The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven

by Brian S. Pratt

  “Still an hour to dusk,” he announces to the others. “Let’s get something to eat.” They move off and head back to the better part of town.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  _________________________

  They return before the appointed time and find that the common room of the Wallowing Swine is already becoming full. James is amazed at the number of people here. All the choice tables are taken and they are forced to sit near the center of the room. Jiron would rather not sit so exposed, but there’s nothing to do about it.

  Once they’ve taken their seats, a girl comes by and takes their order. Soon, all three are sipping mugs of ale. While James sips his, he unobtrusively takes in the other patrons to see if he can possibly determine which one sent them the note.

  “They have a better clientele than I would have expected,” observes Reilin.

  James understands what he’s talking about. The outside of this tavern gave the impression of a dive, yet counted among the patrons are men and women in fine clothes. Gentlemen and ladies mixed in with the riff raff, altogether an unusual sight.

  “I wonder what brings them to a place like this?” Jiron asks.

  “The food maybe?” suggests Reilin.

  “Hardly,” he replies. “No noble I’ve ever heard of would be seen mixing with some that are in this room.” Indeed, those sitting at one table look as though they’re a bunch of thugs fresh out of the gutter. And next to them are a gentleman and a lady who have to be some form of nobility, or at the very least, wealthy.

  As time passes, James begins to get impatient. Whoever had sent him the note has yet to make an appearance. His attempt at ferreting the person out by studying the other patrons has yielded nothing more than returned looks of annoyance. None of the others have given their table more than a cursory look.

  Then a hushed murmur begins from the back of the room and James turns to see what it’s all about. One of the wandering minstrels that are so prevalent in this world is making his way from the back. Blonde hair and dark skin, he carries his instrument to the stage that’s set against the wall. Calls of ‘Kir’ and other salutations are given to this man, both from those who are the dregs of society and those who are well off.

  “I think this minstrel may be the reason why everyone is here,” observes Jiron.

  From the way everyone has perked up and treating the man, James can only agree with him. “I think you’re right,” he says.

  The minstrel sets his instrument on a stand that is already in place on the stage. Then he brings the stool that was against the wall forward and sets it next to the stand. Taking his seat upon the stool, he faces the crowd which has grown very quiet. James glances around and can see that every eye in the place is on him.

  From within his cloak the minstrel produces a cracked wooden bowl that looks like it’s been with him for a very long time and sets it down on the edge of the platform. Before he straightens back up, several coins are flipped from the crowd, landing in and around the bowl.

  Taking up his instrument, Kir, at least that is what James assumes his name is considering the number of times people have said it to him, gets set to play. The room has fallen absolutely quiet, you could hear your own heartbeat in the stillness if you had a mind to.

  Then he strums the strings of his instrument and begins to sing. With the first note, James can see why this place is so packed. The quality of the music is far superior than anything he’s heard in a long time. The music is perfectly pitched and his voice seems to move inside you and pull at your emotional strings. When the music is happy, you are glad. When it moves to a more somber tone, you sink with it.

  During the time the minstrel, or rather the bard as the quality of his music warrants him to be called, sings the first song not one person says anything. Silence reigns until the last note fades away, then the common room of the Wallowing Swine erupts into thunderous applause. James, Jiron and Reilin join in with great enthusiasm.

  Then the bard begins a rollicking tune and the patrons resume their conversations, albeit at a much lower volume than what it was before Kir made his appearance. “I can see why the people pack this place,” James comments to Jiron.

  Nodding, Jiron says, “He’s about the best bard I’ve yet heard.”

  The night continues to deepen and still no one has made any attempt to approach them. They empty mug after mug while they wait for whoever it was that gave them the note. An hour into his set, Kir gets up and tells his audience that he’ll be taking a short break. He places his instrument on its stand and then makes his way to the back where he enters the kitchen. A smattering of applause follows him until he disappears through the kitchen door.

  While he’s gone, people gravitate to the stage and place coins within his bowl. James gets up as well and places a silver in among the other coins. To his surprise, he finds a couple golds already there.

  Back at the table, he says to the others, “This Kir does pretty well for himself.”

  “Wonder why someone with that much talent hasn’t been snatched up by some noble before now?” questions Reilin.

  “Who knows?” replies James. “Could be he likes life on the road.”

  “Some do I hear,” agrees Jiron.

  The buzz in the tavern has grown loud during Kir’s break and only subsides when he finally makes his appearance from the back. Taking his place back on the stage, he takes his instrument in hand and then pauses a moment while the crowd quiets down. He gazes around at the men and women who have come here to hear him play. His eyes stop on this table and that as they make their way from one side to the next. Then he gives them a smile and starts in on a song.

  After he sings the first line, James realizes there’s something familiar about this song. Though he cannot understand the words, he comes to the startling realization that he knows it. It’s a song from back home that he taught Perrilin shortly after he came to this world. Perrilin had bet him a silver that he couldn’t sing him a complete song that he didn’t know. He taught Perrilin ‘Home on the Range’ and won the silver.

