“Mira! Another round of ales!”

Mira put down the mug she was cleaning, and began filling a round. She loved her patrons, but by the Ancients were they needy- perhaps a little foolish, too. Who would squander there discs on ale when there were so few to go around in the Outer Ring? “Coming right up!” she hollered back. No use questioning their habits, so long as they kept filling her pockets. She pulled back the flap on the lacquered weedsprout barrel and filled four mugs. The glass mugs had cost her a fortune to import from the Inner Ring, but they resisted the wear and tear that her stone mugs endured. Or maybe the patrons were more delicate with something that was so obviously expensive. Knowing her patron, Mira suspected that wasn’t the case.

She walked the four mugs over to the caller’s stone table, balancing with casual grace only a bartender could. Gerand and his compatriots watched her arrive with excitement. One of them, a man Mira hadn’t seen before, threw a few moons on the table and began divvying the treasure.

“Haven’t seen you around before.” Mira remarked.

“New ‘ere. From the Inner Rings.”

Mira raised an eyebrow. That was new. Most people who escape the clutches of the Inner Rings didn’t return for visits- not willingly at least. She ran a hand through her tawny hair, pushing it back. Her eyes glinted like emeralds, filled with curiosity. She pulled a stool over and plopped down.

“Well ya can’t just stop there! I’m pretty sick of hearing Gerand tell the same three stories over and over. Why the Ancients are you in the Inner Ring?”

Gerand glowered at her, but didn’t say anything. The rest of the table erupted in laughter, table-slapping include.

Please don’t chip the tables. Lyra thought. She didn’t bother to chastise the group, she far too interested in what this stranger had to saw. The laughter died down, clipped short by Gerand taking some time to share his glare with the rest of the table. The stranger looked over the table appraisingly, then, as if the motley crew had passed some sort of test, the man leaned over and began to speak in a hushed whisper.

“Inner Ring ain’t growing that well. Was workin’ as a cook in Lord Rowan’s keep. He came in, all withered like Decay ‘imself, and told the whole lot of the kitchen we weren’t needed no longer needed. Ancient-cursed bastard didn’t even give us a day to pack. ‘ad us up and out of the cities by the day’s end!” By the end, the stranger was almost shouting, huffing loudly. The mere retelling of the incidence seemed to have brought some Heat to the man.

“Lord Rowan kicked you out?” Mira asked, genuinely surprised. “His house owns that a huge chunk of the farming lands in the Middle Rings. Man’s so wealthy he uses discs to hold his flaps down. Why’d he do it?”

“Hah!” The stranger let out a sarcastic laugh. “So ‘ed ‘ave you believin’. Bastard’s broke. All the ‘ouse staff has been let go for ages now. Rowan and the rest of the lords just want you to believe everythin’ is fine.”

“T-That’s not possible. I bought ale from the farm under Rowan just last week. No gouges or nuthin’”

“Listen Miss, I’m just tellin’ you what I seen. Somethins’ wrong with ‘ouses. I been ‘earin that Fain’s outta EverGrowth to sell. All the farms are in Decay’s hands. Good riddance. I may be back out here, but the Ancients have a wither brewin’ for the lords.”

Another man, Timbe, chimed in. “The earth could crack open and swallow the lords and they would still try say it ain’t the Ancients. Them fools prolly blame the weather or somethin’. Damn Witnesses.”

Finally, Gerand stopped scowling and added, “Just ‘cuz they’re fool enough to not believe in the Ancients doesn’t mean that they’re immune to reckonin’.”

“Aye,” the final man at the table chimed.

The stranger looked like he was about to say something, but the then the flap of the tavern smacked open. A haggard young man, barely over twenty cycles, stumbled in. His short black hair was a mess, sticking up all in all directions, as if it had just finished a failed escape attempt. His stormy grey eyes scanned the room, looking angrily for someone to smite. He wore a battered leather vest, marked with what looked like fresh scratches. More concerningly, he was bleeding from the side of his face. Finally, his gaze found Mira. He came right towards Mira, stumbling like a drunkard.

“You lying Chit!”

Mira should have been offended. Tan had stumbled in, close to the time when she would begin cleaning tables and kicking people out, and began insulting her. But, she saw the blood oozing from her friend’s face and the only thing she could feel was concern. She ran up to him, steadying him by grabbing his shoulders.

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“Tan!” she yelled, “Are you all right?”

“Just a little bruised up. You owe me a drink. You damn lying Chit! Treeborn who--“

Mira actually covered his mouth before he could finish that sentence. If he had done so, she would have to punch him, then and there. That really wasn’t something she wanted to do—at least not right now, with him so clearly hurt. She guided him to a table in the far back and eased him down onto the stone bench.

“Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Mira hurried back to the counter and grabbed some cleaning lichen. “Bar’s closed! Finish your drinks and get out! Leave your pay on the tables or Ancients help me I’ll hunt you down.”

