Page 23 of Potions & Pints
Tan couldn’t help but frown. He was all for cheating, as long as it benefitted himself — he was using his own skills to his advantage, after all, which he’d always considered an extension of the game’s rules. But to intentionally lose went against his ethics. If you could call them that.
On the other hand, if he kept winning, he and his friends might not get out of the tavern alive. He decided this fit within his definition of using his skills to his advantage after all.
“There’s just one round left in this game,” Tan said tentatively, now that his knife-clutching companion was no longer clutching his knife. “How about we finish up? I swear I’m not cheating. I give you my word.”
The old pirate grumbled, looking at Tan, then looking up at Vir who Tan could only assume was smiling back.
The pirate turned his eyes back to Tan. “Aye, alright. But if there be any funny business…” He fingered the knife again, still lying on the table where he’d set it.
Tan nodded, swallowing hard, and played the next card. It was a mediocre play of course, and as the round went on, he tempered his plays, always making sure to stay just a little behind his competition.
In the end, the pirate had taken most of the winnings back and Tan, Vir and the others escaped with their heads and a couple of gold coins to boot.
The rush of adrenaline had Tan and Vir running towards the boat, chattering incessantly about what had just happened.
“Oh, that ode! I will swear my love to Lothian forever just for having inspired the song that saved my life!” Tan cried, laughing into the sunshine with Vir right beside him.
“And what about me?” replied Vir, good-naturedly. “Don’t I get any credit for singing the ode just in the nick of time?” He grinned back at Tan as they bounced up the gangplank.
“Vir, if it weren’t for you, I’d be a dead man, that’s for sure,” said Tan, smiling and out of breath. He felt suddenly very much alive, as he usually did whenever he brushed with death.
“You get full credit for saving this life — at least what’s left it!” he added with a mirthful grin. “We’re almost at the Heaving Sea after all!”
Tan’s smile faltered.
11
‘Almost,’ as it turned out, was relative. They were still a couple weeks’ journey from Gamlin Ait and in that time, life on the ship settled into a routine. Tan found himself enjoying the journey more and more as it went on, the Heaving Sea’s growing proximity notwithstanding.
He’d more or less managed to teach Vir the basics of sailing and the rest the orc had picked up from the crew. At the very least Vir wasn’t mixing up the lines so much anymore and the deck was starting to look cleaner than when he started after every mopping which was a marked improvement.
Tan leaned against the ship’s railing, watching with a small smile as Vir thoroughly enjoyed another shift on deck. Somehow, even when Tan wasn’t meant to be working himself, he ended up hanging around. He reasoned to himself it was the fresh sea air he enjoyed. And besides, he figured, he should be there to give Vir pointers if he was unsure about something.
With this to settle the strange feeling that rose in his chest every time he thought too hard about it, Tan made himself comfortable on a pile of ropes and gazed across the deck to where Vir was calling to another crew-mate.
“Ready to haul!” he yelled, a wide grin crossing his face.
The crewmate yelled something back and Vir smiled again, wrapping the lines around the mast with gusto. Tan could see he had to be careful not to snap the lines in his strong hands as he did so. It had happened before and it almost cost him his place as a functioning member of the crew, much to the orc’s dismay.
Luckily for Vir, though, the ship was operating on a skeleton crew as it was and they couldn’t afford to exclude him entirely. They just coached him to be more careful — advice that Vir took to heart.
“All clear!” the orc yelled once the line was secured. This time it was with an even wider grin.
Tan knew instinctively that Vir loved learning the sailing jargon and he was already getting good at it. Memorizing lines was all part of being a bard, Tan reasoned and he couldn’t help but think maybe Vir had been right — if they did make it out of this alive, Vir would already have plenty of fodder for his poems and songs. Gamlin Ait and whatever horrors lay there were just an added bonus at this point.
Tan wondered what the orc might write about and if he’d feature in any of the stories. The thought of it thrilled the elf — he’d never been the subject of a poem or song before and with Vir’s talent he had no doubt an inclusion in his work would be something to be proud of. It made him smile into the warm sun.
Silently, he was curious how Vir might portray him, should he choose to include Tan in his works. He didn’t want to think too hard about where those thoughts were leading him.
Instead, he listened to the sound of the sea, the pull of ropes and the whistle of the wind, letting himself enjoy the trip. He had to admit, things were getting better — they’d been blessed with excellent weather, the ship itself was sturdy and safe, and the company was growing on him. Even the orc guards were becoming friendlier by the day.
In the background, the sound of lyre music came floating across the salt air and Tan admitted that it was almost good. He glanced over to the bow of the ship. The three orcs had evidently learnt that it was better if only one of them played the instrument at a time and today it was Sori who was plucking away at a little ditty.
He had to hand it to Vir, his patience had paid off. Perhaps the orc heard that old adage about music soothing even the most ill-tempered beast. Tan didn’t think that meant the beasts themselves were expected to play the music, but it seemed to be working nevertheless.
When he looked back at Vir, however, he saw that Pili was now standing with him.
“You want to wind them like this,” Pili was saying gently, showing Vir how to attach the lines neatly to the mast. “You try.”
