Role

Chapter 9

Athald noticed them when he first came in from the street. They were
obvious even without the abilities granted him by the orb. They sat at a
table in the corner where the light from the fireplace and lamps only
barely reached. Though they were dressed like sailors, Athald knew they
were not. Even as they outwardly joked with each other and fondled the
local whores who were plying them for business, he could see the subtle
hand movements that indicated an entirely different conversation was
happening. It was the cant. Maybe they belonged to Tago, or Vesestu or
Phas. It didn't matter; he knew they were up to no good.

Leaving Hanigan to finish preparing his drink, Athald walked across the
room to the far corner where the group sat. He stood in front of them,
not saying or doing anything, until they finally noticed him.

"Oi! What's your problem old man? Can't you see us and these fine ladies
got this table reserved? Why don't you head back to the bar, eh? Before
me an' the lads have to teach you a lesson?"

Athald still said nothing, but leaned down and placed both his hands on
the table. Staring directly a the one who had threatened him, he quietly
asked, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

As he did so, white, otherworldly flames blazed to life where his eyes had
been, illuminating the table in a pale, wavering light. As it turned out,
both both the leader and his companions did, in fact, have somewhere else
they'd rather be. They quickly stood up and left the bar, followed by
their hangers on, who were no less glad to be free of Athald's baleful
gaze. Their hazy red auras followed them out the door.

Satisfied, Athald let the flames die, retrieved his drink from the bar and
chose a spot on the hearth next to the fire place. He removed his rain
coat and hung it next to the fire to dry, then lifted his lute, tuned it,
and gently strummed it as he began to sing.