All in the bar were captivated by Rakan’s performance—all save one. Near the back of the dim-lit tavern, a silken-feathered vastayan woman stared into a spread of maps, ignoring her raucous surroundings. With a flourish of feathers, she lifted her eyes to meet his. She nodded toward an Ionian soldier in the back row, and Rakan smiled. It was time to really grab the spotlight. He dove off the stage, sliding across a bartop toward the soldier. With a stunning kick that sent the man flying through three tables, the Charmer’s job was done.
