The Doktor's Spyglass

Chapter 24

The wine was dry and red, but it felt like clear, cold water running down his throat. He gulped from the goblet Kantaris presented to him, surprised at the strange thirst he felt. He sat with is back against the column; he could feel the lump of elekstone hovering above his head like a stranger standing behind him. Thijis found himself running his fingertips over the smooth yellow stone of the strange chamber, assuring himself with every slight crevice and speck of dust his he felt that this was real, this was the real world.

"This is..." he began, then swallowed. "This is the real world." It was part question, part declaration, as if he were trying to reassure himself. Kantaris smiled slightly and took his cup from him.

"Yes, Mr. Thijis," he said. "This is the real world. In deference to this being your first time, I'll save you the question of whether that term has any true meaning."

"What?" Thijis demanded, searching hand pausing on the stone tile. Kantaris had stood, and now he paused, standing above Thijis with his back to him.

"What is real?" he asked, over his shoulder, his long silver hair tucked elegantly behind his ear. He seemed about to say more, but then appeared to think better of it. He walked to a nearby table and put down the wine goblet, turning back to Thijis once more. After a moment he squatted down before him and offered his hand.

"Next time we'll try it in style. More comfortably, that is," he said, hauling Irik to his feet. For his part, Irik was still dry-mouthed and overwhelmed. The wine had gone directly to his head. He felt like he hadn't eaten or slept in a week. "But right now, eat something. The Phiros...takes a lot out of you."

As if summoned, Caerans appeared through the far door, carrying a covered tray.

"Roast chicken," he announced, "with summer vegetables." He set the platter down on a small table in the far corner of the room and drew up a chair for Thijis.

There was more wine to go with the chicken: cold and white, it tasted like spring water after a hard walk. Kantaris puttered around the sanctum while he ate, occasionally murmuring to himself.

Irik was ravenous, like he had worked with the canal dredgers all day and not stopped for a midday meal. He'd cleaned his plate in moments, and poured another glass of the cold, excellent wine.

It flowed on his tongue like cold mineral water, the metals only accentuating the grapes, refreshing him even as it warmed his belly from within.

"This is really excellent wine," he said, pouring himself another glass. "Really excellent wine."

"Is it?" asked Kantaris suddenly, turning from whatever he was doing. "Describe it to me."

"It's cold, clear, refreshing—like white, almost, except it's red. It makes me love this place," said Irik, squinting in confusion even as the words fell out of his mouth. "What—"

"Perhaps another glass," suggested Caerens, pouring from the decanter.

"Perhaps another glass," echoed Irik, drinking it down. Caerans said something else to him, but Thijis was too distracted by the golden wine to—wait, hadn't it been red a moment ago? He paused with the cup at his lips, staring inside of it. In the darkness of the goblet the wine was colorless, a glossy, rippled mirror. He could see his eyes in it, blinking, see his widening pupils. It looked bizarrely like he was drinking a reflection of himself, and the thought momentarily disturbed him.