"You're a Free Bard, ain't you?" the man retorted. At her nod, he shrugged, as if that was the only answer he needed. "Tyladen_that's the boss, the owner_he's left orders. Free Bards show up looking for work, they got it. He says you're all good enough, that's enough for me. He's the one with the cashbox."
The man had a point_but there were still a few things she had to get clear. "Before I agree to anything, I want to know the terms I'll be working under here," she told him severely.
He nodded, his former surprise gone. "You pick the shift_except we got no openings on morning, so it's afternoon, supper to midnight, or midnight to dawn. You can double-shift if you want, but we don't really like it."
Thus far, sounds reasonable. "Go on," she told him, as the sound of a hurdy-gurdy brayed out on her right.
"Terms are pretty simple: room and board, and you pick what kitchen you want your meals out of. We don't go writin' up food, so if you want to stuff yourself sick, that's your problem. You hire on as a musician, that's what you do_no cookin', no waitin' tables, no bartending, no cleanup."
She sensed that he was about to add something else, then he took a look at her and left the words unsaid. She knew what they were, of course_that she was not to offer "extra services" to the customers.
"We don't argue if the customer brings a_a friend here, and wants a room to share for_oh, a couple of hours," he said finally, "but we don't offer him things like that here."
"Oh, please," she said, exasperated. "I've been on the road most of my life. You don't have whores, and you do have an arrangement with the Whores' Guild, I take it, so you don't allow your entertainers to freelance their sexual services?"
He looked just as startled as he had when she had suggested that she might not want to work here, but again, he nodded.
She suppressed a smile. Well, occasionally clothing does make the person, it appears. I dress like a Churchgoing country girl, he assumes that's what I am! I wonder what he'll think when he sees some of my performing clothing? Perhaps that I am some mental chameleon!
"That will be fine with me_" she began, but he held up his hand to forestall her.
"There's only one more rule," he told her. "That's the one you might not like. No puttin' out a hat."
She raised one eyebrow as high as it would go. "Just how am I supposed to make a living, may I ask?" she said, more than a bit arrogantly. "No one has ever made that part of my arrangements before."
He flushed and looked apologetic. "That's the rule. There's a charge at the door t' get in. You get a salary, an' it depends on how big a draw you are. Lowest is five coppers each shift, highest_well, we only had one person ever get highest, that was a half-royal."
A half-royal? The equivalent five gold pieces? It was Nightingale's turn to stare at him with mouth agape. Very few Guild Bards were ever granted that kind of money, and no Free Bard that Nightingale had ever heard of_not even Talaysen, Laurel Bard to a King, was ever paid that much!
"So in other words, I'm on trial until you see what kind of an audience I can collect," she said, finally, after she had gotten over her astonishment. "And I have to take your word for what I'm worth."
He lifted his shoulders, apologetically. "That's the terms; that's what the boss set," he replied.
She considered it for a moment, leaving her own pride out of it. This wasn't entirely a bad thing. She could, if she decided it was worth it, exert herself only enough to pay for her army of children. She had shelter, food, and an excellent venue to hear a great deal. A place like this one would be very popular, not only with working-class folk, but with those with wealth and jaded appetites_or a taste for "uncommon" entertainment. If she had petitioned the Lady of the Night for the perfect place for her information-gathering, she could not have come up with anything better.
Most of all, she would only have to work six hours of every day; that left her at least six to make her own investigations, provided she cared to exert herself that much. She could make herself as conspicuous, or as inconspicuous here as she wanted.
In fact, that was not a bad idea. She could play the exotic Gypsy to the hilt here within these four walls_but her persona outside the tavern could be as plain as a little sparrow. No one would connect Nightingale with_whatever she called herself in here.
And if she did that_well, she might not find herself in the "half-royal" category, but she was fairly certain that the five coins she would earn each shift would be silver, not copper.
"I believe I can live with these terms," she said, without bothering to try and strike a better bargain. Not that there would be much point to trying_the price a Deliambren set was not subject to bargaining. One accepted, or one did without.
"Excellent!" The man positively beamed. "I saw that you had harps; we don't have any harp players right now. I can put you up in the Oak Grove, that's on the third floor, far enough away from the dancing that you shouldn't have any trouble with noise. What shift?"
"Supper to midnight," she replied immediately, and he beamed again.