“I like this color,” she compliments, gesturing to my hair. “No Lutyn today?” she asks casually, her smile once again bright, but there’s a cheeky twinkle that wasn’t there before.
I have no idea what Lutyn is, so I shake my head. “No, but thank you for this,” I offer, raising my glass to my lips and taking a deep pull. It’s sweet and potent, and I know already I’ll be pissed out of my head in no time if I drink too much.
“What’s on offer for food?” Tarek asks, and the lady’s warm brown eyes cool a degree as she turns to him to answer.
I’ve grown accustomed to a very different kind of reaction to the Scorpions than the one this fae is bestowing. When they’re out in public looking like normal fae, there’s a certain amount of appreciation or interest thrown their way. This barmaid, however, looks jaded and concerned, like she’s seen too much in life to be fooled by a pretty face and an impressive physique.
She’s distinctly older than us, but with fae, it’s difficult to gauge age as we mature later and age slower than other species. This barmaid has lines etched around her mouth and her eyes like she scowls and laughs in equal measure. Her light brown hair is pulled back to her nape and plaited down her back in a no frills, no nonsense fashion. There’s a hardness to her that isn’t surprising given the harsh weather here, her age, and the fact that she works in a tavern.
“We have a stag salmi with crusty bread, or bulo filets with winter vegetables.”
We all order the salmi, which seems to reassure her for some reason, and she darts off, disappearing through a set of double doors behind the bar, probably headed out to lock up the town’s daughters. I chuckle to myself, and Curio reaches over and plucks my cup away. He sniffs the purple contents and then sips cautiously. His eyebrows fly up in surprise, and he coughs, slapping his chest, as he sets the glass back down.
“That tastes like nectar and burns like fire whiskey,” he croaks as he clears his throat.
I laugh. “A few more sips, and it might as well be hawx claw for all I’ll remember tomorrow.”
Curio passes the potent elixir to Tarek and then Curio, who are both just as surprised by the strange combination of sweet and searing. I jerk my chin in the direction of the portrait I just noticed hanging above the fireplace. It’s an oil painting of Queen Akiruh. I search for anything on the walls celebrating the king, but there’s nothing.
“Strange that the northerners have her but no Korven,” Curio observes absently, glancing around the room once more like he expects a problem to walk out of the shadows at any moment.
“S’cause, the king is unly the king because ofher,” a lanky fae slurs as he labors to push out of his nearby booth and amble over to our table.
A trail of spilled ale wets the worn floor as he gestures around wildly with his tankard. We all go stiff as he stumbles into our table and then seems to find his feet. His hair is gray with age, his face creased and haggard. The fae’s togs hang off his body like he’s either wearing someone else’s or he’s shrunk quite a bit since he bought them.
“They want us to forget, but ice holds onna all of the secretses.Weremember. Stee remembers,” he sputters, tapping on his head with a finger before lifting his mug to his mouth and drinking deeply.
He starts to lean precariously, and Riall reaches out and straightens him so he doesn’t fall over.
“Remember what?” Tarek asks evenly, his arms crossed over his chest.
He looks relaxed, but I know he has sheathed daggers sewn into the seams of his tunic down his ribs.
“That t’was the Nalroras that had it all. Every single piece of dark and light befur Isona wus betrayed by Galayas and her mates.” Stee belches loudly and hits his chest once before another more demure burp is forced out.
The name Galayas rings with familiarity, but I can’t place where I’ve heard it before.
“Therrr wus no realms, no high farten courts, just the Nalroras, an sheez gunna take it back. Aren’chya?” Stee mutters, his glazed gaze landing on me. “They thought theys could burn up tha truth, blacken books and history, an that’d be that, but we tell tha stories, we keep tha truth alive.”
He lifts his almost empty stein in a toast and then drains the dregs. He shakes the empty mug as though confused as to where all the ale has gone, harrumphing sulkily when it doesn’t magically fill back up. Tarek hands him his own full tankard.
“Thas kin’ o you, sir. Yous a good male, butchya’d have to be to be goin aroun with ours, now wouldn’chya. Gotta lock ’em in, my Moon. We’re gonna need all tha help we can get. Becuz we’re comin’ for ’em, ain’t we?”
Again Stee toasts me, his smile wobbling like he’s not sure if he’s wearing it right, so he adjusts it until it fits like he thinks it should.
“Get away from here, Stee, or Aego will boot you for the night,” the barmaid barks as she strides toward our table with a tray full of food. “You know not to be harassing your betters,” she scolds the drunk man, who looks like he’s on the verge of tipping over again.
“He’s fine,” I assure her, perfectly happy to listen to the male ramble away, because that’s exactly what we’re here to do, watch and listen for any clues.
We’ve been working our way up the coast, listening and following anything that may be a lead. The drunken nonsense that just slipped out of Stee’s semi-functioning mouth is more intriguing than anything we’ve come across so far.
“You’re too kind, but you’ve got enough to deal with without having your supper disturbed on top of it,” she assures me, and she shoos Stee away with her tray after she sets our meals in front of us.
My brow furrows as she leaves, and I look over at the Scorpions. “Does she mean you three?” I ask, perplexed. “Or do you think that was a general observation? Do I give the appearance of someone who has enough to deal with?”
Curio and Tarek chuckle as they dig into their stew.
“Maybe Marret got word out that we were coming,” Riall teases, and I laugh. “We’ll be the talk of the town by sun up.”
