Rucejk La’Dwa ab Jujnis, 2997
“Thank you for letting me travel with your group, Rueben,” I told my once boss.
“Aye, it was a great pleasure. Your music will be missed. ‘Twas good moral for everyone, all things considered,” he said, paying me fifteen silver pieces. I kept my smile on my face though a flashback of the bandits crossed my mind. I then pulled my hood down over my head and with my lyre clutched in hand, headed into the market of Asura. With money for a few days at an Inn, plus whatever I could make while performing my music, I was confident I’d be able to find another caravan in that time frame.
The capital city was bustling with folk and soon I came to the Drunken Lion. It would have to suffice considering I needed to make what little I had stretch. There was a good amount of folk moving in and out as it was the lunch hour. I walked on in and intuitively spotted the fliers. Actually it was rather impossible to not notice. Immediately upon entering, about ten feet from the entrance was the board, that folk could tack up pretty much whatever they wanted, and it was cluttered with advertisements. It was hard to tell if the Innkeeper was just lazy and didn’t bother to dispose of the expired fliers or if it was a particularly busy week.
I sifted through the papers, looking for keywords that would indicate a caravan being put together. As I did that, one flier caught my eye. I wish I hadn’t taken a moment to look at the poorly scribbled note. Some guy was in need of help and asked any and all who were interested to meet him at night by the stables. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the thought of going. It seemed too shady.
Promptly I began to peruse the other fliers, but I didn’t get very far into my search when I felt a firm hand rest on my shoulder. I whipped my head to look at the masked face of an acquaintance. Automatically I put a smile on my face to hide the fact my stomach was knotting and my heart was racing. My hand clutch the lyre more firmly and my legs yearned to move away. Let alone my mind loudly wondering why he was there! I had thought I would never see the humanoid again after our travels with Rueben.
With my shoulder firmly in my fellow caravaner’s grasp, he pointed back to the scribbled note I had dismissed. I looked to him and watched the childlike face bob up and down.
“Me?” I questioned. He then gestured between the two of us. “We?” I corrected. Again the childlike face bobbed. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream at the guy and ask him why the hell would I run off into the dark with him to meet some random guy? I, a woman, was traveling alone and had more than enough common sense to know a bad situation when I saw one. Rape and death were the likely outcomes if I went with.
Yet on that same note... if I refused the masked figure, would he unleash the fury I saw him unveil with the bandits?
I groaned internally as I realized the awful situation I was in. Perhaps I was being too nice and trusting, but I nodded in agreement.
My fingers nervously reached out and began plucking at my lyre. I needed to play and calm my nerves. And that is what I did once I got the Innkeepers approval to perform for coin.
With my back to the far wall, sitting on a chair, a single cup near my feet, I began to let my fingers get lost in the strings. Soon I forgot about my strange companion, the folk that stared in my direction, and the note that ultimately could be my doom.
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