Chương 74: Chapter 28: In Which Service Goes Off Without a Hitch

My quick-draw-and-stab practice went… fine, I guess? It's really hard to judge progress on something like that. I certainly felt like I was getting faster and more confident, but I was practicing on trees. In no way did it mirror the kind of high-stakes, time-sensitive situations I was training for. Nevertheless, I put my heart into it. I stashed, unsheathed, and stabbed as fast as I could. It wasn't long before I was soaked with sweat.

My hand ached from gripping the knife, and my fingers and palm felt the burning beginnings of blisters. When hunger and exhaustion got the best of me, I returned to the inn. A quick, cool bath and a change of clothes had me ready just in time to prep before service. Shivai didn't raise a finger to help. They were busy. Her fingers, I mean. She'd posted up at the bar with her pencils, paints, and parchments. While I was out, she'd completed one rune and was hard at work detailing out a second.

The second didn't look identical.

"Why are they different?" I asked.

"They felt different."

"Aren't there supposed to be, like, rules to magic?"

"I don't know." She bit her tongue and added a swirl around the edge of the C shape.

"What do you mean by rules?" I thought back to all the fantasy media I'd ever read. Magical academy stories like Harry Potter made their case for very specific wand movements and intonations. It was Levio-sahh, or whatever. And R. F. Kuang's Babel was practically a linguistic treatise disguised as a magic system. Or there was the primacy of "true names" in The Wizard of Earthsea. Yet there were no magic words here. Shivai charmed with intent rather than language, though what she said seemed to help.

And Wynnie forged ice through movements alone. There was an element of Avatar, but also an element of making shit up as you go. Whatever was going on in this world, it seemed more like a Tolkien-esque soft magic system. Any hope of a firm, immutable set of discernable, magical inner workings was quickly fading. LitRPG this was not.

"I guess my question is: do you expect this rune to do something different from that rune? Since they're different?" I asked.

"Oh! Yes. Maybe." Shivai squinted at the one she was working on.

"I think this one will release mana, um, less forcefully. It should be, uh, grippier."

"And that one will blast it out?" I pointed to the completed one with clean lines and clear edges.

"Erm, that's the idea. No promises." I squeezed the juice from another lime into my punchbowl. My forearm quivered in complaint, already sore from my day of roguish exercise. I was putting most of my effort into the punch, doubling the recipe. With the expected heat, I wanted to avoid the more complex cocktails I'd been making. We'd still serve them, but if we didn't push the punch, we'd run out of ice in no time.

Besides, after Wynnie poured mana into Shivai's runes, she probably wouldn't have too much left for cooking and service. By the time service ended, she'd probably be exhausted to the point of needing a two-day nap. I watched as Shivai became reabsorbed in her work. Her ability to connect her mind, body, and heart filled me with one appreciative thought: That's my girl. With a smile, I juiced another lime.

I couldn't see too far past the bar. After dinner service for our guests, we opened the doors to the public. There'd been a line. The first few people got the last of the ice cream. Everyone else had to cool down with repeated top-ups to their punch mugs. Fortunately, Shivai's rune did the trick. Her clean one—the less grippy one—sat in the hearth, blasting out a cool draft through the room.

With the amount of people packed into the main room, it was still hot and humid, but it no longer felt like a sauna managed by a sadistic Finn. Service grew increasingly busy. Hectic, even. Just as on the first night, I struggled to keep up with demand. Cocktail orders came fast. I tried to ration my ice so we wouldn't run out, but I knew that at some point, we'd be in trouble.

"Four more punches! We can reuse their cups." Shivai dropped a handful of empty vessels on the counter in front of me. She winked and blew a quick kiss.

"Four ladles of the good juice, coming up," I confirmed.

"They asked if they could get more ice." She shrugged into a wince.

"I didn't want to say no. Sorry." I looked into my dwindling well.

"Sure. They can have a little ice. As a treat." I tossed two more ice cubes into each cup, then ladled them reasonably full with punch. Shivai's spaded tail whipped around behind her as she grabbed the mugs and whisked them back toward the patrons. She glanced over her shoulder and shot me a flirtatious smile as she went. I had to admit, she was smoking hot. Emphasis on smoking? I thought I could detect a whiff of smoke somewhere. I put the old sniffer to work, testing the air.

