by Wil Ogden
“This sounds sticky,” Sheillene said. “Is there a story in it? I’m always looking for fresh stories to tell.”
“It’s not much of a story yet,” Pantros said. “But, if you let us travel with you as you head west, I am sure there will be more stories.”
“I can make the trek alone because I can avoid danger. But I can’t make that promise for three of us.” Sheillene’s glance fell on Pantros, her eyes narrowed and she nodded. “I could take Pantros alone. I know enough about what he can do to trust him to not be in the way of danger.”
“I’m not leaving my brother alone,” Tara said. “With my parents gone, he’s all I have.”
Sheillene took a deep breath then let out a long sigh. “I do know a safe route, but it will take six days longer than my usual path. I can take you along, but you’d have to cover my missed wages. I’m sorry to say I need the money. My mother and sister are living alone on a small farm and its good enough for food, but they need me to buy them clothes and tools.”
Pantros pulled a handful of coins from a pouch and splashed them on the table. Gold and silver glistened in the candle light. A few coins rolled to the floor. “I don’t know what a bard makes, but I suspect this should be enough.”
As every eye in the taproom turned to their table, Sheillene covered the pile of coins with her body. “Pan! You can’t show that much money, even in a quiet town like this.” She gathered the coins under her and pulled them into the skirt of her dress. “You’ve just bought my service as a guide for the next year, probably longer. My first advice is to keep your money hidden. Never let anyone know you can afford to throw a handful of gold around like that. Never.”
A man in an apron approached the table, stopping briefly to bend over and pick a few coins of the floor. He placed three of the five coins he picked up on the table. Pantros noticed his clumsy attempt to hide that he kept the others in his hand. “Lady Sheillene,” the man said, “My patrons were expecting entertainment…”
Sheillene interrupted him, saying, “I know, I’ll get back on the stage.”
The barkeep put a hand on her shoulder. “Actually, you seem busy here. If you’d prefer to pay for your stay, I do have a young pair of performers from the village who would like the stage if you’re not using it.”
“That’s fine,” Sheillene said. “How much is a room? It’s been half a century since I paid for a room.”
“Two rooms,” Pantros said. “I happen to know the going rates for Inn rooms fairly well. I’m sure it would be far less than the two gold you hold in your hand for both rooms and meals for the three of us.”
The barkeep nodded and peered into his hand. “Yes, of course.” He set one of the coins back on the table. “I promise the service and food will be excellent. I’m not so sure about the entertainment but the boys have made three trips here in the past season and they’re actually quite good, though they don’t draw your crowd. Since your crowd is already here, they might benefit from a large audience.”
Sheillene winced. “You mean we’re going to have to put up with amateurs? Maybe I could return to the stage.”
“No, Sheillene, let them play,” Tara said. “There are things we need to tell you about -- things that happened this morning after you left that make our journey a necessity.”
Sheillene looked up at the barkeep, “Fine, Ned, let them have the stage.”
The barkeep walked to another table where two men sat. The two men picked up guitars and headed to the table Sheillene had used as a stage. One of the men was larger than any man Pantros had ever seen. Pantros best friend Bryan had been a head taller than Bouncer and that musician looked more than a head taller than Bryan. The other man looked normal, even somewhat familiar.
“Thomas?” Tara asked, barely loud enough for Pantros to hear her across the table.
“That does look like him,” Sheillene said. “But his clothing is not of the quality I’d expect of my mentor, and Thomas never wore his hair that long. I spent some time learning the trade from Thomas a decade ago. Like anyone else, I haven’t seen him in eight years, and that does look a lot like him, but it can’t be him. I’d know.”
“I knew Thomas better than you, Sheillene.” Tara said. “That’s him.”
“I spent every night for almost a year on the same stage with Thomas Boncanta. Thomas wouldn’t go on stage without his lucky hat or with such a poorly made guitar.”
“That stage was my stage. The stage where he left his guitar when he disappeared. I spent every night for two years in the same bed with Thomas,” Tara said. “I’d know my husband’s face.”