  Kir’s gaze continues to sweep the audience as he sings, yet more often than not, it settles directly on James. When he notices James looking at him, he gives him an almost imperceptible nod then moves his gaze to the next.

  Perrilin? Here? Now that he’s made the connection, he can see that this Kir is indeed the bard Perrilin he met long ago, despite the fact that his hair is now blonder and skin more dark. He must have been the one that sent the note! But why?

  He keeps this realization to himself. Past experiences when dealing with Perrilin now gives him pause about informing Jiron and Reilin. Who knows who else may be listening? On one occasion he saved Perrilin from a group of men who were torturing him. Those men had been led by a man named Korgan, who James mentally refers to as Ol’ One Eye. He calls him that due to the scar James had given him across the face that blinded one eye when he rescued Perrilin from their clutches.

  As it turned out, this Korgan was an agent of Lord Cytok who is the left hand of the Empire’s Emperor, a very important and influential person. James owes this Korgan big. Not only was he responsible for the opening of the gates at the City of Light and allowing the Empire in, but he has been trouble for James on several other occasions as well.

  Whatever Perrilin is up to, he obviously doesn’t want his true identity revealed. Being a spy, as that is what he has to be in one form or another, here in the Empire would be a death sentence should he be found out. So James keeps his thoughts to himself, sits back and enjoys the music.

  Hour after hour they sit there and listen to Perrilin sing. He can see the other two growing more and more impatient when no one comes to them and makes themselves known. “Maybe something happened to him,” James says. “If whoever it is doesn’t show, at least we’ve had a good night’s entertainment.”

  “I don’t like this one bit,” Jiron says as he lowers his voice. He isn’t able to completely enjoy the music and songs, worry f
or his friend Tinok and impatient that they may very well be wasting their time here gnaws at him.

  “What about the others?” asks Reilin. “What do you think they are thinking since we haven’t returned?”

  “I’m sure they are alright,” Jiron replies. “They won’t get worried unless they see things blow up.” James nods his head and gives him a grin.

  “Let’s at least stay here until Kir finishes for the night,” James says. “Then we can go.”

  Sighing, Jiron says, “Very well. But I hope this isn’t a complete waste of time.”

  James looks to Kir, a.k.a. Perrilin, there on the stage and replies, “I don’t think it will be.”

  At one point when Perrilin takes one of his breaks, James gets up and says, “I need to use the bathroom.” He then moves toward the back door while at the same time working to intercept Perrilin on his way to the kitchen.

  “Why does he want a bath?” he hears Reilin asks Jiron.

  Then he hears Jiron chuckle. “He doesn’t,” he explains. “You’ll soon find that he uses many expressions that say one thing and mean something entirely different. This one means he has to…” The rest of what Jiron says to Reilin is lost in the buzz of the common room as he moves closer to Perrilin.

  Perrilin notices him moving toward him and as their paths cross, he gives him a slight shake of the head and mumbles, “Afterward, outside.” Without even pausing he continues to the back and passes through the door into the kitchen.

  Likewise, James continues on to his supposed destination and leaves the common room. He then makes his way to the outhouse out back. Nasty things outhouses, this is one of the things about this world he will never get used to. Back home, the odd time when he had to use similar facilities, such as when he was camping, had been a novelty. Now it’s just plain disgusting.

  When he finally returns to the common room, Perrilin has yet to make his appearance again. As he takes his seat, Jiron leans forward and indicates two fellows sitting off to one side. “Do they look familiar to you?” he asks.

  Looking to where he’s pointing, he sees the two men in question. “Yes, they do,” he replies. They are the two slavers Reilin had talked with just before they left the slaver’s compound. They take notice of the fact that they are being watched and their expressions turn dark.

  “Hope they try something,” Jiron says.

  “Here?” Reilin asks. “I doubt it.”

  “Why would they?” asks James. “They may hate us and would like nothing better to make us slaves, but even men such as them are constrained by society’s laws.”

  “I have found that some men don’t care a whole lot about ‘society’s laws’,” Jiron states.

  “So have I,” agrees Reilin.

  Just then, Perrilin makes his appearance from the kitchen and works his way through to the stage. When he reaches the stage, he picks up his instrument and gazes at the audience. He calls for any requests and the crowd shouts back the names of their favorite pieces.

  Settling on one, he takes his seat and begins a long love ballad filled with tragedy, death, but ultimately ends in happiness. When he’s done, he calls for another request and continues to play requests for another hour or so. Despite the lateness of the hour, the common room remains full. None apparently wish to miss out on even one song that Kir might play.

  Then there comes a time when he begins strumming his instrument and announces that this will be his last song of the evening. Several people shout out protests, more an imploring for him to continue than anything else. But he shakes his head and says that this must be his last song. Then he launches into a lively one that the crowd must know well for many begin thumping the table. At the chorus, some of the crowd joins in and before the song comes to an end, the whole common room is singing the chorus.

  At the end of the song, the common room erupts into a wild display as people rise and give him a thunderous applause. Coins fly to the stage, hardly any landing in the vicinity of the bowl, and Perrilin bows to them twice.