Whatever I'd smelled, it was momentary. Just a passing scent, probably. The crowd parted briefly as a newcomer made their way from the door. I glanced past them to the hearth, making sure the rune hadn't backfired somehow. It hadn't. Shivai's handiwork radiated cool, billowing blue light. So, whatever I'd smelled, it wasn't that. The newcomer squeezed between two patrons and flashed a nervous smile. Light blonde bangs framed a thin, subtly angular face.

She cleared her throat as though she might lose her nerve to speak otherwise.

"Is there room for me at the bar here?"

"It certainly looks like it. What can I get you, Mel?"

"Whatever you're serving. Now that you've stolen half of our customers, I might as well see what we're up against." She grimaced, tucking a strand behind her pointed ear.

"That makes it sound like I'm here on business. I'm… I'm not." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I chuckled.

"No corporate espionage for you?"

"I don't even know what that is. But I'm happy to leave all the scheming of the Crown and the noble's court behind me here. Honestly, it's my night off, and I just wanted a drink." I scooped a generous handful of ice into a clean cup, then ladled in some punch. A thin, desiccated wheel of lime garnished the top. I slid it across the bar to her.

"Try this. On the house." Freya muscled in next to her.

"Are you playing favorites with pretty girls? If so, make mine a double." Mel straightened her stature, almost squaring up to the broad-shouldered mermaid. She stuck her chin out defiantly.

"It's a professional courtesy. Drew is a gentleman!"

"What do I gotta do for a professional courtesy?" Freya asked, ignoring Mel's posturing.

"Work a brutal service shift!" Mel said. Freya scoffed.

"Sure. And how about you try a day in the life on a fishing boat? You got it easy, princess." I barely paid attention to them as they bickered. I was still deep in the weeds, filling orders as quickly as I could. My only goal was to make sure they didn't end up fighting. Not that this looked like it would come to blows, but a bartender can never be too careful. Read the Situation. That would be a skill I'd developed and could probably call on.

And if I were to Read the Situation now, I'd guess they were no closer to fisticuffs than kissing.

"How did you know I was a princess?" Mel asked.

"Takes one to know one, I guess," Freya shot back.

"But I'm actually a princess, you know."

"Oh my god, me too!" Actually, Read the Situation was putting them way closer to kissing now. Still, just to keep things trending in a positive direction, I ladled up a freebie for Freya, too. She might not get special treatment as an industry insider, but she was a guest, and I always wanted to go above and beyond for them. I also ladled one for Wynnie, too. She'd been stuck in the kitchen for hours and could probably use a drink.

Also, if I was being honest, I wanted to make sure the smoke I'd smelled wasn't her doing. It seemed unlikely that she'd regress to her old ways, but she might've decided to cook something and burned it instead. Her skill with the stove was still a work in progress, even though she wasn't a disaster anymore. I hip-checked the door, channeling my inner Shivai so as not to spill her extra-full cup of go-juice… or the one I'd poured for myself. Not a drop went astray as the door swung open smoothly.

"Wynnie! I brought treats!" Inside, it was cool as usual. All the magic Wynnie used to keep our raw foods cold made the kitchen the only truly livable part of the building. Whereas the main room was just barely less than sweltering, Wynnie's food prep area was downright chilly.

"Drew! So good to see you! And you brought me a gift!"

"Sure did. I thought I should come check on you." I crossed the room and set the cups down in front of us. We clinked glasses and took deep, indulgent sip. Satisfied sighs and lip-smacking later, it was time to ask about her cooking. But I didn't see a fire on the stove.

"Do you smell smoke?" Wynnie asked.

"Huh. Okay. So it wasn't just me." Wynnie's forehead creased with concern.

"I hope someone didn't light a fire out in the hearth. It would burn Shivai's rune."

"And be insane in this weather," I added. She nodded.

"I was going to go out and check, but I was too busy." Several long moments spanned between us. I could feel an uneasy grimace curve my lips into something like a frown on steroids. Wynnie definitely wasn't pulling my leg. All of her prep materials lay neatly in front of her. Even though it had been a rather chaotic night, she kept an orderly setup. A testament to the power of a well-thought-out mise en place.

"Uh, I'm gonna go check in with Shivai, I think."

"Are you concerned?" Wynnie asked.

"A little, yeah. It's probably nothing, but sometimes when there's smoke, there's fire."

"But not always," she reminded me.

"It used to be that our hearth spilled out tons of smoke, but there was barely a flame to be found." I appreciated her attempted humor, but I was getting too nervous to even crack a smile. Instead, my mouth turned its super-frown into a wobbly, cartoonish grimace that showed off every worried tooth.

