There wasn’t a soul in the Unending Alleys who hadn’t heard of the Smiling Bard. The rundown tavern was infamous for its subpar rotgut, rudimentary aesthetics, and downright devilish company, but it was famed across the ward for its incredible taste in music. The tavern was owned by a renowned bard of former legend, who, most say, could play the lute as if he were born strumming the instrument.

  Of those that frequented the tavern, however, none frequented it more than Holsley. An easy feat to achieve when you literally called the building home. He lived in one of the rooms upstairs with a door facing the balcony and had done so for as long as he could remember. For as long as Danfarren Biggens had graciously taken him in.

  On this particular morning, Holsley was in the middle of getting dressed when the door exploded open with a fierce knock. He gasped, one leg half in his trousers. A surly-looking dwarf with wide eyes and a thoroughly furrowed brow stepped into the room. She was covered in wiry bristles, sported a massive, unkempt beard, and wore a ratty barmaid’s uniform.

  This was Daldorra, whom Holsley had always suspected of being somehow closely related to a wild boar.

  ‘Good morning,’ Holsley sang sweetly. ‘You look, uh, very pretty today.’

  ‘Flattery ain’t gettin’ you nothin’ today, Holsley,’ she sparked. ‘Dan’s lookin’ fer you, and he’s mighty upset after what happened last night.’

  ‘Oh.’ Holsley gulped. ‘I was afraid of that.’

  Daldorra started picking up clothes from Holsley’s floor as the bard, now dressed, grabbed his lute and rushed right past her.

  There weren’t many patrons at this time in the morning, which meant Dan was most likely in the back doing inventory. If he was quiet enough, Holsley could sneak down the stairs, navigate his way over the creaky floorboards, and be away from the lounge before anyone was the wiser.

  ‘Holsley, my boy!’ Holsley froze at the foot of the stairs. He turned slowly, awkwardly, and found Dan standing behind the bar. The old bard smiled, but in a cocky sort of way that told Holsley that he was in trouble. ‘We need to talk, you and I, don’t we, lad?’

  Glumly, Holsley meandered towards the bar.

  ‘You haven’t been practicing, have you?’ Dan nodded towards Holsley’s lute, which was held tightly in his right hand. Holsley let out a sigh that was answer enough. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Holsley. Practice, practice, practice. You keep telling me you want to be a famous minstrel, so why ain’t you putting in the work?’

  ‘I’m just not very good, am I?’ Holsley looked up at him, defeated. Dan stood there with a bar rag thrown over his shoulder. Behind him, there was a chorus of instruments lining the walls. Instruments that had been with Dan when he had travelled the world.

  ‘That’s why you practice, ya big galoot!’ Dan chuckled. ‘Otherwise, you end up with what happened last night.’

  Holsley cringed.

  The young bard was relatively new to the lute, so there were only a few songs he could play well. One of them was called the Inflexible Lover, which was all about a man falling in love with a curvy statue. Dan had warmed up the crowd, introduced Holsley, and the bard had been doing well enough until he had stumbled the strings. Dan had sidled in then with the redrose lute and saved him from getting a bottle to the head.

  ‘I’m not always going to be there to step in, lad,’ said Dan. ‘Practice, practice, practice. You’re getting better with the crowd, though. Much more confident, I have to say.’

  Holsley smiled at that.

  ‘Which brings me to my next point.’ Dan leaned down on the bar, crossing his arms. ‘I have suspicions that you ain’t been practicing because you’ve been hanging around with that roguish friend of yours. Am I right?’

  ‘No!’ Holsley said quickly. ‘I haven’t, Dan. I promise.’

  ‘You’re a terrible liar.’ Dan straightened back up, his face back to business. ‘That boy is going to get you into some serious trouble one of these days, Holsley. I don’t want you with him. I’ve heard about what you two rascals have been up to in the markets, and I don’t want to hear no more of it. Do you understand?’

  ‘I’m not hanging out with him,’ Holsley insisted. ‘I haven’t seen him in weeks.’

  ‘That better be true.’ Dan relaxed his shoulders a little, then brought back the charm with a warm smile. ‘You’re going to leave me one of these days, Holsley, and when you do, I want to know you’ve got a way to look after yourself. Music has always been good to me, and if you mean to travel the Further Kingdoms, it can be good to you, too.’

