Tales & Treasure Chapter 19

Vidmar - In The Crowd

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Vidmar and Kamet sat in the back of the arena as they waited for Vatis to perform.

Kamet gobbled down his third pastry of the tourney, washing it down with a pint of something strong. Vidmar savored a bag of candied nuts like a squirrel preparing for winter. The performers were disappointing. One man from Greenbriar, the only city north of Yimser, told an interesting story, but the crowd heckled him relentlessly. He left the stage in tears, using his forearms as a shield. A jester from Yimser told some of the worst jokes Vidmar had ever heard, but the crowd roared with laughter. Kegs of ale flowed like water. The audience grew rowdier as the evening wore on. 

“How much longer?” Kamet asked. His breath reeked of alcohol.

“Soon, I hope,” Vidmar replied, looking around the audience, examining the groups of people that joked and talked in between the performances. One group in the back of the arena gambled on arm-wrestling contests. A man nearly as big as Kamet hadn’t left the table in four or five rounds; other, smaller men shook their arms out painfully as they watched each match. 

A thin woman with curly red hair slid into the row in front of Vidmar. “Look what I found,” she said, tapping a big-eared man on the shoulder. 

“What?” he yelled. 

“Quiet, James,” she put a finger to his lips and looked around. Vidmar averted his gaze momentarily. “Look.” She held out a coin purse. “We’re rich. Found it this mornin’ on the street. Just layin’ there.” 

The man put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. Vidmar couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I wish I had her luck, he thought, continuing his unbreakable habit of scouting the crowd. He saw Gaffer a few rows ahead. The old shopkeeper waved to him; Vidmar returned the gesture as Gaffer pointed to a thin girl hiding in the shadows. Vidmar mouthed Mia to Gaffer, and he nodded. As he stood to approach the girl, the announcer burst into his introduction. “Our next performer is a bard. A man from nowhere and everywhere, ladies and gentlemen, it is my sincere honor to introduce Vatis-of-the-Road.”

Light applause rolled through the audience as murmured conversations faded into eager silence. I’ll find the girl after Vatis performs, Vidmar thought, sitting back on the bench. Kamet drained his mug, smacked his lips, and whistled piercingly. Vidmar elbowed him in the ribs. “Sorry,” the drunk mercenary whispered. 

“Thuh…” Vatis said. “Thank you. I… I am, Vatis of the Road.” Oh, no, he’s terrified. A group of men in front of Vidmar reached into a sack for moldy fruit. A woman next to Kamet smiled devilishly. Gaffer rubbed his eyes. Vatis took a deep breath.

“Guh, guh, go on,” a man sitting close to Gaffer yelled. Vidmar wanted to throw something at the heckler. If he had all his fingers, a small knife would have been wiggling between the bastard’s shoulder blades already, but he no longer had the fingers or confidence to make such a challenging throw through a crowd. The audience laughed. Light shined off Vatis’s sweaty forehead as he shook himself again and cleared his throat.  

“And I would like to tell you a story, a true story of an unknown hero,” he said smoother. Better. “Our story begins with our hero Davas, in the small town of Aswar,” Vatis said. He actually changed my name. The audience relaxed as Vatis told his story. He looked like a seasoned professional as the story reached its climax.

The audience was silent, waiting for each word like a dog begging for scraps at the supper table. As the tale ended, Vidmar noticed a sudden shift in a few audience members. Figures in dark cloaks approached random members of the crowd. Those few audience members sat straighter as if instructed, then searched for rocks, dirt, fruit, and anything they could throw. 

“This isn’t good,” Vidmar whispered to Kamet.

“It’s fantastic. He makes you look like a real hero,” Kamet said, watching Vatis. Kamet looked like a child discovering dragons for the first time. 

“Kamet,” Vidmar demanded in a rash whisper. He elbowed him again, not playfully but forcefully.  

“Enough,” Kamet said. Flames of anger sparked in his eyes. 

“Listen, you oaf,” Vidmar said, leaning closer. “Something is going on. Do you see those men in cloaks? Don’t point, you fool. Look, they are up to something. Be on your guard.”

Kamet nodded. 

“Yes, Davas had escaped Jegon, but at what cost? He would have to run for the rest of his life. He lost friends. He lost his place in the world, and he lost his love, but he had his life, and maybe he could still try to make Emre a world worth living in,” Vatis finished. He looked regal and proud.

A tall man sitting next to one of the cloaked figures threw a tomato at Vatis. It exploded on the bard’s cheek. The rest of the crowd joined in happily; dozens of projectiles shot onto the stage.

“What a load of shit,” another man sitting near a cloaked figure screamed. He threw a fist-sized stone; luckily, he missed. 

“No one escapes Jegon,” a man behind Vidmar yelled. No, this isn’t right, Vidmar thought. He watched the cloaked figures slink into the shadows. What did they say? He stood to chase after them, but the tip of a blade poked into his back. 

“Where are you going, Vidmar?” a familiar shrill voice uttered. 

Vidmar turned and saw the brim of a ridiculous purple hat before a rock struck his temple, and he collapsed into darkness.