Chương 60: Chapter 14: Cockles and Cocktails

"So, I see you're eating these shellfish in the northern style." The mermaid appeared only mildly surprised by our raw oyster party.

"Although the succubus's technique of eating them looks like it might come from… more lawless shores." A beat passed, and our trio exchanged glances. We'd been caught. And although nothing we'd done was inherently explicit, it certainly felt that way. Shivai's long, dark tongue had been crammed into a tight slit. Wynnie's glasses were fogged in the cold kitchen, and her messy bun looked particularly tangled and flustered. I'd been, shall we say, not aroused? But certainly more than halfway eager.

Shivai slowly slid her tongue back into her mouth.

"So, my technique is a known one?"

"It's a bit unusual, but I've seen it before once or twice. Usually, in a house of ill repute," the mermaid added.

"I don't suppose you're all gearing up for some intimate fun?" The girls both looked at each other, then at me. It was a wordless question that I didn't quite know how to answer. The short answer would be, yes. The longer one would be, yes, definitely, I sure hope so, if that's what you both want, too. Unfortunately, we had a service to attend to. Not only that, but if I were going to consider Shivai as a serious potential romantic partner, then it deserved a real, honest conversation.

Probably more than one if we wanted to work out the details beforehand. Wynnie and I had only loosely established boundaries, and I didn't know where she drew the line on what she was comfortable with. Which, about that… I was beginning to suspect whatever line she'd drawn was fuzzy at best. Still, to the mermaid? Deflect.

"We're just testing recipes. Neither of these girls had ever tried raw shellfish before." I snagged an oyster off the snowy pile of ice and handed it to her.

"Want to try it out? Let us know if this recipe's a winner."

"Sure. I might as well sample the goods I sold you. Though I should warn you, I eat a lot of these out at sea, so an oyster is nothing special to me." Wait till she tried the mignonette. An hour ago, I could hardly pronounce it. Now, I was a master. With a small shrug, she tipped the shell back with a strange lapping motion of her tongue. I couldn't tell if it was Northern style, from lawless shores, or somewhere else. Somehow, it was still sexual. The mermaid's face contorted into mild surprise.

"Oh! That's something different, actually."

"Different good, or different bad?" I felt nervous just asking.

"Or different, just different?"

"Different good. Very good." She gently placed the oyster shell back on the counter, to the side of the serving platter it had been plucked from. Her tongue ran along her teeth on one side of her mouth, silently considering something.

"Anyway, I was just checking to see when dinner was served. The boys are getting hungry. What should I tell them?"

"Tell them we start in about two hours, but if they need something now, we can scare up a few things to tide them over," I said. I knew we had a few pastries still from the morning, and we'd have another delivery in soon.

"If you're hungry too, you're welcome to have another oyster."

"Don't tempt me with a good time. But thank you, I'll let them know. I suppose I'll see you tonight?"

"I'll be right behind the bar."

"I'm looking forward to it. Will you save me a seat, or should I just get there early?" I'd never been asked that question. Especially not here. And something in the woman's tone made it sound like it wasn't just eagerness to have a proper cocktail. After all, as far as I could tell, we were the only purveyors of cocktails in the world. And her approach was almost aggressive. She just wanted to see more of me.

"You don't wanna sit with your crew?"

"I sit with them all the time. And if I'm stuck on land in a new place? Well… it's good to meet new people." She gave me another up-down, then sighed.

"Out on the sea, you don't fish where you swim, if you know what I mean. I'll just get there early," she said, running a strong hand through her salt-kissed hair. She turned and left, exuding all the swagger of an Alaskan fisherwoman crossed with a California surfer gal. Was her brusque confidence a princess thing, a merfolk trait, or just from her time on the sea? When the door finally slammed shut behind her and the thin reverberations stopped vibrating through the kitchen, I turned back to the business at hand.

We'd figured out the oysters, but there were a lot more shellfish still to work with. And there was no way I was going to eat a raw mussel. Maybe some people were into it, but I could barely stand them cooked. Yet before I could dive into our bounty, the girls had something to say about our shimmering blue intruder.

"Did you hear her? Don't fish where she swims?" Shivai's sly smile broke into a full-blown smirk.

"What do you think, Wynnie? Did she get her hook into our man?"

"She certainly tried." Wynnie balled up her fists and rested them on her hips.

