Indeed, the older man smiled as he saw the red-bearded face of a former apprentice. He spoke again, talking in a friendlier tone and offering up a rhyme for his visitor. “Long have been the months since you’ve been around, is it duty or crown calling you back to town?”
The red-bearded visitor smiled back at his old tutor, accepting the rhyming challenge, “In regards to honor and what kings say, that would be a nay, I have debts of kindness aplenty to repay!”
“Then an unexpected pleasure this is, but good, to find you here in this neck of the wood.”
“I’m glad I brought such a smile to a friend, perhaps in a few years I shall drop by again!”
The two men chuckled, and the old tutor invited his unexpected guest to enter his home and spend no more time in the rain.
* * * * *
The two men relaxed before a warm fire, drinking an old vintage of wine. One was an aging, retired teacher of music and composition at one of the local artistic guilds. The younger man graduated from that guild, the Artistic Enlightenment College of Orlaun, and had been absent for over a year doing some traveling and making a name for himself in the world.
“I spent my time well this past year,” commented the former student, “I entertained royalty over in the various Counties of Diara! However, I admit that was nay great feat, since all of them claim to be descended from royalty! I thought I’d steal a few songs from the rogues in Archer’s Port, though I seemed to have lost some coins instead. I also visited Pluetlo, but my time among the halflings and gnomes was quite short.”
The elder man chuckled at the parodies of the realms. The red-bearded traveler continued, “And when I learned of a rare event planned here in Orlaun, I had to seek out my old master. You nay longer teach the young at the college? I wonder if you still hold influence among those who head the guild, Master Falerno Giantcharmer?”
The aging master composer, whose exploits in turning aside a raging giant in his youth had earned him the surname, nodded to his visitor. “Indeed, I still hold much sway with the current hierarchy. Now, I wonder what influence you want on my behalf? Before you answer, I would ask a question of you. It is so rare these days that someone calls me by my full title. I am interested if you have found a suitable surname as of yet?”
It was common for entertainers who finished their teachings to choose surnames of their own. Sometimes names were chosen for them. On many occasions that a student did not immediately pick one, they went by a more generic name until a suitable surname was found.
The recent traveler shook his head, “Nay. Until I find the right inspiration I still go by Lindon of Orlaun, minstrel and voyager. Through all my travels I have not come upon a suitable situation or feat befitting a proper surname. That is another way of saying: I haven’t charmed a giant yet.”
Lindon raised his glass of wine in salute to his mentor and drank. The old composer gracefully nodded as he did likewise.
“You flatter me,” Falerno Giantcharmer remarked, “The incident with the giant was so long ago…”
The old composer paused for some dramatic effect before adding more insight, “I’m sure he has died of old age by now!”
Lindon and his past mentor shared a laugh. For a while, nothing more was said as each man relaxed and imbibed a healthy amount of spirits. Master Falerno looked over Lindon. He knew the younger man to be around the age of twenty-seven. He noted interesting similarities and differences in the man after a year of world traveling. Lindon trimmed his hair, but left long red sideburns extending into a small, pointed beard on his chin. The mustache was gone, leaving no hair above the lip. The facial growth framed his face and rounded it out more. Lindon smiled well, displaying a row of perfectly cleaned teeth. The younger man’s light blue eyes seemed to sparkle with the harmony in the world. The minstrel’s hands presented long, thin fingers, allowing great flexibility. From the moment Lindon hung up his cloak and wide-brimmed red hat, Master Falerno witnessed accentuated flourishes, seeing the grace of movement and flexibility which once delivered Lindon through amazingly tiring dance steps. Little was asked about the smallsword and crossbow Lindon carried, for anyone could appreciate the many concealed dangers in the world. Falerno did not even notice a bulge under Lindon’s top vest, containing a hidden bandolier of throwing daggers. Typical Orlaun fashions included a lot of layers of clothing, some of which had decorative ruffles or were worn loosely. A member of the society could easily conceal small weapons. A mandolin case rested beside Lindon’s chair, containing the instrument bought from the college during his tutorial.
