decker promise you only the best?” Bard Kallum addressed the crowd who responded with a new round of applause. Kallum took a step back and spoke to Pewtory from the side of his mouth. “For Gloom’s sake, be more humble and acknowledge them.”
Pewtory raised a hand and saluted the men and women before him. It was the fish that saved him. They jumped from the bowl and pirouetted in mid-air performing their own unique bow. The crowd loved it.
Pewtory walked swiftly from the stage as Bard Kallum continued to address the room and promised them an astounding performance after a short interval. As Pewtory moved towards a side door he spied Elsie and Arthur hurrying to catch up with him.
“Pewtory wait,” Arthur called.
Pewtory pretended he did not hear and tucked the fish bowl under his arm as he marched towards his salvation. He needed a few moments to collect himself. His hands trembled and his vision blurred. The door frame ahead expanded and contracted, one second appearing large and the next too tight to fit through.
“Pewtory…Pewtory?”
This time it was Elsie that addressed him. He could no longer pretend that he could not hear her as several members of the crowd now looked. He took a few deep breaths and then turned to face the Brookmans with a smile plastered on his face. A smile that must have mirrored the frozen faces he had witnessed moments earlier.
“So? Is the Masker’s Ball meeting your expectations so far?” he said injecting false levity into his tone.
Elsie lunged at him and pulled him into a hug that was surprisingly strong. She followed this by peppering his faces with dry kisses. He felt the roughness of her skin against his and when she withdrew he was aware of fine, tiny whiskers that protruded from her chin.
“You know how it went. It was the best performance I have ever seen. The whole night has been wonderful,” Elsie replied.
“You wait until you see Bard Kallum perform. That is something to witness I can tell you,” Pewtory said.
“I will take your word for it young Pewtory. But we will unfortunately miss Bard Kallum.”
“Why?”
Her response confused him. For someone that had waited her whole life to attend the Masker’s Ball, why would she want to leave early and miss the finale?
“I wanted to attend the ball my whole life Pewtory. Tonight I have done that. I have just witnessed the greatest performance I believe I will ever see. You may say the Bard Kallum can better it but I do not think so. I want this moment now to be my lasting impression of the ball. If the worse happens, I will die a happy woman. This is how I want it to be.
We are leaving now. I just wanted to thank you before I left. We both did.”
Arthur nodded and Pewtory could see the conflict in his eyes. Not because the man did not wish to leave but because he was torn between his emotions: He was happy for his wife and mortified at the thought of losing her.
Pewtory felt a lump rise in this throat. The nausea returned with a vengeance. Around them noblemen and women filtered out of the hall nodding at Pewtory and smiling.
“I could arrange a room for you both? It would be no bother.”
Arthur shook his head. “You know we like camping. We will be leaving now Pewtory. We have a lot of ground to cover don’t forget. I want to…” Arthur looked to the floor and stubbed at it with a toe. Pewtory knew what was coming and did not think he could stomach it. In the end Arthur lifted his mask across his face. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done Pewtory.”
“Arthur! Behind the mask? You old dolt!” Elsie said but Arthur was already marching away and pulling his giggling wife after him.
Pewtory rushed from the room. The corridor spun around him and he had to put a hand to the wall to steady himself. He was aware of Willow and Wisp swimming frantically in the bowl by the vibrations against his arm. He refused to look at them. He knew what they were trying to say but he did not want to entertain it.
He staggered down the corridor until he found the stairs and then he crawled up them. He skin felt clammy and as he placed his hand on the wooden floor – it left a dark stain. The collar of his shirt felt tight around his neck and he fumbled with it with his free hand when he reached the top.
His fingers could not undo the button and in the end, he ripped the collar open. He searched for the door to his room but could not recall which one was his. Finally, Pewtory, his body unable to take the stress anymore; doubled over and was violently sick.
