All that effort went to just an inch of drink in her iced glass.
“So,” he said as Zoe took a small sip, “what’s got you wound up?”
“Children being children, I suppose.” She couldn’t very well tell him that one of her students seemed to be a budding diabolist. “I just needed a change of scenery for a few minutes before I finish grading some papers.”
He grinned at her. “Well you’re always free to change your scenery here.” Tom stepped back around the bar. “I need to finish wiping down the tables. If you need anything, just say so.”
Zoe downed her drink with deliberate lethargy. It was a good drink, as expected of Tom. Not one she knew the name of. It had a deep amber color and tasted of some fruit she couldn’t place.
As she finished her drink, Zoe looked around the bar. She looked past the tables and the working Tom up to the stage. A beautifully polished grand piano sat in the center, lit by soft red lights.
“Hey Tom, mind if I use your piano?”
The bartender looked between the piano and Zoe before shrugging. “Not at all.”
Zoe walked up the short steps to the piano. Her fingers ran across the surface of the smooth keys as she sat down. She stared at the piano, not sure what she wanted to play.
She started slowly, very high up in the treble. Zoe kept the bass light, letting it mix in naturally. Her right hand descended to the middle of the piano.
More bass added in as the treble drew back into the ambiance. Her left hand hammered the keys. Her feet danced over the pedals, drawing out the notes to just the right length.
It all stopped for an instant. The treble came back with the bass in full force. Her fingers flew up and down the keys in a full run down. High and low and back to high. Her hands blazed across the piano.
Her song drew into a close with her hammering both hands down on the chords several times, holding the final strike.
Only when the piano’s sound stopped completely did Zoe pull her hands off the keys. She wiped a few beads of sweat off of her forehead. A deep breath in and a deep breath out had Zoe feeling much better.
A clapping had her almost jumping out of her chair. It wasn’t just Tom–though he looked as if he had stopped his cleaning to listen. A patron stood near the entrance. His hands moved together as he smiled a wide grin.
Zoe quickly removed herself from the seat of the piano. Her face felt the slightest bit hot as she hopped off the stage. She wasn’t counting on an audience other than Tom.
“May I buy you a drink,” the man said as she drew closer. He had a bright smile on and a gloved hand extended for a shake. “That was most impressive.”
Zoe had intended to simply leave. She did have work to do. Something made her stop just before she walked past him.
“One drink,” Zoe said.
His golden eyes glinted as he smiled and led her to the bar.
Tom already moved behind it and started up his routine of drink making. He set out a tall glass for each of them that started dark at the top but ended up almost white at the bottom. He moved back to finish wiping down the tables without a word.
“So,” Zoe said as she pulled the drink closer. That was far more than she wanted to drink, not that she considered herself a lightweight by any means.
“I apologize,” his white teeth spread into a grin, “where are my manners. I am Rex Zagan.”
“Zoe Baxter.”
“Zoe Baxter,” he said, mulling the name around on his tongue. He took a deep drink from the glass in front of him. “I think I’ve heard that name before. Are you a teacher?”
“Of magical theory.” She stopped just before taking a drink of her own glass. “Do I know you?”
“No, no,” he chuckled. “I’m an acquaintance of Martina’s. Providing all goes according to plan, I’ll be an instructor next year.”
Zoe frowned. She hadn’t heard anything about any of her colleagues planning on retiring or quitting. Had someone messed up badly enough during one of the dean’s little sit ins to get fired? Her worries must have been written on her face.
“I believe I’m being brought in to teach a class that the previous dean did away with. Martina wants to bring back a proper combat class.”
“You’re going to teach the students how to fight?”
“A lack of a proper course in combat is at least one of the reasons this school is so poorly regarded, yeah?”
“That’s true,” Zoe said. That was why she ran her seminar over the summer. “Though hardly the only reason the school is in poor shape. What are your qualifications?”
“I’m a class one fire mage with heavy background in combat.”
He certainly looked like he had a background in combat. He wore a solid black suit, but there were definitely hefty muscles hiding underneath.
“I spent around ten years on the front lines in a small conflict between some South American warlords. I was… well, conscripted.” He dismissed the line of conversation with a suave wave of his hand. “That’s all ancient history. Suffice to say, I’m alive and many others are not.”