“Now, back to my other question.” Master Falerno asked, “What favor do you require of me?”
“I’m told a rare performance will be held soon, atop a lofty stage. I also know the Artistic Enlightenment College was asked to provide entertainers for the affair.” Lindon smiled as recognition dawned in the eyes of his mentor.
Master Falerno nodded, “Indeed, but they were asked to send their best students. It is a chance of a lifetime for recognition, considering the people for whom they will be performing; however, you are nay longer a student.”
Lindon shrugged in acknowledgement of the fact, “But, would sending students, even their best students, be in the best interest of the college?”
“Indulge me with your reasoning as to that conclusion.”
Lindon leaned forward eagerly, “Will mere students entertain royalty accustomed to paying for the best? How nervous will these entertainers be considering the atmosphere of their performance? If they falter a tune or fail to stroke the emotions of their audience, how will that reflect on the guild? I think the college may want to consider adding in some past graduates who have more experience.”
The elder composer chuckled, “So, you would pull strings with me so that you may pluck strings for royalty? Trying to use me to make a name for yourself?”
Lindon waved a hand, “Well, I can’t deny some underlying intent to make a dream come true, spreading my name among the elite of Orlaun; however, there is a more honorable reason at the heart of this particular performance.”
The red-bearded minstrel paused to put a hand in one pocket and retrieve the items within. From his vest, he withdrew two flutes much longer than the pocket from which they came. Either the pocket was tailored in a way that was deceptive about how deep it was, or the vest was magical. Lindon placed one flute, shiny, metallic, off to one side. The other, a well-crafted bamboo flute, Lindon of Orlaun cradled tenderly.
“The music of this flute has such a grand quality to it,” Lindon commented. “It plays notes akin to soft breezes carried along a sylvan wood.”
Lindon of Orlaun looked up to his former master. “The person who gave this to me, thus starting me on the path of music, will be there. This flute brought me from the slums of the Highwater district to the heights of musical artistry. That is the debt of kindness which needs to be repaid.”
Master Falerno Giantcharmer nodded, offering Lindon a warm smile. “Well, I can exert some influence in the college. You realize there is also an audience with members of the wizard guild? They will judge each applicant the college sends.”
Lindon nodded.
“Very well,” the old mentor spoke, “I shall see what I can do, though I will wait until the rain clears a bit.”
* * * * *
Later that night, Lindon found shelter from the rain within the comforts of Ye Tipped Flask. The establishment was more of a drinking house than an inn; a favorite of locals who enjoyed sharing their brew with known regulars rather than strange visitors from the boats. Situated within the Trade district, the patrons of the pub were witnesses and participants of many conversations centered on taxes, weather, foreign currency, prospective deals, and many other mercantile concerns. Being a native of Orlaun, Lindon recognized a few faces in the sparse light of the common drinking room. To the minstrel’s dismay, one of the great local attractions of the pub was not performing this night. The local Faizinni jugglers, a group of hal
fling siblings that had been performing in Orlaun for near to twenty years, were one of the major attractions which brought others into the pub. Substituting in their place, the night’s entertainment consisted of some unknown bard with more voice than talent. The entertainer went largely ignored as drinks were consumed.
Lindon stood and observed the stage performer, though out of the corner of his eyes he watched a barmaid making her rounds. The woman moved with her own graceful dance as she weaved among overfed merchants to deliver drinks and food to further expand their belt sizes. The barmaid worked hard keeping up with shouted orders and coin exchanges, while at the same time dodging personal questions and male advances. Lindon focused on her as he moved subtly closer to her path.
Lindon spoke beside her shoulder, though she had taken no particular notice of him as yet. “A year of traveling has left my lips lonely for the taste of drink or the warm kiss of a woman, would either be found here?”
