It kind of reminds me of Mag’s pub.
In one corner, an orc is smashing his companion’s head off the table while the barman rings a bell. It’s hard to tell if he’s egging them on, or trying to get them to stop. I glance at Aster, who takes a step back while Torin glares around the room like he can shut everyone up with the force of his eyebrows.
“You really think Kit might be here?”
A pair of goblins are on a makeshift stage, one playing the banjo while the other wails. The sound they’re making is... loud, but thereseem to be a few people enjoying it, seeing as there’s a makeshift dancefloor in front of them that’s teeming with people.
Torin bends down so he can speak in my ear and I’m hit with the scent of cloves, which takes me right back to last night. “If you were travelling around on a flying sofa, it’s as good a place as any to find contacts or supplies.”
His scent is both distracting and oddly comforting; a reminder that no matter how lairy things get, we have Torin on our side and when he’s shifted, he’s terrifying.
“Maybe I should have brought my banjo. We might have blended in better,” I say to Aster, who gives me a warm, if distracted, smile in response.
“Welcome to the Dry Dock.” Jack appears in front of us, wearing a wide grin. “Keep one eye on your wallet and another on your trousers; this place can get pretty wild.”
I grab Aster’s hand and tug him closer while Jack prances off, soon disappearing into the crowd.
“I need a drink,” Torin mutters, eyeing the room with a pained expression. “Stick to the ale, it’s least likely to kill you.”
The band breaks into another rousing chorus, encouraging the crowd surging in front of them to join in with their wailing. Some of their audience start up a particularly jerky and violent dance style that seems to involve a lot of elbowing and knee jerks. Aster pulls me out of the way just in time to avoid receiving a wayward elbow to the face, and I shoot him a wide-eyed look.
“Thanks.”
Another wayward elbow comes our way, and we both dodge before hurrying our pace to follow Torin. Surely, if anyone knows who's been in and out of here, it’ll be the people behind the bar.
The queue is three deep and made up of people who are a head taller than either of us. One twists around, clutching a handful of drinks in his... three arms.
I have been to a lot of places and seen a lot of types of people, but I’ve never seen that before.
The three-armed guy sneers at me as I shift out of the way with a bare nod. Darting into the gap he left clear before the queue swallows up the vacant space, I shove to the front.
“Can I help you, petal?” the grizzled, one-eyed bartender asks as the heat of far too many bodies presses up against me from all sides. “Ale for ya?”
“Two, please.”
He busies himself pouring the drinks before slamming a tankard down in front of me. “Here you go. I’ll spice it up with some fruit. Ladies love fruit in their drinks, ain’t that right?”
“I, uh, thank you,” I reply before leaning closer to be heard over the din. “Tell me... have you had any customers in recently who travelled here by flying sofa?”
He gives me a narrow-eyed look and then taps my full tankard with a dirty fingernail. “On second thoughts, maybe you’ve had enough.” With a little wink, he grins and adds something to my drink. “Just joking with you.”
I nod and fake a chuckle. “So, you heard nothing about it?”
Wiping the bar with a filthy rag, he shakes his head. “No. But back here, it’s hard enough to hear people’s orders. People could travel in on flying pigs and we wouldn’t know about it.”
“All right, thanks.” Giving him a grateful smile and an extra crown for his trouble, I step back and limbo my way out of the queue, toward a glorious patch of empty space.
I’ve also inadvertently stepped closer to the makeshift dance floor, which isn’t ideal. Then Torin approaches, surprising me by putting his arm around me from one side, while Aster takes the other. Together, they form a protective shield between me and the rest of the room.
“Shall we head somewhere quieter?” I yell over the sound of the wailing music.
Torin quirks an eyebrow while Aster’s lips twitch into a rare grin.
“To ask around,” I amend, then cover my embarrassment by handing Aster his drink. I’m about to take a drink of mine when I pause to eye the murky liquid. There are bits of something floating at the top... and it’s definitely not fruit.
Well, isn’t that just lovely?
“Let’s head through to the other room,” Torin rumbles, the sound of his deep voice somehow carrying over the screeching band.
