The_Wanderer wrote:Feargus nods at Gardo’s humility but he has other plans. He heads inside with the plan to perform his rhythm speak late into the night, singing songs both old and new for the gathered travelers.
Feargus spends the night performing. At first no one seems to pay him much mind -- the tables are each in their own little bubbles -- but slowly a hush falls over the room as Feargus continues. He sings of the exploits of his companions: the slaying of the Nightstalker, the deaths of Nald and Goshawk, the fight against the giant turtle, the rout of the brigands. He sings the old songs as well, those heard throughout the Scarlet Principality: the hard first Nadir of the the Thirteenth Cycle, when Rhea's Ford was but a village, and the first Scarlet Prince held off a warhorde of orcs and goblins almost single-handedly, the Ride to Kesig, an almost mythical land to the south and the Knights who rode off in search of the way there, only to die, one by one, along the way, and the Fall of Zizdul, once the shining city at the edge of the Silver Sea, at the Mouth of the Sarn, slowly collapsing over centuries of decadence and now home to all manner of Chaos-born creatures.
When Feargus stops singing, his throat raw and dry, the hush continues for what seems to be minutes, followed by a roar of applause. Drinks are offered to him and his companions; he is offered employment in this inn and several others, scattered throughout the land. A rosy-faced lad rushes up to him, shyness and excitement fighting a visible battle across his face. "That was amazing!" he says. Feargus notes that he is clutching a zither in one hand, "truly amazing! I've never heard the like before!" His face flushes even redder and he works his toe into the ground. "My name's Mardan Cy," he continues, in a rush, "wouldyoubeinterestedinhavinganapprentice? I'm cleaning the stables now, but my ma taught me how to wield a blade, and I could care for your mount, fix your meals, clean your armor . . ."
Feargus is also approached by a woman in robes of red and brown, her hair tied up in a bun, with prim gold and silver earrings winking at him. "I don't know what you are currently engaged in," she says, "but if half of those songs are true the organization I work with might be interested in . . . working with you. Name's Cynza Dalin. I'm a representative of the Northern Mercantile Exchange, based in Alice. We're focused on exploring and developing new sources of revenue streams from the areas to the north of the Principality, and I'm always interested in meeting people that can help facilitate that."
