All Ears [Pt. 1]
“I’d like an ale,” I said.
The serving girl just stared unmoving like a block of ice. Everyone was staring, but I was used to it. I was big, hard-muscled and wore my dark hair unfettered. Then there were the ears. This girl was pretty for a change and looked young and clean. Very fetching. I lowered my voice and spoke softer.
“I’d like an ale, please.”
The girl unfroze, but only a little. She blinked. This could take awhile, but before I could speak again a loud voice from the other side of the room screamed,
“Sharina, move your ass!”
This got the girl moving and she curtseyed slightly and stammered out, “Right away sir.” She then hustled away breaking the moment, and the babble of conversation picked up volume.
The man I was looking for was not here. There was only the usual bunch of patrons you saw in most any inn: a table full of men playing cards, a group throwing darts, another dicing and a few scattered loners sitting at tables eating or cradling drinks. But it was early and even though the Harper was not in evidence there was a small stage and I knew he would arrive sometime soon. I had plenty of time to wait.
Sharina came back with the beer, and I handed her a silver coin and told her to keep them coming. Her eyes were still wide and her lips pouty, and her ample breasts rose and fell in a way that signified either fear or excitement. I would rather think that it was the latter. Not that I’m full of myself mind you, but after all there’s nothing wrong with a little ego. I took a swig of beer and it was a fair brew.
“Will that be all ... er,”
“Char.” I said softly. “Call me Char.” It was a shortened version of my full name, but I didn’t see much use in giving the whole thing to her.
“Will that be all, Mister Char?” she asked again.
“For the moment,” I answered, then added: “When does your Harper usually arrive?”
“Old Donnelly? Uh, it varies Mr. Char. Sometimes he gets here early and sometimes late. Or sometimes not at all, if he um, has a lady friend or drinks too much the night before.” She colored slightly and added, “I hope that was helpful, Mister Char.”
“Just Char,” I said absently as the girl scurried away to help a couple of the dart players who were clamoring for another round of ale.
I was on my fifth glass when Donnelly walked in. I knew it was the Harper by the cased instruments he carried about his person. Sharina’s description of him as old did not quite hit the mark, although his hair was white as bleached bone. His face was tanned and young looking, strikingly so in contrast to the white hair. As he passed my table I caught his pale blue eyes quickly taking me in, and it was so subtle that I wasn’t sure if he had even noticed me at all. I saw there were lines about the eyes that told of age, but his forehead was smooth and his chin firm with just a bit of jowls showing. But Drogan had made a couple of points about the man that were now drilled deep by that nonchalant glance that I was now sure he had given me. The Harper was more than he seemed, much more. With that in mind I settled in my chair and chuckled a bit. I couldn’t wait to hear the music.
Donnelly played three sets, and to my surprise the place filled up with people that came from the Guardians only knew where in a small village like this one. In between the sets he was practically doted upon by every pretty girl in the place. He did some magik tricks for them, juggled and threw daggers with a skill that made everyone sit up and take notice. With all those women hanging about him, I could see how he might miss a night or two of playing a week, and I chuckled to myself again. I liked him already.
I had moved to a dark corner of the common room so as to not distract the Harper’s audience, and Sharina kept the beers coming. The music was good and for a time I laid my troubles aside and listened to tales and drinking songs and love ballads from a master storyteller of this strange and frightening world.
When Donnelly finished the last set the coins fell thick upon the stage, and I flipped a gold piece onto the mounting pile. The gold piece got me a direct look and a nod, and I knew then I would not have to seek him out: he would come to me.
