Cheyenne shot him a confused frown. “You’re paying for water?”
He shrugged. “It’s a start.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cheyenne drained the last of what this place called water and dropped the copper cup on the table with a grimace. She swiped at her lips and pulled out grainy bits of sand and a blade of brown grass. “This is the best your plastic money could buy, huh?”
“It’s a skyvein alloy, kid, not plastic. And I’m fairly sure this is the good water.” Persh’al swirled the rest of his around in the cup and smacked his lips. “At least she didn’t try to sell us grog instead.”
“I guess.” She glanced around the domed building, feeling the other magicals’ eyes on her even before she met their gaze with a deadpan stare. “Feels off in here.”
“Yep.” He sat back in his chair and eyed the table of orcs across the room. “That’s because you’re here. Nothing personal.”
“What?”
A dented metal chair scooted back across the floor, and an orc with a long, webbed scar covering one massive bicep lumbered toward them. He pulled out a chair at their table with one hand and guzzled sloppily from a cup in his other hand, then took a seat with the strangers. “Cork’ll be out there fixin’ yous up with that skiffer for a while yet. Don’t get twitchy, nah.”
Persh’al nodded. “We’ll wait.”
“Uh-huh. I see you do.” The orc fixed his yellow eyes on Cheyenne and leaned forward over the table. “I ain’t seen a mór edhil since I was a crawler, yeh. What you doin’ all the way out the Outers?”
Cheyenne eyed his slowly growing sneer. At least I understood most of that.
Persh’al slapped the table and gestured toward the halfling. “This mór edhil wanted to see what was up is all. Help doesn’t come cheap, isn’t that it?”
The orc’s eyes flickered toward him. “You take the veréle to rope this one all over no-land?”
“I’m not an idiot. I can buy enough sparking tech to last two lifetimes with what I’m making on this job.”
Cheyenne folded her arms and stared at him. “It was that much, was it?”
He spread his arms with a crooked smile, and the orc burst out laughing.
“Oh, sure! This one knows empty holes ‘bout how much is what, yeh.” He pointed at Cheyenne with a grubby finger, the yellow nail chipped in two different places. “You ain’t gettin’ what’s worth out here, nah. Nothin’ but ground slop, life wets, and us outernóre. Payin’ all the veréle for that. You won’t be coughin’ that out again.”
I have no idea what that means.
The halfling cocked her head and shrugged. “Just something I wanted to try.”
Persh’al smirked.
“Ha!” The orc let out a wheezing laugh before snatching up his copper mug and draining the last of whatever spilled out the sides of his mouth. “And then you skuttin’ all back into big lights and power switches. Yeh. Cork’ll have that skiffer ready real quick.” He clicked his tongue, stood, and went right back to his table, shaking his bald head and chuckling.
Cheyenne leaned toward Persh’al and tried not to laugh. “I paid you a lot of money to be my guide out here, huh?”
“It makes sense, all right.” He set his forearms on the table and leaned toward her too, lowering his voice. “Drow don’t show up in the Outers as a general rule.”
“Outers being way out in the middle of nowhere, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah. This place, though,” He glanced around the domed building and shook his head. “Last time I was here, this wasn’t nearly so far out as it is now. I mean, farming was a decent way to keep a family and a village going. Plenty of business, plenty of travelers coming through. These magicals are scrappers. Scavenging most of their supplies, too, if I had to guess. Looks like the Outers have moved inward.”
“Toward the Crown.”
Persh’al nodded. “At the capital, yep. Which is where most drow pretty much converged at the turn of the new Cycle. New monarch, new dictatorship, new ruling class if we’re talking about it in the simplest terms. So, you’re playing the well-cultured city girl with a flair for the dramatic.” He chuckled. “It’s kind of a low blow for these guys, but it’s the only story we have that makes sense.”
Cheyenne glanced at the table of orcs, who burst into raucous laughter. “They think I paid you to show me around to look down at them from my high horse.”
The troll scratched his chin, twisting his puckered lips to the side. “Pretty much.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s what we’re sticking with until we get into the bigger cities, all right? You won’t be such a rare sight at that point, and then you can be whoever you wanna.”
She sat back in her chair and nodded. “Sure. I mean, I know how to act like someone who’s got a lot of money to toss around.”
He hummed in amusement and shook his head. “You know how, but you don’t walk that walk. Not Earthside, and I’m pretty sure you won’t put that hat on even for an act.”
“Is that a challenge, troll?” Cheyenne snorted.
“Hey, I’ve already been tossed around enough for one day, okay? Keep sittin’ there looking slightly disdainful and aloof, and I think that’ll work just fine.”
The domed building’s only door jerked open, spilling bright sunlight in a thick beam across the floor before a hulking shadow blocked it. “Oyup, Muhaya. Skiff’s all buzz.”
The goblin woman behind the bar nodded and pointed at Persh’al and Cheyenne. “Yous hear that, travelers? Cork’s got your ride. Best get outta here before he breaks it down again.”
They stood from the table, slinging their bags over their shoulders, and Persh’al nodded. “’Preciate it.”
“And I appreciate your veréle, troll. You come back any time for bad water.”
The orcs at the table chuckled as the strangers walked past them toward the open door. The one who’d asked about Cheyenne raised a hand and wiggled his thick fingers. “Race away, yeh, mór edhil. Have a good smile
