A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,18

bard would have his story, and we would have ours. There is heroism to be found in great battles, it is true: warriors with stable knees who fight and know that they will die for an idea or for the safety of loved ones back home. But there are also people who spend their entire adulthood at a soulless job they despise to make sure their children have something to eat that night so that one day those kids may lead better, more fulfilling lives than their parents. The warrior and the worker both make sacrifices. Who, then, is more heroic? Can any of us judge? I don’t think I’m qualified. I’ll let history decide. But I do not think we should leave it all up to warriors and rulers to speak to the future. We all have our stories to tell, and since I’ve been granted permission by Pelenaut Röllend himself, I will add a few of my own to the bard’s.

—

The space on either side of Pelemyn’s western wall looked quite different when we returned for the bard’s second performance. By midafternoon, the closest lots on the exterior of the wall had been cleared—the pelenaut sent longshoremen to help the dislocated families move—and wood benches had been hammered together and arranged in rows to provide dense seating. The longshoremen also helped food and drink vendors set up an alley of stalls behind the benches, including one from the Siren’s Call, while hygienists worked with a visiting Raelech stonecutter to construct a row of public privies and tie them into the sewers.

It wasn’t the plodding drudgery of day-to-day living; people worked with a purpose, with small tight grins on their faces, anticipating the fruit of their labors. I knew because after I met Fintan for our first lunch and faithfully wrote down everything he had said the day before, there was an hour or so to spend before he spoke again, and I decided to help however I could. I wound up helping a family from Göfyrd relocate to another plot so that the privies could be built underneath their original campsite. It was something of a chore for the family and me, but they felt, as I did, that the bard’s story would turn out to be worth it.

The structures inside the city were not so easily moved, but building owners with a view of the wall put out chairs on roofs or rigged scaffolds in some cases so that they could see, and even though their view would consist primarily of the bard’s backside, there were people willing to pay for such seats.

Once I returned to the wall, I saw that someone had constructed a sturdier stage for the bard as well. Instead of a hastily assembled stack of crates, he had several square layered platforms, like a cake, that allowed him to be seen above the battlements. He climbed atop it, threw his arms wide, and let his voice ring out through the city and beyond it. “Hello, friends! Are we ready for day two?”

An answering roar assured him that the city was. Or almost. It was already clear from my vantage point on the wall that the benches would not come close to providing enough seating for everyone in Survivor Field who wished to see the bard. Many more clogged the area in front of the stalls, and a seething mass of heads could be seen beyond that point, people streaming in to get closer once the bard spoke. They didn’t absolutely need to—his voice clearly carried to wherever they were—but they wanted to lay eyes on the people he seemed to be, however distantly. It would be a challenge for the pelenaut’s men and women to solve.

“Before I continue the tale I began last night, I wish to give you time to settle in, as it were, for a fine afternoon’s entertainment. I see people streaming in from far off in Survivor Field, and I am sure some of you are currently occupied in some kind of work or another and cannot simply drop it. And so I will sing you one of the old Drowning Songs that my master taught me when I was an apprentice.” An appreciative noise swelled from the crowd.

“I do not know if you knew this,” Fintan continued, “but the Brynt Drowning Songs are popular in Rael. They speak of dangers and poor decisions and teach your children well how to survive the sea. They also have the benefit