Page 4 of Potions & Pints
But Vir’s friendliness was something that caught Tan off-guard. In fact, the warmth in the orc’s smile, his openness, his seeming ability to make friends with any mere stranger, especially Tan, edged into a sort of danger that made Tan’s skin almost feel electric. It was a feeling that at once thrilled him and worried him. Especially since he effectively still had no idea who the orc was.
As he’d listened to Vir speak, he’d picked up on a familiar accent. He was a northern citizen like Tan — that much was clear — and it made the elf wonder. The satyr, he figured, had just come over from the nearby Chimanisle, but a northern orc… He decided to keep that information to himself for now though. Instead, he decided to probe.
“And how about you?” he asked, turning to Vir. “What are you doing here in Lurg?”
Tan wasn’t sure but he thought he saw the orc’s smile falter for just a split-second before he answered.
“Just like you, I’m here to work,” replied Vir. “Anyway, welcome aboard.”
The orc stuck out his hand and Tan shook it almost as an automatic reaction, even if he still didn’t quite trust the orc.
The handshake was firm, and Tan got the feeling Vir was somehow even stronger than he looked, which was incredibly strong already. The orc was obviously tempering his grip though, and although it was firm, he didn’t come anywhere close to hurting the elf. Tan was grateful for that — it would clear he could have broken every bone in his hand if he’d wanted to. Better to stay on the orc’s good side, he figured. Whatever that meant.
With that, the orc gave Tan one last smile before striding up to the stage. For a second Tan was confused — where exactly was he going? What exactly was his job?
Tan watched as Vir picked up a lyre from the wings and, with another show of unlikely grace and gentleness, strummed an opening chord.
“Ladies, gentlemen, orcs, goblins, humans, satyrs, centaurs, elves, and all other folk under the roof ofThe Trout Trap, welcome,” Vir said in lilting tones with his signature smile on his face.
There weren’t half the mentioned creatures in the bar that afternoon, but the crowd — if it could be called a crowd — cheered with gusto, the goblins smashing their bones on the table with a loud racket. Vir was obviously well-received there.
Tan, though still dripping wet, couldn’t help but stand and stare as Vir strummed another chord to match his announcements.
So, he’s a bard, Tan thought, curiously.
It was the first time he’d seen an orc bard and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Vir in general.
“Today’s entertainment will begin with a sweet melody. This is a love song, composed for the great goddess Illyria for which our fair planet is named. I hope it brings a spark of love into your hearts,” Vir continued with a small bow.
He began picking a low and almost haunting tune that soon evolved to become even more complex. The first note of the orc’s voice carried across the bar, and each one that came after that was like a perfect clear call — a call of devotion, a call of romance, a call of the sweetest love carried over the almost eerie tune of the lyre.
The sound of it struck Tan unexpectedly, even more than the lyrics themselves, and as the song ended and the bar erupted into applause, Tan couldn’t help but clap along too.
Vir flashed a warm and humble smile to the applauding crowd and Tan wondered again how in the world an orc from the North had ended up as a bard on the all-but-forgotten island of Lurg.
There was something magnetic about the orc, but also something that made Tan retreat a little. He still couldn’t quite name what it was and thankfully he didn’t have to. The satyr had apparently been staring at him this whole time.
“I wasn’t joking about that shower,” Cionus told him as he sidled up to him. “And mop up that puddle on your way up. Your first shift starts now.”
Tan sighed, following Cionus to get the mop and bucket. Even as he finished clearing up the seawater and heading up to the small room above the bar, Tan couldn’t help but cast one glance back at Vir. The bard’s voice followed him all the way up the stairs.
3
Tan’s first shift didn’t go so well. As expected, bartending wasn’t something that necessarily came easily to him and the goblins weren’t the most gracious of customers. Still, it beat being forced into unpaid labor on a ship bound for goddess-knows-where.
As he worked the bar that first night, Tan started to formulate an alternative route back home, wherever that was. He supposed it was Selkirk now that he’d burnt all bridges with Sunfall.
The next morning, he set off into town, wearing the fresh clothes the satyr had lent him, or rather, had given him and docked his pay for. It was better than trudging around in salt-stiff clothes though, and considering that’s all Tan had until his own clothes were cleaned, he couldn’t complain too much.
He was in search of the Library and it didn’t take him long to find it. As he stepped inside, he was reminded of the Library in Sunfall with a slight twinge in his chest. Both were deceptively compact on the outside, but once inside, visitors were greeted by a vast hall lined with rows upon rows of books. It was plain to see that the Librarian here, just like the Librarian in Lameria, was in possession of impressive magic.
Tan put on his most charming smile. Now that he’d washed and combed his long hair, put on fresh clothes, and had a decent night’s sleep, he was sure he could flirt his way into getting what he wanted. Even if the Librarian was a grumpy-looking old man. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hello, Fine Sir,” he remarked, leaning casually against the Librarian’s desk. “I do hope you can help me. You see, I’m new in town and I need to get a message out. I thought who better to ask than the town’s most important person!”
He flashed another charming smile and waited for the old man to ask how he could help. But the Librarian just stared, frowning. It seemed Tan would have to do the hard work himself.
“Well, I can see you’re busy — of course you are — but if you could just have this message sent to Prince Valar of Selkirk, I would be ever so grateful.”
