The female was cheating.Cheating.
Did she think I was stupid? I could clearly smell that she had only water in her tiny glass where I had alcohol in mine. Cheating was something the fae did. Orcs did not cheat. We won games by using our strength or agility or intelligence. Butinstead of filling me with disgust, the idea that she would cheat to win a wager intrigued me.
And that little smirk on her lips as she tossed back her tiny glass of water did more than intrigue me. Resisting the need to adjust my pants, I drank my own liquid and hid a wince at the harsh taste.
Human beer was good. Human spirits were not—at least judging from this one. I was surprised it hadn’t left etch marks in the glass. Or dissolved it entirely.
A second set of glasses was delivered to us. Mine held more of whatever acid passed for liquor in this world. Hers again held water.
Whatever. She still wasn’t going to get me drunk, and at least this way there was no chance of her throwing up on the bar.
And I wanted to win.
Whatever I wanted. That was the prize if I won, although no matter how much I could drink and remain sober, she was unlikely to loseas she was cheating.
But whatdidI want? Again I thought about her breasts. Would her nipples be dark? Her skin wasn’t pale like her friends, and it didn’t have the pink-tones of ivory-skinned human females. Would the garden around her nest of honey be dark and curly like the ends of her braids? Males in our clan wore short hair and shaved our faces, but the orc females had hair similar to this human. And dark eyes, although hers were wide and shaped to give her an innocent, childlike expression.
Which was a trap, because this harpy was hardly innocent or childlike.
I gulped down the clear liquid then turned to the male behind the bar. “Serve us something different next time. Whatever you gave us is terrible.”
He glanced at theMiskal,then back at me. “On your tab?”
I nodded, having needed to look that word up on the translation app a few days ago. “Your best. Nothing that tastes like it will dissolve my bones.”
“Whiskey okay?”
I had no idea what whiskey was, but I nodded. TheMiskalput out her hand.
“Wait. I don’t…I’ll just stay with the vodka I’ve been drinking.” The word “vodka” was oddly emphasized and she exchanged a meaningful glance with the bartender who then looked once more at me.
“If she wants to dissolve her bones, then I will not stop her,” I told the male, knowing full well that she meant to continue drinking water. Honorable orcs might not cheat, but I was happy to play along with this game.
The whiskey had complex flavors, with spicy-peppery notes and a hint of fruit. It finished dry, but with a smokey-caramel overlay that no doubt came from the barrel it was aged in. We imported similar spirits in my kingdom, and I took my time drinking this liquid so I could admire the quality.
“This is nice,” I told theMiskal, who seemed amused by my appreciation of the spirit.
“It’s a rye whiskey from a Maryland-based distiller,” she said. “They use only local grains and follow recipes that were documented over two hundred and fifty years ago. Whiskeys in Europe are barley based, but barley doesn’t grow well in this country. Rye does, so the early settlers learned to make whiskey with that grain. We also make bourbon in this state, which is corn-based and a bit sweeter, although the best-known distillers of bourbon are in Kentucky and Tennessee. Rye whiskey has more of a bold, spicy kick than the other kinds. My father loves it. In fact, that particular brand is his favorite.”
I lifted the bottle that the bartender had brought over, thinking I would need to bring one as a gift to theMiskal’sfather.
No. No, I wouldn’t. I was never going to meet her father. There would be no occasion where such an introduction would be necessary.
“What is your favorite drink?” I asked the female.
She looked as if she were about to tell me something different before catching herself. Lifting the glass, she smiled. “This brand of vodka, of course.”
Of course. If she were to claim otherwise, I might insist I buy her that instead and then she would become drunk and lose our bet.
Six glasses later, the female was not drunk, although she did need to excuse herself to the necessary room. I wasn’t exactly drunk, but I was feeling the effect of these human beverages. It wasn’t that they were stronger than what we had back home, but rather that I wasn’t used to imbibing this quantity in such a short time. My head was still clear, and I had no trouble standing upright, but going back to my hovel and falling into my bed for sleep appealed far more than usual. Sleep. Yes sleep would be good. One or two more drinks and I would end this silly game, go home, and sleep.
Would that mean she won? I’d wanted to win, but I couldn’t quite remember why. Or what she might possibly demand if she won. Not that she would truly have won because shecheated.
Okay, maybe I was a little tipsy. Tipsy. It was a good word. Very similar to the Orcish word with the same meaning. Tipsy.
The Miskal returned, looked at me with her head tilted, then waved a dismissive hand at the male behind the bar.
“Damn. You’re drunk. I hadn’t thought you were even feeling those, but you look a little fuzzy around the edges there.”
