Chương 89: Chapter 24

"Gods," Shaya said, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." The group was at their fifth tavern of the evening. Aside from Lan, everyone else had joined them for a while, but their numbers had dwindled down to just their Lance, minus Shep, who had graciously offered to take Shaya's new cuirass back to their apartment, and Apricot, who had stuck around Oraeus most of the evening.

The group remained in the fourth layer, finding yet another upscale tavern that catered to the stressed, anxious, and wealthy students of the Academy. The bard on stage finished his slow, seductive tune and the couples left the dimly lit dance floor, returning to their cushioned booths or leaving the establishment entirely. Shaya and Bri sat at the group's booth, enjoying the spacious setup that let even their giant-blooded limbs stretch out.

They eyed the returning dancers with envy, watching as Oraeus and Apricot whispered to each other, giggling; Samorn politely turning down further dance partners after her stunning display of grace on the dance floor; and Ren focusing his flirtatious efforts on a single silver-haired woman as they glided to one of the establishment's back rooms.

"Disgusting," Bri said, shaking her head.

"Right?" Shaya agreed.

"Why are we even here? We can't even afford to get drunk with our constitutions!"

"Well…" Bri drawled, "I have heard of a hard liquor that might do the trick: Vincasan Brandy. Apparently their golkah troops are bred for war, so they needed to brew some extra hard stuff to manage to get drunk. Because they're, uh," she hesitated, wanting to avoid using the derogative term for the golkah—and, by extension, demigol like Shaya—but failed as she continued, "…flesh eaters… apparently all of their soldiers take after predatory animals, like tigers and stuff."

"That's how it works, supposedly." Shaya shrugged.

"It's why we're called beastkin by some: we're able to absorb the power of what we eat, gaining their features—even spiritual or magical ones, I'm told. It's a generational process for the most part though, which is why I inherited feline features from my mother." She waggled her clawed fingers.

"Whereas Bari sports some deer-like features. There's a physical component to the spirituality, which is also why the tribes of Asharel tend to favour sky burials for their dead—and why Bari was quietly furious when I told her of how the Titan cult bastardized the ritual by feeding their dead to the Titan-spawn."

"Hmm," Bri said, tapping her lip.

"Isn't that also how dragons work?"

"Those things are on a whole other level with their ability to absorb spirits and adopt their power." Shaya shrugged.

"But you seem to know a lot about hard liquor. What kind of 'monastery' did you grow up in?" Bri rolled her eyes.

"It's called 'rebellion,' Shay, you ever hear of it?" Shaya thought back to Bari's stories of Devi.

"Yeah, you could say I was born for it."

"Let's do it then." Bri grinned, flagging down a waiter.

"We'll have a bottle of Vincasan Brandy, please."

"I'm sorry," the waiter replied, turning their nose up at the request.

"We only stock fine beverages." Bri looked crestfallen as the waiter strutted away with every ounce of indignance he could invoke. Shaya's blood boiled at the insult offered her friend and couldn't stand to see her that way.

"Don't worry," she said, laying a hand on her friend's arm.

"I know a place that'll serve it."

"Really?" the other woman asked, eyes wide with hope.

"Yeah, but…" Shaya hesitated. She didn't want to draw any more attention to her history here than she already had.

"But it's in the docks, on the first level."

"Doesn't matter!" Bri replied fiercely.

"I'll convince the others, we're going!" +++++ Thunk. Shaya's thrown knife thrummed as it wobbled in the dead centre of the bull's-eye. Ren and some of the people spectating their match whistled in appreciation of her skill.

"Not bad," he offered, taking a sip of his drink and hiding a wince at the taste. The Buried Treasure had changed since Shaya was a roof runner, but it still seemed to serve as a port of call for merchants, and their guards, passing through Arcadia as well as a neutral ground for various gangs inhabiting The Blight. She suppressed a smile when she noticed a total absence of snake tattoos and hoped that meant the Canal Snakes hadn't lasted very long after her departure.

More than a few of the pickpockets she spotted were even sporting wolf tattoos, the marking her old gang under Jericho was considering back when they were small time. Shaya pulled her knife from the board and walked back to Ren with a magnanimous smile.

"Don't feel too bad, Ren." The foxy demigol turned his attention away from a doe-eyed courtesan he had been flirting with.

"No hard feelings at all. I'm sure knife-throwing is a favourite past-time in Kelahk." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. His eyes danced as he studied her intently, but Shaya didn't let her expression reveal anything. They both had things to hide, and she was enjoying the game of cat and mouse between them.

"Not nearly as big as brawling, in case you wanted to try your luck at that," she said, smiling down at him.

"Not the kind of wrestling I'm interested in," he replied with a wink, the courtesan fawning all over him.

"I figured," she replied with a shrug.

"Now, no offence, but I do believe we bet on that last game…" She saw the spark in his eye and knew she had caught him in her trap.

"If you're so sure of yourself," Ren huffed, "then how about we go double or nothing?" His lack of hesitation suggested he had been planning that stunt all along, which explained why she felt him holding back during their contest. And why Shaya had as well. Hiding her excitement, she accentuated her confident expression with a lift of her chin.

