He came to town infrequently but his visits were well remembered. He traveled light, with just the one small leather bag. Inside were his instruments, it was these that they remembered. After an elaborate set up he would create a small image of astounding beauty. This he would trade for a meal and a bed for the night, then be on his way in the morning.

He would return a few seasons or years later. His small images, notes from a different time, on the walls and in frames in the taverns and pubs.

Grand remembrances would follow, free drinks and back slaps.

Really, you must tell us of your exotic adventures.

Then a story of two.

Near the end of the night he would produce a new image for them from the delicate instruments before retiring to the room his wandering had led him to that night.

It was uncommon at the time to sign in when staying at a hotel. After he had not reappeared for a few seasons or years, no one knew his name.