“Baldwin! Wait up!”
I stop and turn toward the voice. “Ferris?”
“The very same.” His footsteps slow as he reaches me. He is huffing from the exertion. “Gods’ bones, you walk fast for a blind man.”
I chuckle. “It’s because I know exactly where I’m going. You’re the one who’s always getting lost.”
“Fair point.” He laughs too as he falls into step next to me. Ferris works in the kitchens, cooking, as well as managing the food stores and inventory. We’ve been friends for a while now, ever since I helped him reorganize his storage system. “What are your plans this evening? Hefting full buckets of water up and down the courtyard? Punching your straw bag? Some other torture you designed for yourself?”
I laugh. “It’s hardly torture. I sit around all day. I have to move my body when I’m in my free time. I just have this need.” I shrug.
“Well, it is working for you. I heard the chambermaids talking about you the other day. They think you have a fine physique.”
“I do?” I laugh.
He laughs as well. “You most certainly do, my friend. Perhaps I should join you one of these days.”
“You would be most welcome,” I tell him. “And as to where I’m headed, it’s the performance tent. I want to get there early enough to find a good seat and some decent food.”
There’s a pause. “You’re going to the performance? Why? I mean, no offense, but you can’t exactly…watch it.”
I don’t take offense because it’s a reasonable question.
“There’s a singer performing tonight,” I explain, tapping my cane against the floor as we walk. “I’ve heard she’s excellent at her craft.”
“A singer?” Ferris sounds skeptical. “You’re going all the way to the performance tent just to hear someone sing?”
“Music is more than just sound to me, Ferris.” I pause, trying to find the right words to explain something I’ve never fully understood myself. “When I hear truly exceptional music, especially when it’s a particularly good voice, it’s as if…as if I can almost see.”
“See?” Now he sounds confused, choking out a laugh.
“I know it sounds like nonsense, but yes, it’s like I can see, even though I’ve never seen color or light or any of the things you take for granted. But when I’m captivated by a performance, something happens. It’s like the music paints pictures in my mind. Colors I shouldn’t know. Images of things I’ve never witnessed.” I shake my head, feeling foolish. “Forthose moments, I’m transported to a place of vibrancy. It’s the closest I’ll ever come to seeing the world.”
There’s a long silence. Then Ferris claps me on the shoulder. “That’s wonderful, Baldwin. I can understand how that would draw you in. I hope this singer lives up to your expectations and that you see vivid colors tonight, even if only in your mind’s eye.”
“As do I. I take it you’re not going?”
“What?” He snorts. “I don’t have the coin. I’m just a lowly cook.”
“You are welcome to come along. I will buy you a ticket.”
“Thank you for the kind offer, but I am… I’m meeting a lady. You must enjoy yourself, my friend. You’ve earned it after another week of dealing with those damned reports. I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s a job.”
“We are lucky to have work,” he says. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Most certainly,” I tell him.
We part ways at the next intersection. Ferris heads toward the servants’ quarters while I continue on, following the route I memorized days ago. The main courtyard is busier than usual, filled with the excited chatter of fae and humans alike. The performance is a rare treat, a break from the monotony and oppression that defines life at the Shadow Court.
I make my way toward the performance tent, guided by the sounds and smells. Like the tent master’s booming voice as he directs workers and the scent of roasted meat and sweet pastries. My stomach growls in anticipation.
The entrance to the tent grounds is easy to find, since the crowd funnels toward it. I join the queue, waiting for my turn to pay for entry.
“That’ll be five coppers,” a gruff voice says when I reach the front.
I fish the coins from my pouch, sure to feel the size and weight, and then hand them over.
