She continued to block Tara’s egress from the booth. “Let him play, then we’ll know for sure.”
“I do know,” Tara said. Her voice seethed. “I love him, how could he just leave me like that?” Tara struggled to push Sheillene out of the way.
“Wait.” Sheillene’s voice was stern and even. She grabbed Tara by the arms. “Thomas Boncanta was the greatest bard ever to travel the lands. We don’t even know this boy’s name.”
“My name is Thomas Miller.” The small man with the guitar announced, sitting in the chair on the table. “This is my friend Marc.” Marc stood beside the table.
“That’s my Thomas; he’s so dead if he doesn’t have a good explanation for disappearing on me.” Tara tried started to climb onto the table, but Sheillene held her back.
“Let him sing,” she said. “No one I’ve ever seen could enthrall an audience like Thomas. In his performance we will know him if he’s Thomas Boncanta. He said his name is Thomas Miller and you and I both know that Thomas Boncanta cannot speak untruth.”
“But Thomas…” Tara started, but was cut off when Thomas started to sing. His first song was a silly romantic romp. Pantros found the bard far more interesting than any other performer he’d seen at the Hedgehog or anywhere else. About a dozen songs later, Thomas set his guitar down and reached for a jug of mead.
Tara scrambled over the table, but Sheillene caught her by the shirt before she could take two steps toward the stage. Tara took a ring from her finger and turned back to Sheillene. “Thomas’ real name is Miller. It’s the name we used when we were married.” She handed the ring to Sheillene. “Read the inside.”
Sheillene read aloud, “Tara and Thomas Miller, Spring First.” She let go of Tara’s dress.
Pantros’ sister nearly ran to the stage. She stepped up and slapped Thomas.
“Ma’am,” Thomas said. “I’ve never encountered an angry member of my audience before. Did something I sing offend you?”
“You know who I am,” Tara seethed. “Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back?”
Thomas’ large partner slunk back from the argument and headed to the bar.
The other patrons at the Inn seemed to suddenly remember their drinks as well and most of them headed to refill. Pantros just watched the argument on the stage.
“Miss, I’ve never met you,” Thomas said. “I don’t know who you are.”
Tara stumbled back and Pantros could see her expression fall from anger to shattered. “You,” Tara stammered, “You can lie now?”
“I am not lying?” Thomas said. “But, why would you think I could not lie?”
“I’m your wife. I know everything about you.” Tara’s voice was quiet, unsure. Then with more conviction she said. “You cannot speak an untruth. Tell me I’m not your wife.”
Thomas nodded. “I’m…” he seemed lost for words. His brow furrowed. Three more times he opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t speak.”
“I don’t remember having a wife,” he finally managed to say. Then very slowly, each word came out with clear effort, he said, “But, something is telling me I do and you are she. I don’t understand. I need more mead.” He picked up his jug and took several gulps.
“You forgot me?” Tara slapped Thomas again. “You’ve been around for thousands of years and can remember the words to ten times that many songs but you can’t remember your wife from ten years ago?”
“This is my Hundred and Thirtieth summer,” Thomas said. “I haven’t married anyone yet, but somehow I believe your story to be truth and that I am, somehow, your husband.”
“Now I don’t understand.” Tara said.
“Excuse me,” The barkeep approached the stage with a small ornate box in one hand.
“I’ll get back to playing soon,” Thomas said.
“Thank you,” The barkeep said, “But I just remembered that I had something for you. Several years ago you gave me this box and asked that I return it to you when I saw you get slapped on stage. I didn’t understand, but you paid me to do it, so I kept the box.” He handed Thomas the ornately carved golden box.
Thomas opened it. Pantros couldn’t see what was in the box from as far from the stage as he was, but he didn’t have to guess long. Thomas pulled up a ring that matched Tara’s. Pantros had seen that ring on his sister every day for as long as he could remember. He should have recognized it as a wedding ring, but he had no reason to think his sister was married.
“I think that I need to think,” Thomas said. “And I think best while I’m performing. Now, Tara, I assume that’s your name written inside this ring, I think we should talk after the show.”
Tara glared at Thomas a moment then said, “If you try to run again, you won’t get far. I have the best tracker in the world with me.” She pointed to the table where Pantros sat. Sheillene waved at Tara and Thomas.
“I won’t run,” Thomas said. “I am curious as to how this was done.”
“Ready?” Marc asked, handing Thomas his guitar.
Tara left the makeshift stage and made it back to the booth before the next set started. Sheillene slid to the inside, letting Tara sit by the edge.
“Are you as confused as I am?” Tara asked Sheillene. She picked her own ring off the table and after reading the inside again, placed it back on her finger.
“More so.” Sheillene said.
Then the music started again. Pantros fell into the songs and stories coming from the stage. When the hours had passed and the music stopped, Pantros left his sister to talk to her Thomas, and found their guest room. He secured the window and the door and placed brass coins on them so, were either opened, a coin would fall to the floor and alert him.
CHAPTER 8: PANTROS
Pantros woke with his hand draped over his sack of coins and gripping the scabbard of the Abvi sword. He looked to the other bed in the room but it was empty. Neither of his coins had been disturbed. Had his sister opted to sleep in Thomas' bed?
He scrubbed the thought from his head, instead analyzing the bell of the Abvi sword. He knew little of metal work, but couldn't help but be impressed. The intricate silver lace of the bell seemed as delicate as fey silk. He didn't dare touch it to see how strong it actually was. He couldn't see any hint of a tool mark and couldn't find any indication of where the metal had been welded.
Unable to completely force his sister from his mind, he buckled the sword to his belt and grabbed his satchel. He let the coin fall to the ground when he opened the door and left it where it lay. That and the coin from the window could go to whoever made the bed.
In the taproom, he found his sister sitting in a booth talking with Thomas. Sheillene sat alone at another table and waved him towards her. Thomas's large band mate was sleeping on the floor by the fireplace.
"He says he's not half ogre," Sheillene said as Pan sat across from her. "I'm not sure I believe him."
"I don't think he's half anything," Pantros said. "He might be three and a half somethings."
Sheillene laughed. "I'll have to remember that one."
"You remember everything," Pantros said. "That's what makes you such a fine bard."
Nodding, Sheillene asked, "Did you sleep well last night?"
"Well enough," Pan said. "You?"
"I got a few hours after the fight with your sister last night." When Pan looked at her quizzically, Sheillene explained. "See that blue hat on the table next to Thomas?"
Pantros nodded. It was the hat he'd always seen on Thomas' head. "His lucky hat, he did have it."
"No, I had it," she said. "Tara was less than happy with me when she learned that I did and that Thomas had left it with me when he ran away."
"She's upset because he told you he was leaving and never told her." Pantros understood.
"I left the Hedgehog three days after he did, telling Tara that I would find Thomas for her." Sheillene said. "I didn't lie. I looked for him. I didn't tell her that he spoke to me before he left. I didn't tell her why he left. When the hat came out, so did that secret."