The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(52)
Groaning inwardly, I followed them to their table. I’d known the guys long enough to trust them not to take advantage, and I’d be on hand. But they didn’t know Likh, and I didn’t know drunk Likh, and I couldn’t find a way to extricate ourselves from the situation without causing a scene.
Deciding to allow Likh some leeway, I accepted a watery-looking but sweet beverage that didn’t taste like hard beer at all. “It’s like mother’s milk,” Balfour assured us.
The innocent-seeming drink, I learned much later, was renowned for its smoothness. It was the lightest of the drinks served at that hall, that was certain, but potent enough for someone who didn’t always imbibe, the kick creeping up on one unawares until it was far too late.
The men started with a toast in my honor, and then to Likh’s. By then, I was still sober enough to make my own toast. “May our children one day inherit a world where they can explore the lands without the need for a name,” I intoned, “and free to carve out their own peace.”
The men seemed to like that. From there, we moved on to toasting the day’s nanghait hunt, future nanghait hunts, and it was only when we were toasting nanghait hunts twenty years hence and I spilled more beer than I drank that I knew I was in trouble.
Likh handled his drinks better than I did. He flirted with the men, knew the right words to say, and was full of compliments. His training in Kion had paid off—he was better at flattery than I was, possibly on the same par as Shadi, who excelled at it.
It was easy to keep drinking. With every refilled bowl, it took less effort to forget what I’d left behind in Kion—Daisy, Fox, the elder asha, all of it.
“My great-great-great-grandfather helped build this council house,” Lord Aden said fondly, patting the wall like he was stroking a pet. “See these faint markings over here? You can barely see them now. They’re Gorvekan. They helped us build it, said these were protection symbols. They don’t usually put them up in the places they help build, mind—they’re part of some rituals they’re committed to, and they don’t let outsiders see their symbols too often—but my many-great-grandpa did the impossible and got ’em drunk, so they got a bit careless. Friendly people, helped us fight against the nanghait back when there weren’t Dark asha around to contain them. Did you know they got more runebinders than even Arhen-Kosho if you take population size into account? Not something they tell you in the history books.”
I stared hard at the design he’d indicated. It looked familiar, but my mind was thoroughly greased by the alcohol and its significance kept sliding away from me. “It’s very pretty, Lord Aden.”
“Grew up in Thanh, I did. Knox and Balfour are Steerfall natives, and Besserly’s a Chittengrin, if you can believe it. Not as stuffed up as the rest of them over there, gods be good. Thanh’s a good place, but starved of asha.”
Likh laughed. “And now it has two! Perhaps a celebration? Should we dance, Tea?” He tottered.
“Not today, Likh. But we are quite open to more drinking.”
Lord Aden guffawed. “Then more drinking it is!”
Khalad found us deep in our cups, giggling over some inanities that I no longer recall. The Heartforger didn’t look pleased, barely paying attention to the men’s respectful bows—the ones who didn’t lose their balance, anyway. “Might I have a talk with Lady Likh?” he asked frostily.
Likh peered up at him from through his long eyelashes, blinking owlishly. “I’m not sure I want to talk to you,” he said calmly, despite his lack of sobriety. “I much rather prefer the company of these men, if you please.”
“Is this your girl, Lord Khalad?” Knox raised his hands. “We were only accompanying these lovely ladies, milord. We meant no harm—”
“I want to talk to you now, Likh.” Khalad’s tone allowed no room for discussion. The Heartforger was rarely this angry, and it startled Likh back into some sobriety. He waved cheerfully at us before marching off so he and Khalad could talk in private.
“I didn’t know Lord Khalad was interested in the Lady Likh,” Aden slurred. “They make a cute couple.”
“Kalen and I make a cute couple too.” The words tumbled out without filter, and I remembered the surge of pride at finally being able to say so out loud, here in this place, where it was easier to spill secrets to a roomful of strangers than family and friends.
The spurts of laughter didn’t sound like they were directed at me. “I’d noticed the particular closeness between you two but did not realize the happy occasion!” Knox proclaimed. “We must drink to your health and to Kalen’s! Have you been long together?”
“Not too long, milord, but I intend it to last me my days!”
“Once I traveled the Steerfall strays,” Aden started to sing, “with gold to last me my days, but soon found myself on old Thanh’s shore, all shacked up with a Yadoshan wh—”
“Stop!” I raised my hand before he could finish. “Kalen and I are nothing of that sort! Our Kion songs speak of it better than your bawdy tunes!”
“An asha performance!” Knox crowed. “Sing us some refrains, little miss, and let us be the judge!”
I was not known for my singing voice. Instructor Mina had been able to coax my frog-like warbles into a decent melody, but inebriation masked what little skill I possessed. Still, I endeavored.