Chapter 68. Pesty Pipers

wasted messenger pigeons and my associates’ valuable time bringing them here?” Zhou complained.

Pendaran grinned.  The continual celebration was wearing a bit thin on his master and it was clear he did not approve of the two newcomers.  The pair of mismatched mesmers had a distinctly roguish mien and it did not help matters that Zhou had to crane his neck to meet the gaze of the ginger-haired Ascalonian named Mog Ruith.  The other man would only give his name as Indigo.  His swart features lurked behind his rakishly long dark hair so that at times all that could be seen of him was a sly smile traced by a thin mustache.  The two of them had packed for a lengthy vacation at the expense of Crystal Palm and seemed most excited about the lodgings and the freely available fare.

“Zhou, these are the two gentlemen from Lion’s Arch who are friends of Armand.”

“Marvelous accommodations and the food is first rate!” Mog announced, slapping Zhou companionably upon the back and nearly knocking the wind from him, “My compliments to your master, Joe!”

Pendaran had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.  The look on his master’s face could have curdled milk at ten paces.  Oblivious of his blunder, the enormous man ran his fingers through his untidy whiskers and gazed appraisingly upon the rich furnishings and decorations of the great hall.  Zhou did look like he might be one of the servants amid the scurry of men and women preparing the place for the wedding gala.  He was stripped down to his loose black trousers and a plain linen tunic as he oversaw the preparations.  By unfortunate happenstance, Armand’s friends had arrived that morning.

“Uncouth Tyrian barbarians,” Zhou rumbled, “I’ll get even with you for this.  I can feel you smirking.  And do not use my informal name around those who do not know me!”

“Mog, Indigo, this is Master Bei Zhou An, the leader of the Order of the Crystal Palm.”

Mog choked and turned an amusing shade of crimson that clashed with his gaudy green attire.  Indigo proffered a courtly bow that further obscured his face as his dark mane swung forward.  Mumbling an apology, Mog followed suit.

“An honor to meet you, Sir,” Mog said after an awkward silence.

“Charmed,” Zhou said brusquely, a thin eyebrow quirked as a warning, answering their bows with a respectful nod.

“Master Bei, I was hoping you would join us in Armand’s room,” Pendaran said.

“Very well, Kai,” Zhou replied impatiently.

“Master, I am very flattered you are spending so much time and energy with the wedding preparations, but you know Teleri and I were hoping for a quiet ceremony.  It is our second time getting married…”

“…You want a quiet ceremony, but if you had half a clue you would know she longs for something lavish.”

“She never revealed that to me,” Pendaran grumbled.

“She told Kantele, and Kantele told me,” Zhou replied, a mischievous grin on his face.

“That’s cheating.”

“If you haven’t picked out your wedding clothes, I think that Adept outfit would look quite stunning.”

“I’m not wearing that stupid hat again.”

Zhou laughed out loud as he led the way to the quiet corner of the building that housed Armand.  Mog and Indigo looked askance at Pendaran but he merely shrugged.  He glanced at the strange contraption clutched under Mog’s gangly elbow.  It looked like the unholy union of a fireplace bellows, a spindle-backed chair and a green velvet cushion.  He was faintly dubious of the long silver tin whistle clutched in Indigo’s hand.  He distinctly remembered asking them if they knew how to make music as opposed to noise.

Brigit looked flummoxed by their arrival and she rose quickly from her chair to stand protectively before Armand’s peacefully sleeping form.

“Ah, we meet at last, fair Krytan Rose,” Mog announced loudly, bowing deeply to her.

“Brigit Gaenor, this is Mog Ruith and Indigo, friends of Armand.”

“Oh,” she murmured, backing away and glancing uncertainly up at the enormous mesmer.

“Oi, Army, up and at ‘em, laddo, or you’re going to get an earful of piping,” Mog roared happily upon seeing his friend, “Looks quite hale and hardy to me.  Lazy lout will do anything to get out of work.”

“I thought you were his friend!” Brigit protested.

Indigo snickered and brought the flute to his lips.  Pendaran winced as a high pitched squeal rent the air and the man loosened his shoulders.  Taking this as his cue, Mog hastily pumped the bellows with his elbows and took up the chanter, filling the room with a loud harmonic drone. 

“Come on, Army, or Mog will sit on you and crush your pretty legs,” Indigo laughed.

“Come on, circus boy, or I’ll sing the one about the elementalist.  You know, the one you really hate.”

Undaunted, Mog launched into a reel, his rough fingers racing over the pipe as he stamped his foot noisily.  Grinning, Indigo joined in with the high pitched wail of the tin flute.  Zhou backed away, a pained expression upon his face.

“Hear me lads for I’ve a tale to tell,
‘bout a Nolani lass from Sardelac.
She’d an ele’s skills and a pair of tomes,
‘round and wide and rosy…”

“Shut your trap, Mog,” Armand groaned softly, “and stop playing those blasted pipes.”

The air escaped from Mog’s instrument with a humorous bleat and Indigo lowered the tin flute with a satisfied smirk.

“T'is like a mighty incantation for it works every time,” Mog laughed, “Welcome back, old friend.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” Armand rasped, coughing.  Brigit moved frantically to his side to grasp his hand, afraid he might slip away once more.  But he was back and Pendaran felt the full force of his anger and confusion.  Wherever he had gone, he had clearly not expected to come back.  But when his pale eyes gazed up into Brigit’s rose petal face he softened.

“Thank the gods,” he whispered.

“I plan to,” Brigit laughed through her tears, “Right after I thank your ridiculous friends.”