novelty. Now it’s just plain disgusting.
When he finally returns to the common room, Perrilin has yet to make his appearance again. As he takes his seat, Jiron leans forward and indicates two fellows sitting off to one side. “Do they look familiar to you?” he asks.
Looking to where he’s pointing, he sees the two men in question. “Yes, they do,” he replies. They are the two slavers Reilin had talked with just before they left the slaver’s compound. They take notice of the fact that they are being watched and their expressions turn dark.
“Hope they try something,” Jiron says.
“Here?” Reilin asks. “I doubt it.”
“Why would they?” asks James. “They may hate us and would like nothing better to make us slaves, but even men such as them are constrained by society’s laws.”
“I have found that some men don’t care a whole lot about ‘society’s laws’,” Jiron states.
“So have I,” agrees Reilin.
Just then, Perrilin makes his appearance from the kitchen and works his way through to the stage. When he reaches the stage, he picks up his instrument and gazes at the audience. He calls for any requests and the crowd shouts back the names of their favorite pieces.
Settling on one, he takes his seat and begins a long love ballad filled with tragedy, death, but ultimately ends in happiness. When he’s done, he calls for another request and continues to play requests for another hour or so. Despite the lateness of the hour, the common room remains full. None apparently wish to miss out on even one song that Kir might play.
Then there comes a time when he begins strumming his instrument and announces that this will be his last song of the evening. Several people shout out protests, more an imploring for him to continue than anything else. But he shakes his head and says that this must be his last song. Then he launches into a lively one that the crowd must know well for many begin thumping the table. At the chorus, some of the crowd joins in and before the song comes to an end, the whole common room is singing the chorus.
At the end of the song, the common room erupts into a wild display as people rise and give him a thunderous applause. Coins fly to the stage, hardly any landing in the vicinity of the bowl, and Perrilin bows to them twice.
As he begins to pick up the coins, the patrons start to leave. Most make it a point to come to him and exchange words or pat him on the back. It’s clear that he is a favorite around here and that for many, this isn’t the first time they’ve been here to hear him play.
“Can we go now?” asks Jiron. “Whoever your Mr. Mysterious is, he isn’t going to show.”
Standing up, James nods his head. Then with a final look over to where Perrilin is collecting the coins people threw, he follows Jiron outside. The mood of those who had experienced Perrilin’s performance can only be called exhilarated. Outside, they hear many animated conversations between those who have seen him before and others who had not. It doesn’t take Reilin to explain to the other two what’s being said for them to get the gist of it.
Several coaches are already leaving, only a couple others still awaiting their passengers. One coach is especially fine with gold worked in intricate detail. That coach has a compliment of half a dozen guards besides the two men on the driver’s seat.
“Come on,” says Jiron. “Let’s get back to the others before they begin worrying, if they aren’t already.” Striding down the street, it doesn’t take him long before he realizes James is beginning to fall behind him and Reilin. Slowing down, he sees him casting frequent glances back to the tavern. Finally, he comes to a stop when the tavern is just within sight.
“Let’s stop here a moment,” he tells the others. Then he has them move to the side of the street and stand in the lee of a building where the shadows are the thickest.
“Why?” Jiron asks.
Motioning for the other two to come close, he keeps a constant eye on the front door of the Wallowing Swine as he explains. “The person who wrote the note was in the tavern,” he tells them.
“Who?” asks Reilin.
“I didn’t see anyone,” says Jiron.
In a very quiet voice, so quiet the other two can barely hear him, he whispers, “It was Kir.”
“The bard?” asks Reilin.
“Yes,” nods James.
“How do you know?” Jiron asks.
“I just do,” he replies. “He wants us to meet him here in the street.”
“Someday you’ll have to tell me how you found all this out,” Jiron says.
“Shhh!” James tells them for he just saw Perrilin come out of the front door of the tavern. He points over to where a group of people are standing just outside the front door talking to him. The manner in which they are speaking to him leads them to believe they are congratulating him on a superb performance. They watch as he shakes the hands of several of the men then turns and begins walking down the street in their direction. The people with whom he had been talking give him a final farewell then move off in the opposite direction.
As he approaches, Jiron begins to move out in the street when James grabs him and whispers, “Not yet.” He waits until Perrilin is close then begins to softly whistle Home on the Range.
Perrilin must have heard him for he alters his course slightly and moves more directly to where they are. When he gets close, he gives a quick glance up and down the street then moves into the shadows where they are waiting. James begins to speak but Perrilin cuts him off with a shake of his head and signals for them to be quiet by putting his finger against his lips.
They hold still a moment, unsure what is going on. Then a motion down the street draws their attention and they see two men working their way from the direction of the Wallowing Swine. From the way Perrilin is watching them, James can tell there’s something going on here of which he is ignorant.
As the two men walk down the street, they casually look this way and that. All the while they continue to maintain a steady pace. When they finally move past the spot where they’re hiding and disappear down the road, Perrilin says, “They’ve been keeping an eye on me lately.”
“Does this have anything to do with Korgan?” asks James.
Eyes widening at the name, Perrilin asks in return, “What makes you say that?”
“Just the fact that ever since I rescued you from him in Cardri,” he explains, “he’s had it out for me.”
Perrilin looks to him and the other two and nods, “In a way.”
Jiron moves closer and asks, “Why did you have us meet you?”
Perrilin glances to him and recognizes him from the time before. “Jiron right?” he says.
“Yes,” he replies, surprised at how this man knows him.
James sees the confusion on his face and clarifies it for him. “This is Perrilin.”
“Perrilin?” he asks, still not sure if he should believe him. “You don’t look anything like the Perrilin I know.”
“That’s the whole idea,” he says. “This isn’t a good place to talk.” Glancing up and down the street again, he says, “Follow me and then we can discuss a few things.”
Jiron looks at Perrilin, still not convinced but trusts in James’ judgment. When Perrilin steps out into the street, he follows along with James and Reilin right beside him. Perrilin quickly leads them further down the street away from the Wallowing Swine and turns left at the next crossroads.
Down this way the number of lit street lights gradually diminishes until all they have is moonlight overhead. They continue to follow him for several more minutes when he all of a sudden moves off the street and toward the doorway of the building on his right. Going up to the door, he knocks twice hard then one time softly.
From the other side, the sound of a bolt sliding open can be heard. Then the door opens a crack and a man peers through the opening. “Kir!” he exclaims throwing the door open wide.
“I may have been followed,” he says and the man nods. Then as soon as they are inside the small room, the man closes the door and bolts it. Perrilin tells the man, “Have your people take a look around out there just to be sure.”
“Don’t worry,” he says as he eyes James, Jiron and Reilin suspiciously, “it’ll be done.”
“These are friends,” Perrilin tells him.
The man gives them a quick nod then moves into the next room.
“Who is that?” Jiron asks. “And who is following you?”
