This was a whole different story entirely. He was a difficult man to read -- his face seemed dark, perhaps moody, but his speech, while difficult sometimes to understand (and I cannot place the accent for the life of me) showed that he was a learned man, at least in courtesy and manners. Under all of that, there seemed to be a dangerous desperation hiding there, and occasionally when I looked at him, or when we were deciding what needed to be done next, one could wonder if he'd ask your opinion, give it to you, or kill you where you stand. His dress was odd, as well as the devices that hung from his belt. I can only guess that they are weapons of some type -- much more than just for clubbing one over the head.
Blaise was the hardest. There was an odd mix of joy and sadness in him, as if they were fighting for control of him. When pressed for answers, he was cryptic, only offering to guide us along until we got to the place we were destined to be. In fact, Blaise suggested in was fated that we all meet in that place. None of us could come up with a compelling argument for dismissing this, and even if we did, we didn't seem to have any way of getting back to where we had started. With these (lack of) choices, the four of us pushed onward.
The next morning, Blaise was gone. There was no evidence he'd even been in our camp. This left the three of us overlooking a great road. Blaise's words - that the one direction was where we needed to go, and the other led to our certain deaths -- pounded in our heads. We chose the former option.
I talked with Fletcher and Shen on the way in. Shen was of the opinion that he and Fletcher were on a great search of some type, while Fletcher had a more pedestrian view of things -- he was looking for a Salome, who had done him a wrong. I had no doubts that he meant to kill this person. Shen seemed to have attached himself to Fletcher, and I had trouble deciding how Fletcher may have felt about that. I didn't know if he felt any kinship to Shen, or if he thought him to be like a loyal dog, following him wherever he'd go.
*****
We ended up in a town full of marvelous sights. Fletcher indicated that some of these were devices or artifices that had been fashioned by men. I'd seen similar effects created through the use of magic. Shen was quiet, but his eyes were wide. We'd stopped in a pub for some food, but alas, we had no currency to pay. I offered my services as a man of story and song, but apparently the citizens of this town were more enthralled with the images flashing from a magical box. Fletcher asked if there was some menial tasks we could do to obtain some money for food, and the innkeep pointed us down the road.
The task: clean out a bar for a local "doctor." Fletcher began rolling up his sleeves when I put a hand on his shoulder.
"Let me see if I can hurry this along."
Fletcher gave me a look as if he was just barely tolerating this. Shen seemed curious, especially when I pulled my mandolin from within my cloak. I cracked my knuckles and began to play. The desired effect -- summoning air and water elementals to clean the barn for us -- was actually a very simple application of bardic magics. Summons through music -- charms for people or animals -- are the first techniques taught by the Harpers. Pushing that to summon and direct more mystical creatures, such as the elemental types, or the gryphon which transported me days earlier, was an extension of that song.
The winds whirled, picking up the straw and hay, piling it into one corner. The nearby well trembled, and the water began seeping over the edge, flowing into the barn, flushing out each corner and crevice. The farm animals could feel the power and magic in the song, and skittered about nervously. When all was done, the song faded out, and a job of an afternoon took all of ten minutes. Shen came up to me, wide-eyed. "In my world, one who can control the spirits is one of great power," he whispered.
I smiled. "Let's just say the spirits and I have an understanding."
*****
We ate our duly worked-for lunches and listened to the stories of several others who had joined us. It had seemed that one of them, a tough yet attractive brunette, was having issues with a demon, and the others -- another demon hunter, a pretty blonde, and a bookish fellow who was the brother of the brunette -- were going to help in finishing said demon off once and for all. Fletcher, Shen and I had a spirited conversation about whether it was Blaise's plan for all of us to meet -- I thought Blaise was looking towards something more earth-shattering than just this -- but we offered to assist. And to my great surprise, they accepted.
Over the next few days, I learned about our new friends. The brunette, Cecily, was a proven demon hunter and taught us about the demon we were going after. The blonde, Stark, was a healer of animals. I discussed my occupation with her, and she seemed to think that there still was a place in this world filled with what she called "technology."
I sat at the dinner table one evening when I heard a throat clearing behind me. The brother, Harrison, approached and took a seat across from me. His ears had pricked up the other day when Shen had mentioned Blaise's name and he wanted to to know more about the man. I told him as much as I knew (which was to say not much) and then asked why he wanted to know. Turns out that Blaise also happens to be his Uncle -- and after a pause I told him I knew how he felt. While the chances of being able to find Blaise again are small, I offered him a spot in my party should he want to travel with us later on, should the place we're headed have Blaise or Harrison's mother there.
*****
I watched Cecily playing a fiddle after that. She was blissfully unaware of the things Harrison and I discussed, and I figured it was not my place to tell her his concerns, so our discussion stayed friendly. She hadn't noticed that I had pocketed the snow-globe. Probably for the best. She struck me as the kind who'd want to run her sword through the demon's heart -- the idea I had, however, would leave no physical remains. I headed upstairs, humming the first few chords of a new song...
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