"Your money to lose, friend."

"Hold on now," a merchant's guard interjected in an irate tone, the lithe Vayeiran's skin surprisingly tanned.

"The rest of us have some reckonings of our own to settle!"

"Indeed," added a dark-skinned Ionian with a deep, calm voice, another guard of a rival merchant on break.

"Of course, friends," Shaya said, passing her trio of dull, unbalanced daggers to the Vayeiran.

"Fair's fair, best of luck!" A nearby bouncer, a lithe Zothirian with long, tangled blond hair and ragged clothes, relaxed as Shaya de-escalated the situation, turning his attention to a different batch of fresh-faced Academy students that were growing rowdy around a squad of gruff-looking mercenaries. The students, like many Zothirian nobles, carried longswords at their hips—their ancestral birthright, though often used to engage in duels at a moment's notice. Shaya didn't like their chances.

"I think your boss is calling for you," she said to Ren, nudging him toward Samorn as she walked past him, heading to the bar. The burly, scarred bartender looked up at her as she approached. Sausage fingers Shaya remembered throttling rowdy patrons from years past now rubbed a mug clean with never-before-seen delicacy, the bartender's one eye squinting as he scrutinized Shaya up close. With two silver coins between her fingers, Shaya tapped a short tune on the bar with a smile.

"I'll take a bottle of the Vincasan Brandy," she said, watching his eyes widen as he registered the tune she played, "and let Zymish know an old friend of his is looking to chat."

"It is you," the old bartender whispered, taking her coins.

"Ain't no one used that code in years, girl."

"I'm surprised you remembered me," Shaya whispered back, amused.

"I thought I was pretty good at going unnoticed."

"Just cuz I never caught ya, don't mean I didn't know what you were up'ta," the man snorted.

"You were good, but not that good. And you caused more than a bit o' trouble for yer boss Zymish, he ranted about ya more than once."

"Ah, you are confusing me for someone else then," Shaya said with a smirk.

"I was definitely that good and Zymish loved me."

"Uh-huh, must be all the other demon-horned girlies running around that I'm thinkin' of," he replied as he pulled out a thick bottle and squinted at the label with his one eye.

"What makes ya think Zymish is still 'round these parts?"

"One, because he was late to every fight, so I can't imagine him going down," she replied with a raised finger, raising another before continuing.

"And two, because I've seen him around, I just wanted to ask for a meeting politely."

"Looks like you did well, girl." The old man nodded at her relatively less worn-down clothes.

"Never took you for one to learn 'politeness' given all the fightin' you did." Shaya blushed.

"Alright, you do remember me then." He scoffed as he set the bottle down, then hooked a thick thumb behind him. Shaya followed the scarred digit toward the establishment's outdoor patio, which she knew was closed as the late autumn weather turned too cool to warrant.

"Thanks for the tip," she said, another silver coin appearing in her hand, which she slid over to him. Shaya grabbed the bottle and moved to leave, but he held onto it firmly, forcing her to look back at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Regarding your comment about me brew," he said in a low growl as he leaned towards her.

"This is true Vincasan Brandy, I bought the recipe off a Zothirian that swore on her ancestor's spirits that she got it from one of them tigerfolk marines that washed up on her shore. I won't tolerate hearin' otherwise, ya hear?"

"You know, I think you might be more frightening as a bartender," Shaya replied with a smile.

"But good to know you're not holding out on us."

"As if I'd allow my tavern's reputation to slip like that," he retorted.

"Them airheads may never see your likes, but kitahm and demigol are still common 'round these parts. They got it rough enough, I ain't gonna cheat 'em outta drink that works for 'em."

"I'm happy to hear it," she said, meaning it. He let the bottle go and she walked over to her group's table, popping the cork with her clawed fingers. As Bri chatted with Apricot about something they were learning in their Intro to Photomancy class, Shaya topped up her friend's cup and set the bottle down out of her reach. The movement drew Bri's attention and her eyes lit up at the bottle and at Shaya.

"You better be pouring yourself a cup of that too," she warned, glaring up at Shaya.

"We were supposed to get you drunk tonight, not the other way around."

"I'll be back in a minute," Shaya chuckled in response.

"I just need to freshen up."

"Ugh," Bri said as Shaya walked away, heading to the outdoor patio.

"Why is this brew so spicy?" Shaya heard Apricot launch into a discussion of how cats couldn't taste sweetness, something the beastkin of Vincasa seemed to inherit from them, so they all preferred spicy flavours. Before she got very far, Bri energetically cut in and demanded to know if the tigerfolk were really as strong as rumours made them out to be. She chuckled as she slipped out the tavern's back door, appreciating the cool breeze on her skin and the sudden quiet as the door closed behind her.

Pale moonlight pierced the thick clouds to reflect off the Jade Sea and limn stacked tables and chairs in silver. A broad figure leaned against the patio's railing, looking out to sea.

"You know," he said, deep voice just as Shaya remembered it, "you ask a lot of questions about criminals, for someone who was supposed to escape this life."