Alcohol and Apples

CHAPTER THREE

“Any idea what the thief is going to do with your talisman?” Saph asked as they entered the hallway again.

“Beyond messing with her rival temple? Maybe selling it.”

“All the way down here instead of in the capital?”

“If she’s here, I have a theory. She’s heading toward the southern coast. To find a pirate captain to sell it to.”

Saph began to descend the stairs. “I’ll think of some strategic questions then when I’m serving the customers and they’re already prone to gossip. Why don’t you stay in the Sultry Sapphire this afternoon and listen to conversations at the tables?”

“Thank you for the invitation.” It was certainly better to have the tavern owner’s blessing than her original plan of trying to go unnoticed while watching for Madeline.

Saph hung her axe on a support beam next to the bar, its silver blades undulating with newly lit firelight from across the room. Divine wondered if the arm-length weapon was to remind the drinkers to behave.

After describing Madeline’s physical traits, Divine watched for anyone coming from the day’s services in the Holy District. The God of Storms and the Deity of Love and Fire’s followers worshipped on Wind’s Day. Though she didn’t know the layout of this city, typically those deities’ temples were on the way to the temple of the Goddess of Condemnation.

She could enter the Holy District herself, enter the sacred structure of the Goddess of Condemnation—Madeline’s deity—but the longer she hid, the more Madeline would feel comfortable. Safe. Like she’d thrown Divine off her trail. And therefore, less likely she would bolt before Divine could find her.

And she could delay having to look into her honey-colored eyes lined in charcoal. Divine’s stomach churned.

She wandered to the community board, wood planks inside of a frame, and stared at tacked advertisements for midnight poetry recitations and a greasy map of Iramont that had so many creases, the parchment must have been rescued from a waste bin.

If they were lucky, Saph said the owner of a nearby Palfrey Post would stop by; he came in a few times a week to “hear his own voice.” The afternoon progressed as Divine watched from one corner of the tavern or another, with a twinge of inexplicable jealousy every time Saph laughed with someone at the bar. As Saph wiped the countertop, Divine admired the muscles of her upper arms through the sheer fabric of her sleeves and how her layered necklaces accented her neck. She wondered about the life she led to wield an axe.

Divine was nodding off into her third cup of tarrow-root beer, a bowl of bar snacks beside her, when the tavern door opened to a rush of laughter and leaves blowing in, like apple trees’ dresses crumbling at the end of summer’s dance. Sylus leapt up to sweep the offending brown mess back to the street.

A man in a brown leather vest and matching wide-brimmed hat spoke loudly to two men, a woman, and an Iguion with vibrant pink scales. The party accompanied him as they made their way through the tables. Several patrons eyed them warily before returning their focus to their own conversations.

“Viktor! Make yourself at home!” Saph called, pouring dark liquid into a grey-haired man’s stein. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The group navigated like salmon in a familiar stream, the Iguion looping their green and black spiked tail over their arm as they sat at the table next to Divine. After a moment, Saph appeared beside them. Divine watched Saph sit on the edge of their table and lean in, bracing herself with one hand. Her other hand twirled the teal and blue beads of her necklaces.

“Drinks? Cards? Drinks and cards?” Her head rotated as if angling her good eye on Viktor.

The man pointed to each of his companions around the circular table. They nodded in turn.

He raised his chin so that he looked up at Saph beneath the edge of his hat. “Both. The usual.”

The Iguion lifted a thin finger with a long, blunt claw. “Make mine a greenflutter,” their voice vibrated.

As Saph turned away, Viktor palmed the back of her dress, seeming to squeeze her backside. Divine rose from her chair, taking one step forward. Flashes of a man in a dark side street groping another woman crept up from her memory and she balled her fists.

Viktor turned, flicking the brim of his hat. “Ah, a newcomer. Care for a game of Crossroads George?”

Divine caught Saph’s subtle nod and a touch to her nose bauble before she hurried away. Divine’s mother used to touch her nose like that when she was letting someone in on a secret.

Divine locked eyes with the man. “I’ve never played, but I’d be interested in watching.”

“Well then, you’re about to see the best card players in southern Trelvania!” He beamed, leaning back in his seat with his hands behind his head. “Pull up your chair.”

Divine took a seat and listened to the members of his crew recount interactions with customers from the day, laughing at what they deemed ridiculous requests.

“And then he asked to go south”—one of the men clapped the other on the back—“as if the horses had anything to eat that way.”

Divine sat straighter. “Do you get a lot of travelers at your establishment?”

