Page 56 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

“Nonsense, grandmother, you have the looks to chase him now if you’d like.”

She cackled. “A smooth one, you are. Just like him.”

Fenric did try. A bit of flattery went a long way when asking questions. “I need his help, frankly. I need a bard.”

“Oh, well, he’s a very fine one. He’s performed out here a few times where the water fountain used to be. Just busking, he said—damn shame that buffoon smashed such a pretty fountain all to bits. Yesterday he stopped by to thank me again for a bottle he’d bought, said he’d need it for the journey.”

Journey, eh? Well, that was interesting and something Fenric needed to ask about. “Do you know where I can find him?”

She looked doubtfully toward the square where the fountain had been. “Past few days, he’s played right there. But I’ve not seen him all morning. He may have earned enough coin to buy passage.”

“Ship’s passage?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say much, just mentioned he had to get somewhere urgently. I don’t know which route he’d take.”

Dammit, that wasn’t helpful. Had he already left, then?

“I saw him coming from the direction of the waterfront most days,” she tacked on, pointing. “Maybe one of the inns there can tell you.”

“I appreciate it. I’ll try there next. Truly, you’re the first person to even give me a direction. Let me buy a bottle.” He’d spent a good amount of time picking pockets between asking people questions and had gotten himself a tidy sum—enough to pay back his companions and hold him over for a few days. He could afford to buy one of the grandmother’s bottles.

His eyes skimmed over the wide array of bottles lining the shelves of her cart. There were all shapes, sizes, and materials. Most were pottery, but there were a good number of leather pouches, gourds, and even some lovely bamboo ones with leather straps. Each one had a pleasant design carved into or painted on the sides.

“Oh, well, I won’t turn that down.”

Fenric chose the biggest bottle she had, then on second thought, picked out another one. Maxie didn’t have a bottle of his own right now and no one had realized the lack until they’d traveled to Lord Mire’s. The bottle would be a good investment for his new friend.

She gave him a cord to tie them to his belt, which he thanked her for, then he headed in the direction she had pointed him to. Fenric had some pep in his step as he walked, hoping Lirion was still there and he wouldn’t be forced to chase after the man. It wasn’t that Fenric had his heart set on him in particular, but he’d prefer to work with someone he already knew, and he suspected Lirion was a gifted bard. The way he could just waltz out of a jail cell spoke to his skill level.

The day was threatening rain. He could feel the storm clouds gathering, a common thing when on the coastline. Storms swept through regularly and disappeared just as quickly. Still, he didn’t like the feel of this one; the humidity was thick and cloying, making his clothes stick to his skin in a tacky way, and the storm promised to rain buckets once it arrived.

Better find Lirion before that broke out. Otherwise, Fenric would call off the hunt for the day and try again tomorrow.

He spotted a decent-looking inn sitting right on the waterfront, with only a street and wooden docks to separate it from the water. Ironically enough, it wasn’t all that far from the place he and his friends were renting. A man sat on the porch, peg leg stretched out on one chair, a collection of tankards on a small round table next to him. Day drinking, eh? Well, Fenric wasn’t one to judge.

He paused next to the man with the scraggly brown beard and matching hair as wild as if no brush had ever attempted to tame it. “Hello, sir.”

The man blinked into his cup, then lifted his head. About six beers delayed his reactions before he cottoned on to Fenric addressing him. “Hello yourself.”

“I’ll buy you a round if you can answer a question.”

“My favorite game,” the man declared with a gap-toothed smile. He tried to sit up but only ended up swaying back to where he had been.

“A man with a beautiful face and light pink hair, bard by the name of Lirion? Do you know where he is?”

“Surely do. He’s inside. Gave us a performance last night.”

A relieved thrill swept through Fenric. Fucking finally. He pulled out enough coins to buy two rounds and dropped them into the man’s hands. “You, sir, are a godsend. Thank you.”

He accepted the coins, but his eyes were sharp despite him seeming so intoxicated. “My bard friend inside isn’t in trouble, I hope.”

“No. I’m in trouble, and I need his help.”

“Ah, well, then good luck to you.”

“Thanks.” Fenric stepped past him and inside, intent on finding Lirion before the man could disappear again.

Although he hoped and prayed Lirion’s emergency, whatever it was, could be used as a bargaining chip. Fenric didn’t want to stop the man from whatever it was he needed to do, he was just desperate to have Lirion’s magical help.