Plucky Paws Guild Issue #6
Emlynn Jones
A thoughtful silence fell upon the table as the raccoons considered Melodus’s bold proclamation.
“Well then,” Reginald broke the silence. “Do we know the current location of this gifted alchemist?”
“Ah!” Melodus responded. “Leave it to our brave warrior to cut straight to the heart of the matter! Alas, we do not know the current whereabouts of Harold Dragonscale.”
“Well, that’s a bit of an obstacle,” Sylvan leaned back, folding her arms.
“Not at all,” the bard replied with a smug grin. “You four, well three,” he added with a knowing wink towards Sylvan, “were handpicked for your skills! We have a talented wizard among us, friends. Don’t let his youthful looks deceive you, Theo Goldspinner is a wizard of no small talent. A spell of scrying should easily be within his ability. He will quickly find us our missing Alchemist.”
4 pairs of eyes shifted to look at the young wizard, who seemed uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
“Well, yes,” he began. “I know a few different spells and cantrips to scry a person, but all require something of the individual being sought. Either something from their person, be it blood, hair, .. a tooth maybe? A physical item can be used, but only if it’s something very dear to them. Something that has been close to their personage for many years.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have this!” With a flourish, Melodus produced a glass flask. “Behold, this flask once held a single draught of Harold's miraculous potion! The very same elixir that saved the residents of Paundew!”
“Great,” exclaimed the thief, voice laden with sarcasm. “And if Harold carried that around with him for years, maybe he imprinted on it enough for our mage to scry with.”
Melodus waited, his look of triumph undimmed by Sylvan’s sarcastic remark. He looked at Theo expectantly.
“Oh!!!” the magic user shouted in surprise. “Very good, Melodus! That flask should do nicely!”
Melodus handed the small glass over to the wizard, who accepted it carefully.
“Would someone explain?” asked Reginald.
“The song!” Theo answered. “The wonderful Lay of Harold Dragonscale!”
“Yes? And?” the fighter shrugged.
“Though shadowed arts had cursed the land, He swore he would not fail”, the young raccoon chanted, not daring to sing the words and embarrass himself. “And poured into the final draught-”
“The blood of Dragonscale!” Sylvan finished remembering the lines. “Ah! Well played!”
Melodus nodded again with satisfaction. “You have quite the memory, young Goldspinner,” he commented, referring to the magic user.
“It comes in handy in my trade,” Theo beamed with delight at the bard’s praise. “Besides, Sylvan remembered it too.”
“Yes, a good memory is useful for a thief as well. But I heard it twice,” Sylvan admitted. “And I did not connect the dots till you led me to them. Well done indeed!”
Theo looked as if he would burst from the combined praise.
“Well, that is settled!” Brother Fulce leaned forward, paws slapping the table with delight. “How long will the scrying take, and when shall we head out?”
It was clear from the nods and looks the companions gave each other that they had all accepted the minstrel and priest’s grand quest. They were all eager participants, no vote was needed, no formal declaration required.
“I will need a day to prepare and a night to perform the rites,” Theo answered the priest. “I could attempt simpler scrying spells, but I doubt much blood is left in this tiny flask. I want to assure my scrying is true on the first attempt. I will need to gather a few reagents. They are common things, I should be able to gather them even in this small town. At night, the ether is most calm, so my enchantment will be most powerful.”
Reginald nodded, “That gives me time to prepare. I’d like to get a new edge on my blade and repair a few links in my mail before we go.”
“I shall retire to the chapel and pray to the Shepherdess for our success,” the priest added, standing up from the table.
“And I will inform the guild that I will be taking a leave of absence,” Sylvan said, pulling her hood up as she stood.
“Then we meet two days hence!” Melodus stood from the table, lifting his lute high, strumming a bright chord in anticipation. “In two days time we are bound for glory!”
“And now my good friends,” he turned to the eager inhabitants of the inn. “You have been patient enough! Let us sing the Ballad of Renold the Rascally!”
Cheers answered the minstrel’s opening notes as he began the beloved tune. Many of the happy diners joined in, their voices uneven and drowning out the bard’s smooth voice. He did not mind at all. He was here to delight the people, and he knew joining the song would give them joy.
“Oh, Renold was a rascally one! A rascally one was he!”
Cedric nodded behind the bar, a grin spreading on his elderly face. Yes, it would be a good night for the Dancing Ferret.