Tales & Treasure Chapter 9

Vatis - Stories By The Fire

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They gathered around a worn wooden table; Vatis sat with his back to the door while Taldor buttered bread in the seat across from him. Vidmar sat next to the boy, chewing his thumbnail, and Hobb drifted from the table to the stone hearth. 

Vatis tried to focus, but his thoughts returned to the previous night's attack. He tried to play a simple traveler earlier in the square. He called the character Jon. A plain name for an ordinary traveler, he thought. He wandered through the square as Jon, trying to talk to merchants and avoiding the carts that looked like Zidane’s. I can’t believe I was so naive. They almost killed me.  A loud pop in the fire snapped Vatis out of his reverie. 

“What did you do to get under Acer’s skin?” Hobb asked, returning to the table. 

Vidmar shifted in his chair. “Well, see, that’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me either,” Taldor said excitedly. 

Vidmar ran his finger around the rim of a mug. “I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning usually works best,” Vatis said, trying to sort through the wave of emotions in his body. A story will distract me, and I’ll learn more about Vidmar too. If his brain and gut weren’t reenacting the fight in the woods, Vatis would have been ecstatic. But, instead, he settled for interested and pulled out his writing supplies.

“What’s that for?” Vidmar said, glaring at Vatis. 

“Notes,” Vatis said. 

Vidmar huffed but didn’t object, so Vatis readied his quill for a story. 

“Why are you taking notes?” Taldor asked. 

“I’m collecting Vidmar’s story. He’s quite interesting,” Vatis said, testing the quill on his hand. 

The answer seemed to satisfy the boy, but Hobb looked at Vatis with uncomfortable scrutiny. Vatis avoided the old man’s gaze by examining his surroundings: wood burnt orange in the fireplace. A steady thump bounced off the wood floor as the dog overaggressively scratched one ear. The smell of sweat, dirt, and pine hung in the small room like a fog. 

Vatis watched Vidmar take a long drink of a strong juniper spirit, the only alcohol Hobb had. The farmer said it was typically used to sterilize wounds. Vidmar’s eyes glistened as he swallowed loudly. “I know I’m not up to your story-telling standards, but I will try my best. Damn, this stuff is strong,” Vidmar said, coughing. “So, I was born in a burrow of Haran. My Pa raised…”

Good information, but unnecessary. Vatis interrupted. “Maybe skip ahead a few years to your involvement with this Acer fellow.”

“You said start at the beginning, but very well, I met Acer in,” Vidmar paused. “Well, how old are you, Taldor?”

“I’m twelve. Why?” The boy looked every bit of twelve. Acne sprouted haphazardly up his neck onto his cheeks. Dirt clung to his wavy brown hair, and his voice cracked each time he got excited. 

“Now see, this might cast a poor light on me,” Vidmar started.

“I know about whore houses…’ Taldor said as his voice cracked again while his cheeks developed a bright pink hue. “Ev told me about them.”

Vidmar laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. I met Acer in a… tavern in Haran. I was playing King, Calvary, and Army and doing well; when Acer approached our table,” he paused and scratched his chin. 

“What’s King, Calvary, and Army?” Taldor asked.

“Don’t interrupt, boy,” Hobb said. He dismissed the boy and glared at Vatis while he took notes. 

Vidmar smirked; he seemed more relaxed than usual. “I suppose you will need a little more of a backstory,” Vidmar said. “See, I’ve never been good at much except scouting, and since I’m not in the army, there aren’t many ways to use my skills. So, I’d pick up odd jobs posted in town halls and bounty boards. I got pretty good at tracking down lost or stolen objects. Around Haran, I became known as a treasure hunter, though I never found anything truly valuable.” Vidmar’s hands disappear beneath the table. He’s playing with that stone again. 