Jolynn the barmaid looked up at the face of Lindon. She let out a delighted smile at recognizing the man, and then offered a quick retort, “Well since I seem to have a choice you’ll be getting a drink for your lips. If I find a woman who similarly wants the warmth of a man’s kiss, I’ll point her your way.”
Nearby bar patrons chuckled, but Lindon only returned the woman’s smile. Lindon and Jolynn looked each other up and down, having been childhood friends. After taking the measure of themselves, Jolynn left to get Lindon a drink, promising a swift return so as to catch up on old times. Lindon found a quieter spot to stand, in the hopes of having some conversation before the barmaid was called away. As good as her word she was back at his side before long, offering him a pint of the local favorite.
“Where have you been this past year?” Jolynn asked as he enjoyed the first sip of his ale.
Lindon smiled as he swallowed the strong vintage, “Too many places it seems. While some sights were carved from an artist’s dream, I also had my fair share of leaky boats and cheap inns. I could tell you much of the fashions in other countries or the stories from far lands. I wasn’t lying when I said it had been too long since I felt the kiss of a woman. There are few such finely-chiseled jewels in the world as I might find back here at home.”
“Came back to find a mate did you?”
Lindon shook his head, “One will find me at the proper time. I came back to revisit old friends and repay a kindness. While we are on the subject,” Lindon was examining the barmaid’s hand, “Your ring is…”
Jolynn shushed him quickly, before the minstrel could remark further about her missing ring. Jolynn spoke in hushed tones as she answered his unspoken question, “I do not wear it here, and few know that I am wed. He is serving on a royal vessel, not expected to be back in home port for a few months yet. It is not good if the drinkers know that a bar wench is married, yet separated from her husband. It would cause attention I do not want. Better for them to think my father is a military man of reputation, one who hopes to marry me to someone of influence. That helps lessen the wrong kinds of advances towards me. It scares away many suitors.”
Lindon nodded, “Many a merchant or local trying to impress his hostess or sweep you off your feet?”
“Aye,” Jolynn answered, “But they don’t know my heart lies elsewhere. I don’t mind them trying, but I am faithful to my man. I know if he was here, he’d trade some stories with you.”
Lindon remembered the young friend of his who won the heart of this lovely woman. The minstrel had hoped to meet him as well, but there was nothing to prevent him from returning in a few months to be regaled by tales of the sea. More patrons were calling for refills. Jolynn excused herself to attend to the others, making one request as she left that Lindon go to the stage and give a proper performance. Lindon sipped at his ale as he listened to the young performer sing.
Jolynn continued to satisfy her patrons. The barmaid took note of another new person entering the pub. The middle-aged man had thick, dark hair peppered with gray, sporting a small mustache and goatee. The man’s good looks and easy smile were not particularly appreciated by the serving woman. Jolynn’s mind dwelled on Lindon, and her absent, secret husband. The new arrival gave her a large, overly friendly smile as she approached him to take his order. Inwardly she sighed, knowing that another indecent proposal was probably forthcoming.
“What might I get for you sir?”
“I have just returned from a lonely sea voyage. There is nay drink you could bring me to satisfy my spirit as much as the simple presence of your company,” replied Jentan Mollamos.
Jolynn wasn’t about to waste time on a stranger trying to get friendly with her. She gave him a serious glare. “Well then, you are in the wrong place, sir. All we offer on the menu is drink and food. We have nothing else to quench a traveler’s appetite.”
Jentan kept his easy smile and hid any disappointment that this serving wench didn’t seem to welcome an evening with him. On the inside, however, Jentan still had his own personal needs to fulfill. The mentalist never went long without some kind of female companionship to satisfy his desires. During the seagoing trip north, there had been no opportunity for such affections. Savannah was a woman who had assets to excite a man, if you didn’t get drawn into her cold eyes. Sadly, the abbess wouldn’t be charmed by Jentan’s words, and he dared not use spells to beguile her. Mentalist Mollamos was a man starving against his own lust. Since he could control minds, he did not take kindly to people turning him down.
