Leanna's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Leanna lit her torches from the tavern hearth and counted the crowd through the doorway. Twelve drunks, three cooks on break, and the hooded man at the back table who had come every night for a month. She did not know his name. He never clapped, never drank, never spoke. He watched her the way she watched fire, and she had decided, somewhere between the fourth night and the tenth, that she wanted him to stay past dawn. First she had to make him say something. Anything. She stepped onto the boards and began. She had taught herself every step in an empty barn, listening for what the flame wanted, and tonight she asked it for a favor. She threw the torches higher than the low beams allowed. She spun close enough to the hooded man's table that the heat lifted the edge of his hood. He did not flinch. A small orange creature curled at his elbow lifted its head, part cat, part lizard, green eyes wide, and hissed once at the sparks. The man laid a hand on its back without looking away from her. Some of her own people were in the corner again, hoods up, pretending not to know her. She ignored them. She finished on one knee, torches crossed, breath loud in her chest. The drunks cheered. The hooded man set a silver coin on the table and stood to leave. Leanna crossed the room before he reached the door. She planted herself in his path and held out the still-smoking torch between them. "You've watched me thirty nights," she said. "I want a name to dance for." He stopped. The little creature climbed to his shoulder and stared at her. For a long moment she thought he would walk around her. Then he pushed his hood back an inch, enough for her to see a young elf's face, dark green hair, tired eyes. He drew a slim wooden pan flute from inside his cloak and set it on the nearest table. "Relis," he said. "Play three notes on this tomorrow before you begin. I'll know you meant me." He did not smile. He did not explain. He stepped around her and left. She picked up the pan flute. The wood was warm from his body. She had asked for a name and gotten a name, a test, and an instrument she did not know how to play. The elves in the corner were watching her now, openly. One of them stood up fast, knocked over a stool, and hurried out after him. Leanna turned the flute in her hands. Tomorrow she had to make three notes sound like she had meant them, in front of a man who had finally spoken, in front of her own people who suddenly could not look away.