I looked down at my reflection in the fountain. The water spilling from the statue caused light ripples on the water’s surface. It distorted the image, making it hard to tell that it was me, but it was. Same brown eyes, same dark shaggy hair, same tired face. Due to my time as a captive, uneven stubble had grown, but it wouldn’t get longer than that. Only Henry was so lucky to be able to grow a beard. Pop as well, though his was uneven like mine.

There was only one solution to our money problem, but I knew Bagheera and especially Damian wouldn’t like it. Still, it didn’t hurt to try. “Bagheera, I think the only course of action is for us to get jobs.”

He nodded. “Makes sense, what kind of jobs?”

I faked a cough to hide my shocked reaction, maybe this would be easier than I thought. “Well, I’m not sure you know, but I’m a bit of a musician. Gave me some good coinage while I was on my own. Plus, it tends to endear you to the populace. Would make it easier to blend in and avoid suspicion.”

Bagheera thought about it for a bit before clawing at the ground some more. “And what would I do?”

“You can spy on the blacksmith while I work my magic in the inn. That way everybody would be in the inn listening to me, taking any eyes off you.”

Before I finished speaking, Bagheera was already standing up. He brushed the dirt out of his fur with a wide grin on his face. “I like it. You act as bait while I do all the easy work. And here I thought I was going to have to smell you all day while we were here.”

I tried to hide my hurt. “Should we tell the others?” Damian would most likely be against my plan, but I was sure that Patches and Smokey would be okay with it and overrule him. If Bagheera was okay with it, the others would agree.

He made a dismissive gesture. “No need, we planned to set you loose on the townsfolk with your singing anyway. It’s the reason we brought such a small group.”

“Excuse me? When were you going to tell me that?”

“Never. You’re the leader, you got to come up with the plans. Otherwise, what’s the point of you being the leader.”

While that made sense, in a twisted sort of way, I still couldn’t believe the audacity of these harska. How did Gunner deal with them long enough to become their king?

“So what did you guys plan?” I asked.

Bagheera scratched his chin and yawned. “Well, we were thinking that you would be a distraction in town. Whether that was performing, or making a fool of yourself, didn’t matter. Then the rest of us would spy on the blacksmith and any merchants coming and going. One of us would of course stay behind to watch you. Make sure you didn’t escape.”

“Then the plan was for you to stay with me?”

“That’s what I gathered from Damian.”

“But I’m the leader, so I get to make the plan.”

“Of course,” replied Bagheera, grinning.

I had a major headache. If they had told me this I would have been fine with it. Instead, they decided to hide behind my back and come up with their own plan. Maybe they would have gone with my plan, but I doubted it. 

Looking around town, I tried to see if I could spot the local inn. If Orten was like any other town, it would be near the town center with people coming and going. It was still early morning, so it was more likely they would be leaving. Behind the fountain was a two-story building leaning heavily to one side. A sign hanging in front of the doorway said, Cliff’s Inn and Tavern.

“Did you bring my mandolin?” I asked Bagheera.

He gave me a confused look. “You’re what?”

Throwing my hands up in frustration, I sat down on the edge of the fountain. “How do you expect me to make any money without my instrument?”

Bagheera shrugged. “I didn’t know you played an instrument. If Gunner didn’t let you have it he probably thought you didn’t need it.”

I cupped some water in my hands and rubbed my face. The cold water helped me wake up fully and regain my composure. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to go into that tavern and ask to perform tonight. You go spy on the blacksmith. I don’t want to see you or any other harska around the tavern while I’m performing. You’ll blow my cover. Hopefully, someone will let me borrow their instrument.”

He glared at me. “How do I know you won’t try and run away?”

“My friends will be killed if I do. I wouldn’t risk their lives on a chance.”

After we finished arguing, I watched Bagheera slink into the shadows. Before I could even blink, he was gone. He might have still been watching me, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t planning on running away, yet. Running away without a plan was stupid, and I was done being stupid. At least, on purpose.

I made my way to the front of the tavern and pulled open the heavy wooden door. The warm air from inside felt like fire on my face. It wasn’t that cold outside, but it was certainly colder than inside. The warmth was accompanied by the smell of pepper and smoky meat, a savory smell that made my mouth water. Even though I was full from breakfast, I still felt my stomach growl.

The inside of the tavern had a couple of tables with benches on either side. At the back was a long bar stacked full of plates, likely from the morning’s breakfast rush. Two young women dashed from table to table, grabbing plates and stacking them on the bar. Behind the bar were stools that were also stacked neatly. I guessed they would have been in front of the bar during peak hours.

