Legend of the Phoenix Brothers

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Part 4

20 of Kythorn, 1389 The Year of the Snow Beast

Calimport

"So tell me, man to man, how does one bed a mermaid," the earth-kin said, taking another of many swigs from his mug of dwarven ale.

Salmryn chortled so hard his hand fell from the neck of his yarting and slapped his thigh.

"Seriously, man, they have tails, no legs to sneak between," the earth genasi who called himself Akaro said with his own laugh, realizing how off kilter his question was though basking in the moment. "I don't know do they have a hole in their fin or something. Or do they just squeeze their eggs off and you have to spill yourself over them. I guess that could be romantic."

Salmryn laughed a bit harder, though recovered his wits enough to reach to the low table and grab his small glass of jasmine wine.

"Not that I'm going by experience, unfortunately, but I do believe they have a hole in the rear section if their lower fin covered by smaller fins," Salmryn said, taking a sip of the potent liquor. "Though you try anything they will use that lower fin to snap your head off. I've seen it."

"Nah not like I'd dunk my stony arse in the water and try to ravish a mermaid," Akaro said, tightening a string on his double-headed drum. "I think I'd drown before getting my pants off."

"I've seen that tried too," Salkmryn said, turning another peg on the neck of his instrument and strumming the string until it was the right tune.

Akaro gave a wicked laugh in response as he tapped a random rhythm on the top of his drum.

A wave of bluish smoke from the gold hookah being used by the adjacent patrons wafted over their spot of lush carpet; a vanilla perfumed weed being smoked by two robed men Salmryn overheard discussing spellcraft. He briefly looked over his shoulder to see the gyrating, bare stomach of a lithe dancer, a belt of coins hanging around her shapely hips as a gold lame brassiere left little to the imagination.

It was a typical night at the Golden Moon, a casual tavern Salmryn decided to make his perch for his night in Calimport. He had gone days as a simple deck hand aboard the Langolia hauling crates like any other sailor, though on nights at port; when all his fellows were blowing their commissions on drink and whores, Salmryn sated his overwhelming curiosity and wanderlust for at least a few hours.

Calimport intrigued him to no end; a city of great beauty plastered onto great greed and great intrigue. He could walk through the streets or sit in the taverns and receive a hundred stares at his green hair, scaled skin, and slitted pupils, though no one dared say a word and would treat him like any other passer-by. He was likely being whispered about behind his back, though that almost flattered him

It was the same case in this outpost of humanity called the Golden Moon, though here he could blend in a little more.

Whether in Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Calimport, or any other city, he would take his yarting, a gift from a one-time paramour in Silverymoon, and pick a corner to strum. Sometimes he would spend the night alone with his instrument and his glass of whatever spirit he was having that night, though more often he would make at least one friend for the night, sometimes many. Often he would find other musicians to play whatever some came to mind.

Tonight was an ideal. Just an hour in his corner and his strumming was accompanied by a swiftly played drum capable of many different percussive sounds thanks to an able player.

The fact the drummer was a fellow elemental kin was an added bonus. Akaro's brown skin was more the color of sandstone than the usual Calishite tan. His pitch black eyes, like two black pearls, gave his heritage away as did the braided goatee the color of red clay. A few stony veins were obvious across his bald head and his hands were a bit too large for the average human.

Conversation came after twenty minutes of what musicians referred to as "jamming" before the two even talked to each other.

"So where's these friends you keep telling me about," Salmryn said.

"Well I assume Khalid is fashionably late as always," Akaro replied. "I swear by Sune's tits he'd be late for his own hanging. As for Ranhar…"

"He skipped out of the city with the Marshani Guild's daggers a mile away from his back," a grim voice said.

Salmryn looked up to see a human around his age hastily tying the strings on the collar of his white tunic embroidered with black and blue designs. His mid-length black hair was wavy with the heat as a healthy glean of sweat formed on his neck and face with a few beads on his pointed goatee. He looked like he ran over, though his slightly pudgy build likely contributed a few more heaving breaths than just the rush.

"Khal-pash, nice of you to join us," Akaro said in an unamused tone. "When did this little development happen?"

"Oh like an hour ago," the man Salmryn assumed was Khalid said through practically clenched teeth. "I tried to get in touch with the stupid bastard all morning only to hear through indirect sources the son of a bitch skipped out on a huge debt and disappeared. He knows we were performing tonight and chose tonight to piss off the universe."

"Khal-pash, it's called breathing," Akaro said, rolling his eyes or at least looked to be rolling his eyes. "Have a seat, meet my new friend."

Khalid took a few deep breaths and calmed, reaching a hand to Salmryn.

"Khalid Marhala," he said, pulling his voice from frantic to sophisticated in a moment, "well met."

"Sam Cooper," Salmryn replied.

"My buddy is a merchant sailor here for a good time," Akaro said.

Khalid gave Salmryn a look over with a pair of black eyes that instantly became ice the second they fell on him. The human clearly noted his green hair and scales on blue-black skin, though they stopped on the tunic Salmryn made himself from a sewing kit and an empty grain sack he found on board one of the previous ships he worked on.

"Nice shirt," Khalid said in bored curiosity, his mood clearly lightened by a hair's width. "New sailor fashion or is this what all the Ilmatherian masochists and wearing this year?"

Salmryn chuckled; he liked this guy already. Khalid adjusted his collar before stopping and facing Salmryn again.

"Of course if you are a follower of the Crying God, no offense meant," Khalid said, his tone diplomatically serious in a second.

It was the ultimate indicator of Calishite slickness, Salmryn thought; the ability to pull oneself together in an instant and exude an air of condescending confidence. He loved Calimport though new not to trust Calishites as far as he could throw them. Odds were good he was keeping up his act straight down to his stage name, but then Salmryn was guilty of that particular ruse as well.