  As he begins to pick up the coins, the patrons start to leave. Most make it a point to come to him and exchange words or pat him on the back. It’s clear that he is a favorite around here and that for many, this isn’t the first time they’ve been here to hear him play.

  “Can we go now?” asks Jiron. “Whoever your Mr. Mysterious is, he isn’t going to show.”

  Standing up, James nods his head. Then with a final look over to where Perrilin is collecting the coins people threw, he follows Jiron outside. The mood of those who had experienced Perrilin’s performance can only be called exhilarated. Outside, they hear many animated conversations between those who have seen him before and others who had not. It doesn’t take Reilin to explain to the other two what’s being said for them to get the gist of it.

  Several coaches are already leaving, only a couple others still awaiting their passengers. One coach is especially fine with gold worked in intricate detail. That coach has a compliment of half a dozen guards besides the two men on the driver’s seat.

  “Come on,” says Jiron. “Let’s get back to the others before they begin worrying, if they aren’t already.” Striding down the street, it doesn’t take him long before he realizes James is beginning to fall behind him and Reilin. Slowing down, he sees him casting frequent glances back to the tavern. Finally, he comes to a stop when the tavern is just within sight.

  “Let’s stop here a moment,” he tells the others. Then he has them move to the side of the street and stand in the lee of a building where the shadows are the thickest.

  “Why?” Jiron asks.

  Motioning for the other two to come close, he keeps a constant eye on the front door of the Wallowing Swine as he explains. “The person who wrote the note was in the tavern,” he tells them.

  “Who?” asks Reilin.

  “I didn’t see anyone,” says Jiron.

  In a very quiet voice, so quiet the other two can barely hear him, he whispers, “It was Kir.”

  “The bard?” asks Reilin.

  “Yes,” nods James.

  “How do you know?” Jiron asks.

  “I just do,” he replies. “He wants us to meet him here in the street.”

  “Someday you’ll have to tell me how you found all this out,” Jiron says.

  “Shhh!” James tells them for he just saw Perrilin come out of the front door of the tavern. He points over to where a group of people are standing just outside the front door talking to him. The manner in which they are speaking to him leads them to believe they are congratulating him on a superb performance. They watch as he shakes the hands of several of the men then turns and begins walking down the street in their direction. The people with whom he had been talking give him a final farewell then move off in the opposite direction.

  As he approaches, Jiron begins to move out in the street when James grabs him and whispers, “Not yet.” He waits until Perrilin is close then begins to softly whistle Home on the Range.

  Perrilin must have heard him for he alters his course slightly and moves more directly to where they are. When he gets close, he gives a quick glance up and down the street then moves into the shadows where they are waiting. James begins to speak but Perrilin cuts him off with a shake of his head and signals for them to be quiet by putting his finger against his lips.

  They hold still a moment, unsure what is going on. Then a motion down the street draws their attention and they see two men working their way from the direction of the Wallowing Swine. From the way Perrilin is watching them, James can tell there’s something going on here of which he is ignorant.

  As the two men walk down the street, they casually look this way and that. All the while they continue to maintain a steady pace. When they finally move past the spot where they’re hiding and disappear down the road, Perrilin says, “They’ve been keeping an eye on me lately.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Korgan?” asks James.

  Eyes widening at the name, Perril
in asks in return, “What makes you say that?”

  “Just the fact that ever since I rescued you from him in Cardri,” he explains, “he’s had it out for me.”

  Perrilin looks to him and the other two and nods, “In a way.”

  Jiron moves closer and asks, “Why did you have us meet you?”

  Perrilin glances to him and recognizes him from the time before. “Jiron right?” he says.

  “Yes,” he replies, surprised at how this man knows him.

  James sees the confusion on his face and clarifies it for him. “This is Perrilin.”

  “Perrilin?” he asks, still not sure if he should believe him. “You don’t look anything like the Perrilin I know.”

  “That’s the whole idea,” he says. “This isn’t a good place to talk.” Glancing up and down the street again, he says, “Follow me and then we can discuss a few things.”

  Jiron looks at Perrilin, still not convinced but trusts in James’ judgment. When Perrilin steps out into the street, he follows along with James and Reilin right beside him. Perrilin quickly leads them further down the street away from the Wallowing Swine and turns left at the next crossroads.

  Down this way the number of lit street lights gradually diminishes until all they have is moonlight overhead. They continue to follow him for several more minutes when he all of a sudden moves off the street and toward the doorway of the building on his right. Going up to the door, he knocks twice hard then one time softly.

  From the other side, the sound of a bolt sliding open can be heard. Then the door opens a crack and a man peers through the opening. “Kir!” he exclaims throwing the door open wide.

  “I may have been followed,” he says and the man nods. Then as soon as they are inside the small room, the man closes the door and bolts it. Perrilin tells the man, “Have your people take a look around out there just to be sure.”

  “Don’t worry,” he says as he eyes James, Jiron and Reilin suspiciously, “it’ll be done.”