“Sweetheart,” Viktor said, leaning forward, “we get all of the travelers. Why, we’re the biggest provisioner of single-rider mounts in the city.”

Saph returned, handing a deck of cards over Viktor’s shoulder. He took the stack, patting her hand.

“Are they letting people out of the south gate yet?” Saph asked, stepping behind Viktor and wiping her hand on the back of her dandelion-print dress.

“Nah”—Viktor shuffled the deck, the purple and gold foil rotating in a blur—“not even the caravans are approved, and they can carry more supplies in their wagons. This dang black spot is hurting my business.”

If the city wasn’t letting anyone travel south, that eliminated one route Madeline could take. If she was here. This black spot conjured images of arms with lesions in need of healing, though she’d never heard of it. Divine opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Viktor tipped his hat up and began laying the cards out. Her eyes followed each placement.

He made a line of five cards; their backs had four navettes drawn in shimmering gold, intersected in a cross over a background of stained glass in blue shades. The cards’ edges were traced with a purple double line. They reminded her of the temple’s bestiary. Then Viktor placed two more cards on either side of the middle card, creating a cross. All cards faced down until he flipped the center card over. A figure covered in cloth stood on sand dunes, the sky purple, and a decacacti with its ten spiked stems extended. A number and a symbol decorated each card edge.

“Terrain is barren.” Viktor dealt the cards around the table to his friends until each had six cards. He leaned his head closer to the female to his left as he fanned his cards out with their faces hidden. “What alignment?”

“Dark. Shadowbone.” The woman answered without removing her eyes from her cards.

The Iguion issued a hiss layered with a low-timbred vibration that reminded Divine of air passing over accordion reeds before rearranging the cards in their hand.

“Sorry to sabotage your plan.”

“That is not the issue.” The Iguion angled the side of their pink head closest to the woman. Divine imagined that their golden eye skewered her. “You rarely choose anything different.”

A whisper in Divine’s right ear made her jump.

“Find out anything interesting?”

Half turning, Divine saw Saph’s eyepatch and relaxed her shoulders. “I know where she isn’t, and that’s a start,” Divine whispered back.

“I’ll ask him another question or two when he gets going with the game. He has to be in the throes of enjoyment, though, otherwise he’s as forthcoming as a wulf with its muzzle sewed up.”

Their cheeks nearly touched, and Divine fought against an urge to close the distance.

“What’s this black spot they’re talking about?” Divine asked.

“A disease of the crops. The leaves get these black blemishes, and the plants don’t bear fruit. Watermelons from the south were decimated this season. Ooh I could sink my teeth into a juicy watermelon right now.”

“Do they know what’s caused it? I haven’t heard of a black spot around Arosia.”

“They aren’t sure. It maybe started in the south since it has spread so far there. Nothing will grow. There are cases east, and west of us to the mountain valleys, but at least they are still able to grow something .”

Nodding, Divine thought about the checkpoint at the entrance. If they didn’t know what caused the disease, making sure plants didn’t enter or leave might keep it from spreading and protect the gardens within Iramont. Many of the window boxes had herbs and spices growing within.

“How does this game work?” she asked as Viktor flipped over the card furthest from the woman.

It revealed an image of vines swirling among pink flowers and plump red berries. The third player in line frowned then plucked a card from his hand.

“Each card has a number and a symbol on the card edges. Since Syka selected Shadowbone, the dark cards are Outshines; zombies, assassins, poisoned blades. Things like that. Outshine cards never get terrain penalty. There’s a one-point penalty with a desert starting terrain without using a Shadowbone type.”

The man next to Syka placed the image of a woman at the left edge of the berry card. This placed the right edge, and number nine, next to the berry card’s number seven. The woman on the card had hair made of wheat flowing across a card covered in a rainbow of fruits and vegetables.

“The Goddess of Fields?” Divine guessed.

“That’s how we’ve always seen her. Since Edward used her as resource card to gather resources, no one else can use that type of action during this round. The goal is to be the one that reaches the crossroads first. The center card.”

Edward reached the card one closer to the T from the berry card and flipped it over. The image showed birds of various sizes layered over a river. Viktor dealt Edward one more card.

“With the terrain desert, the players must play the earth edge, the right edge. There’s fire, water, air, and earth which are the little symbols there. If your number is higher than the table card, you get to flip over the next card and get one more card dealt to you. Edward had a nine, minus the desert penalty, it was eight. Eight beats seven. If your card isn’t higher, well, you get nothing.”

