“Why should I not? If I am wronged by a person from Daingean, should I trust no one from Daingean? Or were the entire city to somehow mean me ill, would that mean no one there was different?”
There were more murmurs around the room as the logic of it sunk in with the belligerent elf before her. She could see the confusion turning to indignation at curiously low speed on his face. He moved to speak and she knew there would be no end to it at this rate.
“I—”
“I am sick of this talk,” she interrupted, pointing at the man. “You! We’ll drink until one of us falls from the chair and the loser will be pissed on.”
“Pissed… on?” The face he put on was more than Rianaire could have hoped for. A shocked look, confused and full of fear. He hardly got the words out before there were shouts from the gathered customers.
“Drink!” Rianaire shouted over the growing cheers. “And drinks for everyone here!”
She pulled a chair away from the table she’d been sat at with Síocháin and Inney and placed it in a clearing at the center of the tavern floor. Rianaire sat down and folded her arms in challenge to the large man.
He came toward her, still wondering if there was some trick. Thinking he’d found one he said, “But I been drinking.”
“And you’re twice her weight, thick-headed arse!” The reply was quick and the mocking only grew until he took a seat.
The excitement in the tavern was infectious and Rianaire found herself caught up in the momentum of the ruckus she’d caused. She told herself that she wasn’t entirely to blame for this and that there was not much other choice, but it was hardly true.
It wasn’t a minute before the tavern girl she’d been flirting with came to them with a tray of mugs. Rianaire hastily grabbed a mug and calls for her to chug the whole of it shot out from here and there. She tilted the mug back and the warm mead poured into her throat. It was thick and deeply spiced, a Bais drink if ever she’d had one. She had not quite been ready for the weight of the flavor but it would not do to embarrass herself now. She upended her cup and forced the drink down into her empty stomach. She slammed the emptied container onto the ground, smashing it in a grand gesture. The noise was almost too much but she couldn’t help but revel in it.
The troublesome man finished his mug after she had smashed hers. There were boos from all sides. He was quick approaching the limit of his patience for this.
“Bring the next round!” He roared the words, wiping his mouth when he’d finished them.
The mugs came quickly and they drank them in large gulps. She had not eaten since the morning and it was true enough that he was twice her weight. Still, she held herself with dignity, face awash with flushed confidence. Six large mugs had come and gone and they both began to slow. She could feel the drink doing its work deep in her mind and her stomach was full in a way it had not been in as long as she could remember.
She smiled across at Síocháin who remained at the table. Neither of them looked interested in the contest. She laughed aloud and pointed to them.
“Those two love me.”
The crowd cheered.
“And I love them. So, for sake of their ride with me, I shall not be pissed upon today.”
An uproar of laughter washed over the room. Rianaire looked to her competition. He was swaying.
“More!” she shouted.
The tavern girl obliged. She lifted the mug and quaffed it in two large gulps. She let the mug fall to the floor as she gasped for air. The thick-neck across from her was working the viscous liquid down. He began to lean before the mug was emptied. She watched, wordlessly. The crowd did not see it, but she could. A smile moved across her face.
He leaned too far and finally the bar saw it as well. The room quieted just as the sound of the chair legs shifting on the hard floor squeaked out into the room. There was a loud thud and a clatter as the man met the floor ahead of the chair. A silent second hung in the air. Horror washed over the red face.
“No! It… the chair!”
He tried to stand, but four large men moved to hold him still. Cheers and chanting came quick and loud as all eyes turned from the man, now pinned to the floor, to Rianaire. She stood, smiling. She took a step forward and the smile turned to an insane, drunken laugh. She moved to him.
“I am quite full. I will not apologize for it.”
She pulled her smallclothes down under her dress and pulled a single leg out of them. The room joined her maniacal laughing as she threw a leg over the man and hiked the skirt of her dress.
“No! No! Fire’s take the lot—”
His curse turned to sputtering coughing as the hot stream of piss found his mouth. Shouted cheers and the clapping of mugs on tables filled her ears as she felt the satisfaction of a swiftly emptying bladder. She could hear the man below groan and warm splatter splashed up onto her leg. He huffed and coughed trying to push the piss away from his nostrils as best he could.
When she had finished soaking the man thoroughly, she pulled her leg back over and threw her hands into the air.
“A towel!”
The room laughed and cheered once again. The tavern girl brought a towel as she was bid. Rianaire wiped herself clean and tossed the cloth to the man on the floor who still lay in the pool of yellow water.
“I do apologize,