Pantros vaguely remembered a bard named Thomas that spent a lot of time at the Hedgehog when Pantros was a boy. He didn’t know his sister had been married.
“You were married to Thomas?” Sheillene asked. “When he ran off, he was your husband?”
Tara nodded. “And I’m going to go find out where he went.” Tara nudged Sheillene, but the bard didn’t get up.
She continued to block Tara’s egress from the booth. “Let him play, then we’ll know for sure.”
“I do know,” Tara said. Her voice seethed. “I love him, how could he just leave me like that?” Tara struggled to push Sheillene out of the way.
“Wait.” Sheillene’s voice was stern and even. She grabbed Tara by the arms. “Thomas Boncanta was the greatest bard ever to travel the lands. We don’t even know this boy’s name.”
“My name is Thomas Miller.” The small man with the guitar announced, sitting in the chair on the table. “This is my friend Marc.” Marc stood beside the table.
“That’s my Thomas; he’s so dead if he doesn’t have a good explanation for disappearing on me.” Tara tried started to climb onto the table, but Sheillene held her back.
“Let him sing,” she said. “No one I’ve ever seen could enthrall an audience like Thomas. In his performance we will know him if he’s Thomas Boncanta. He said his name is Thomas Miller and you and I both know that Thomas Boncanta cannot speak untruth.”
“But Thomas…” Tara started, but was cut off when Thomas started to sing. His first song was a silly romantic romp. Pantros found the bard far more interesting than any other performer he’d seen at the Hedgehog or anywhere else. About a dozen songs later, Thomas set his guitar down and reached for a jug of mead.
Tara scrambled over the table, but Sheillene caught her by the shirt before she could take two steps toward the stage. Tara took a ring from her finger and turned back to Sheillene. “Thomas’ real name is Miller. It’s the name we used when we were married.” She handed the ring to Sheillene. “Read the inside.”
Sheillene read aloud, “Tara and Thomas Miller, Spring First.” She let go of Tara’s dress.
Pantros’ sister nearly ran to the stage. She stepped up and slapped Thomas.
“Ma’am,” Thomas said. “I’ve never encountered an angry member of my audience before. Did something I sing offend you?”
“You know who I am,” Tara seethed. “Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back?”
Thomas’ large partner slunk back from the argument and headed to the bar.
The other patrons at the Inn seemed to suddenly remember their drinks as well and most of them headed to refill. Pantros just watched the argument on the stage.
“Miss, I’ve never met you,” Thomas said. “I don’t know who you are.”
Tara stumbled back and Pantros could see her expression fall from anger to shattered. “You,” Tara stammered, “You can lie now?”
“I am not lying?” Thomas said. “But, why would you think I could not lie?”
“I’m your wife. I know everything about you.” Tara’s voice was quiet, unsure. Then with more conviction she said. “You cannot speak an untruth. Tell me I’m not your wife.”
Thomas nodded. “I’m…” he seemed lost for words. His brow furrowed. Three more times he opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t speak.”
“I don’t remember having a wife,�
� he finally managed to say. Then very slowly, each word came out with clear effort, he said, “But, something is telling me I do and you are she. I don’t understand. I need more mead.” He picked up his jug and took several gulps.
“You forgot me?” Tara slapped Thomas again. “You’ve been around for thousands of years and can remember the words to ten times that many songs but you can’t remember your wife from ten years ago?”
“This is my Hundred and Thirtieth summer,” Thomas said. “I haven’t married anyone yet, but somehow I believe your story to be truth and that I am, somehow, your husband.”
“Now I don’t understand.” Tara said.
“Excuse me,” The barkeep approached the stage with a small ornate box in one hand.
“I’ll get back to playing soon,” Thomas said.
“Thank you,” The barkeep said, “But I just remembered that I had something for you. Several years ago you gave me this box and asked that I return it to you when I saw you get slapped on stage. I didn’t understand, but you paid me to do it, so I kept the box.” He handed Thomas the ornately carved golden box.