Divine’s eyes glazed, but she nodded and watched the next moves. The Iguion gnashed their small, serrated teeth as they shook their head and sat back. The sleeve of their billowy grey tunic pushed back as they crossed their arms, flashing shades of bright pink scales in a pattern like a woven rug.

A player tried to use lightning bolts—perhaps summoning the powers of the God of Storms—on the card with the birds and the river but all Divine could think about was Madeline’s bird tattoo. Each day she didn’t get her talisman back meant reconnecting to her well could be as hard as sailing a ship in a storm-rage created by the God of Storms.

The game circled the table again, Sylus filling mugs for everyone, as Divine’s eyes kept being pulled to watch the Iguion. They touched Sylus’s arm before whispering in his ear. Sylus nodded and retreated, and when the turn moved to Viktor a second time, there were four cards flipped face up. Several players had lost on their turn. Divine wondered what the Iguion had asked for, but her thoughts were cut short.

“Good thing I own a stable because bam!”—he slammed his card on top of the wulf card on the table, a failed last play—“I’m gonna ride that beast like a horse tamer.” His hand lifted, revealing a Kellas’ nose and whiskers beneath a hood. The figure was in a darkened alley, holding a dagger in each black spotted furry hand.

“A feline on top of a wulf? You’re really stretching your imagination, Viktor,” Edward scoffed.

From the previous rounds, Divine gathered that the images were open to interpretation; as long as the image could be argued to represent a thing, theme, or action you could do, it could be played. It made the game creative.

“I agree,” the Iguion added. “Kellas does not subjugate any creatures.”

Divine noted how the vowel sounds held an undertone of susurration, like a rasp of wind through autumn leaves.

Syka groaned. “Do we have to listen to another ‘human-adjacents are great’ speech?”

The Iguion placed their cards face-down on the table. They clasped their long fingers in front of their chest and the large round scale on each cheek seemed to puff larger. “I am simply pointing out that our races continue to be misunderstood and blatantly misrepresented—”

“There are literally Kellas pirates, Liz,” Viktor replied. “They conquer others all the time.”

Divine couldn’t tell if Liz was the Iguion’s name, or a nickname similar to lizard. And if it was the latter, it wouldn’t be the first time one of the human-adjacents was reduced to degrading nicknames.

“That is a symptom of the circumstances. If people understood both Kellas and Iguion better, we would not have to take up…odd occupations.”

“Yeah, well, if your people would let us into your city more than once a month maybe we’d know,” Syka countered.

The Iguion’s sigh sounded more like a hiss. “You’re just sour you missed the boat with me last winter.”

Syka slunk in her chair, which made her small stature seem tinier. “It gets so freaking cold here. I need warmth and beaches and—”

“You are welcome to pitch a tent anywhere beyond our cities on the island.”

“Really. It’s like you don’t know me at all. Do I look like a campfire kind of gal? I want the beaches and then get to go back to a nice bed where I can buy my food from other people.”

“Stop daydreaming and focus,” one of the players interjected. “That card is clearly some sort of assassin or rogue and it would be sneaky sneaking around alleys and not galloping around.” Divine bristled at using the word it to describe another rational being. What she wouldn’t do to bathe the table in a wave of empathy right now. “I challenge the placement.”

“It’s an interesting strategy,” Saph said loud enough for the table to hear. “Taking inspiration from somewhere, Viktor?”

Viktor collapsed his fanned cards into one hand and turned toward Saph. “As a matter of fact, yes. Had to get the patrols to escort a male Kellas out of the city. The fool managed to slip in riding a harvester wulf.”

Divine tried to imagine anyone riding the large canis. Half as high as a horse, a harvester wulf was the height for children to ride, but none would. The fangs in its muzzle guarded against creatures threatening to eat a farmer’s crops, and as their name eluded, harvester wulf taming had made them plowers of fields as well as guards.

“Wanted to trade it for a werewing,” Viktor continued. “Had the ridiculous idea to fly to the floating continent.”

Saph tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I bet you get a lot of interesting people who’d never enter my tavern. People who drink tea with fried sandwiches.”

People who thought they could get to Zenith, land of the Dieties .

Saph leaned an arm on the table. “People who just have one tattoo.”

“It’s true,” Viktor said. “A very lovely lady yesterday with a bird tattoo came by, too sophisticated for standard ale. Never seen such good ink work. Feathers looked real. Probably cost her a fortune for all those colors.”