  ‘I know, Dan,’ Holsley replied. ‘I’ll practice.’

  ‘Hey, do you want to hear a joke?’

  Holsley rolled his eyes. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Come on, I know a good one,’ Dan teased. ‘In fact, it’s a joke Marlin Mandrovi once told me. Did I ever tell you he was a close, personal friend of mine?’

  ‘Only about a thousand times,’ Holsley half-laughed.

  ‘Right, a man with a duck under his arms stumbles home after a raucous night on the town,’ he started, smiling. Despite himself, Holsley leaned in. ‘He walks into his abode and who does he find there, but his wife. She’s angry, Holsley. Real angry. With her arms crossed, she proceeds to ask him if he knows what time it is.’

  ‘Why does she ask that?’

  ‘I assume it’s because she doesn’t know herself.’ Dan grinned. ‘Anyhow, the man doesn’t answer, so she asks her next pressing question. What’s with the duck? Then accuses him of drinking again.’

  ‘Well, it’s probably true if he brought a duck home,’ laughed Holsley.

  ‘Only too true, my lad.’ Dan leaned closer, his voice becoming a conspiratorial whisper. ‘The man tells her that this is the old dragon he’s been telling her about. The wife, obviously confused, tells him that what he’s holding is in fact not a dragon, but a duck.’

  ‘What does he say?’

  Dan licked his lips, the punchline imminent. ‘He tells her that he was talking to the duck!’

  The old bard slapped his hand against the bar and let out a boisterous laugh, one so large it revealed all the gold teeth in his gums. Holsley laughed, too, not because of the joke but because of Dan’s reaction to it. His laughter was infectious, and Holsley caught it in seconds.

  ‘Get it?’ Dan asked, wiping a fake tear from his eye. ‘Oh, we laughed at that one.’

  ‘It’s a stupid joke,’ Holsley said after a moment. ‘Especially the way you tell it. Why do you always make the simplest jokes so long?’

  ‘Habit of the trade, my boy.’ Dan grinned. ‘I’m a storyteller, and we like to embellish the details when we tell a story. Make it our own.’

  ‘I’m going now,’ Holsley said, his feet shuffling towards the door.

  ‘Oh, and where you going to?’

  ‘Practice,’ replied Holsley. ‘I’m going to find a quiet spot, just me and my lute, and practice until my fingers hurt.’

  ‘I’ll be mighty upset if I find out you’re hanging around with that Roland Darrow.’ Dan eyed him carefully. ‘Mighty. Upset.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Holsley held up a hand to swear it. ‘Promise.’

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  ‘Alright, well get back in time for the rush then,’ said Dan. ‘Prepare yourself for another bout before the crowd tonight, and if you get into any trouble—’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Holsley interjected, now a second away from the front door. ‘Ask myself what Marlin Mandrovi would do.’

  ***

  The markets were bustling that day, undoubtedly driven by the unseasonably warm autumn weather. People milled about in their woollen clothes, happily exchanging coins with shop owners in return for various goods. Outside the shops and milling around, wooden carts with sturdy sloped roofs sold little trinkets or produce from faraway places.

  For Holsley and Roland, it was the perfect chance for mischief.

  The pair had perched themselves upon the impressive fountain that sat in the market’s centre. Every now and then, water would shoot up in the air from unseen pipes and splash down back onto the surface, spattering them with droplets. They always sat there when the weather was hot, and Roland liked to take the coins that people threw into the fountain.

  ‘Dan still doesn’t like me then?’ Roland peered into the water like a bear looking for its next meal, hoping to catch a glimmer of silver or gold. ‘Even after I stole him that wine?’

  ‘Especially after you stole him that wine,’ replied Holsley. ‘He seems to think that you’re a bad influence. Enough so that you’re not allowed in the pub anymore, and I’m not allowed to even be near you.’

  Roland’s hand darted into the water and pulled out a silver noble.

  ‘You should apologise,’ said Holsley. ‘Try and get back in his good graces.’

  ‘I’m not really the type to apologise,’ replied Roland. ‘I don’t believe in all this asking for forgiveness nonsense.’

