Koradan had to duck to get his horn through the doorway. His shoulders nearly brushed the frame, and he looked up, checking the height of the ceiling before he stood up straight. “Thank you for the invitation,” he said.
“Hey, Koradan,” Paul said, not moving from his seat. “How are the vreki?”
“Safe and comfortable. Sorry it took us a while. We needed to remove their saddles. They’ve been stuck in them for the last four days and they deserved a break. But they’re all tucked into the barn now. And we’ve left the barn doors open, so I’ve warned them they might get a few goats as visitors overnight. Otherwise they’d likely startle themselves and bust down a wall.”
Lynette frowned at him. “The vreki would be scared of goats?”
“This is a strange new world for them. They have little idea of what’s dangerous and what isn’t. And it pays to err on the side of caution.”
“But vreki are…” She stopped herself before she said ‘dragons’. “They’re bigger. And they have sharp teeth. And… couldn’t they just set the goats on fire, or something?”
Koradan laughed. “Vreki don’t breathe fire. And their teeth are far better suited to chewing vegetation than killing livestock. Their incisors are used for catching fish, but that’s about it.”
“Oh.” Yet one more thing that was defying Lynette’s expectations today. “Well, um… please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? If you want something stronger than water, I have either cider or whisky.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what either of those are.”
Right. Lynette’s mind raced for a moment, then she simply made a decision. “I’ll get you some whisky. If you don’t like it, I can find something else.”
Koradan nodded amiably. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Where did you leave your armour and sword?” Paul asked, as Lynette went to the pantry to fetch the drink.
“In the barn with the vreki. So long as nobody’s trying to kill us, we don’t actually need them. But I wouldn’t want them falling into the wrong hands, either.” Listening in, Lynette thought the message was clear – the salases trusted the villagers not to harm them, but that trust only went so far. And by all reasonable measures, that was fair enough. Lynette didn’t entirely trust them, either.
“Did you fight lots of battles in Chalandros?” Paul asked, and Lynette decided to head that conversation off before it got started.
“Paul, sweetheart, perhaps battle stories is not the best topic of conversation for the dinner table.”
Paul opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again with another of his longsuffering sighs.
“I think your mother’s right,” Koradan said, smiling at Lynette as she handed him a cup of whisky. “Perhaps you could tell me more about this world. The vreki were asking if there are any rivers nearby where we could catch some fish.” He took a sip of the whisky, and Lynette suddenly wondered what on earth she was doing giving it to him. Kai had liked whisky, having a cup of it most evenings while the gate had been closed and he’d been able to come home. She still kept a bottle in the pantry, all these years later, even though she only drank it once a month or so. But what made her think Koradan would like it? Was it because he was a big, tough man, so obviously, he would like a ‘man’s drink’?
But as he lowered the cup from his lips, Koradan went strangely still, staring at the cup in awe.
“There’s a pretty big river to the north east,” Paul said, not noticing the stunned look on Koradan’s face. “It comes down off the mountains. There are lots of fish there. And it’s remote enough that there aren’t many fishermen. If you’re careful, you should be able to catch something without running into anyone else.”
Koradan didn’t reply. “Is something wrong?” Lynette asked him.
He seemed to snap out of a daze. “No, not at all. This is very good,” he said, holding up the cup. “We have a similar drink in Chalandros. We call it gerian. This was whisky, you said?”
Lynette nodded. “Yes.”
“I wonder… Would it be possible for me to buy a bottle of it from somewhere?”
“I suppose so. There’s a merchant who runs a trade route through the village once a month. You could put in an order and he could bring a bottle.” There were so many things wrong with that statement. For one thing, the merchant wasn’t due for another two weeks, and if he didn’t have any with him, it would be at least six weeks before Koradan could get his hands on any. By all reasonable estimates, he should be long gone from here by then. For another thing, Lynette didn’t think the salases had any human currency, so how was he going to pay for it? And finally, the merchant would most likely run screaming in the opposite direction if he found out their village had been infested with demons. “Do you mind if I ask why you want it?”
Koradan didn’t answer for a moment, regarding the cup thoughtfully. “We had a comrade. A member of our team. He was killed when… uh… shortly before we crossed the gate. It’s a tradition in Chalandros to burn a cup of gerian in honour of a fallen soldier. It would mean a lot to us to be able to fulfil that tradition here.”
“I see.” Lynette thought for a moment, but in all honesty, her mind was already made up. She went to the pantry and took out the bottle of whisky – a little over half full. “Take mine,” she said, setting it on the table beside Koradan. “I rarely drink it. I don’t even know why I keep it anymore. Old habits, I guess.”
“Are you sure? I should pay you something for this.”
“Nonsense. You’re rescuing half the men in our village in exchange for a few herbs and some stitches in your vreki’s wing. I think we’re getting the better end of the deal by far. A bottle of liquor is just a way to even the deal a little.”
Koradan ran his hand over the bottle. “Thank you,” he said reverently.
The stew was more or less ready, so Lynette went and spooned it into three bowls. As Paul had predicted, it was a little short, but it could be rounded out with bread, and with fruit for dessert, if Koradan was still hungry.