Divine sat forward but when Saph’s hand patted her knee she relaxed. Viktor continued. “Wanted to reserve a horse for a companion to travel west. She didn’t know when he’d arrive so it was sort of a long-term deposit. And I gave her my deposit last night!”

Viktor elbowed Syka as if to ask if she caught his innuendo. To Syka’s credit, her black lidded eyes barely narrowed as she remained focused on her cards. Divine grimaced as Viktor’s companions laughed.

“How will you know who to give the horse to?” Saph asked.

“She paid until the end of the week and said she’ll either escort them for pick up herself or pay to extend the reservation. Whether the horse is used or not, I’m getting friggons.”

“And if she doesn’t show?”

“Oh, she’ll definitely want to see me again. Besides, she asked about the Market District and seemed interested in the city’s autumn festival. She’s probably here a few days at the least.”

Someone else spoke and Viktor changed topics. The tattoo sounded like Madeline’s, but bird tattoos were not unique. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but Divine sat straighter, pleased, and turned her attention back to the card game. Madeline was likely here, and maybe not going to the coast as Divine had thought. Divine was tired of the chase.

“You can’t play that card!” said the other male, pointing to a card with a scepter of fire on a background of glowing orbs.

“And why not?” the Iguion asked, the scales on their puffed cheeks quivering flashing a metallic glint from the scales’ bottom side.

“Because your kind can’t even use magic!” the first speaker cackled into their cards.

Divine searched the Iguion’s expression, though the scales hid minor fluctuations like brows wrinkling for humankind. Their claws retracted marginally before extending again from their slender fingers.

“This is a card game. It is not governed by reality,” the Iguion replied, scratching the lose skin at their neck.

Divine wondered what role they had chosen for themselves in their society, remembering her mother wistfully commenting, No distinctions made between male or female, they just are . They get to be who they want to be. Iksarsis, the one I stayed with the first night, they decided they wanted to become the life-giver and…I don’t know how, but their body transformed to make it so.

“If it were based on reality,” Saph whispered, “we’d have all sorts of treasure boxes popping up any time we completed a task; not that I’d complain.”

“How do you know so much about this game?” Divine asked, leaning back in her chair. She had leaned forward often during the rounds as if that would grant her a better understanding of the game and the ache in her back was now persistent.

Saph placed one arm on the back of her own chair and leaned her head on her fist. “I’ve played a lot. Won some good games.”

The relaxed position made Divine feel like they’d known each other for more than a day. Divine yawned. It had been a long day. She had arrived at the entrance to Iramont, where they checked her bags for any prohibited items, including seedlings or seeds, a few hours after sunrise. She thought the bag check was odd, but she also was road-delirious; she’d left Oberon before the sun rose which gave her four hours of sleep since the previous wagon ride.

Viktor scoffed. “Go on, tell her. I’m over it.”

“To Condemnation you are!” Saph’s smile grew wide, and Divine found herself unable to look away from her lips as the woman leaned in conspiratorially. “I won this tavern in a high-stakes game.”

Divine’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Who bets their tavern?”

Saph nodded her chin toward Viktor. Make yourself at home . The phrase Saph used clicked.

“It was the best thing that’s happened to me. My Palfrey Post is much more profitable, and I don’t have to deal with the drunks. As frequently.” Viktor remained focused on the table.

Divine admired how he paid attention to the card game and the conversations. She scanned the table; mugs of ale, scattered cards, yet no coins or tokens next to Viktor. “But you don’t bet anymore, do you?”

A brief pause ensued before he replied. “Where’d you pick up this inquisitor, Saph?”

The bar owner laughed. “No, he doesn’t bet anymore. He learned his lesson.”

“Hmph.” Viktor stared intently at his hand.

Saph leaned close to Divine. “People say I take risks,” she whispered, lips brushing Divine’s ear, “but they usually have intense…payoff.”

Her emerald eye drew Divine’s attention like the greenflutter cocktail before the Iguion. She licked her lips. The players erupted in laughter, but Divine’s attention couldn’t be pried away.

Saph grinned. “I could show you how I play.” She tapped Divine’s nose lightly. “I have a deck in my room.”

Divine’s pulse quickened. She imagined Saph’s room and the bed, cards laid out across Saph’s body; a trail to the crossroad at Saph’s—

Divine’s chair screeched against the floor as she rose.

“Er, not right now. I…I’m going to get some air.”

She excused herself and exited to the street where the light from the fading sun cast long shadows and illuminated places in orange.

* * *