Tommick paused, glanced away, then licked a crumb from the corner of his soft mouth.“I have one left.But it’s History from Before the Third Wall and I don’t care about that.”
“Your parents will care.”Dorrimin spoke without thinking and winced.
Tommick merely glanced away again.“Will they?”He dusted his hands on his expensive coat.“Well, if you don’t want to go, as always….”He muttered that, a little sour himself, as he pulled out his gloves to put them on.“And if the weather does intend to trap us inside for a night or a day or two, then I shall have my drink with the gang and then come see you before I head up.”
“My mother wants you to stay for dinner.”Dorrimin muttered back at him, uncertain why his tone was, for lack of a better word, cranky.
“Just your mother?”Tommick wondered, lofty again, fitting his gloves and then fiddling with his scarf.
“If the wind worsens or it snows as heavily as they say it might,” Dorrimin persisted, still cranky, “you should go straight home.You don’t need to come see me.”He wasn’t worth the risk of freezing or being stuck on a pub floor overnight with anyone else trapped by the storm.
Tommick raised his head.His gaze was serious.“I know that, Dorrimin.”
His tone was ever so slightly condescending.
Dorrimin sat back down on the stool, arms crossed, probably all elbows and knees.Thoroughly ridiculous looking even without glaring down his nose.
“It might not be safe,” Dorrimin protested anyway.
Tommick brightened like a brand-new show-light in one of the Fortune Emporium’s display windows.“But then I might not see you fordays.”
Dorrimin stared at him.He stared at Tommick for what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time and was acutely aware of how rapidly his heart was beating.
“But you’ll live,” he argued at last in the gruff voice of an old man.
“Dorri.”Tommick clapped his hands together, the sound muffled by his gloves.“All this means is that in the spring, you are coming to the pub and I won’t take no for an answer.It can be just the two of us, if you want.If the others are intimidating you.”
“I’m not….”Dorrimin trailed off when Tommick moved toward the door, only to pause by the closest of the shop’s two street-level windows.
“Midwinter is approaching, but there’s not a sign of it in here yet.”
Many other businesses, especially the pubs, decorated early for the Midwinter holidays, with garlands of greenery and berries, or pine cones, or bows, or flowers.Some even spent money on candles or extra lights.
“We are not a place to buy gifts,” Dorrimin answered in confusion.“Or an emporium like yours.”
“Oh, I know.”Tommick inclined his head and smiled before glancing back to him.“But you know that seeing reminders of the holiday makes people want to spend money, right?I’ve heard several pub owners say sales go up the moment they start putting out the wreaths and garlands.”
“But that’s for a good time.”Dorrimin was no less confused.“We make elixirs to get cleaner sinks and to polish pots and pans.”
Tommick gave him an almost exasperated look.“And softeners for hair, and oils to make it more manageable.Lotions for after baths.”He paused, lowering his voice.“Ointments to aid in pleasure.”In public, most people called those products Marital or Intimacy Aids.Hearing Tommick say the wordpleasuremade Dorrimin’s skin prickle.Tommick said it as if he knew all the best ways to use such products, as opposed to Dorrimin, who used a dab to help him sometimes in his room at night if he felt like doing something differently, but who mostly took care of his business in the morning so he wouldn’t get restless during the day.Tommick probably used them with other people.No, Tommick definitely did.That’s what the gleam in his eyes said as he went on.“People might wantthoseas gifts.Or want to look their best for Midwinter parties.”
“Parties?”
Tommick turned enough to study Dorrimin from his puzzled frown to his throat and the collar that, while still unbuttoned, now felt too tight.“Yes, you stick-in-the-mud,” he agreed fondly.“Parties.Which I will continue to invite you to.”
Unsure if he meant more gatherings with his college friends or something up top, Dorrimin could only stare back.Guild members were well-regarded in the city but they were not usually toppers.They could live or do business on any level of mountain, but rarely that one.He wouldn’t have anything to wear, much less anything to talk about unless they wanted to discuss the problems of the shelf life of facial creams with scents added to them.
It would be the same with Tommick’s college friends, almost certainly.
He could hear his mother and Tommick both telling him that if he took classes at the college, he might be able to discuss poetry or the stars.Or even the History Before the Third Wall.
“I’m only a Guild apprentice, Tommick,” he said quietly, in a voice that his father would not have liked to hear.
“‘Only?’”Tommick scoffed.“You’re smart and skilled and growing more skilled by the day.And most of the products in my family’s store are made by Guild members—including your family’s products.They’ll take you more seriously than they’ll ever take me.”
The Fortune Emporium, occupying nearly an entire level halfway up the mountain, served all people of all classes of Eladia, from the farmers out beyond the Second Wall to the toppers.It offered local products and goods imported from other cities, even from across the sea, as well as luxuries and everyday household staples.People went there to shop for items they couldn’t get on their levels or for items of the very best quality.Or just to see what was new and gawk at the display windows or all the attractive, neatly dressed counter help.
A few months ago, Tommick had mentioned that he’d suggested his family add a small restaurant so that customers had another reason to linger in the store.Some customers already made a day of it to travel to the emporium, but they had to leave the store to eat and rest.Tommick had never mentioned the restaurant after that one time.Dorrimin assumed Tommick’s family had either dismissed the idea or not bothered to listen in the first place.
