The Tale of the Player

Chapter 18 of The Thief's Armor

Chapter Index

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Hastiand awoke with a gasp. He sat up, eyes wide. Sweat covered his body and soaked his clothes. He lay on a bed in a simple room. No lanterns or candles had been lit, and the shutters were closed, allowing only thin slivers of light through the cracks. Memories came back in fragments. That man, or elf rather—Amon was his name—had chased him. Then, the dead-end alley and the black smoke. The bard shivered and hugged his knees as he remembered the feeling, the most horrible sensation in the world. He hated it when the mandolin forced itself on him.