Part 41
Wandering Minstrel
It was almost a week later, and the weather had grown colder and the sky overcast. The brisk northern wind sharply blew down from the mountains upon the hapless village. Icy mist gushed out at every breath, while numb hands of workers found comfort around the small fire of the local tavern.
“Do you think we will get the first snow of the season?” One of the patrons asked.
“Maybe, it is that time of year,” another replied.
However, the next day brought only cold showers of rain. While it began as slow drizzle, by evening heavy swaths of rain battered the old roofs. People crowded into the Tavern, sheltering from the weather. Many stood by the fire trying to keep themselves warm, as they dried their clothes.
The girl was giving a large flask of ale to tall man whose hand shook fiercely when the door flew open and a cloaked figure staggered through the portico. The wind beat savagely at the patrons before the new figure could close the door. All eyes turned to the man as he slowly approached the bar.
“How may I help you, stranger?” the Tavern Keep asked.
“Something to eat and a place to stay,” he said, laying a couple of coins on the counter.
“You’re a little short on coin for both,” the Tavern Keep remarked. “What’s your name, stranger?”
“I’m just a simple piper,” he said withdrawing a silver pipe from under his cloak. “If you do not mind, I may be able to earn my stay.”
“Its not often we have a minstrel pay us an honor,” the Tavern Keep said. “I’ll make something hot for you; feel free to take the stage.”
“A minstrel’s too much,” the stranger deflected, “A humble piper is all I am.”
The Piper rose and headed towards the center of the tavern. Jumping lightly onto one of the emptier of the tables, he raised his silver pipe to his lips. The tune he struck was a lively melody to which he accompanied with a dance. The People around him joined in, clapping their hands and stomping their feet. The smoke in the tavern twirled around the Piper as he danced, spiraling over his head and around the crowd.
The Piper pulled off his hat and threw it at his feet. As the performance continued, the patrons tossed coins into the hat. By the end of his long performance the pile of coin had grown heavy and the Piper leapt down from the table, scooped up his hat, and emptied its contents into his pockets before plopping it onto his head.
“Quite a performance,” the Tavern Keep said to piper as he returned to his seat.
“I try my best,” the Piper said.
“You don’t strike me as a Calt?” the Tavern Keep said, handing the man some hot food. “Where you hail from?”
“I am a piper you know, I have traveled quite a bit, though I stem from the south. A land called Revena. But I’ve never had a place to call home, so I hope you won’t mind me staying out the winter,” the Piper said before thanking the Tavern Keep for the meal.
“You won’t be the only one,” the tavern keep assured. “We often have travelers stay out the winter.”
With that the crowd cheered, and some of the near by patrons patted the newcomer on the back and spoke to him like old friends.
“It’s not fair,” the girl said some days later, while Uncle Ben quietly sat in his chair. “They always keep their distance and give me strange looks, but he’s been here only a few days; he’s their greatest friend.”
“It can not be helped,” Uncle Ben said, setting his cup of tea down. “There is a reason that Trapper said this would never truly be our home. Your Kazan estranges you from them and we can not help that.”
“But why? Sworder’s done nothing against them. He’s like the Pixies or even Grota,” the girl protested.
Uncle Ben looked up as she paced. “The People of Calta are greatly suspicious of the kind of Kazan Grota is,” he observed.
“I don’t like it, it’s not fair,” the girl said storming off before Uncle Ben could stop her.
She stormed through the hallways hardly watching where she was going and ran straight into the piper. He stumbled backwards as the girl fell to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” the Piper said as he leaned down. “I should have watched where I was going.”
The girl took his hand without meeting his gaze. “I should be the one apologizing.”
“Say no more,” the Piper said. “Oh, you dropped something.” The piper leaned down and retrieved her dagger which had fallen to her side. He cocked his head and glanced at it hesitantly before giving it back to her, “A sad world, where one such as yourself needs something like this.”
“A friend gave it to me,” she said, snatching it back. “He wanted to make sure I and some means of defense.”
“You do not like me,” the Piper said.
“What?”
“I do not know what I have done, but I apologize. I meant nothing against you,” he said.
“No, you did nothing wrong,” she said.
“I must have,” the Piper insisted. “I noticed you seem to avoid me often and even now you won’t meet my eyes.”
“No. Leave me alone,” the girl said, before fleeing. Running all the way to the stables, she grabbed hold of the gate but did not go out. It was cold, and her heavy breaths could be seen like large puffs of white smoke. For a moment she stared off into the cold, empty world.
The tavern door flung open and three men stumbled out, their loud voices carrying in the silent night. However, a long howl pierced the night, and the three men made signs to ward off evil.
“The grim has become more active,” one of the men shuttered.
“We can only pray that he leaves the town alone,” the second said.
“What do you mean by the Grim?” the girl called out to the group.
“Pay no mind to it, lassie,” the third man said. “It is too dark and late for such talk.” And with that he hustled the other two off.
