Disclaimer:
This is a work of fantasy. I have occasionally appropriated items such as lyrics for songs (since I have no facility for writing such things myself) and all credit is due to the writers of said songs and lyrics. I'll probably just list any borrowings at the bottom of the story to save time. Several fantasy works and games have influenced this story and I've borrowed and blended concepts freely.
This story is dedicated to a fan who requested it. They know who they are. Constructive comments and reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted. Enjoy!
Chapter II - A World Unknown
"
Maple. Maypole.
Catch and carry.
Ash and Ember.
Elderberry.
Woolen. Woman.
Moon at night.
Willow. Window.
Candlelight.
I continued singing and beginning a round with my audience as I played, fingers dancing over the strings of my instrument and the notes carrying across the emerald-green lawn. Children laughed and danced around a pole, twining vibrantly coloured ribbons, while others chased rabbits and butterflies.
I led the audience, some fifty strong, in two rounds of the children's tune and they applauded gaily as I finished. With a graceful bow, I stepped down from the tree stump I'd been standing on and accepted a chalice of wine from a servant. I had cheerfully accepted the offer to sing and play music for this fete, hosted by a minor (but agreeably wealthy) member of Arristheon.
"My Lady Bloodstar, you sing like a goddess," my host declared as he joined me, along with his wife, a stately woman with piles of curled brown hair and a patrician air about her. "Had I not already procured the services of a bard, I would most certainly hire you."
"I thank you for the kind words, and the opportunity to entertain, but where might your bard be if you found you needed my services?" I asked, raising my chalice to my lips.
"Lo, he is unwell, and has been for nearly a fortnight," the nobleman lamented. "He has lost his voice almost entirely, barely able to talk above a rasping whisper and says his throat feels like sand."
"Yes, odd how that one stable girl he will not leave alone had a yeast infection just before he lost his voice," the wife said carelessly, sipping daintily and looking away. "But that is none of my business."
My host gave his wife a sour look before continuing. "Please excuse my wife's humour; she is merely annoyed that he will not be able to entertain at a small gala she is hosting for the ladies of Arristheon. Perhaps I might interest you in the prospect?"
"I am open to negotiations on the possibility," I replied readily. I was trying to make a name for myself here in the capital, after all. "Your pay for today's engagement was fair; it sounds as if this new fete might be somewhat more involved."
The wife gave her husband a sidelong glance. He shifted somewhat uncomfortably. "I ... would not be able to pay you what standards in the city might ascribe as the going rate for talented bards," he admitted. "My money is made in trade with foreign ports, and my biggest shipment of the year is as yet delayed. I have little money currently, and I dare not show it."
"Then what you paid me today was very generous," I mused, smiling. "You need not worry about my discretion, good sir."
"Well, thank you for that," he sighed, relieved. "But how, then, would I compensate you?"
I walked over to his wife and gently drew a finger along a delicate silver chain on her neck. I lifted it with a finger, and from between her breasts emerged a small, elongated prism of dull glass, in silver fittings.
"A pretty bauble, my lady," I said.
"What, this old thing?" she replied, almost making a wry face. "It's been in my family for generations; I wear it if I think any of my family members are nearby. It's an heirloom, but otherwise a useless bauble."
"Perhaps," I replied, turning it my fingers. "But it sings to me, as if it has stories to tell. Stories I could turn into songs."
I looked at the two of them. "I have a sentiment for old and useless baubles. I will make a deal with you, my lord. If you will give me your wife's pendant, I will wait on proper payment until your shipments arrive and your transactions are completed. At that time, you pay me the going rate for a bard hosting a fete. Until then, I will entertain at your wife's fete and make sure people never forget it."
He was about to say something when his wife interjected, clasping my hands eagerly.
"Done!" she said, and I could feel the prism sliding into my palm.
***
I walked into the small, dusty shop, a small bell ringing overhead as I entered. It was dark, and I seemed to be the only person present. I looked around, seeing rows of shelves on which sat endless numbers of small, exotic and usually dusty, rusty items. A small candle guttered behind the long counter that dominated the back of the shop.
A heard a wheezing grunt, and then a bulbous, bald head appeared behind the counter. The grey, plaited beard that dominated the lower half of the face was still threaded through with red. Brown eyes peered at me from behind thick spectacles.
"What can I do for you, young lady?" rumbled the proprietor in an aged, but not unkindly tone. Looking at him, I smiled and now understood the reason for the establishment's name:
The Battered Dwarf
.
"I wish to have you look at an item for me, Master Dwarf," I began, stepping forward. "I will pay you for an honest assessment of a trinket that is now in my possession."
"Only too happy to help," he huffed as he pulled himself into an elevated chair, so that he was sitting above the counter. I sat in a chair on the other side, meant for guests, and drew my newest acquisition from a pocket in my doublet. "Allow me to see it, my dear..."
I set the prism on the counter and pushed it to him. He stared at it for a moment before muttering and reaching below the counter to rummage around. He retrieved a large, heavy brass oculus that he fitted over his right eye, securing it with leather straps around his head. He picked up the crystal and examined it, while I watched him intently.
He stared at it for an inordinate length of time.
"I think we both know that it's a thyno-ar crystal," I said quietly but with certainty in my voice. "I can see by the way your pupil contracted as you observed it that you knew what it was too."
He slowly looked back up at me, and there was an air of challenge in his voice. "So certain, young lady?"
I smiled and held out my hand. He slowly put the prism into my palm. I clasped my fingers around it and rolled it slowly back and forth, whispering closely. I could feel my heart strum slowly in my chest, and the rhythm of my breathing.
When I held the prism up again, between my thumb and forefinger, it was glittering brightly, as if lit by a fire within. He looked at me in wonder.
"It is indeed a thyno-ar crystal, and not a bad one," I said, smiling. "I daresay a spellsinger could make something beautiful out of this, say... enchanted strings for a young bard's aeolian harp?"
"I must ask, where did you get it?" he queried, still looking at the crystal, now illuminating the back half of his shop with its radiance.
"It was given to me, and in return, I am hosting the gala being thrown by Lady Orrel."
"Ah, the Orrels," he grunted. "Ambitious social climbers, those ones. Decent merchants, though. Am I right in assuming that they did not know what it was?"
"It has been in the lady's family for generations, she told me," I said, shrugging. "So its true nature has gone untold for some time. I intend to make it worth their while."
He cracked a grin. "Still, a shrewd bargain on your part. Might I ask your name, my lady?"
"Amberley," I replied, nodding my head by way of an introductory bow. "Amberley Bloodstar."
