With Roy gone, the others dissipated, too. Everyone was talking about sampling all the brews to see if they agreed with the judge’s choices. People swarmed around three tents in particular. Two proudly displayed their winning ribbons, so I figured those must have been Tessa and Donny’s. The other busy one was likely Roy’s.
But it was the other brewers that caught my eye and made me pull Gideon forward. Malcolm was standing in his tent with his arms crossed. Not a single person approached him. I wasn’t sure if it was his scowl that kept people away or his branding, which was splashed on everything. The logo was a target in the crosshairs of a gun’s sight. It was memorable, but guns weren’t really what I wanted to think about when I was drinking alcohol.
I spotted a familiar turquoise-haired friend in another equally empty tent. The sprite was one of my grandfather’s other misfit monsters, although he didn’t look like a monster in the traditional sense of the word. With his turquoise hair and pointy little ears, he wasn’t the least bit scary. He always wore a big smile on his face, even now, when no one was visiting the tent he was in.
“Where are we going?” Gideon asked, matching my pace.
“We’re drinking beer. When in Rome and all that.” I didn’t really like beer, but I could do it for a good cause, right? “You’re going to teach me about Ivan’s complex lager, because I have no idea what that means. And then we’re going to try Malcolm’s fancy ale or whatever.”
“Don’t you want to try the winning brews first?”
I shook my head. “No. We can try those later, if we have time.”
Honestly, I wasn’t all that excited about trying Roy’s beer anymore. I knew I shouldn’t put too much stock into Beckett’s accusations until the allegations were confirmed. But I hated cheats.
When Gideon didn’t say anything, I turned to him. He had a little smile on his face. It was the one that usually led to him calling me adorable or something equally absurd.
I understood competitions had winners and losers, but I also hated it when people felt sad. And these people were undeniably unhappy. I wanted to bake things for them as a consolation prize, but I didn’t have time for that.
Besides, did any kind of sweet pair well with beer?
I should probably research that. Rue, the owner of the Twinkling Thistle Cafe, or the Thistle Café to the locals, was catering the festival’s poker tournament on Friday night, and she’d asked if I could take care of the baking since she hated doing it. It’d be my first-ever real baking gig.
In her cafe, her fae magic usually determined what she made for someone, so I wondered how she’d cope with catering an event like that. When I’d asked her that, her lilac-colored skin brightened and her eyes sparkled, but instead of answering, she just smiled like she knew something I didn’t. That was fair. There was a lot I didn’t know.
So for now, I would do the next best thing. I’d post tons of pictures of all the vendors, not just the winners. And as I went, I’d spread some cheer and say cheers at the same time.
Okay, that sounded super cheesy, even in my head. I grinned. I was definitely going to say exactly that when we ordered our first drinks. And maybe our second and third drinks too.
Overhead, a raven cawed as if in agreement.
I steered us toward Sandy’s tent first since it was closest. He was standing behind a table covered in samples, wearing a t-shirt that said,Ale yeah!
“Hi, Sandy! How’s business?”
“Hop-tastic now that you’re here!” Sandy looked relieved to see us. “Ever since the winners were announced, it’s been deadly quiet here. The goblins haven’t even shown up yet. I hope it picks up later, or it’s going to be a really long night. But it’s a brew-tiful day, so I can’t complain.”
I couldn’t decide if his puns were amazing or terrible, but they made me laugh either way. “What company are you working for today?”
Sandy took on a lot of odd jobs around town, from work at the conference center to doing admin at the local realty office. He’d even volunteered to take photos for the festival’s social media, which I was hugely thankful for since that meant I wouldn’t need to attend all the events. Balancing his schedule would exhaust me, and his wardrobe would have overwhelmed me, too. He had a different outfit for each job.
“Brewtopia. Ivan brought his signature Midnight Lager, as well as a few others.” He waved toward a chalkboard behind him that listed half a dozen different beers. “My favorite is his Solstice Stout. It’s kind of sweet and un-beer-lievable.”
Sandy’s sweet tooth was legendary. If I ever did open a bakery, Sandy alone would keep me in business. Although I’d feel weird about charging him because he’d become my friend, so who knew? He might bankrupt me instead.
“This is Ivan’s tent?” Gideon asked, looking around with more interest. “Is he here?”
“No.” Sandy squirmed. He glanced around. After confirming no one had followed us into the tent, he leaned closer to whisper, “He’s super pissed, like with a capital P. He went to get what was left of the growler of lager he submitted for the competition. All the judges commented on how sour it was, and he’s out to prove them wrong.”
“Sour?” Gideon sounded surprised.
“Yes,” someone behind us snapped out the single syllable word like a whip. “Sour.” We all turned around to find Ivan clutching the neck of a dark brown bottle. He shook it in front of our faces. “Smell this. It’s been sabotaged.”
What the heck?
Gideon tentatively inhaled, then his eyes widened in surprise as he rubbed his nose. “Yeah. That’s definitely sour.”
If the sample had been messed with, I might be able to help. My magic was connected to baking, and since beer was ingestible...
