The Azure Wizard Read Online Free Page A

bored.
     
    The audience roared in laughter and applause, smacking tables and backs at the minstrel, a tall, athletic woman in a burgundy linen dress. She possessed dark-bronzed skin that contrasted her long, pale-blond, flowing hair, and she smoothly took a bow to the crowd with a smile. Ethan clapped enthusiastically as he strode toward the bar, a long dark wood counter lined with various-sized and colored bottles and stools, some of them occupied by socializing patrons. Behind the counter was a stocky, thick man with shaggy, blond hair shot through with white. As he served the customers his long beard and moustache of equal coloring swayed to and fro and his intense brown eyes continually scanned his common room for signs of trouble. They settled on Ethan as he came forward.
    When Ethan reached the bar he leaned forward, and he placed his palms flat on the sticky counter top. The bartender met him there with a wooden mug in his left hand. His other hand remained beneath the counter and out of view. When the bartender urged the mug in Ethan’s direction the storyteller waved it off stating, “I'll take no mead, Sir.”
    “Not mead, lad, water. I can see plain as day that you’ve been traveling and are dry of even your own spittle to drink,” returned the man with a grin beneath his bush of a moustache.
    Ethan thanked him with a nod and took the mug a bit too eagerly splashing some of its contents onto the counter. “Sorry,” Ethan whispered sheepishly as he wiped the spilt water with the side of his hand.
    “No harm done, lad. The counter’s needed a wash anyhow.”
    Ethan gave a slight nod and gulped down the cool pure water slowly, letting it moisten his throat and clean the grime out of his mouth. The bartender watched intently the entire time until Ethan finished the last drop and set the empty mug on the counter with a contented sigh. “Thank you, Sir. That was needed.”
    The bartender shrugged and took the mug and began to turn, meaning to refill it, when Ethan caught him by the sleeve. “I was wondering, Sir, if there are any rooms available for the night?” he inquired.
    “Aye, I’ve got a couple of rooms empty. Three silvers a night they are,” replied the bartender raising a bushy eyebrow.
    Ethan nervously scratched the short growth of his red beard and responded, “I have no coins, sir, but I am a storyteller. Would it be possible for me to enlighten the crowd with a tale, and if they take to it in a good way, get a plate of food and one of those rooms for the night?”
    The bartender sighed with an exasperated chuckle mingled with it, and he explained, “Lad, did you by chance see the name of my place? This is The House of Chronicles. We have plenty of minstrels, storytellers, and troubadours performing nightly. As the owner of this establishment, if I was to give all of them a room and meals for their performances I would never be able to serve any other guests. We are in the Barony of Vhar, you know. Storytellers and the like are a silver a score. The best I can do is pouring you some more water.”
    The man meant to turn again, but Ethan held fast to his sleeve. The barkeep turned slowly back to Ethan, his brows furrowed and he had an ominous air about him. But Ethan met his gaze with that penetrating amber gaze of his own. The stare down was ended by the barkeep whose face broke into a happy grin and he said, “The name’s Eikjard. Who are you, lad?”
    “Ethan Skalderholt.”
    “Well, Ethan Skalderholt,” began Eikjard as he pointed past Ethan to the stage where the minstrel had been performing, “the stage is yours. I hope that I’m impressed as well as everyone else.”
    Moments later Ethan found himself onstage. He had asked that the environment of the common room be changed for his tale, and thus it was with curtains pulled across the windows to keep out the afternoon sun. The tavern was then illuminated softly by candle sconces upon the walls. Ethan sat alone on the stage on one