The magic-user gathered the flow of power and lent its strength to his voice in a subtle way. “Serve me a vision, milady. Look into my eyes and see my desires.”
Jolynn felt compelled in some odd way to gaze deeply into the man’s eyes to see his vision. The mentalist’s voice subdued the noises inherent to the pub.
“Serve me a vision of two travelers with unfulfilled needs. In their eyes, they hold a promise of companionship and love to sate the barren thirst of the road. Between them, is the promise that through their touch they will repel the loneliness of their souls.”
Jentan Mollamos continued to weave his enchanting spell on a level beneath his words. Jolynn lost her will to the depths of his eyes. The pub no longer existed for her except at the bare fringes of realization. Her duties and her patrons were like shadows lost at the edge of twilight. In her thoughts, she became a lonely traveler meeting another of like mind. Jentan perceived the feelings beneath her eyes. The mentalist knew nothing of her absent husband, but he could see her craving for that companionship. He continued to weave his spell around her emotions.
“Before I knew you, it was as if cold mist obscured my path. There was nay light and warmth away from you. Seeing you is like a beacon from the dark; a ray of sunlight illuminating a field of flowers. Now I bask in your warmth, and I offer you my heart and flesh. Let us both find a place away from the cold darkness.”
Jentan’s enchantment shrouded Jolynn’s will. Lost in a trance, she cared only for the images he put into her mind. Jolynn craved this smooth-talking man as much as she missed the love of her husband. In her mind, this man began to substitute himself in the place of the one she really loved. He could make any request of her and she would move to please him. Jolynn had forgotten herself, lost in the promised companionship of his spell.
“Jolynn,” spoke another voice, “Is something wrong?”
Jolynn turned to find the spectral voice, seeing a red-bearded face she could no longer comprehend as a friend. His words grated against her reality, taking her away from the satisfying emotions Mollamos had woven around her.
Jolynn rebuked the voice, “Go away, whatever spirit you are. I am with my love now.”
Jentan’s eyes glared at the stranger disturbing his spell. “I believe you are interrupting a private conversation. You heard the woman. Be off with you.”
Lindon stood silently watching as Jentan whispered more words to his lifelong friend. The minstrel thought the actions and words of Jolynn had been amiss. Why had she referred to hi
m as an unknown spirit?
The ears of the minstrel detected the faint sound of a tune played on the air. Despite the loud singing from the bard on the stage, Lindon sensed an odd harmony of a type that most people were unaware. Although his mandolin was still strung over his back, inside its case, Lindon could almost hear the strings of the instrument resonating from something in the very air.
The minstrel ignored Jentan and Jolynn at the moment, reaching around to free his instrument from its case. Once in his hands, Lindon gently touched the strings with his fingertips, closing his eyes against any distractions. The more Jentan spoke, the more Lindon felt the waves of magic from the harmonic web sending resonating echoes into the instrument. The echoes of the resounding magic in the air confirmed what Lindon already suspected.
True minstrels of talent could tap a source of magic with their voice or the use of proper notes. They referred to it as the harmonic web, a part of the magic inherent to the world. The magic could only be found by those who already were gifted. Through the use of their talents with sound and volume, they could tap into magical energies to influence people or sometimes cause other effects such as shattering glass. Another group of magic-users could tap into the harmonic web in a similar way to influence people: mentalists. As Lindon felt the energies of subtle magic echo on a level that most wouldn’t be attuned to hear, he knew for certainty that the strange man used arcane mind tricks on Jolynn.
Lindon of Orlaun turned back to regard the pair, finding Jolynn still fixing an empty stare upon the middle-aged man. The deft fingers of the minstrel poised over the strings of his mandolin when he spoke. “I am Lindon of Orlaun, from the Highwater district, and a friend of Jolynn from many years gone by.” As he spoke, Lindon plucked a few notes on the mandolin to the tune of a dance song he and Jolynn had heard often. The notes accentuated the power of his voice, as Lindon also drew energy from the harmonic web to bring Jolynn back from the charm.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 11
