Chapter 14

The sky had been an infinite circle of blue just a brief time ago.  Then titanic clouds had billowed into the blue, a brilliant white, then darkening as they approached.  As Alyami ducked his head below the door lintel a cataclysmic boom shook the heavens and the earth.  As he closed the heavy, wooden door behind him fat droplets began to furiously pummel the dust outside.

With the eye of a wearied professional Alyami surveyed the tavern, taking in the quality of the furnishings, the quality of the clientele (as determined by the quality of their clothing), and the atmosphere of the room.  The furnishings were solid and unremarkable, the clientele remarkably diverse, and the atmosphere started with hushed murmurings, quieted momentarily as people looked up from their refreshment and friends to see the newcomer, and then rose somewhat at the sight of a man with a musical instrument.  There are few inns that do not welcome a minstrel.

The landlord sidled up to Alyami and spoke in a voice attempting discretion but trained to roar over loud crowds, "Welcome to The Addled Prophet sir, I wonder if you would be playing tonight?"
"My thanks.  I will play but I beg for a short time to wash the dirt from my throat and to fill my belly."
"Of course, of course.  If sir would take the table by yonder window," with a short nod of the head to indicate that the present occupier of that table should shift it, "I shall be along with beer and victuals, terms as per usual."
With great relief Alyami ambled over to the table indicated, smiling and nodding to the patrons he passed, for goodwill is half the battle for a musician, laid his pack gently down, and collapsed into his chair.

The pounding rain mesmerized Alyami so that he was startled by the thump of a plate and mug by his elbow.  Alyami thanked the boy and leaned over his plate, inhaling the rich aromas of this foreign land, the powerful yeastness of course ground bread, the mouth watering richness of farm raised beef, the wet clothes smell of boiled root vegetable.  Alyami had a sudden sharp pang, an almost lustful need for the tart sweetness of fruit picked from a jungle tree.

Within an island of peace Alyami ate, stolidly, professionally.  Life on the road gave an appreciation for the value of a large meal, the next one was an unpredictable distance away.  The raging storm outside meant the inside was particularly cosy, when a sunny spring day might have meant the tavern was musty and close.  A gentle peace came upon him.  He was safe, fed, warm and about to do what he loved most, play.  He thanked the serving boy who came to take away his plate, agreed to another pint on the house (as per the usual terms), reached for his instrument bag and withdrew his beloved rabab.

As Alyami tuned the rabab the patrons reorganized themselves, moving closer and turning chairs around to face him.  A palpable feeling of anticipation ran through the crowd, eliciting smiles and grins.  Once satisfied with the rabab Alyami shook out his hands, straightened his back and struck a bright, cheerful chord.  At that precise instant the door opened, thunder boomed and a small man in outlandish dress was outlined in the doorway, a small smile on his face as if he had picked up on a subtle joke.