Chapter 387: Cultivating Listeners
The listeners he cultivated were quite impressive.
One was Fuzan, Princess Liuying’s personal treasurer for the Underground. The treasure’s regal posture never wavered even as her sharp eyes fixed on him.
Another was Archelaus, a demi-god said to be one of the fifty sons Orion fathered from sleeping with fifty nymphs. The demigod had taken up a place near the edge of the gathering, his eyes always flicking and his smile never leaving him yet never approaching anyone of importance.
It was the red-haired man standing quietly near the entrance who caught Dasha’s attention the most. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with pale skin and wild red hair that marked him immediately as a foreigner. His clothes were simple, a worn kilt and tunic, but his eyes glowed with the unmistakable power of a Sorcerer. Yes, with Qi Sense, he could lightly tell and with music serving as a distraction, he was able to do it without getting caught. The red Sorcerer leaned against the stone wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Dasha intently with a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.
When Dasha finished his song, the last note lingering in the air like a whispered secret, the room erupted into quiet applause. Archelaus raised his goblet in acknowledgment and Dasha inclined his head slightly in response. He kept the lyre close to him and took deep breaths.
The red-haired sorcerer made his way over and stopped just short of Dasha, of Myth the musician.
"Well now," the red Sorcerer greetd, rich with a thick Scottish brogue, "that was a fine performance. Not often ye find a lyre player who knows his craft so well."
Myth’s black opera mask concealed the emotion in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly. "It’s a new instrument to me. I’m still learning its intricacies."
The sorcerer chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Aye, could’ve fooled me. The name’s Alastair. Alastair MacGowan. And ye are...?"
"Myth," came the simple reply. No titles, no further explanation. Just his name, as inscrutable as ever.
Alastair raised an eyebrow, then nodded as if satisfied. "Aye, Myth it is, then. Tell me, lad—are ye familiar with the art of flyting?"