Vidmar continued. “Anyway, Acer approached our table. He said, ‘Are you Vidmar?’ I said, ‘Who’s asking?’ That back and forth went on for longer than it should have, but I am cautious with new customers, especially customers who approach me on a hot streak. Eventually, he got around to asking, ‘My dagger. Bandits stole it on my way to Haran. They stole my coin purse and just about everything else, but the dagger is the only irreplaceable thing. Can you find it? It’s a family heirloom.’ I sat there silently for a few moments. It’s always best to keep new customers on their toes. Finally, I said, ‘I can find it, but my fees double when bandits are involved.’ He said he would be happy to pay double if I brought back the dagger. He went on to describe this knife as a young boy describes his first love, in every single detail.”

Vidmar’s attempt at a story was interrupted as a log crashed onto the loose coals, sending Hobb to the hearth to tend the fire. The floor creaked as Hobb stood up. A black iron rod hung on a hook near the fireplace. He picked it up and adjusted the kindling, groaning as one particularly stubborn log refused to stay in place. Vatis chewed on a stringy piece of peppery meat. He washed it down with a swig of the juniper spirits, coughing as it burned his already sore throat.

Vidmar strummed his fingers on the table rhythmically. “Ready?”

“Of course,” Vatis wheezed as if he had just evaded the city watch on a long, tumultuous chase. 

“Right,” Vidmar began. “In my line of work, I became familiar with most of the bandit camps near Haran; if you kill a few of them, they start to take you seriously.”

Everyone around the table nodded. Vatis closed his eyes momentarily; his recent experience had given him unwelcome insight into Vidmar’s ability with bandits. 

Vidmar sat up. “Anyway, I had a good idea as to who stole his dagger. All I had to do was a little negotiating, issue a few threats, pass a few Kan into the right pockets, and I had it. It was one of my easier finds. I contacted Acer. Keep in mind that I had all intentions of returning the dagger. I mean, one hundred Kan is nothing to scoff at, but this dagger, it had to be worth double that, at least.”

Vidmar reached behind his back like he was scratching an itch. “But honestly, part of me wanted to keep it,” he said as he pulled a forearm’s length dagger out of a hidden sleeve in his jacket. He stabbed the knife into the table, a golden-hilted, intricately carved, well-polished black blade set with a large red stone. Plates and glasses rattled; Hobb rose to his feet. 

“What are you doing?” Hobb yelled.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Vidmar said, quickly pulling the dagger out of the table and examining the damage with his thumb. “I got a little carried away.” Vidmar licked his thumb like his saliva was somehow going to mend the gap in the wood. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve seen your knife work. One of your spinning tricks would have had the same effect with less damage,” Vatis said. 

Hobb grumbled something under his breath. The silence grew uncomfortable as Vidmar rubbed at the table's narrow gash. Vatis chomped on the salted meat and smiled. Taldor stared, wide-eyed, at the dagger absently spinning in Vidmar’s hand. 

“If you drop that onto my floor. I’m going to feed you to the dog,” Hobb said slowly, pulling a well-used knife out of his belt without flair but somehow more dramatically than Vidmar. 

Vidmar slowly laid the dagger on its side. “Again. I’m sorry, Hobb.” Vidmar seemed surprisingly threatened by the old man. Vatis didn’t know if Vidmar was being overly courteous or genuinely scared. There is something odd about Hobb, Vatis thought as he watched the farmer expertly sheathe his blade. 

The corners of Hobb’s lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile. “Don’t make me regret inviting you into my home,” he said flatly without a hint of sarcasm or empathy. 

Let’s stay on the right road. “So, what did you tell Acer?” Vatis said, winking at Taldor. 

Vidmar cleared his throat. Hobb gestured for him to continue. “Right, a week later, we met at The Ashway, one of the more violent inns in Haran. I arrived an hour earlier than we agreed, as I always do, except Acer was already there and drunk. He asked me if I had found the dagger, and I told him I had a few leads, but it didn’t look promising. Then he got angry, really angry, like a bear defending her cubs. I told him to calm down, which might be the worst thing to say to a man with a hot temper. He tried to flip the table, except all the tables at The Ashway are nailed to the floor. His face went as red as an apple. He lunged at me. I, uh, reacted.”

Vatis took notes in his personalized shorthand. He waited for Vidmar to continue. 

“What happened next?” Taldor asked eagerly. 

