His heart had pulled at him in Hillsfar to forget the Glass Eye Concourse and travel on to Waterdeep to show Fannt Golsway his prize. Seeing Jaeleen again had wakened his feelings for seeing the old mage again. But Baylee had decided to wait. The Glass Eye Concourse happened only once a year. At his age, a year seemed like a long time. Looking back on it now, the concept of time passing had been one of the biggest points of contention between himself and Golsway.
"Baylee! Over here!"
The ranger recognized the voice only an instant before he spotted the man it belonged to. Aymric Tailpuller leaned against a tree near one of the wagons the mountain men had provided. Casks of wine and mead loaded the wagons down, and all of them flowed constantly.
"Deaf as you are," Aymric protested, "how is it you've managed to stay alive so long?" Tall and thin, the falconer enjoyed the slim good looks of youth and the vigor of the Moon elven bloodline. He wore his long blue hair in a single braid that ran down to his narrow hips when he let it loose. Deep blue eyes emphasized the paleness of his face and the sharp planes of his features. His leather armor showed the advantages of great care and considerable attention. A well-used bastard sword with a runed handle stuck up over one shoulder.
He has me to watch over him, Xuxa answered from above.
Aymric crowed with laughter as a smile split his face. He turned toward the sky. Xuxa! How are you?
Finally being properly cared for after nearly starving to death, the azmyth bat responded. Thank you for asking.
A number of rangers, their senses ever alert despite the amount of wine and mead that had been consumed, ducked as Xuxa came winging down in great, leathery flaps that cracked the air. The azmyth bat made a show of her aerial prowess, coming to nearly a dead stop in front of the Moon elf ranger before reaching out with her claws to seize the leather band around Aymric's wrist. She hung upside down, looking at the Moon elf and chuckling her happiness.
Despite his bond with the azmyth bat, Baylee always felt a pang of jealousy to see Aymric with Xuxa. She seemed clearly to favor the Moon elf with her attentions, and never had a cross word to say about him.
With quick hands, Aymric seized a morsel of an apple nut confection from a passerby involved in conversation before the owner knew he was there. The Moon elf held out the tidbit on a forefinger.
I couldn't, Xuxa said.
Of course you can, Aymric replied. After all, it will be a whole year before another Glass Eye Concourse, and there is no better food at any of the other forgathering. This apple nut confection is a favorite, and you don't get it like this in many places.
Xuxa accepted the treat in one winged paw and brought it daintily to her mouth.
"Watch out," Baylee warned aloud, abandoning the silent conversation, knowing Xuxa would resent it, "this is the bite that will make her burst."
A handful of people standing nearby who knew Xuxa and her prodigious appetite laughed.
You need to teach your friend manners, Aymric chided.
Xuxa ignored the exchange. She leaped from Aymric's arm and took up roost from a nearby tree branch.
"My friend," the Moon elf said warmly, reaching for Baylee and hugging him close, "how have things been with you?"
"Busy," Baylee admitted.
"Having much luck?"
"Some." Baylee had learned never to tell the first story around the elf, because the elf would surely top it with one of his own.
"How's Golsway?"
"I haven't seen him in some time."
Aymric shook his head. "Are you still insisting on going it alone?"
Baylee kept his emotions cloaked. "I like it that way."
"Of course you do." Aymric took a clay cup from one of the stacks near the wine casks. He filled it with help from a woman who happened to tap the cask at the same time as he needed it. When the cup was filled, he passed it to Baylee.
The young ranger tried to turn it down. "No, really, I've had enough."
"Enough wine?" Aymric looked incredulous. "That could never happen. The gods willing, you'll have a discretionary bladder that keeps everything flowing."
"I remember a forgathering a year or two ago in which I ended up cutting you down from your own hammock one morning because you couldn't even stand up by yourself."
"This is a party," Aymric protested. "A man can be forgiven his occasional indulgences."
Baylee is in no position to throw stones at anyone over indulgences, Xuxa spoke up. Little more than a tenday ago, he ran into Jaeleen again…
Aymric shook his head. "I tell you, Baylee, that woman is worse than any bad habit you could pick up. You should stay away from her."
"It was a chance meeting," Baylee stated.
"I’ll fortune, you mean." The Moon elf shook his head.
"Jaeleen is not my problem," Baylee replied.
Aymric clapped him on the shoulder. "And you would do well to make sure she never becomes your problem, my friend." He gestured toward the central area of the forgathering. "Come, let us enjoy what festivities lay before us."
Baylee followed his friend, moving from table to table and speaking with those rangers he knew. They watched arm wrestling competitions and dart slinging championships, and listened to a few of the lies the mountain men spun with such silver-tongued ease, and even joined in with a chorus or two here and there when favorite songs were being sung.
"Aymric, Baylee," a young lad called from behind a tree. "Filston sent me to gather you if I could." He was tall and slender limbed, his hair springing about his freckled face.
"What is it?" Aymric asked.
"He said you would want to hear Vaggit's retelling of the rise and fall of Myth Drannor," the young boy said. "Hurry. Vaggit is only now starting."
Aymric glanced at Baylee. "Shall we?"
Baylee grinned in anticipation. "How could we not?" He filched a slice of plum and pear pie from a heavily laden table and cupped it in his hand.
They followed the boy, taking a meandering path around the central campfire that blazed taller than a man. Spits hung with roasting venison and fowl still turned as volunteer cooks manned them, dripping honey glazes and pepper seasons across them.
Vaggit sat on a limb ten feet above the ground, resting on the soles of his bare feet with his arms wrapped around his knees. An audience of forty and more men and women, young and old, had already gathered for the telling. Baylee knew the forest runner had only just begun the lengthy telling because Vaggit wasn't yet pacing along the thick branch like a stage orator from a house of arts in Waterdeep or other civilized areas.
Short and scrawny, looking near to flesh leaned out over bone, the forest runner wore gray and green splashed garments that blended in with the night and his chosen environment. His leather armor stayed supple and loose, moving without a sound. In his profession as heckler of the aristocratic greedy in and around Zhentil Keep, moving quietly was a necessity. His gray hair and long gray beard testified to the experience he had, and the scars and way he carried himself spoke of the skills he'd learned. A long bow occupied a space beside him on the branch, an arrow resting at the ready on the bowstring.
Baylee took up a position against a gnarled elm with low sweeping branches. Winged animal companions and some possessing climbing skills sat in the trees surrounding the small pocket clearing of the forgathering. Occasional cries or cawing as they shifted chased through the cool breezes coming down from the Dragon-spine Mountains.
"And lo," Vaggit said in his deep basso voice that was so surprising from so little a man, "wise and mighty Eltargrim, himself a warrior and experienced in many battles, looked out over this city that had become known as the Towers of Song, and he listened to the counsel of Elminster even though it cost him the support of the Starym and other families who left the Elven Court."