"None taken and I'm not," Salmryn replied, reaching for his glass and sniffing the pungent contents. "This thing is actually very comfortable."

"I'll take your word for it," Khalid said with a half smirk, kneeling on the carpet, pulling a black leather bag from his back, and placing it on the small table. He opened the bag and pulled out a finely made fiddle; the body was highly polished palm inlaid with lines of black oak. It was an instrument that must have cost a fortune, or was acquired through more unique means.

Khalid cradled the instrument between his shoulder and chin and dragged the bow across in a starting tune.

"Could you give me a G," he asked Salmryn, pointing the bow at Salmryn's yarting. Salmryn nodded, playing a G-chord as Khalid tuned his fiddle.

"Many thanks," Khalid said, tuning the rest of his strings with a look of serious focus. He finished his tuning with a final drag of the bow in a high note as he placed his cold gaze back on Salmryn. "Do you know 'Harharaline?'" he asked.

"Not exactly," Salmryn replied.

"You'll just have to play along," Khalid said. "The yarting part is accompaniment at best; basic rhythm, but feel free to improvise."

"I suppose?" Salmryn said, cocking a green eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh, forgot to mention that part," Akaro said. "We are kind of the main performers here tonight."

Salmryn casually glanced around the room and saw a man in brown robes clinging to the back wall and watching their group with an impatient glare.

"That would be the proprietor," Akaro said.

Khalid rolled his eyes and suppressed a growl. Salmryn smiled and looked into his black eyes.

"What's the beginning chord," he said, dragging his abalone pick over the strings.

----------

A mass of claps and shouts went up after the trio of young musicians played their last note.

Salmryn looked out at the small audience and basked in the applause even if it was done with one hand holding a glass or a pipe. Regardless, their attention belonged to him and his two new bandmates. This was the most applause he had ever gotten in any port of call.

Khalid flashed him a grin, his black hair wild from all the head swaying he did in rhythm with his rapid, sometimes impossible strumming. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked out at the crowd. Akaro raised a fist and shouted along like a warrior who had just tasted victory.

A few seconds later, the tavern patrons returned to their scheming as if the musicians were never there.

Akaro lowered his drum and went to the bar to order another ale.

"I owe you a lot of drinks, friend," Khalid said. "You're my hero."

"You're not the first man who's told me that." Salmryn said with a snicker, holding his left thumb to his left forefinger to stem a tiny cut he got from bending the chords a bit too much.

"Though I'm probably the only one who meant it," Khalid replied without missing a beat.

Khalid walked up to the bar and ordered two glasses of sweet wine, which were on the bar a second later. Khalid pushed one into Salmryn's hand and took his own long swig.

"To spoils, my friends," Akaro said, walking up to them and clinking his ale glass against each of the others before walking off in clear pursuit of the belly dancer making her rounds through the tavern.

"Is this a typical night for you lot," Salmryn said, leaning against the bar.

"The venue changes but it's mostly the same," Khalid said, taking a long sip and putting his glass on the bar and leaning his fiddle on the floor against the bar. "Save for the missing presence of our usual third member, though in my personal opinion he has nothing on you. That means a lot coming from me."

"Well thanks," Salmryn said. "Unfortunately for you two I'm shipping off tomorrow morning."

"You're in a better position than all of us," Khalid said with a grimace, pulling a small clay pipe from his belt and taking a pinch of pipeweed from a small bag.

Salmryn clearly heard the small twinge of pain in his voice. Khalid pulled out a tindertwig, struck it against the sole of his high black boot and lit his pipe with a few puffs.

"Our little band was destined to collapse before tonight," Khalid said with a sigh as a small cloud of smoke trailed from his lips. "Akaro is leaving for Waterdeep in a tenday. Our barbaric little earth genasi so impressed several old bards with his drum skills he has earned a place on the roster at New Olamn."

"That's fantastic," Salmryn said. "Excellent for him, though clearly a loss for this group."

"He takes his craft with the utmost seriousness," Khalid said with the hint of a smile. "His drum is his best friend, his wife almost. Those two are never separated."

"What about you," Salmryn asked, putting his yarting on a stool. "How serious is the craft for you."

Khalid chuckled, though Salmryn saw another hint of that sting.

"It's something that keeps me sane," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "A hobby, a side interest, it's all I have time for."

"A widow of business as they say?" Salmryn asked, leaning against the bar.

Khalid gave a smirk though looked a bit uncomfortable at the mention of his work; giving Salmryn the impression he was dealing with a typical Calishite businessman who didn't want to discuss his intrigues.

"Let's just say it's my life, for boon or bane," Khalid replied.

Salmryn nodded and toasted his glass.

"What about you," Khalid said before taking a draw on his pipe. "Will you be currying bardic favor alongside Akaro?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Salmryn said. "If you're a widow of business, I'm a whore for adventure. As soon as I get back into Waterdeep, I'm joining a trade company in Skullport."

"Skullport is such a cluster of vileness it's fabulous in its own way," Khalid replied.

Salmryn chuckled, draining his glass and putting it back on the bar. He wanted to stay here for at least a few more hours, talking with Khalid and Akaro, though he could tell by a small window leading out to the street the moon was near its set.

"We ship out in less than five hours and I need sleep," Salmryn said, putting his arm out to Khalid. "Thanks for a great time."

Khalid clasped his arm and gave a sad smile.

"Fair winds to you, mate," Khalid said. "Just remember never look a female drow in the eye and never look at an illithid at all, trust me on this."

Salmryn laughed and nodded, before pulling back, grabbing his yarting, and walking from the bar. He gave a few brief parting words to Akaro, who gave him a huge muddy hug, and walked from the tavern.