Vidmar smiled. “Acer is a large man; I wouldn’t have had a chance in a fistfight. In my experience, the only way to catch a big man off guard is to charge him. So, as I bolted toward him, he stepped backward, and I ducked under his arm and slipped behind him. Then, I landed a blow to one of his kidneys and spun to the other side. I stabbed him just above the knee as I spun. He toppled over like a dead tree in a storm and screamed. The Ashway went silent. The first and only time I’ve heard the sea from inside the bar.”

“So that’s why he was walking around with a cane last spring,” Taldor said. “Ev and I thought he was mocking Pa.”

“Who’s Ev?” Vatis asked. That was the second time Taldor had mentioned him.

“Evanor. He’s my brother. He’s in Barna now, but he should be back soon,” the boy said.

“So, it’s just the three of you working the farm?” Vatis asked.

“Yes,” Hobb said. “That’s all we need.” The farmer stared at Vatis. His gaze was powerful, unrelenting; Vatis hated it. He looked away, trying to focus his attention on the chirping crickets outside. Why does he look at me like that? I’ve done nothing wrong. 

Vidmar seemed to pick up on the tension and started his story again, twirling the dagger while he talked. “Right, as I was saying. I bolted out of there. Well, before I ran, I flaunted his dagger in front of him and said, ‘You know I found your dagger, but I think I’m going to keep it. A blade of this quality needs to be in more capable hands.’ He yelled some nonsense at me that I won’t repeat here, and I left town. I’ve been avoiding Haran for six months, but I’m broke, and let’s just say I left some other unfinished business there, so I’m heading back now. If I knew that Acer lived in Vicus, I would have avoided your town and slept in the woods.”

“You don’t want to sleep in these woods,” Hobb said. 

“Why?” Vidmar asked as if they had not escaped bandits just last night. Chills ran down Vatis’s spine.

“You don’t want to sleep in these woods, and that’s all I’m going to say about that,” Hobb said, crossing his arms. 

Vatis glanced at Vidmar with narrow eyes. “I’ll take you at your word, Hobb,” Vidmar said. “But that’s why Acer hates me. I mean, he has as much of a right as any man that I’ve pissed off over the years; I stabbed him and stole his dagger, but damn, he runs remarkably well for someone with a serious leg less than a year ago.”

“He complains about that leg more than Pa complains about the weather,” Taldor laughed. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you stuck the bastard….”

“Language, boy,” Hobb said. He turned to Vidmar. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like. There is a loft in the barn, though it’s not much better than dirt, but it will keep you dry.”

“Thank you, Hobb,” Vidmar said. “Again, sorry about your table.”  

“I nearly forgot. Forget what I said. Go as far north as you can tonight before you make camp,” Hobb said. Vatis’s eyes widened as he looked at Vidmar. His mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but no sound came out. 

“Pa, they think you’re serious,” Taldor said after an unnervingly long time. “He’s joking.”

I’m not sure that he’s joking, Vatis thought. Vidmar laughed or at least played along. “You’d make a damn good card player,” he said. 

“Who says I’m not a damn good card player?”

Another uncomfortable silence followed that retort. Hobb smirked. He stood up and put another log on the fire. “I’ll let you stay, but it will cost you. Vatis? Am I saying that right?” 

Vatis nodded. His name sounded different when Hobb said it, causing Vatis to shutter. 

“Vidmar said you’re a traveling bard,” Hobb emphasized the word bard like he was interrogating him. “Do you have a better tale than Vidmar? Some quality entertainment will go a long way towards forgiving the damage he caused to my property.”

Vatis was not in the mood to tell a story. He had nothing rehearsed, and his mind still couldn’t focus. A second later, Vidmar kicked him under the table. “Will you help me out? Or should we risk the woods?”

I’d rather be in a hot bath in a tavern.

Hobb’s scowl cut through the room like a knife. Vatis looked backward out the window. To his left, he could see a tall watchtower in the moonlight; he felt drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Focus. “What would you like to hear?” he finally said after pinching the bridge of his nose and mustering as much energy as he could for a performance. 

