Snippet #122

The small room had filled 30 minutes ago and people were spilling into the square. Endymion stopped playing and looked down at the bistro owner.

"Oh Master Bard, you ARE a man of your word! My humble little bistro has NEVER been this busy!" the gleem in his eye was humorous to Endymion.

"Good sir, do you see the contingent of guards waiting to get in? Please make room for them near the stage and provide them with drinks from me. Take the cost from my nights wages, for I think you shall make more than you suspect."

Endymion knew the importance of greasing the palm. The King of the Tinkers has shown him this lesson very early.

He brought his Lyre to his shoulder and prepared to approach the little corner where he would play. "Come my friend, we shall play. Let us begin the night with a song that they will talk about for the rest of thier lives."

Endymion walked across the bistro and the crowd began to settle. The comments began, as they always did, 'He looks like my brother..my he is handsome...have you ever seen such a man... he knew everyone of them was seeing the image they had of the perfect bard... he smiled, bowed, sat on his little stool and strummed Artos.

The audience grew silent.