  Holsley raised an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’d be a pretty bad thief if I did.’ He laughed. ‘Imagine getting robbed and a few days later a note turns up at your door to apologise. That’s the most insulting thing I’ve ever heard. Apologising doesn’t change anything. The deed has still been done, and it’s not like I’m going to give anything back.’

  ‘I guess that’s a good point.’

  ‘Hey, shut up a minute!’ Roland sat up and nudged Holsley. He pointed across the crowds. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

  Holsley followed the direction of his finger. It pointed across the markets and through the crowds towards a group of three tubheads. Two were nondescript, barely important, with plain features and shiny armour. The third, though, was one he recognised. The slim, athletic build, tangled beard, and greasy face beneath that lacquered hair could belong to the one and only Kythos Ravenpeak.

  The boys had run into him a few times in their perusal of the markets. As an ambitious tubhead on the up and up, Kythos had made it his personal mission to catch any and all market thieves so he can relieve them of their hands. It had been months since he’d been put in that position, and, as far as Holsley was aware, he’d caught exactly zero thieves.

  ‘Let’s go in for a closer look.’

  Holsley was about to object, but Roland jumped off the fountain before he even got the chance. Before he knew it, he was following the rogue close behind as they stealthily slithered their way through the market crowds.

  When they got in close enough, they could hear the makings of a conversation. Holsley and Roland ducked behind some nearby crates to hide themselves, but a flock of pigeons somehow took this as a sign that they might possess some crumbs. Holsley had to shoo away a few of them as they hopped onto the crate.

  Both boys leaned in curiously and listened carefully to what was being said between Kythos and his subordinates. Through a combination of lip reading, approximate guesses, and hearing every other word through the haze of a busy market, they pieced together the true nature of the conversation.

  Kythos had recently been promoted by his mother. The tubhead was soon to become to Ward Captain of the Unending Alley, which was only a step away from becoming Lower Warden of Tressa. It was something he seemed excited about, and he commemorated his promotion by commissioning a unique item of his own design. A firelighter. One which he would use to smoke his fine cigars.

  He went into detail with the other tubheads about the design, mentioning several times that it was made of gold, was a little overpriced, and had been branded with his initials. He’d already placed the order a week ago and was heading to the shop today to purchase the final product.

  Roland’s grin could not be any wider.

  Holsley already knew what that meant. He groaned as Roland ducked out from beneath the crate and followed Kythos through the thick crowds. The rogue was going to steal that firelighter, but Holsley was concerned with a bigger problem. If Kythos was about to become the Ward Captain for their home, he’d have a lot more guards and power at his disposal. Was it really worth agitating him?

  Kythos made a beeline for one of the market’s newer shops. Holsley hadn’t been there personally, but he knew what it was about. The shop was called Magnificier Mechanicalii and was run by a gnome that liked to tinker with clockwork inventions. A passerby could spy all kinds of little gizmos in the window, from music-producing boxes to wind-up toys and beyond.

  It seemed like a wondrous place, but it was too upscale for Holsley’s pockets.

  As the burly tubhead stepped into the shop and disappeared, Roland snuck up to an alleyway around the corner of the building, clumsily followed a few moments later by Holsley. They leaned against the wall, breathless, as they thought about what would happen next.

  ‘Right.’ Roland clapped his hands together. ‘This is going to be hilarious. If you can create an opportunity, Holsley, then I can pilfer the firelighter from his pocket.’

  ‘Should we really be doing this?’ Holsley asked, unsure. ‘If he’s going to be a Ward Captain, do we want to upset him?’

  ‘Uh, let me think about that for a moment, Holly,’ replied Roland. ‘Yes.’

  Holsley sighed.

  ‘Besides, I’ve always wanted a firelighter. They’re pretty useful. Hey, do you want to bet that I can lift it off him without him even noticing?’

  ‘Well, I kind of hope you do,’ replied Holsley. He rolled his eyes. ‘How much you willing to bet?’

  ‘A crown?’

  ‘You’re on,’ Holsley said, knowing there was no way to turn his friend from following through on this path. ‘What plan are we going with?’

  ‘How about Love Story?’ replied Roland. ‘Keep it simple.’

  It took a few minutes for Holsley to get in position.

