Always Be Appreciative of Opposable Thumbs

Chapter Twelve: A Mule of a Minstrel

 As the serving girl set a bowl of barley stew on the table, it was all Sera could do to keep herself from drooling. It was only the mug of ale placed beside it that dragged her attention away from the food. Before the girl could even turn to leave, Sera had chugged down half of it.

"I hope this will help your head," the friendly stranger said as he watched her shovel spoonfuls of stew into her mouth.

Sera glanced up at him, the spoon sticking out of her mouth like a shiny cigar. She considered his appearance and slight accent before returning the utensil to its bowl. "So are you from Tskiryuu?"

Nodding, he held out his hand. "Indeed. My name is Jyoji, from the village of Honkoshi. Have you been?"

Memories flashed through her mind. Flames. Screaming. Oaths of revenge and bloodshed. Even several old hags attempting to place a curse on the dragon that had nearly destroyed their home.

Clearing her throat, she took his hand and gave it a shake. "'I'm afraid not. But I hear it's beautiful. Name's Elsa."

"Lady Elsa. I do apologize again for that mishap back at the alehouse. I hope there are no serious injuries to your person."

Placing a hand on her head and feigning dizziness, Sera weakly replied, "I suppose only time will tell."

Jyoji leaned forward, his expression filled with concern. He was so sweet and innocent. And incredibly gullible. It almost made her feel bad about playing him for all he had.

Almost.

"What brings you round these parts, Jojo?" she asked as she took another sip of ale.

Jyoji's brows knitted together at the nickname, but he seemed determined to let it slide. "I'm a traveling minstrel, actually."

"A musician, eh? You any good?"

His cheeks colored slightly as he cast his eyes downward. "I have been told my poems have stirred fires within the souls of my listeners."

"That so? Lay one on me."

"Pardon?"

"A song. Let me hear one."

"Oh, ah, very well."

He picked up his leather case and pulled out a beautiful mandolin decorated in traditional Tskiryuun designs of wispy flowering tree branches and elegant fish with wings.

"That's awful fancy," Sera said as he adjusted the strings. "Bet it cost a pretty penny."

"Not really. I made it myself about five years ago when I was fourteen."

Her interest in the instrument waned at the realization that it was essentially worthless, But then he started plucking at the strings, and she found herself transfixed. His long fingers moved with such speed and precision, creating ethereal music. He closed his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip in concentration. Then he opened his mouth, and Sera waited in anticipation to hear what beautiful words would accompany such a heavenly song.

What she got instead sounded like a dying cat.

The words were certainly poetic and inspired, but Jyoji was perhaps the most tone-deaf individual she had ever met. And he wasn't just off-key; he was loud. The guests at the surrounding tables shot him nasty glares as they covered their ears, some even leaving their dinners half-eaten to escape the noise.

When the song was finished, Jyoji flashed Sera a smile, waiting for her praise. Normally, she would have made some sarcastic, rude remark. But this guy was so innocent and childlike. She simply didn't have the heart to cut him to pieces.