After supper, I sat in the bar and got the occasional smooch from Meg, the occasional beer from Keeper, and the occasional speculative look from some of the customers who’d apparently seen my trick with the coins but didn’t know anything else about me. I was getting better about pacing myself, and I think my liver was building up some muscle, or something. So the kisses were probably more distracting than the alcohol. The speculative looks, I tried to pay no mind. I knew that between my powers and the regulars in the bar, who to a person loved Meg and therefore me, anybody who did anything stupid would regret it very quickly.

I was just idly speculating that I really should start expanding my research into my magic when a sudden chill ran down my spine. I looked up, and a figure in a dark cloak was standing in the door. They looked like they were looking for someone. Even from across the tavern I could see that their movements were graceful, almost… precise. Just turning their head from side to side looked more elegant than most dances I’d ever seen.

The figure, slender and possibly female although the cloak really did cover them strangely well, walked to the end of the bar and sat down. I heard Keeper mutter, “Great. Adventurers.” But he walked toward to the cloaked figure and poured them a glass of wine. I couldn’t make out their voice over the general din of the tavern, but I had learned most of the drinks Keeper had handy and it was an utterly middle-of-the-road wine, not his best, but not the nearly vinegar stuff the poorer sorts who ate in the tavern drank either.

They engaged Keeper in conversation for a few minutes. I tried not to stare even though something about that cloak was calling to me. It was like I could hear singing, but not quite. This wasn’t even as strong as picking up the magic of the blacksmith from clear outside his forge.

Maybe it’s enchanted, I thought to myself. Meg said you can’t enchant anything but stone, but obviously that’s not entirely true. Or maybe there’s stone woven into it or something.

My beer was conveniently empty, so I waved to Keeper. He moved down to me much faster than his usual mosey after a final nod to the cloaked figure. Seeing me hold my mug up, he poured me another beer.

“Here you are, Master Chris,” he said. I knew he wouldn’t take any money and I’d given him enough already to practically buy a brewery. (Or maybe literally buy a brewery. Not sure.) So I just nodded in thanks.

Trying to play it cool, I said in a low voice, “Who’s the new customer? An adventurer?” I was pretty proud of myself. I didn’t even turn toward her and I kept my smile exactly like it usually was. I hoped.

“Think so,” he said. “Something about that cloak made it hard to tell, but she was pleasant enough.” He leaned over the bar to me with a big, somewhat forced grin on his face. “Pretty sure it’s an elf, Master Chris, so they can likely hear anything we say if they pay attention.”

So much for tradecraft: my jaw dropped.

I knew there were elves here, I thought in a bit of a daze. I had Meg run me down a list of the people and beings she knows about. Elves, yes, few different kinds. Dwarves. Few others.

“Is there likely to be any… trouble?” I asked in what I fervently hoped was a neutral voice. Elves had Song Mages too, and they lived a long time, so this could be a Song Mage with hundreds of years of experience under their belt.

“Not if no one starts any,” said Keeper hesitantly, and I winced. “An elf this deep in human lands would know not to go looking for it. And the regulars know I won’t have brawling in my tavern. But if one of the visitors thinks it’s an elf and has some kind of problem with them…”

“Well, I’ll try to keep an eye out and stop anybody who decides to get stupid,” I said quietly.

“You’re a blessing, Master Chris,” said Keeper in a grateful voice. Then he switched back to his regular one and shouted at the people playing dice in the corner not to move all the tables around and he didn’t care how many of them wanted to make bets. He walked around the bar and walked toward the crowd, calling out names and telling them to stop messing up his tavern.

Under cover of this affable bellowing, I snuck another look at the cloaked figure. There were slight swellings at the sides of the hood that could be the elongated ears - somewhere between Tolkien elves and manga elves - of a Larohan elf. And when they turned to look at the dice game, a slight curve showed at the side of the cloak.

Gotcha. A mysterious female elf in a cloak of obfuscation or whatever. I grimaced. This has ‘rogue’ written all over it. She’s after me pot o’ gold, I bet. When I thought about the cloak, whatever it was… called to me again. Without even realizing it, I let out a quiet note in my Resonance and gave it just a touch of Breath as I focused on the cloak.

The results were… unexpected.

Enchantment: Darkness In The Light detected. Enchantment is: 1 note away from your Primary Resonance. Attempt to disrupt Enchantment for: 5 Breath?

The Help System!

The Help System hadn’t ‘spoken’ a word to me since the conversation with the Entity, though I could call up Help Screens and Character Sheets at will. This had to be really important. And I did not like the sound of that Enchantment, especially on a mysterious Elf in my (sorta) father-in-law’s tavern. This was the Plot Gods at work. Whether or not Laroha actually had any Plot Gods, this was definitely their doing.