  When Kythos stepped out of the shop, he didn’t waste any time retrieving a cigar. He was practically glowing with pride when he fetched an impressive-looking firelighter from out of his pockets. Holsley caught a glint of from across the way. It was a gaudy piece, honestly a bit too ostentatious. He couldn’t see it properly, but the thing was covered with decorative flowers and embossing, and the flame it produced was larger than it needed to be.

  Roland gave Holsley a thumbs up from nearby.

  With another sigh, Holsley sprang into action. He rushed across to a crate, jumped up onto it, and then quickly hitched up onto a higher barrel, and from there, he climbed onto the roof to one of the vendor’s carts. The vendor let out a sharp profanity, but Holsley silenced him with a single silver noble.

  ‘People of all kinds!’ he called confidently to the crowd. Holsley raised his lute and strummed the strings, instantly catching their attention. People stopped. He held up three copper peasants in between the fingers of his right hand, allowing their surface to glint in the light of the open sun. ‘Three peasants to the first person who can guess my song. Anyone can win. All you need to be is the first to call out its name.’

  Holsley loved working the crowds. There was an art to gathering people’s attention and a greater art to keeping it. Originally, when he had first started perusing the markets with Roland, Holsley had juggled to captivate their attention. Now that he was a little more confident with the lute and knew a few songs, he liked to play instead.

  People gathered in earnest. Three peasants was a tantalising prize. It wasn’t enough to make them rich but would be enough to purchase a sweet treat of their choosing. Maybe a treacle tart or some honey-smothered bread from the artisan stalls. That promise alone was enough to bring them in closer.

  Kythos had caught Holsley’s eye from behind the wall of people. The young bard gave him a little bow and a cocky grin. That was, of course, part of the plan. Kythos knew of Holsley, though not by name. His fingers had never found the bard’s scruff either. A growl, audible even above the eager crowd, rumbled from the tiefling’s lips as he charged over.

  Smiling, Holsley put his heart into the lute.

  ‘We talk of tales, set in green vales, and forests that reach far and wide.

  We love the spats, the heartbreak romance, and watching true love go dry.

  But never before, not once, not at all, have I ever seen something so true.

  Her love was so pure, but his love was much more, and he could only—’

  ‘Easy. That’s the Inflexible Lover!’ The shout had come from somewhere in the centre of the crowd a single moment before tens of other voices shouted the same thing. Holsley spotted the individual. From the blood-soaked apron and the stern look of the balding gentleman, he could only guess that he was looking at a butcher.

  ‘Correct!’

  Holsley threw the coins into the crowd. That simple act sent the crowd into a sudden frenzy as they all lurched for the loot. They scrambled, and Holsley caught sight of Kythos, now stuck in the chaos. Holsley gave him a little wave before he bolted and was away long before the tubhead found his way free.

  He hopped down from the cart’s roof, jumped from the barrel, and was down an alleyway a moment later.

  It took him a minute for his heart to catch up to him. Holsley breathed through reluctant lungs but couldn’t help a little chuckle with each breath. Despite his initial reluctance, there really was no feeling in the world quite like getting away with something. It was exciting, hair-raising, riveting, gripping, and every other incarnation of the word.

  He could see why Roland loved it.

  Dan wondered why Holsley would hang around with such a scoundrel like Roland Darrow. Well, it was because of this. Roland was adventurous and fun; he made the day more interesting and was always grateful for any modicum of talent Holsley possessed.

  ‘Got it!’ Roland swept into the alleyway, holding the firelighter in his hand. Up close, it really was gaudy. ‘Kythos didn’t even notice.’

  Holsley tossed him a gold crown. The rogue deftly caught it. ‘Alright, you win.’

  Roland bit the coin. ‘Thank you for your donation, Holly.’

  Holsley looked up to the sky, and his face turned sour. ‘Wait, what time is it?’

  ‘About midday?’ Roland replied, eyebrow raised. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m late for the lunchtime rush!’

  Holsley broke into a sprint and dove out of the alleyway, throwing all caution to the wind. Dan was going to have his head for this one. He barrelled through the crowd as he made his way back to the Smiling Bard.

  Little did he know, however, that across the way, a tubhead had caught sight of him.