She was met with a choir of grumbles and dissent, but the patrons all began to down their drinks and begin fishing for some discs. No tips tonight, I’ll guess. As her guests shuffled out, still muttering about common decency and expectations, Mira went over to Tan.

“Ancients above Tan, what happened?”

“Chits happened Mira! In the same caverns you told me were as clear as Lady Light herself!” The man seethed. His words were filled with fury, but Mira could see the battle rush draining from him. He couldn’t stop a look of relief from washing across over his face. Tan would bluster and growl, but Mira knew him too well. Whatever had happened in the caverns wasn’t her fault and he knew that. He would try to milk it for a few free drinks, but Mira had already resolved to give him one and not a moon more.

“The caverns were clear when I was there, just yesterday. You know how Chits are, Tan. How did you fight it off?”

“It? Try them! Two of them ambushed me!”

“Two?! You fought off two Chits? Someone’s is looking out for you.”

“Luck had nothing to with it. I killed one and then ran while the other was spooked.”

Mira was actually momentarily stunned. She hadn’t expected to hear about Tan fighting off numerous Chits. She gathered herself and tossed the cleaning lichen to Tan.

“What kind of idiot decides to fight two Chits?”

“Decides is not the right word to use. Trust me, I tried running first.”

Mira grunted, not wanting to press him further on that.

“You at least find anything good?”

“Few discs, nothing special.” He paused, trying to clear his face of the emerging grin. “You know, a moon, a slice, and a browning.”

“Ah, just a browning. Didn’t stumble onto a hidden quarry, poor lad.” Tan’s grin grew wider, and he drank deeply from a mug Mira had brought over. “You’re paying for that mug you know.” The man look absolutely affronted. He put the mug down, smile thoroughly cleansed.

“Please say you’re joking.”

Instead of answering, Mira rose and began cleaning. She would let him ponder that for a bit. Of course, she wasn’t going to make him pay, especially today, but it would be nice if he worried about paying once in a while. She wrung out her rag into the barrel of water and dipped it in again. As she cleaned the tabletop, she eyed Tan. He had finished the mug, and was staring at with intense focus, a not-so-subtle hint that he needed a refill. He could keep staring but that wasn’t happening.

After the cleaning was done, she came back to the table, a mug in her own hand. The mug held dandelion tea, her favorite. Mira avoided drinking the poison she served her patrons. She took a sip of the warm, earthy concoction and finally deigned to break the temporary silence.

“It’s getting worse in the Inner Circle, I hear.”

He stared daggers at her, his eyes seemingly going from deep violet to icy blue at the mere mention of the Inner Circle. “Don’t care. What those crazy Witnesses and their lapdog servants do is not my problem.”

“A lot of those ‘lapdogs’ are getting kicked out and coming back to the Outer Ring. We had a man today talking about how his house lord was basically broke.”

“Good. We’ve been scavenging all our lives. I’d love to see those heretic lords try to do the same.”

Mira knew she should’ve expected this sort of vitriol from Tan when she brought up the Inner Circle of Molanter. Tan was kind, in his own gruff way. While the man refused to pay for his own drinks, he would often buy drinks for strangers and friends alike. He basically had a standing offer to help new scavengers start out, or provide a hand to the older ones. However, he turned borderline vindictive when Inner Circle came up. So much of what he said was so twisted by disdain, but Mira didn’t bother to correct him. The wealthy of the Inner Circle weren’t heretics, per say. They revered the Ancients, just not like Outer Ring folk did. Their servants from the Outer Rings weren’t traitors, just people looking for a way out. Though Mira very clearly understood why Tan thought the latter. She hesitated, but then brought up the topic they both were dreading.

“ She might be sent back to the Outer Ring soon too, Tan.”

Tan stiffened immediately. He brought his arms to a cross in front of him, trying to contain himself. If Tan was icy before, he was a blizzard now. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, arms still tightly crossed before him. A positively hateful look came over his eyes, and it wasn’t meant for Mira-which she found even more concerning.

“I don’t care.” He said angrily, clearly caring.

Tan didn’t look like he was going to continue this conversation, so Mira shook her head gently and just sat there with him. By the time she finished her dandelion tea, it was cold. She didn’t mind much, the bitter, earthy flavor was just as good cold as it was hot. Tan was looking vacantly the stone wall behind her, lost in thought. Mira got up and addressed him.

“Spare room’s open. You can use it if you want, I’ll add it to your tab. I’m going to get some rest.” She clapped his shoulder as she passed him. “Ancients watch over you.”

“And you.” he absently responded. Momentarily lucid, he added. “Thanks for tonight. Sorry I soured the mood.” Then he returned to whatever dark headspace he was navigating. Mira nodded, accepting the apology, and then left, wishing she could do something to help him. As she closed the flap of her room, she could see the man lower his head, mouthing a phrase to himself.

“I don’t care…I don’t care…I don’t…” He gave up on his makeshift mantra and just let his head sink, forehead resting on the table.