Ember leaned toward Cheyenne and muttered, “That kinda sounded like he was challenging you to find his weak spot.”
“Yep. I’m sure if he had to pick one, he’d say it’s me.” The halfling shook her head and watched her father celebrating with the others like all their hard work was over and none of them had anything to worry about anymore. “I doubt he even knows what it is.”
Ember glanced down at her tankard and shrugged. “I’m outta booze.”
“Go for it, Em. Drink the night away with these weirdos. Who knows? Maybe all your magic will help you keep up.”
“I am not trying to drink anyone under the table.” Ember pointed at her friend as she floated toward the new keg spouting sparkling gold Bloodshine into empty cups. “Especially not Nu’ek.”
The Golra held another keg in both gigantic hands, laughing at some crude joke before she upended the spigot into her mouth and drank right from the metal barrel.
Cheyenne snorted and shook her head, content to watch everyone else celebrate their first victory. Then her gaze fell on Elarit again, still sitting at the table and occasionally rolling her eyes at something Jara’ak said to the magical made of swarming black specks. Corian was now on the other side of the chamber, shaking his head as L’zar pointed at him and continued his story.
Probably an account of all the horrible things they did together in the name of chaos. Laughing, Cheyenne headed toward Corian’s empty seat and sat down beside Elarit. “Hey.”
The troll woman lifted her goblet to her lips. “Cheyenne.”
“Thanks again for the activator.”
“Oh, sure.” Elarit chuckled. “Didn’t take you long to learn to use it. That last message today was from you, right?”
“Yeah. Kinda came as second-nature, I guess.” Cheyenne leaned back in the chair and watched the other revelers. “What the hell are they doing?”
The troll woman stared at the small ring of magicals gathered at the far end of the chamber. Lumil stepped into the center with a fist held in front of her, leering at an orc, who quickly drank the rest of his fellwine before crouching in a ready stance. “Looks like a fight.”
“We just got done fighting.”
“This is for fun. I know that goblin woman would say that about every battle, but this is what happens when O’gúl warriors open their bottles and get down to serious business.”
“You mean, a staged fight in front of their friends is the O’gúleesh version of a drinking game?”
Elarit cocked her head and set her drink on the table. “Sure. It’s evolved a little. Used to be the loser had to cut off a finger or a toe and hand it over as the victor’s prize.”
“You’re screwing with me.”
“As fun as that would be, Cheyenne, I’m not.”
Not sure whether to grimace or laugh, Cheyenne watched Lumil and the orc circle each other in the ring, calling out ridiculous insults to the howling of laughter as the other magicals pushed them toward each other.
Jara’ak and the swarming magical rose from their seats to watch the games, and Cheyenne took her chance. “You know, Persh’al wanted to be here.”
Elarit turned slowly toward the halfling and raised her eyebrows. “I’m curious why you think now is the right time to bring up Persh’al. He’s safe and warm in his Earthside tech cubby, isn’t he?”
Okay, so she’s a little bitter. I could’ve read that better.
“Yeah. He’s still at the warehouse.”
“Then I wouldn’t waste time at this celebration worrying about what he’s doing over there by himself.”
“I’m not worried about anyone. I just thought you’d like to know he wanted to be here, and he didn’t come with us because of you.”
The troll woman’s eyes narrowed. “Because of me.”
“You know, so L’zar wouldn’t find some reason to kick you out or whatever.” This isn’t going the way I wanted.
“Why would he do that?”
“I mean, with Persh’al here, and everyone else all crammed together celebrating this.”
Elarit pushed herself up from the table, and Cheyenne found herself staring at the long bloody gash in the side of the troll woman’s tunic instead of her face. “I’m glad you enjoy the activator, Cheyenne. Don’t mention Persh’al Tenishi around me again.”
“I was trying to help.”
“Stick to revolutions and saving this world from itself.” Elarit snatched her drink off the table and stared across the chamber as she pushed in the chair with a metallic clink. “That’s what you’re good at.”
Cheyenne stared after the troll woman as she stalked across the bunker. Elarit stopped once to refill her cup, then headed through one of the arched doors lining the room and disappeared. That went well. Jesus, the magicals over here are all insane.
The table jolted beneath her hand when Maleshi stomped onto the opposite end of it, stepping precariously over the newly opened bottles and waving her silver skull. A round of cheers and bellowing laughter rose from the onlookers. “You all wanted to see General Maleshi Hi’et’s return, didn’t you?”
“The Hand of the Night and Circle!”
Maleshi spun around on the table and snarled. “The Hand of the Night and Circle can eat the deathflame torch, for all I care! But Blade of the Untouched Eye? The Blade is alive and well!”
The rebels roared again, stomping their feet on the stone floor and pounding whatever metal they could find. The most readily available of that down here beneath the city was the table. Cheyenne pulled her hands away from the shuddering tabletop and caught Foltr picking up his tankard with a snarl of disgust before drinking for a long time.
Maleshi let out a wild howl, her head thrown back as she staggered across the surface. Then she drank deeply from the silver skull and snarled, “I marchedthrough the fires of Azercól and drank from deathflame bowls!”
Cheyenne stared at the nightstalker woman stomping on the