“Do you know the story about Dabin and the draugr?” Taldor asked, scooting to the edge of his chair.

“One of my more popular requests. Dabin is perhaps the greatest hero Emre has ever had,” Vatis said. Hobb snorted like he disagreed, but he didn’t voice his opinion. Vatis smirked. “Aye, if that’s what you would like to hear, I would be more than happy to tell his tale or the part of his tale that earned him fame.” Vatis closed his eyes, trying to get in character. 

“You’ve heard that story dozens of times, boy,” Hobb said.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never heard it from a real bard,” Taldor said. 

“I haven’t heard the story of Dabin since I was a boy,” Vidmar added. 

“I tell true stories,” Vatis said seriously. “I do not embellish the details. I can’t promise anything you haven’t heard before.” 

“Wait. You mean Dabin was real? I thought he was just some made-up hero like Mia the Maiden,” Taldor asked, almost jumping out of his chair.

“Yes, an age ago, when heroes were,” Vatis paused. “When heroes were … easier to find.” He stumbled over the last words like a cat flailing in the air before it inevitably lands on its feet. “When heroes were more than fictional. Mia was real too.” Vatis took a deep breath, rolled his head around his shoulders, and reentered as Vatis-of-the-Road.

“Don’t be putting falsehoods in his head, Vatis,” Hobb said sharply but looked away at the fire.

“I would never,” Vatis said; his voice felt strong, ready for a performance. “There are many fictional stories in Emre. Stories of magic, gods living among men, and monsters, but many of the stories we think are false are true. My predecessors loved straddling the line between truth and fiction, but I think true stories have a more meaningful impact.” 

Taldor sat silently for a moment before he asked another question. “How do you know what’s true and what’s false?”

Vatis grinned, letting his expression fade into resolute determination as his gaze shifted from Taldor to Hobb. “A secret of the trade.” Smiling again, he looked back at Taldor.

“That means he’s full of shit,” Vidmar laughed. 

Taldor smirked but didn’t seem to share Vidmar’s skepticism. 

“Call me a coward, call me weak, but never call me a liar. I swear by the gods that the stories I tell are accurate down to the clothing,” Vatis said. The threat caught the others off guard; even the dog popped its head off the floor. His reactionary defense almost forced him to break his character.

“Sorry, Vatis,” Vidmar said. “I meant no offense.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Taldor added. Hobb remained silent, examining Vatis like a blacksmith inspecting a newly forged sword. 

Vatis relaxed his shoulders. “All is forgiven. Shall I get started?” Taldor and Vidmar nodded eagerly in unison. 

Hobb nodded once; his eyes narrowed. Vatis quickly averted his gaze and focused on the story. 

“Right, Dabin and the Draugr,” Vatis started. “Since we are familiar with our hero, I will skip over some of his backstory. An age ago, Dabin, a celebrated military general, was perhaps the greatest fighter in Emre. When the war ended, he roamed the land on the King’s orders bringing peace to the dysfunctional towns east of Numeria. Word reached him that livestock, farmers, and even a few children had gone missing in a small, forgotten town. After speaking to a few locals, he headed toward the mysterious area. Dusk approached.”

Vidmar, Taldor, and Hobb proved to be a great audience. They listened intently as Vatis performed, even gasping with surprise when the draugr nearly killed Dabin. Riding the waves of euphoria, he told another story of Dabin. His audience remained engaged. He thought about telling a third, but Hobb began to nod off towards the end. Vatis took a deep breath as he finished the second story. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest.”

 Hobb snapped out of a light sleep, shaking himself awake. “The barn is on the other side of the well.” 

 Vatis looked at Vidmar. “Ready?”

Vidmar slapped Taldor on the back gently. “Thank you, Hobb. See you in the morning.” 

 Taldor sat silently. Vatis and Vidmar gathered their belongings, walking out the door towards the barn. As if coming out of a trance, Taldor jumped up. “Vatis,” he said.

 “Yes, Taldor.”

“I just wanted to say thank you.” The boy looked slightly embarrassed as he circled his foot on the floor

Vatis smiled. “You’re welcome, Taldor.”