Heir of Beasts

Ch. 4.3- Hold and Show

Two hours later I'm standing in the doorway of Imiko's, dressed in a boring brown tunic and breeches. The tavern is a hole in the wall, marked with a crescent moon carved into a small brown door, but inside it's sprawling. It seems to extend backward indefinitely, the rows of small booths and low lighting creating a maze-like effect.

"Don't be deceived," the ambassador says to me as we walk inside, "Imiko's is the best tavern in all of Soriko."

"I'll take your word for it," I answer, dodging a drunken man as he staggers past me. I wrinkle my nose at the stench of alcohol wafting off of him.

The ambassador laughs at my look. "You said you wanted to go out, Shira."

"I do!" I assure him, balking at the idea of going back to the manor for another week. "Irei!" A loud voice calls. "Irei, over here!"

The ambassador groans. "Looks like Esato's already started drinking."

"Irei!" Esato calls loudly, pulling himself up from his seat at a small booth and clapping his friend on the back. "You made it!" His eyes find me, dilate, a wolfish grin overtaking his face. "Oh, and you brought along the pretty golden one, too! Or maybe I should say silver; yes, that hair is more like spun silver than spun gold. Lovely nonetheless." He reaches forward, fingers catching in the long curtain of my hair.

I stagger back, glaring at him.

"Oh, and he's in a fierce mood. Splendid, this will be fun. Yes, this will be fun."

"Sit down and stop making a fool of yourself, you drunken lout," the ambassador chides, pushing down on Esato's shoulders until he's seated again. "I came here to play Xalzan and you're already too far gone to hold a hand of cards."

"'S not my fault," Esato protests. "Imiko got a shipment of the best wine ever made. Mirrenovese, red, twenty years aged. As old as your little Ayadaxa there. Older, maybe."

"I am twenty-two," I respond, coloring when both men laugh.

"Why'd you bring a baby to the bar, Irei?" Esato asks. "Other than to please me? You know I can't resist such a face."

"You better," the ambassador growls, taking Esato's cup from his hand and taking a drink himself. He hands it back and turns to walk away.

"Irei!" Esato calls plaintively. "Where you going?"

"To play Xalzan, you fool! And to get something to drink."

"Try the Mirrenovese wine!" Esato calls. "S' fabulous."

"Only women drink Mirrenovese wine," the ambassador says to me, a little too loudly. I snicker when I see the indignation light up Esato's face.

The ambassador hands me a cup of bright red liquid. He holds a glass of the same in his other hand.

"And this is?"

"Y'chora. Y'xala that's been fermented for a year in wooden barrels."

I take a drink and wrinkle my nose. "It's strong."

"Good, though, isn't it?"

I nod. I can already feel the alcohol working on me, softening the edges of my mind, making the crowded tavern feel warmer and more vital. The ambassador smirks when I take another deep draught, savoring the woody, rich flavor of the drink.

"It's delicious."

He nods and motions for me to follow him. We wind our way through the maze of the tavern, past booths and barstools to a circular table in the very back of the room. Ten or so men sit around it, each with a hand of cards and a drink of some kind.