So, Garatt got used to arriving and being sent to whichever Harper looked most in need of a willing assistant that day. He knocked politely and then stuck his head around the door without waiting for a response.Ravelan looked up from the papers he had been in the process of
sorting, blinking owlishly at the candidate who had appeared in the
doorway. Not someone for him to tutor, surely. Ravelan had little
to no patience for actual teaching, something that was well known.
But no, someone would have mentioned something if he'd suddenly been
assigned a student. Which meant that this was a set of spare hands
for the next three hours.
Well, that was no bad thing. Since he had finished sorting this lot
of papers, his next task had been to clean and polish all of the drums
in the drum heights. A very tedious task, but one that was necessary
to maintaining the instruments. And just the sort of thing to set a
would-be apprentice to.
"Right then. You name, please?" Ravelan asked, rising from his seat.
"Life is NOT a journey to the grave with the goal of arriving safely
in a prettily preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways in a
shower of gravel and party shards, thoroughly used, utterly exhausted,
and loudly proclaiming: "F*** ME, that Rocked!!" -unknown