Tinkerer

"A Tinkerer? What's a Tinkerer?

— Flynn Novak

Flynn Novak looked up as he heard the door of the tavern open. With a twist of his wrist, he slid the thick leather-bound book he had been looking through onto the shelf behind the counter and dropped a thick black cloth over the top of it. He smiled at the two patrons who had entered and wiped off the counter.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked. "Its a hot day for wandering."

"A pint of your best please," said the buxom woman with the grey badge of the bell embroidered on her coat lapel. Flynn noticed things like that. "Anything I can get you sir?" he asked politely glancing over at the tall thin man who accompanied her. He had a badge too.

"Got any whiskey?" he asked.

"Just the house brand. Do you want that neat or on ice?" Flynn replied steadily.

Neat it was and Flynn busied himself with pouring for these patrons and setting up the tavern for the evening rush. Days at his Solfather's tavern were all quiet and mostly routine - the Krakens Tab didn't do more than make ends meet until the sun went down. Usually the middle of the afternoon was dead - a perfect opportunity to get some studying in. Too bad these two were hanging out so long. He'd like to get the last of his research for his thesis done today, and that wouldn't happen if they didn't leave soon.

The two kept looking at him and whispering to each other, their heads bent over their beverages so Flynn couldn't read their lips. Flynn noticed things like that. He didn't like it. He busied himself cleaning glasses and wiping tables, wishing they would go away.

"Have you been here long?" the man asked as Flynn wiped the table next to them. "I haven't seen you here before."

"All my life. My village owns the place."

"We've been here for several months," he observed. "Surprised we haven't seen you."

"I've been away at school."

"Have you? How are you affording that?" asked the woman studying him intently.

He had the answer to this one. Good that his Pa had prepared him.

"Seaside taverns do pretty well," he replied. "and I've got Solparents. My Pa runs the Tab and gets the biggest cut. Where are you from? I haven't seen you here before."

"We're from Caledonia, members of the Ironwoods."

That was definitely not good. The Ironwoods were notorious purgers, and they had been watching him, checking out his red hair. Flynn hated his red hair. "Oh, here for trade?"

"Some, but we're mostly here to find you."

"Me?" Flynn feigned surprise. "What would members of the Ironwoods want with a seaside tavern keep?"

"We're looking for wizards" the woman replied smoothly.

He shook his head vehemently. "I don't know any wiz-"

The sound of a rowdy pair of want-to-be drunks burst through the door right before Damian and Forrest entered. Big as bulls, red with sunburn, with thick fingered ham hands, one blonde, one black, the two were inseparable boat brothers. Flynn rushed over to the bar and started to pour them tall red ales.

"How was the fishing today?" he asked.

"Fair and fair winds too," exclaimed the dark haired Damien in his deep booming voice. "How's it goin' Tinkerer? Home for good yet? When ya finishing up?"

"Just one more semester," replied Flynn with an easy grin. Tinkerer? What was Damien talking about? He flicked his eyes with warning towards the two Ironwoods who were staring at the fishermen in surprise.

Forrest cuffed him on the shoulder. "Can't wait to have ya back fixing t' gear. Got a whole pile we've been saving up for you." His face was turned away from the visitors who were rising from their table. His left eye dropped in a slow wink.

"It'll be good to be home." Flynn walked over to the table that the two Ironwoods had abandoned, picked up the empty mugs they had left and returned to the bar. Of course they left no tip. He checked out the door as he passed and watched them drift out of sight well down the street. It seemed safe for now.

"Tinkerer?" he asked turning back towards his lifelong friends. "What's that?"

"Ya new title man!" laughed Damien.

"Never heard of it," Flynn replied. "What's a Tinkerer?"

"It's like a wizard, but tain't one, so we don't have to lynch 'em, or sell 'em out to noseykins like those two as just left," Damien replied.

"Oh, well then, that works for me," replied Flynn with a grin.

"Thought you'd see it that way," said Forrest raising his mug.