The girl watched them off, before exiting the stables and reentered the tavern through the main door. When she entered the now empty dining room, the only person she met was the Tavern Keep.
When she entered, he looked up from cleaning the counter and put down his towel, “Good evening, lassie, I did not notice you’d gone out,” he said.
“I only slipped out for a moment,” the girl said.
“Is something the matter?”
“I heard some men talking outside,” she said. “They spoke of a thing called the Grim.”
At the mention of the Grim, the Tavern Keep’s expression soured and he picked back up his towel and returned to his cleaning. “And what of it?”
“I don’t know what the Grim is,” the girl said. “But it seemed quite important.”
“It concerns you little; it is a matter of the town.”
“Don’t I live here now?” she asked.
There were a few moments of silence, as the Tavern Keep continued cleaning. “The Grim is a plague on this town,” he finally relented. “It has haunted us for longer then anyone can remember. Some say it has existed since the town’s founding.”
“But what is it?” the girl asked.
“The Black Dog, an omen of plague and death, bringer of misfortune. Its howl is a sign of evil,” the Tavern Keep answered.
“Why hasn’t the Marshal done anything about this?” the girl asked.
“Many have tried, but no Marshal has ever been able to drive the beast away,” the Tavern Keep said. Then setting down his rag, he continued, “but that is enough for tonight, I think you should get some rest, and don’t concern yourself with the evils of the night.”
With that the Tavern Keep left her in the now dimly lit dining room, where the girl sat silently lost in thought.
“Every town has its own secrets,” the Piper said from the doorway.
“You were listening?” the girl asked.
“I happened to be passing by. I did not mean to eavesdrop,” the Piper said as he sat on a table across the room. “I also want to apologize for earlier, I made you uncomfortable. I did not mean to.”
There was a moment of silence before the girl responded. “I’m sorry I have been avoiding you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” the Piper repeated. “I tend to get anxious when people distance themselves from me.”
“Why?” the girl asked.
“I hail from a small town in far in west of Revena. It is a wild land out there, untouched by the authority of the Dual Throne, but Kazans are not the source of fear. There, it is people. Strangers and Newcomers are seen as dangerous. Even your neighbors are not free of suspicion.
“When I was growing up we heard many stories of the danger of the strangers. The most terrifying was the Pied Piper, though you have probably never heard it.”
“No. I haven’t,” the girl said.
“The story of the Pied Piper begins long ago, maybe even before my village was founded. In my travels, I’ve learned there are variants of this story throughout Revena. Each village, like so many others, thought it was about them.
“The story is about a young man who arrives at a village which had been plagued by rats for some time. He offers them aid in return for payment and the village agrees in desperation. Then he drew out his silver pipe, much like my own and played it. Instantly the rats threw themselves into a near by river, and with the plague relieved the village paid the man. However, he claimed that they had short changed him and demanded more.
“The village refused to pay him more and the Pied Piper swore he would return. The stories say he returned in the dead of night and played his silver pipe once more. But this time every able bodied child came and followed him out into the countryside never to be seen again.”
“Why are you telling me this?” the girl asked.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I just got lost in thought,” he said. “I heard that story so many times when I was growing up.”
“What was it like, growing up in Revena?” the girl asked.
“That’s a hard question,” he said leaning back. “I have few memories of that time, and fewer of them are fond. I was an orphan; I never knew my mother nor my father. Those around me would never tell me what had happened to my parents. They would always say I was too young. My only family was my grandmother; who used to entertain me with stories, but that time did not last.”
“What happened to her?” the girl asked.
“She passed peacefully in her sleep,” the Piper said without moving. “Around that time I started noticing the stares. When I look back I think they began long before then, but I never noticed until I was lonely.”
“What did you do then?” the girl asked.
“I ran,” he said. “I was not much older than you then; but I could no longer take it. I left with only the cloths on my back and my silver pipe.”
“But why?”
“Because the looks became more then just looks. After that, I traveled around the villages; but as you know the people of Revena do not trust strangers. I had to learn to fit in and not stand out.
“I am jealous of your courage,” he continued. “Your steadfastness to your beliefs despite what others might think. I wish I had that sort of resolve.”
“You’re jealous of me?”
“Yes, I think I am.”
The girl fidgeted in silence for a few moments before standing, “I think it’s gotten quite late; you should think about getting some rest too.”
“Don’t worry about me,” the Piper said, “I find it difficult to sleep most nights, but I’m sure I’ll drift away eventually.”
The girl left the Piper still leaning back on the table and headed back to her room. When she arrived, Uncle Ben was asleep and she fell onto the bed exhausted.
“Are you okay?” Sworder asked.
“Yeah, I’m just exhausted.” She muttered before falling asleep.
“So?” Ranin probed.
“So, What?” Namic asked.
“What do you think about this newcomer?”
“He did not lie, but neither did he tell the truth,” Namic said.
“Well, everyone has their own secrets.”
“Even her,” Namic noted.
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