Dragon-Bound Bard: Teaser Chapter

A Surprise At Tunis's Apartment

"Tarissa! What are you doing here?" Tunis, eyes wide with surprise, stood in the doorway of his apartment. He had obviously dressed hurriedly to answer the door.

"She threw me out." When Tunis did not say anything, she added, "Aunt Rose. She threw me out. Can I come in?"

Tunis looked over his shoulder into his apartment. "Ah . . ." He did not move.

"Come on, Tunis. Move." Tarissa pushed past him. "I don't care if she's not dressed yet."

Tarissa had been kidding when she said it, but she stopped in surprise just inside the door. A woman with sleep-tousled hair sat in the middle of the bed with a blanket wrapped around her. "Oh. Hi, Odette," Tarissa said. Odette Odell had waited tables at the Cat when Tarissa had first started working. Odette now worked as Catalta's main hostess, setting up schedules for all the other servers. Tunis never said anything about his love life. Tarissa had suspected he and Odette were more than casual friends, but they were careful to never appear too friendly at the Cat where Catalta might see. After a quick glance around the room, Tarissa added, "I guess my brother forgot to tell me you lived here now."

"I was going to tell you, Tarissa—" Tunis started.

"But you forgot," finished Tarissa. "Or did you think I would tell Aunt Rose?"

Tunis smiled at that last thought. He closed the door behind her. "No, I guess I was just worried about what you would say." He scratched his head behind his ear and yawned. "After the way you tear into those guys at the Cat when they pat your bum, I thought—"

"They don't pat it. They pinch it—or grab it," she corrected. "There's nothing wrong with some goochie in the coochie, but those old geezer-squeezers at the Cat don't even ask."

Odette had slipped out of bed and started to dress. She tittered at Tarissa's last remark and asked, "So what do you do when they grab you, Tarissa? Do you slap them?"

"Sometimes," Tarissa answered. "The other night I dumped a mug of beer on a guy."

"Don't forget, you broke that constable's nose," Tunis added.

"That was an accident." She frowned. "He made me jump, and I hit him with my elbow." She sighed. "Old Catalta docked my pay for that one."

Odette had dressed except for her shoes. She padded over and put her arm across Tarissa's shoulders. "I'm sorry this is the way you found out Tunis and I are together, Tarissa." She pulled back a little and put her hands on Tarissa's shoulders. "Not to mention that you must be upset that your aunt threw you out." She looked at Tunis reproachfully. "Don't worry. We'll help you." She gave Tarissa a reassuring squeeze.

Tarissa had been holding on to her anger at Aunt Rose. Odette's reassurance soothed her thorn of pique, but now feelings of fear and abandonment oozed in to take the anger's place. Before she realized it, a tear ran down her cheek.

Odette pulled Tarissa into a tender embrace. Tunis, as soon as he saw what was happening, put his arm around his sister as well. "Hey, little sis," he whispered. "Everything will be okay."

Okay? Things were far from okay, but the support from Tunis and Odette buoyed her spirits. She took a deep breath and pulled an arm free to wipe her eyes. "Come on, I'm fine." She had to stop and snuff her nose. "Really. I'll go find a place to sleep with one of the other girls at the Cat."

Tunis took her hands and turned her to face him. "We'll help you find a place to live." He looked at Odette. "Is it okay if she stays here in the meantime, Odette?"

Odette nodded. "It's not like we've got a lot of space, but we'll make room for you."

Before she replied, Tarissa had to snuff again. "I think Sussan might take me in. Maybe Margerta." She shook her head. "I'll find something as quick as I can, but until then I won't be any bother. When you two want to dance on the mattress, just tell me to go take a walk or something."

Odette caught her breath at Tarissa's offer and turned a little red. Tunis chuckled. "Odette, you'll have to excuse my sister's mouth. She likes to play with words in her songs, and you never know what she'll come up with." He gave Tarissa a small smile. "What was it you called it before? Doodle-hopping?"

"It was doodle-bopping, you nasty thing," Tarissa corrected. Odette chuckled. Encouraged, Tarissa added, "But I've also called it puggling, snoggy-dogging, and splurgin' the urge." She sniffed haughtily before she dissolved into giggles with Odette.

Once she had control of herself again, Tarissa said, "A song writer has to be able to come up with creative substitutes that are funnier than the bad words would be." She tried to say it primly, but she was grinning.

"I enjoy your singing, Tarissa," Odette said. "You're good. Funny too."

Tarissa waved dismissively. "Anybody in the crowd at the Cat who'd had three mugs of Guild Woder would even laugh at Tunis." She stuck out her tongue at her brother, trying to appear untroubled. For the moment, she had a place to sleep, but she was also on her own in the world. And if she truly were the daughter of the duke, that world held many more dangers for her than it had yesterday.

#

Late in the afternoon, she walked to work at the Crooked Cat with Tunis. She had taken a good long nap earlier, and now she was wide awake. She decided Tunis should know what she had learned from Aunt Rose and told him as they walked along.

"The duke?" Tunis repeated thoughtfully. After a time, he added, "I know the duke's first wife died, but when?" He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "It might be nice to know how that, you know, fits with that thing with mother, just so's . . ." He waved his hand vaguely.

"Yeah, so I'd know if I'm the result of a little side-sport on the duke's part, or whether it was two lonely people who couldn't be together." She sighed. "The second would be much more romantic."

"It's so romantic you'll have to write a song about it, won't you?"

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't write a song about mother. Not like that." But she could feel the romance of the story itself. One day, if she found out it was true, she might use the idea, something with a sad theme . . . Even as she thought, she could hear a melody in a minor key. The theme drifted from her mental ears down into her fingers.

Later that night at the Cat, she used that same four-bar melody, her mother's theme, in a short, pensive interlude after a quiet song. Still, she could not write a song about her mother's romance. Besides, she knew nothing about Duke Beddo Rairatte.