9 Lute

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you were looking at it, Jacob didn't find a reason to use his magic in the next weeks. Though he certainly enjoyed the wind on his face as he peered out his window every evening, there was no scuffle in which he had to play part. Angelica stopped talking about the wind mage after a day or two, returning her to her general state: still easily excitable.

Rod, for his part, was pleased at his trainee's growth. Jacob was sure he caught the man smiling at his cooking on more than one occasion, for he had finally graduated to the illustrious art of soup-making. That wasn't to say that his creations were nearly on the level of the innkeeper's, but they were serviceable on the nights Rod decided to go out.

The days grew shorter, and the nights colder. Winter was coming to Leafburrow, and business around the inn had begun to slow down. The constant revolving-door of soldiers seemed to slow and then halt completely once the Royal Road had more than a foot of snow piled on it. Jacob, for his part, stayed inside as much as possible. Without a heavy winter coat – except for the times Rod loaned him his – Jacob was at the complete mercy of the elements.

It was with a sad sigh that Jacob closed his window, knowing that he wouldn't be opening it for the foreseeable future. He'd miss his nighttime reflections, but that didn't mean he couldn't still feel the wind running through his hair. He kept up his practice, though for what he had no idea.

He was broken from his reverie by a sudden chord. It sounded like someone was strumming a guitar, but the instrument's noise was as unfamiliar as it was familiar. Curious, Jacob tip-toed down the hallway, careful not to disturb any of the guests. Rod had received a complaint about his nighttime wanderings, once. It was an experience Jacob did not wish to relieve. His rear still smarted at the memory.

Jacob crept downstairs, following the music. When his vision wasn't obscured by the floorboards any longer, he saw Rod sitting at the bar, plucking at strings at an almond-shaped guitar-like instrument. If Jacob's memory served – and it wasn't always a sure thing – Rod was playing a lute. Jacob watched the older man, enraptured by the gentle performance the bear-like man unwittingly gave.

When the song came to an end, Jacob felt a sense of loss. It was the first time he had heard music in months, if he discounted all the lecherous songs the mercenaries sang when they had too much to drink. Jacob sat on his perch at the top of the stairs for what felt like hours, hearing the man play the lute well into the night. He didn't dare go down, for he felt that the risk that Rod would stop playing was too great.

As it was, Rod eventually packed his lute away, though he did it in such a loving way that Jacob could have been convinced that the instrument was a loved one. And truly, it was a beautiful lute. The wood's colors were faded with time, but even Jacob's untrained eye could see the expert craftsmanship.

He snuck back upstairs, hoping to avoid the innkeeper. With any luck, the older man would play the lute again soon. It wouldn't do for him to find out about his audience. Happier than he'd been in a long while, Jacob fell asleep without any thought of the strange new world he found himself living in.

"So, why doesn't Rod play the lute more often?" Jacob asked between spoonfulls of broth the next morning. Angelica snapped her gaze onto him, a surprised expression plastered on her face.

"How do you know he plays the lute?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I heard him play last night. It was enchanting, really."

"Why didn't I hear it then?" she interrogated him, sliding closer as if sensing Jacob's growing unease.

"Because you sleep like a mountain, you dummy. I've had to wake you up more often than the reverse," Jacob teased, hoping the joke would help to diffuse the situation. His prayers were answered when the girl returned to her former position, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," she pursed her lips as he thought. "I'll tell you why, but you can't tell Rod," she whispered, checking the room for the innkeeper's presence before she did so.

Jacob promised.

"Many years ago, just a few years after my ma left for the capital, Rod's wife came ill. Rod, a successful merchant at the time, paid many great doctors to treat her. None succeeded," a tear slid down Angelica's face. "In the end, on her deathbed, his wife had but a single wish. She wanted to exit this world to the tune of Rod's lute. And so he played for hours, only stopping when his wife's breath had ceased and her heart stilled. He built this inn soon after, forsaking the road and his lute. Both brought too many bittersweet memories. I didn't know he still played."

"How do you know all this?" Jacob asked, his own emotions threatening to burst. He felt for the rough innkeeper, a man he had thought indomitable. As it turned out, even the most unshakeable figures suffered in silence.

"I was there, hiding on the other side of the door. I loved her as if she were my aunt, Jacob. I wanted to be there for her passing, but Rod refused. I understand why," she said, tears now flowing freely. A few confused patrons eyed the two teenagers, wondering what the boy had done to upset the girl. Jacob felt their unfriendly glances, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Jacob stood then, wrapping an arm around Angelica. She cried against his chest as he held her in his arms. Those notes he had heard last night had originally felt happy and joyous. Now, a faint sense of sorrow intermingled within them.

He'd never look at Rod the same way again.