Thomas opened it. Pantros couldn’t see what was in the box from as far from the stage as he was, but he didn’t have to guess long. Thomas pulled up a ring that matched Tara’s. Pantros had seen that ring on his sister every day for as long as he could remember. He should have recognized it as a wedding ring, but he had no reason to think his sister was married.
“I think that I need to think,” Thomas said. “And I think best while I’m performing. Now, Tara, I assume that’s your name written inside this ring, I think we should talk after the show.”
Tara glared at Thomas a moment then said, “If you try to run again, you won’t get far. I have the best tracker in the world with me.” She pointed to the table where Pantros sat. Sheillene waved at Tara and Thomas.
“I won’t run,” Thomas said. “I am curious as to how this was done.”
“Ready?” Marc asked, handing Thomas his guitar.
Tara left the makeshift stage and made it back to the booth before the next set started. Sheillene slid to the inside, letting Tara sit by the edge.
“Are you as confused as I am?” Tara asked Sheillene. She picked her own ring off the table and after reading the inside again, placed it back on her finger.
“More so.” Sheillene said.
Then the music started again. Pantros fell into the songs and stories coming from the stage. When the hours had passed and the music stopped, Pantros left his sister to talk to her Thomas, and found their guest room. He secured the window and the door and placed brass coins on them so, were either opened, a coin would fall to the floor and alert him.
CHAPTER 8: PANTROS
Pantros woke with his hand draped over his sack of coins and gripping the scabbard of the Abvi sword. He looked to the other bed in the room but it was empty. Neither of his coins had been disturbed. Had his sister opted to sleep in Thomas' bed?
He scrubbed the thought from his head, instead analyzing the bell of the Abvi sword. He knew little of metal work, but couldn't help but be impressed. The intricate silver lace of the bell seemed as delicate as fey silk. He didn't dare touch it to see how strong it actually was. He couldn't see any hint of a tool mark and couldn't find any indication of where the metal had been welded.
Unable to completely force his sister from his mind, he buckled the sword to his belt and grabbed his satchel. He let the coin fall to the ground when he opened the door and left it where it lay. That and the coin from the window could go to whoever made the bed.
In the taproom, he found his sister sitting in a booth talking with Thomas. Sheillene sat alone at another table and waved him towards her. Thomas's large band mate was sleeping on the floor by the fireplace.
"He says he's not half ogre," Sheillene said as Pan sat across from her. "I'm not sure I believe him."
"I don't think he's half anything," Pantros said. "He might be three and a half somethings."
Sheillene laughed. "I'll have to remember that one."
"You remember everything," Pantros said. "That's what makes you such a fine bard."
Nodding, Sheillene asked, "Did you sleep well last night?"
"Well enough," Pan said. "You?"
"I got a few hours after the fight with your sister last night." When Pan looked at her quizzically, Sheillene explained. "See that blue hat on the table next to Thomas?"
Pantros nodded. It was the hat he'd always seen on Thomas' head. "His lucky hat, he did have it."
"No, I had it," she said. "Tara was less than happy with me when she learned that I did and that Thomas had left it with me when he ran away."
"She's upset because he told you he was leaving and never told her." Pantros understood.
"I left the Hedgehog three days after he did, telling Tara that I would find Thomas for her." Sheillene said. "I didn't lie. I looked for him. I didn't tell her that he spoke to me before he left. I didn't tell her why he left. When the hat came out, so did that secret."
"And that secret caused the fight?" Pantros asked.
"No, that secret ended it." Sheillene said. She reached across the table and put her hands on Pan's shoulders. "Thomas cannot speak an untruth. He couldn't stay waiting for the day when he'd have to tell Tara that your parents were dead."
Pantros had believed they were dead. Tara had told him that they must be dead, else they would have returned. But having it stated like a fact knocked the breath from Pantros.
"You've known this for that many years?" Pantros asked.
