Ealdwine watched as Edward rose to his feet and began to wander the bar. Aha! He had been unconscious when the siren sang her dreadful note, and had not been affected. Any joy he might have felt quickly dissipated when the boy tossed the bandaged woman's cloak over him. Was the young lord mad? Had he hit his head rather harder than he had imagined? Before he had time to contemplate this turn of events, he heard the crashing of the front door- and the barman yelling his head off.

Pulling the cloak up over his eyes to protest this unfair treatment, his words froze in his mouth to see Busker struck in the throat by some unseen assailant. He tightened his grip on his sword as a masked figure with a dagger moved right past him, clearly making for Edward.

[i]Ye gods.[/i]

Could it really be? A Salvager? The Bard had heard tales of his kind, most often told in hushed whispers. When he had misbehaved as a boy his mother had often frightened him with stories about them, saying they seized unruly children in the dead of night, spiriting them away to their evil fortress high in the mountains.

They were all doomed if nothing was done. He knew they killed witnesses, in addition to their quarry. It could not end this way. Not here, not like this. He still had the element of surprise- or so he hoped. If he could just get his hands on that precious elixir, he could save the barman- and doubtless earn himself a meal! He cast off the cloak from his head with a flourish, shouting a challenge.

“Varlet! Tell your gods that Ealdwine sent you to Hell!”

The Bard had never fought a myth before, but intended to do his father proud. He charged headlong for the man with the dagger, his rapier thrust in a vicious stroke for the heart.