Mazadar Tuid's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Mazadar Tuid played the same three chords twice because he was watching the old man by the door. The grizzled regular had nursed one cup of ale for two hours. He had told Mazadar, an hour ago, that he had seen her. The woman. Months back, on a road he would name once the bar tab was paid. The tab was more coin than Mazadar had earned in a season at the inn. The man was leaving at dawn. Mazadar kept the grey lute strapped to his knee and tried to finish the verse he had been chasing since she walked out. She moved through rooms like she was already gone. Nothing came after that line. It had not come in fourteen letters. It would not come tonight. A half-elf sat down across from him between songs. Lean, shaved head, short grey beard. He set a mug down and did not drink from it. "I heard what the old man wants," he said. "I can cover it. Tomorrow. Not tonight." Mazadar looked at the door. The old man was already pulling his coat on. "He leaves at dawn." "Then you keep him here until we get back." The half-elf pushed a coin across the table. Enough for a room and a bottle. "Buy him the bottle. Tell him you'll have the rest by nightfall tomorrow. My name is Thessameth Weth. There's a goblin lair east of here. They've been hitting caravans on the road for years. Bounty on the nest, and whatever's inside it. Enough to clear the tab twice." "I play lute," Mazadar said. "You can carry a lantern. You can watch a door. That's all I need." Thessameth did not blink. "After this you owe me one. Not coin. A favor, when I ask." Mazadar thought about the road the old man would name. He thought about the fourteenth letter, folded in his tunic, the first one he had written without crossing anything out. He nodded once. Thessameth stood. "Dawn. Back door." Mazadar carried the coin to the old man and set the bottle in front of him. He said he would have the rest by dark tomorrow. The old man studied him, then uncorked the bottle and poured. "One more night," he said. "Then I go, paid or not." Mazadar unstrapped the grey lute and laid it in its case. He had never held a blade for pay. He had agreed to it in the time it took to slide a coin across a table, and he did not know yet what favor he had sold to get the name of a road.