Cheyenne shouldered her pack and gazed around the restaurant. Most of the dining magicals ignored them as Persh’al led her toward the center of the far wall. Those who looked up to catch a glimpse of a blue troll and a scowling young drow traipsing around with their luggage scowled and rolled their eyes.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve broken the dress code. They can deal.
On the far wall was a tall, arching doorway decorated with swirling silver vines and metal leaves that fluttered on their own. Persh’al knocked lightly on the solid metal wall inside the arch and turned to wiggle his eyebrows at her. “The real party’s always in the back room, you know?”
“Totally.” Not that I go to parties, but I have a feeling this one’s gonna be a lot more like Bianca Summerlin’s soirees than anything else.
The doorway shimmered and the wall disappeared, emitting a foggy blue light that somehow didn’t make it out into the pristine cleanliness of the dining room. Persh’al nodded at her. “You know what you’re lookin’ for.”
“Yep.” She followed him through yet another short tunnel, her skin tingling when the wall solidified behind them again. “Back doors into Hangivol’s citywide mainframe. The closed ones.”
“Just don’t open them. The last thing we need on this trip is to set off any alarms.”
“You mean, besides the one you tripped at whatever town that was?”
Persh’al snorted. “I’ll owe you one if we can agree that never happened.”
“Fine by me.” Cheyenne laughed when his floppy orange hair bounced against his neck as he shook his head.
The music in the back room intensified before they exited the tunnel. Seriously? Now it’s O’gúleesh dubstep, and this is not a soiree.
The massive room beyond was dark and thick with odorless smog lighting up in shapes and symbols in bursts of different-colored lights. Suspended lanterns hovering below the ceiling flickered with green and purple flames, casting thin spotlights on the magicals moving back and forth below them. A circular bar glinting with dangling metallic strands that shuddered with the beat of the pounding music sat in the center of the room, where a snake-eyed magical with translucent skin and four arms poured drinks. A stage took up the left wall, though the flying magical doing cartwheels under a purple spotlight obviously didn’t need it. The dance floor was covered by a dark, bobbing mass of heads and hair and flailing limbs, and the rest of the room was lined with more tables and chairs, these open for everyone to see everyone else.
Persh’al bobbed his head to the music and turned to shoot Cheyenne a huge grin. “Better, right?”
“Than the front room, yeah?” She caught up with him and had to raise her voice over the music. “Are people not supposed to know this is back here?”
“No, everyone knows, but a hoity-toity little troll living in Uppertech isn’t gonna go clubbing where everyone else can see. The other magicals in here all pretend they’re not trying to hide something too.”
“What happens in the club stays in the club, huh?”
“You said it. Want a drink?”
Cheyenne snorted and turned to watch the eight-foot guy who could’ve been a tree if he wasn’t shaking all over the place to the music. “Sure. Like, grog or something.”
“Not an option up here, kid. I’m not goin’ strong, either.”
They reached the bar, and the translucent bartender nodded as she set down three black bowls in front of her other customers, their surfaces rippling with pink flames. The magicals dressed for a night out at the opera grabbed the bowls, laughing hysterically, and drained them.
Couldn’t pay me to dress like something I’m not so I could be myself in secret.
“Whatcha want?” The bartender set two four-fingered hands on the bar, her snakelike eyes flickering between Persh’al and Cheyenne.
“Two mudshines.”
The bartender frowned and opened her mouth to spit some scathing remark, then a flock of small silver orbs swooped down from the ceiling, blinking multicolored lights. They stopped over Persh’al and Cheyenne’s heads and hovered slowly around the circular bar.
Cheyenne glanced at one from the corner of her eye. No info on those things, either.
Eyeing the spinning orbs, the bartender scratched her hairless translucent head with a third hand. Her mouth snapped shut, and she forced a smile at her new customers. “I’ll have to bring something out from the back. If you don’t mind waiting, of course.”
Persh’al shrugged. “No problem.”
Casting him another tight-lipped smile, the bartender reached up with a fourth hand to swipe at something on the ring lining the bar overhead. Her other hands lifted two short glasses from beneath the counter, and the fourth reached into the pocket of her sleeveless black jumpsuit. Then she turned to help two more customers.
Persh’al and Cheyenne exchanged glances, and when he raised an eyebrow and nodded at the still-hovering orbs, the halfling shook her head. He leaned against the bar. “It’ll be easier to talk with some drinks in us. You know, get things loosened up.”
“How loose?” She eyed him sidelong and forced a smile.
The troll twirled his finger around the room. “Loose enough to have as much fun as the rest of these lucky bastards. That’s what I’m aiming for.” He held her gaze and slightly dipped his head.
That’s what I thought. Somebody’s watching us, just like they’re watching the bartender and everyone else. If that was code for “we need to act drunk,” I can only go so far.
Cheyenne leaned back against the bar, propping up her forearms behind her and bobbing her head to the music she’d turned way down with her temporary activator. I can’t remember the last time I tried to fake my way through enjoying something.
A group of orcs standing beside one of the tables against the wall roared with laughter and raised their drinks. The next second, one of them lashed out and socked his neighbor square in the jaw. The sucker-punched magical bellowed in rage as his glass fell and shattered, splashing sparkling liquid all over