"And hey, what do you mean, our man?"

"I mean, um, I…"

"Never mind. You're cool. I don't know about this floozy, though. Drew, be careful around that one, okay?" She fixed me with a stern gaze. I saluted in return.

"Are merfolk dangerous?" There were a lot of things I had yet to learn about this world I was in. According to Earth lore, mermaids ranged anywhere from singing redhead teenagers with big hearts and funny ideas about the surface, to horrifying, needle-mouthed monsters who could tear the skin off bone faster than a school of piranhas. Either way, their goal was to lure men somehow, I figured. Even if things weren't quite the same here, I still had the good sense to be wary. I barely knew this woman's name.

She'd just blown in from sea, escaping a bout of bad weather. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. I had no idea if she was cool or not, though she didn't seem all that bad, either.

"Merfolk are no more dangerous than anyone else," Shivai explained.

"Fantastic swimmers, and they usually don't come to port too often. They're more like sea nomads."

"Sea nomads with a kingdom?" I asked, remembering Freya's claim.

"Sure, if you count the deeps. But their monarchy is like, chaotic at best. There's like, a dozen people vying for the throne."

"At least," Wynnie agreed.

"I think there are like, hundreds of princes and princesses."

"Are they at war with each other about it?" I couldn't help it. I was curious.

"Not exactly? It's just really fractured, I think. I know there's tension between our kingdom and theirs. Not like, war, but sailors talk sometimes."

"The deeps." Shivai shuddered.

"Wonder what it's even like there."

"Can they breathe underwater?" I asked.

"Of course, but most of them prefer the shallows. Merfolk are strong, but they're not the scariest creatures in the deeps by a long shot," Wynnie said.

"Sea beasties?" I don't know why I said beasties. It wasn't part of my normal lexicon. Shivai didn't notice. She was rigid, eyes wide with a distant stare. No doubt, she was imagining all the horrors of the ocean. My mind conjured up all sorts of images. Scaly leviathans that could swallow a boat. Tentacled krakens that feasted on the unwary. Places on old-timey maps that said here there be monsters. That sort of thing.

"Well, I guess I'd better make you some ice. I'm running low on energy already."

"Will you be okay tonight?" Shivai asked, placing a caring hand on the elf's shoulder.

"I should be fine. So long as nobody needs me to do any impressive feats of magic, that is."

It was by far our best service yet. The house was beyond full. If I hadn't been stuck behind the bar, I would have been shoulder to shoulder with everyone else who'd packed in like sardines. Everything was muggy, too. The heat from the day hadn't died down with nightfall. Even with all the windows open, the thin trickle of breeze through the open windows couldn't get past the hot throng of bodies populating our business.

Sweat stains darkened every tunic, and the muggy scent and feel of a locker room permeated everything. And the customers had it better than I did. I wiped sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and collected another small stack of coins from the bar top. We'd run out of clean glasses long ago, and I was simply pouring what I could into the dirty ones people brought back up to my counter. I had to ration my ice, too. Only a little bit still clung to the bottom of the well, and it was melting fast.

As Shivai squeezed through on her way to the kitchen, I caught her attention.

"Can you ask Wynnie to come out real quick?"

"Sure, if she can spare the time."

"Tell her we need to cool this place down, fast." I'd seen people pass out at concerts in conditions like these.

"Got it, boss." She swished into the kitchen, bringing her tail in tight to her body to avoid letting the door slam shut on it. That was probably a lesson every demonkin needed to learn only once. A stout dwarf with a loosely braided beard swaggered up to the bar. He elbowed his way between two other patrons standing and conversing, cocktails in hand, and plopped a wooden stein on the counter.

"Anything you want to pour. I got coin for you."

"Anything?"

"Surprise me." I snatched his stein, the insides of which rattled with the telltale sound of ice, and inspected it. The graupel-like balls of snow Wynnie had magicked up to serve the oysters filled the interior. Clearly, he'd ordered oysters. Then, he'd salvaged the serving ice. Inwardly, I cringed. The thought of mixing a cocktail in ice that had also held briny shellfish didn't sound all that appealing. Then again, Clamato definitely had its place in a bar. And a dirty martini, too.