Neither woman made any sign that they noticed me as I stepped in. After checking myself for any dirt marks or stains, I threw on a smile and walked to the bar. One of the girls, an elf with brown hair, stopped what she was doing and stepped in front of me. Both of them were wearing green dresses with white aprons wrapped around their waists. The dresses lacked sleeves, but they did have two large pockets on either side. Beth would have loved that.

“Excuse me sir, but Cliff’s is closed until evening. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Her voice was deeper than I expected, but I recovered quickly from my shock.

“Oh, uh, I’m not here to buy anything. I was hoping to talk to the owner of this tavern. I’m a bard by trade, though I can’t say I look much like it right now.”

Her partner, a human with short black hair, feigned wiping down a table with a rag while she listened. They both gave me a quick up-and-down, though I didn’t see the human girl’s reaction. The elf pursed her lips and narrowed her brow. Instead of answering me, she turned around and headed through a door behind the bar.

It was a bit awkward standing there while the other girl tried to clean, so I attempted a conversation. “I’m Norman, Norman Benson. It’s my first time in Orten. Nice place!”

She gave me a fake smile and nodded her head. “Yes, very nice.” Turning her back on me, she moved to another table to wipe it down.

“And your name is?” I asked.

She paused, turning the rag she was using over and over in her hand, before answering, “Laura.”

“Nice to meet you, Laura. Hopefully, we’ll be working together soon.”

Laura, which I doubted was her real name, gave me another fake smile before moving further away. I resigned myself to looking around the room for the best spot to perform. Without a stage to perform on, you could never be too careful with where you place yourself.

Piopus used to always say, ‘It’s not about how good you can play, it’s about how well the people in the back can hear you.’ He tended to play louder for that very reason, though the people closest to him hated it. During his brief stay in Xalir, I often heard people complain about losing their hearing. Still, they would come back every night, so he must have been doing something right.

On the eastern wall, where the building sagged most, was a fireplace. There was one table next to it, but I figured that could be moved to give me more space. I liked performing near a source of light as it made it easier to see me. The heat I could do without. Even with a spot to perform, I wasn’t sure how I was going to do anything without my mandolin. Singing was an option, but I wasn’t looking forward to that.

The elf returned with a tall thin man in tow. He looked tired and unhappy to see me. Heavy bags hung under his eyes, which drooped toward his nose. His gray hair was cut close to the skin.

“You must be Cliff! A pleasure to meet you. My name is-” I started.

“I’m not Cliff, and I don’t care who you are. Why are you harassing my daughter?”

“I wasn’t- I’m a bard. Norman Benson. I was hoping to perform here tonight.”

The man muttered under his breath, “You don’t look like a bard. You look like a vagrant.”

I wasn’t offended by that statement. Since I left Kent’s Crossing I hadn’t found much time to clean and repair my clothing. Still, he didn’t have to say it out loud.

“Maybe I don’t look like one, but I assure you, I am the greatest bard you will ever—”

“You got an instrument? Do you sing? What’s your gimmick?” he asked, folding his arms.

Feigning a cough, I took a second to recover. “Well, that’s the thing, sir. I am a master of the mandolin, but mine is missing. Don’t get me wrong, I can sing or dance, or whatever else you want me to do. Perhaps I can give you a brief taste of what I can provide to your establishment?”

Without hesitation, he shook his head. “No. Laura, throw him out.” The man turned to leave without giving me a second glance.

“Wait!” I yelled, panicking. “I was taught by the great Piopus, surely you’ve heard of him?”

The man paused for a moment. “No. Don’t let him back in, Laura.”

Laura sighed like she had been told to throw out the trash. Before I could get another word in, Laura and the elvish girl grabbed my shoulders and led me outside. It was less ‘throwing him out’ as much as it was gently guiding me outside. I didn’t make a fuss and walked out. The condition of my clothing and lack of any instrument had hurt my pride enough.

Walking along the streets of Orten, I wondered how I was going to explain this to the others. I needed them to trust me if I was ever going to see my family again. This was my only hope. My only useful skill.

Sitting back down on the edge of the fountain, I looked down at my reflection somberly. I thought about Henry, and what he would do in this situation. He was a fighter, always coming up with plans for getting out of trouble. Usually, they involved blaming me for things, but it worked. If I had half the willpower he did, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Funny, I never thought I would want to be like my little brother.

“Nia would find a way,” I muttered to myself. “So could Greenspring. They’d both be better at this than me.”

Standing at the edge of the square was a tall hooded figure. The same figure that had caught me from tripping as I entered Orten. He seemed to sway back and forth like he was trying to maintain his balance. Though he was taller than most of the crowd, I only looked at him for a second before deciding he was an innocent drunkard. Too wrapped up in my misery, I didn’t notice the figure stumble toward me. He took great care in every step he took like it was his last.

Softly, but enunciated, the figure asked, “Excuse me, good sir. Pardon the interruption, but you said Greenspring, right?”