Page 9 of Potions & Pints
Tan couldn’t help but smile as he watched that night’s performance — Vir speaking his piece proudly and clearly, his voice echoing off the tavern walls and drawing the crowd in. Even Tan was rapt from the first word to the last, leaning over the bar to get a better look at the bard.
It’s no wonder he makes more than I do just in tips, Tan thought, not without a little jealousy.
But the orc’s passion for storytelling was obvious, and Tan couldn’t help but admire it and be drawn by it. Each word was like a drop of magic, pulling him into another world by way of Vir’s voice.
During that night’s ode, the Trout Trap’s customers were silent, soaking in every word, but as soon as the performance was over, they erupted into applause. Tan clapped just as loudly as everyone else. As happened most nights, Vir passed a hat around and by the end of the evening it was brimming with money. Tan had to hand it to him, Vir had a pretty good gig going on.
“Where did you learn all this?” he asked later in the evening, as the last patrons were leaving and he was cleaning up the bar. He ran a cloth over the bar but his eyes were on the orc, awaiting his answer.
“The storytelling?” Vir asked, smiling as usual. “Oh, you know, just picked it up here and there.”
Tan got the distinct feeling he was being intentionally vague.
“Alright, so you won’t tell me where you’re from, and you won’t tell me where you learnt how to captivate people like that,” Tan found himself saying. “Is there anything you’re going to tell me about yourself, or do I have to tip you to get a story?”
At this Vir laughed. “Okay, that’s fair. What do you want to know?”
Tan had to think about that one. Eventually he landed on something relatively mundane — it seemed safer than pushing his luck and having Vir clam up again. For now.
“What’s the best performance you’ve ever done?”
Vir grinned widely. “Oh that’s easy — the very first show I ever did. It was in my hometown, I was just a youngling then and I was so, so nervous. I forgot half the story and ended up making something up just to fill the space.
“By the time I remembered what the ending was, the new story didn’t match and it all came out as a cobbled-together string of nonsense. I didn’t exactly get booed off stage, but I came close.”
Tan listened with confusion. “Wait,thatwas your best performance? It sounds terrible!”
“It was,” Vir replied, still beaming. “But it proved to me that I could get through my fears and do what I was passionate about. It also proved that I could perform a terrible show and survive — something I wasn’t entirely sure about before I stepped on that stage. I still get nervous every time, but that performance taught me to chase what matters to me, even when I’m scared. I’ve never forgotten it.”
Tan mulled the thought over in his mind for a little while, wondering if the same advice applied to him. It was another one of those things he decided not to think too much about. Instead, he ventured to ask another question.
“And this show was where?” he posed, as casually as he could.
But Vir wasn’t having it. “My hometown,” he replied in a tone that implied he wouldn’t be divulging any more than that.
The next day Tan was back in the tavern, serving up drinks with something verging on levity. It was a busy evening for the bar and Cionus had even deigned to serve drinks himself to keep up with the rush, leaving Tan to mix up cocktails while the satyr dealt with ales.
But even as he worked, Tan couldn’t help musing about his conversation with Vir from the night before. He’d enjoyed getting to know the orc, even if large swathes of information were still missing. In fact, it might have been the missing information that told him most about Vir.
It seemed the two of them were more similar than Tan had originally guessed. If he discounted the ever-cheerful demeanor and garish outfits, he got the impression that he and Vir were more or less cut of the same cloth, in that they were both running from something. Or perhaps someone.
His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the tavern’s door and Tan turned to see who his next customer might be. It was the assistant Librarian back again, though much earlier than he usually came by.
“Got a new recipe you’re just dying for me to try?” Tan joked, but the assistant looked back gravely, shaking his head. In fact, now that Tan was looking at him more closely, he seemed incredibly nervous.
“I don’t know exactly what you’ve done, but it seems like you’ve done it to the wrong people,” the assistant said, leaning over the counter and keeping his voice low.
Tan’s stomach dropped. “What are you saying?” he asked urgently. He’d hoped he’d have more time before he had to think about this again — it usually took at least a month for his past to catch up with him.
“Some very dangerous people just landed in Lurg and they’re looking for you,” the assistant replied, his eyes flashing with fear. “Someone must have finally sent a message off about your arrival here. Whoever they are, they look like they mean serious business. If I were you, I’d run. Now.”
6
Tan had been in the fugitive game long enough to know that in a situation like the one he was in — stuck behind the bar of the tavern with only a vague warning and not a lot of time — the first thing to do was hide,thenrun.
He ducked down under the bar, just as the tavern door let out another creak. What sounded like several people entered at once and even over the noise of the busy bar, he could make out a rounded Southern accent speaking out.
“We’re looking for Tan’ithril, the elf,” the voice said and Tan could tell this was no mere jilted lover or angered pirate. The voice was far too refined for either. Whoever it was that was asking for him, Tan got the very strong feeling he didn’t want to meet him.
