“You’ll what? Throw more veréle at me? Your payment’s useless. I want what I came for.”
“Well, you’ll leave disappointed, then.”
The orcs snarled at each other, standing toe to toe and growling through their protruding tusks. The others in their group stepped away and looked elsewhere, knocking back their drinks and pretending they had nothing to do with their arguing friends.
Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. An orc-fight with only one punch? Why are they holding back?
A quick glance at the other tables showed that the other magicals who’d clearly noticed the fight were very obviously trying to forget it had happened. The two orcs still glared at each other, grunting and trying to make the other one back down. A show of green sparks spat from the fingers of the guy who’d thrown the punch, then another orc walked quickly from where he’d been standing at the corner of the club and approached them.
Cheyenne nudged Persh’al’s arm and nodded as subtly as she could toward the altercation.
“That’s enough,” the third orc growled. This one wore a well-tailored black suit, the sleeves cut to three-quarter length, and two silver stripes crossing diagonally on his chest.
A bouncer in the latest fashion. The halfling tried not to make a face.
The bouncer stood close to the enraged orcs, stuck his face right into the middle of their fight, and muttered something only they could hear. Then he snapped his fingers, and a floating silver tray raced across the room to stop by his outstretched hand. He pulled two inch-long vials from the tray and handed one to each of them.
The angry orcs glanced at what they’d been given, then flipped open the caps of the vials and raised the containers to their huge nostrils for a quick, harsh snort. Opening his hand again, the bouncer waited for the vials to be returned before he stepped away. The brawlers shook their heads, then their yellow eyes widened as they stared at each other. The one who’d hit first let out a wild burst of laughter and clapped his recent enemy on the shoulder, then they fell all over each other, snorting and guffawing and shoving each other around like best friends.
The bouncer walked slowly across the club, his hands shoved into his pockets as he eyed the other magicals living it up around him. When he passed Cheyenne, he caught her gaze, raised an eyebrow, and dipped his head. A curving silver earpiece wrapped around the back of his dark-green ear, and she focused her attention on that before the orc disappeared in the crowd.
Shit. That’s not a bouncer. That’s a drug dealer keeping the peace.
She stepped away from the bar to find him again, but Persh’al turned toward her and shrugged. “How long does it take to get a decent glass of mudshine around here, huh?”
Cheyenne turned back toward the bar. Right. I’m here to watch. That’s it.
As if the troll’s layered question made it happen, a thin slat in the surface of the bar slid aside, and a tall, wide dark-blue glass bottle rose slowly from the opening. The bartender snatched it and cracked open the top with her bare hands before pouring the dark-brown liquid into two short glasses. When she slid the drinks toward Cheyenne and Persh’al, her snakelike eyes flickered toward the small metal orbs still moving in slow circles around the bar. Her smile looked more forced than the words hissing out of her mouth. “On the house.”
“Really?” Persh’al glanced at the bubbling brown mudshine and cocked his head.
“For the wait.”
Cheyenne grabbed one glass and lifted it with a nod at the strained-looking bartender. “Excellent.”
As soon as the halfling accepted the offer, the floating orbs darted away, slipping into the dark ceiling again to watch and wait. The bartender shook her head and didn’t look at either of them before she slid around the bar to take someone else’s order.
Persh’al clinked his glass against Cheyenne’s and nodded toward the tables lining the walls. “If we’re quiet enough and smile for the floating cameras, we can talk about what just happened.”
Cheyenne plastered a cheesy grin on her face.
The troll took a huge swig of his drink and shook his head. “Never mind. You focus on not looking like a lunatic, and I’ll look happy enough for both of us.”
The pert smile he shot her in return looked real. Cheyenne put on her most convincing air of bored superiority and raised the glass to her lips. The mudshine fizzed in her mouth and almost made her cough. “This is the next best thing when there’s no grog?”
Persh’al nodded at her glass and chuckled. “I bet there hasn’t been a single bottle of this stuff cracked open in Peridosh. Too expensive. It’s swill in Uppertech.”
Chapter Forty-Five
They sat with a chair between them at the table in the corner, watching the club and the magicals letting down their high-society hair for a night. Three more potential fights were broken up before they started, either by free drinks delivered just in time by more flying trays sent from the bar or by a drug-dealing bouncer’s open hand while everyone else pretended not to see.
“I’ll tell you this much.” Persh’al sipped at his drink and scanned the club. “This shit wasn’t part of the deal last time I was here. Bar fights were a thing, and if they didn’t end in a good laugh, you were tossed out onto your ass and headed to the next bar over.”
“What about the drugs?”
“Man, there’s always something to make you think you’re feeling good. Not handed out by the employees, though.”
“The bouncer had a scrubbed earpiece.”
“Then the bouncer and those flying cameras are playing the same game.” Persh’al leaned over the table, smiling at a group of passing trolls with their hair molded into giant red pillars who didn’t spare him a second glance. “And I’m not convinced the security stops with whoever