Don’t fight the story, Chris, was all I had time to think before I accepted the prompt and put a little more Breath into my Resonance.

The results were even more unexpected this time. Well, to everyone but me. I was a seasoned D&D player and was ready for something like Dispel Magic.

I got exactly what I expected.

There was a… ripple… in the air. I heard it quite clearly, almost like a dischord jarring down my spine. Everyone else in the tavern sort of shook their heads and looked confused for a second. Either no one else here had a Resonance close enough to Shadow to pick it up, or no one else had the power to do so.

Well, almost no one else.

The elf jumped to her feet and I swore I heard a low gasp, like wind through trees. Her cloak remained black, but suddenly it was much less… concealing. I noticed that it wasn’t all flat black, but had dapples of dark grey. Like camouflage.

Enchantment: Darkness In The Light successfully disrupted. Critical Success! Enchantment has been disrupted for: 24 hours. For disrupting your first Enchantment, you gain a Level. For your first Critical Success, you gain a Level.

I checked my Character sheet with a thought and found I was down a total of six Breath - as with my first Levels, it turned out I gained ten Breath per Level. Which meant I still had enough to put the whole damn tavern to sleep if I had to.

Name: Chris Erikson

Class: Song Mage

Level: 5

Health: 110

Breath: 154

Stamina: 100

Strength: 10

Intelligence: 16

Wisdom: 12

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 10

Charisma: 12

Resonance: C#

Element: Shadow / Thought

Stat Points: 3

Known Manifestations:

Call Shadows, Slow Thought, Disrupt Enchantment

Known Harmony Manifestations:

Create Dream Water (C#/D)

Special Skills:

Omniglot, Leader of the Band

Band Members:

Meg Brightman (Primary Singer, D)

So while my heart was racing, I felt confident I could deal with the elf if she got stabby. Or Singy. Whichever. Assuming she didn’t get me first. I stopped Singing, but held myself ready to lash out at the silver river I could now feel clearly in her head.

She looked around, much less elegantly than she had before. I got a flash of bright eyes under the cloak when they swept my way, though she was either wearing a mask or had really dark skin because that and the faintest outline of a face were all I saw. She caught me looking at her, but her glance flowed over me without a pause that I could detect.

By now a few other people had taken their attention from the impromptu craps table and had noticed there was something different about the newcomer. She was getting more appraising looks than before. Realizing this, she swirled around and walked out of the bar at a pace only her extremely elegant movements prevented from being a run. I watched her go with a stunned look on my face.

Keeper, his ad-hoc casino manager duties dealt with, returned to the bar just as the elf slipped through the door into the night. He watched the door shut with a bemused expression. Then he looked at me and his eyes narrowed.

“Did you… do something… to her, Master Chris?” he said in a low but polite voice.

“No,” I said. I leaned over toward him and said, “But her cloak, or something in it, was enchanted. I disrupted the enchantment and she ran like a cat with its tail stepped on.”

Keeper’s eyes widened.

“You disrupted an enchantment? Just like that? How did you even know where it was? How did you find the counter-note so quickly?”

This is NOT something I want to explain to anybody, I thought to myself. I think that this might be another case of the Entity not knowing its own strength when it made the Leveling System for me.

“It’s a Song Mage thing,” I said quietly. “Don’t worry about it. The thing is, she was wearing a cloak that had an enchantment that sounded like something a rogue would wear. She might be up to no good.”

Keeper shook his head in wonderment. “All right, Master Chris. But what do you mean, a ‘rogue?’ You mean like, a thief?”

Great. They don’t have classes here. Well they do but nobody knows about them except me. And I guess Meg. Anyway, he has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Something like that,” I said. “A thief or a spy. Or an assassin.” People always gave me my space and Meg’s empty stool was between me and the next fellow at the bar. But I was still practically whispering in Keeper’s ear. Again, in hindsight, poor tradecraft.

Especially since at the word ‘assassin,’ Keeper let out a strangled curse. “Did you see her face, Master Chris?”

“No,” I said. “Either she was wearing a mask or she had really dark skin, because even after the enchantment was disrupted I could barely see so much as her eyes under that hood.”

Keeper gasped, then groped around for his own mug, which had much stouter… stout… or whatever in it than mine did. He took a healthy gulp and looked around with a nervous expression.

“Master Chris,” he said in an urgent whisper. “She might be… a Dark Elf.”

“Oh,” I said, brow wrinkled.

A what now?