"Maybe someone's smoking something. A pipe?" I was grasping at straws, I knew.

"A cigarette? A doobie?"

"A doobie!?"

"I know, I know. Nobody calls them that anymore. I'm gonna go back out and investigate." Wynnie tapped her cheek three times. I kissed her thrice as asked for, then once on the mouth for good measure.

"See you soon," I promised. Back in the stuffy, warm main room, I scanned for any curls of smoke. Nothing revealed itself. Yet in the time I'd been gone, Shivai had stacked up several tickets at the bar. A small line had formed as well, and one overeager dwarf was standing on a barstool, reaching for the punch ladle to serve himself.

"Hey! You! Hold it right there!" I called. He froze.

"Do you smell smoke?" He remained frozen, but his mouth moved.

"I don't know. It's hot in here, and there's a lot of people." He shrugged.

"Mostly, I smell BO." He and a couple of his friends immediately burst into laughter. One of them slapped him on the back, and he almost toppled over onto the bar top.

"Don't touch that ladle, or I'm kicking you out. I'll be back in one minute." I glanced at Mel and Freya.

"You both have my permission to toss him if he tries anything." I searched through the throng of sweaty bodies. It was almost standing room only, and the front door was wide open, revealing a massive crowd waiting out on the front porch as well. I could only assume that word had gotten out about our magical air conditioning situation. It wouldn't surprise me if the whole town had arrived.

Like trying to climb over the middle and aisle seats in coach to get to the bathroom, I squeezed my way through the press of people.

"Shivai? Shivai!" I tried to call out above the roaring den of conversation and laughter, but my voice was swallowed by the crowd. Three halflings had climbed onto a table in the corner, brandishing a handful of string instruments.

"Shivai! Where are you?" A gentle caress on my backside whipped my head around. A flat, purple spade of skin pressed against me. To my great relief, the spade was attached to a purple tail, which was attached to a bubbly and lively young rascal. Shivai smiled, licking her front teeth with dangerous mischief.

"You called?"

"Yeah. I thought I smelled smoke. I got worried."

"Worried about what?" That was harder to put my finger on. Mostly, I thought about my life back on Earth. I lived in a part of the country that seemed to catch fire every summer. Wildfire smoke would choke everything from the coast to several hundred miles inland for months at a time. I knew too many people who had lost their houses or more to fires. Smelling smoke during a heat wave had put me on high alert.

I just wasn't sure if any of that alert was warranted—or if there was something else I should've been worried about.

"I was worried about fire, I guess. Wildfires, maybe. Does that happen around here?" The demonkin shrugged.

"I don't know if I smelled anything. I thought I might've, but figured it was just someone who liked campfires but hated doing laundry. Mostly, it just smells like a lot of people and not much ventilation in here." She regarded my uncertain look and patted me on the shoulder with a reassuring hand.

"It's probably nothing. I doubt there's any trouble at all. Unless you stop serving drinks, that is." She gave me a cheeky smile, and I shook my head at her. I could take the hint. Our biggest danger was a riot if the liquor stopped flowing. Just as I was turning to head back to the bar, a commotion came from the front door. Another person was trying to shove themselves in, even though it was standing room only. All the shouts of grumbles of surprise quieted after they saw who it was.

I stood on tiptoes to see over the crowd. It sounded like we had a VIP on our hands. A tall, toned blonde woman shoved her way through the packed mass of customers. She looked displeased—a touch more angry and serious than she had when she left earlier this morning. Anxiety gripped my heart. Had she come back to tell me off for good? In front of everyone? She looked determined enough to do it. And yet I was so, so relieved to see her. I'd been worried that she'd simply disappear from my life for weeks.

At least if she was here, I'd have a chance to talk, apologize, maybe explain myself.

"Lady Talia!" I waved her over and tried to part the sea of people like a discount Moses.

"Lady Talia! Over here!" Her gaze snapped to me. She still looked tense, but I thought I detected a moment of relief pass over her features. That was promising! A second later, she barged through the crowd, knocking people aside without any difficulty or care. Finally, she shoved someone else out of the way, sending them tottering and off balance. We were face-to-face. Her chin tipped up an inch so she could look me in the eyes.

"Lady Talia. I'm so glad you're here," I started. My stomach twisted into worried, excited knots as I tried to find the right words to fix whatever I'd broken.

"I wanted to say sorry about earlier. I was hoping we could talk later—""No time for that now." Her eyes narrowed, and her nose hunted the air, sniffing.

"Do you smell smoke?"