That's exactly what this guy was about to get. My kingdom for some pickle juice, y'know? Best I could do were some leftover droplets of brine and mignonette from my finished shooters behind the bar. We were already playing fast and loose with food safety. A bit of extra seawater and bartender backwash probably wouldn't hurt. He didn't even flinch. I popped the stopper on a bottle of moonshine and eyeballed a friendly amount into the stein.

I followed it with a sweet white wine I'd mixed with a few of Lady Talia's herbs a few days prior. Just a splash. Just enough to add dimension to the drink. Finally, I stole a raw clam from someone's tiny plate off the bar, offering a quick apology before tossing it in the stein. I popped the bottom of a shaker tin onto the stein, slammed as much of a seal as I could into it, and shook just enough to break the ice.

I garnished it with another stolen clam and handed it to the dwarf, who chucked three copper onto the countertop. He took a long gulp, wetting the mustache of his beard with briny hooch. An inscrutable look came over his face, and his eyebrows struck a bushy yet barbaric angle. He grinned like a frat boy and sipped again. Good enough. Wynnie emerged, looking about frantically as though I might have gotten carried off into the sea of customers. She sighed when she saw me, visibly relieved.

I met her halfway, and we exchanged a quick kiss before she checked in breathlessly.

"Shivai said you needed to see me?"

"I need a bit more ice. And is there anything you can do about the temperature in here? It's getting way too hot." Shivai popped out of the kitchen behind Wynnie and slinked up beside her.

"People are eating the ice off the trays. I think they think it's part of the meal. Or maybe it's just really hot. Either way, they fucking love it," she reported.

"I don't know how much I can cool it down." Wynnie appeared nervous, taking in the mass of strangers and townsfolk.

"I'm totally pooped. My energy is running low."

"Your mana?" I asked.

"Yeah. I've never used it this much in my life. I'm getting all faint and wobbly back there." She caught her breath and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"But maybe I can do something. Do you think we'll still get a lot of orders for food?"

"Most people have slowed down on that," Shivai assured her.

"As long as there's enough ice to keep everything cool till tomorrow, I don't think we have to worry too much about serving more food tonight. Mostly it's drink orders now."

"Okay then. Let me just gather myself for a moment." Wynnie bent over and put her hands on her knees. Then she stretched, looking like she was about to do yoga. Her face was blooming red, likely equal parts exhaustion and heat from this part of the inn. I hadn't seen her look so plaintive and run ragged since the first week I'd known her. Except back then, she'd been overwhelmed by failure and upkeep—now, the demands of success took their toll. It was cute, really.

The first time anyone gets hit with a rush in a restaurant, that's when they really find out what kind of person they are. I was just happy to see that Wynnie was ready to rise to the challenge. She was a fighter. A champion. A damned ice mage who wasn't going to let a few weird twists of fate keep her down. After several seconds, she drew herself up to her full height. Her spine straightened, and she moved her arms smoothly, following with gyrating hips.

She looked like a tai chi practitioner sped up to normal speed. A swirl of glimmering frost appeared around her. The temperature changed immediately, and more ice formed from almost nothing in the air around us. A layer of frost grew on the surfaces nearby, spreading quickly down the floors and up the rafters alike. As the localized vortex grew and the cold lashed out into the room, the crowd quieted. For several seconds, only the crackling sound of ice hardening inside the Breakwater Inn could be heard.

Breaths puffed out, suddenly visible in the chill. Abruptly, Wynnie stopped her gyrations and slumped onto me for support. She gazed over the crowd, stunned into silence. After a beat, she asked in her meekest voice, "Too cold?" Abruptly, the spell lifted. The entire inn burst into a raucous cheer. The people went nuts. They loved it. Without a doubt, we had just cemented ourselves as the best inn in town—and this time not just in name. From out of nowhere, a halfling duo produced a lute and a lyre.

They climbed on top of a cluttered table and struck a chord and a few notes. We were actually about to have bards perform in our bar. I couldn't believe it. This was a dream come true for so many reasons. And there was something else I thought of that could take this whole night to the next level. Something I hadn't tried since my early days in college. Something that could cement the legacy of the Breakwater Inn into the halls of legend.

"Wynnie, do you think you could make an ice luge?" I regarded her blank, confused stare.

"It's an interesting way to serve shots." She blinked sleepily, barely keeping her eyes in focus. Nearly her full weight draped over me, barely holding her up. The hint of a roguish smile played across her flushed cheeks.

"Heck it. Let's luge!"