"Yes. I'd have told Tara and you, but you knew already. At least you believed already. The day he left, Thomas made me ask him of Kita and Leo's fate. And he told me. It has been ungodly hard not to tell you both earlier, but it always seemed even harder to tell you." Sheillene let her hands fall to the table. "This shouldn't be about me now. Pan, are you okay?"
Pantros didn't feel okay. He'd always hoped they were out there somewhere, trying to get back to him. Now those hopes were gone, leaving a large empty place inside him. "I barely remember them. I hadn't yet reached my tenth summer when they left. All I know is that before I was born they lived in a place called Novarra and had ruled on the council there. They'd left in a time of turmoil and started a life in Ignea. They were only returning to formally renounce their claim to their council seats before their rivals tracked them down."
"Because their rivals had tracked them down." Sheillene said. "Before I was a bard, I was a bounty hunter. I came to meet your sister when my partner and I went to the Hedgehog to claim the bounty on your parents, which specifically preferred them dead. When we found Kita, she had a baby bump and I wouldn't go further with the job. My partner also wouldn't kill your mother while she was pregnant. Your parents fled, hiring the first ship they could from Ignea to Novarra. They should have made it there several weeks before your mother was due to give birth. But they were dead by my partner's hand before they got there. I guess the purse was just too great for him to stand by his morals."
"You're morals are not as high as I believed them to be," Pantros said. Sheillene had always been one to speak of heroic acts of charity and kindness. He couldn't imagine her as a killer for hire.
"I've never committed an act I am ashamed of," Sheillene said.
"You were a bounty hunter." Pantros leaned back, away from her.
"I still am, Pan." Sheillene pulled a pendant from under her shirt. "This marks me as a Master Hunter in the Guild of the Hunt. I didn't give up my life to start another as a bard. I have cut back on the kill bounties, but every kill bounty I have seen has been for one criminal who crossed another. The men I kill very probably deserve it."
"You would have killed my mother," Pantros said.
"No, as evidenced by the fact that I didn't." Sheillene said. "I am the greatest archer alive. I win every tournament. I can shoot a pea dangling on a thread, twice, at fifty paces. I would have killed a criminal, but I knew as soon as I saw your parents that the
y were not criminals. They were safe from me. And I never did collect the bounty on you."
“What bounty on me?” Pantros asked. “No one knows of anything I’ve done.”
“There are several bounties out in Ignea offering gold for information about certain burglaries with large bonuses if we can produce the actual burglar,” Sheillene said. “I know enough of your exploits and your methods to be able to connect you to all nineteen bounties.”
“Well then, that falls more into the morality of the Sheillene I've known for nine years. I can only guess the bounties were not high enough to draw the attention of others from your guild.”
“Few bounties are high enough for a hunter to enter Ignea,” Sheillene said. “In a city where piracy is the main source of trade, there are thousands wanted by the merchants of other cities. Hunters are not welcome in Ignea. So I don’t go out of my way to let anyone know of my other profession. I like the world to believe that I’m just a bard who occasionally shows off my skills at archery.”
Pantros knew of Sheillene's skills with her bow, which was part of the reason she could make the trip westward across land. "Is Tara still mad at you? It's going to make for an uncomfortable journey if you two are not friends."
"She can be mad at me and still be my friend, Pantros." Sheillene waved at Tara. Tara waved back, but didn't stop her conversation with Thomas. "Tara knew why I went to the Hedgehog the first time. She's already accepted me for who I am. She's just mad at what I knew and didn't tell her. But she understands why I didn't tell her. Besides, she's madder at Thomas, which makes me better than someone in her eyes."
Marc rolled a tree stump over and flipped it up to act as a stool by the end of the table where Sheillene and Pantros talked. Sitting, he waved at Pan. "Hi, I'm Marc Williams, musician. Looks like Thomas is in a private conversation. I hope you don't mind if I join you."
"There's room for you at the table," Pantros said.
Sheillene said, "I think he means on the journey. Your sister invited Thomas along."
