The steam wand hissed as it slid into the carafe of milk. Tawney's eyes drooped as she once again went through the repetitive task of making a latte. She had been going through the motions all day, robotically picking up the mug from the espresso machine and pouring the steamed milk inside it. Remembering at the last moment to leave a flourish, so as not to upset bloodwyn she made a quick twist of the wrist, resulting in an odd meandering white streak on the surface of the latte. It almost looked like some kind of treasure map.
Tawney tapped the mug down on the counter and called out the name in her best try at cheerfulness, "Smouk, crimson fire caramel latte for Smouk.”
Tawney had been working for ten days straight, and her need for a break was beginning to show. Next to her, Mossy was operating the pour-over coffee machine and chattering excitedly about the show he had seen the night before.
"Then everyone on stage just started wailing like, you know, a banshee's cry. It was so awesome, especially with the specters flying over the crowd! Man, Corpse Kiss just has the best stage show," Mossy raved.
"Yeah," said Tawney dreamily, though if she was being honest, she hadn't actually heard anything mossy had just said. She reached for the next ticket in line, and realized that there were no more orders. Looking around the shop, she noticed there was no one else in line. "Well, time to clean, I guess," she mumbled to herself.
Absentmindedly, she reached for the broom, stepped out from behind the counter, and started sweeping the floor of the cafe. She had spent so much time here in the past few weeks that she could practically navigate the shop blindfolded.
It took no thought whatsoever to just push the broom along. She had been in the city for four weeks now and had seen so much, but now working full-time meant that she didn't spend nearly as much time exploring..
"I wish I could just see something magical today," she thought as she continued to sweep, her eyes closed. Unaware of her surroundings, she was about to bump into the one customer in the shop who was still there – the very one for whom she had just made a drink.
Mr. Smouk stepped forward right into the path of the moving broom, causing it to get tangled up in the dragonoid's feet, and he fell sprawling to the floor. His Fire Latte went flying into the air, and the drink came crashing to the floor, forming a wide puddle.
"Is everyone okay?" Mr. Smouk asked, wisps of fire puffing out from the end of his scaly snout.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. You're sorry?" Tawney replied, as a puff of flame came with the words, along with the smell of brimstone. "How could you be?" Mr. Smouk was cut off with a whoosh as the Fire Latte in the oven caught a spark from his breath, and the two found themselves in the middle of a miniature conflagration.
Thankfully, mossy was only feet away, holding a pitcher of scalding hot water, which he threw at the pair of them. It was just enough to put out the fire, but Tawney felt it burning her and soaking into her curly goat-like hair that covered her whole body. In fact, because of the hair, there was a distinct odor in the air of unpleasant burning.
Bloodwyn slithered over from behind the cash register and helped pat Mr. Smouk dry. "I'm sorry, sir. It was an accident."
Let me remake that drink. Thankfully, with the intervention of Bloodwyn, things were quickly smoothed over with the customer, and Tawney was able to get back to work—or she would have been able to if she still had a broom. The broom she had been using was now in pieces; she didn't know if it was the collision or the fire, or both, but now the broom handle was in pieces, and the bristles had been singed away. There was no way she was going to be able to use this to clean, and how was she even supposed to clean up the broom itself without a broom?
"Mossy, do you know if there's another broom?" she said, turning to her green-haired colleague behind the counter.
"I don't know, maybe there's one in the store room," Mossy replied.
"Okay, I'll go check," Tawney rushed through the kitchen, past Mr. Beanhammer’s Tiny Desk, and rattled the door to the store room. “It locked when Beanhammer’s out," grunted Grog the cook.
"He's out for how long?" Tawney asked.
"Don't know," said Grog, shrugging his massive green shoulders.
"Well, do you know if there are spare brooms anywhere, tried basement?"
"Wait, there's a basement?" Asked Tawney, confused. "I didn't know there was a basement."
"Being hammered dwarf, of course, basement," Grogg walked over to Mr. Beanhammer’s desk and gestured behind it. Tawney could see a metal ring set into the floor. Moving aside the dwarf-sized chair, she lifted the ring, and a large section of floor came away, revealing a stairway down into darkness.
"Basement," said Grog, nodding. Apparently, that was all he had to say, as he turned back to stirring muffin batter.
"Have you ever been down to the basement?" Tawney asked.
Grog paused, stirring, put down the bowl, and turned back to her. "No, never.”
“Why not?"
"Don't fit," said Grog.
Tawney looked at his broad orcish shoulders and the small Dwarven-sized trapdoor and ladder. "I suppose you don't," she said. Then she looked down at herself. She wasn't particularly tall for a faun, but she was six and a half feet tall, and elves and dwarves considered that tall. She puzzled for a second if she would fit. Then she thought about what would happen if she went back up front without a broom and decided that she would just have to make it work. If she patted down her fur and held her breath, she was just able to squeeze through the trapdoor. Then all she had to do was take baby steps down the ladder.
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Thankfully, it looked like the basement had been designed with human height in mind. Tawney was at least able to stand up fully without her tiny goat horns tapping the ceiling. The room was dark and went on a long way; all she could really make out was many, many large shapes covered in dust cloths, stretching far into the shadows.
"If I were a broom, where would I be?" Tawney said to herself, and then she saw it—a dwarven glowstone poking out of the wall not far from the ladder. Tapping the stone, the room was bathed in warm orangish light. As she took a good look at the place, she realized that it was even bigger than she had initially thought. It was practically a warehouse; it must go under half the shops on the block.
"Let's hope there's a broom here somewhere," Tawney wandered over to the nearest dust cloth, pulled it away with a flourish, and found an open crate piled high with knickknacks and random tchotchkes. On the side was stamped "Property of Ignatius Beanhammer and the Stone Song Adventurers." She looked at the random objects from dozens of major cities.
"Not a broom in sight though," *sigh*. She pulled away the next dust cloth to reveal a large collection of pots and vases, and some of them seemed quite old, possibly taken directly out of ancient ruins. Many of them were chipped and stained with the dust of centuries. Tawney picked up a pot with a curious painting of a faun playing the bagpipes. A cork sealed with wax was stuffed into the top. "Where did he get this?" she mumbled to herself, looking over the strange piece. As she turned the pot around in her hands, she could hear a strange buzzing from inside. Startled, she dropped the pot, which clattered to the floor and shattered. "Oh no, now I really will need a broom," she exclaimed.
A hundred tiny glowing insects flew out of the pot and started buzzing around the basement. "Oh no, I probably wasn't supposed to do that," said Tawney. "Really, am I making a mess of this, aren't I?" The next crate was full of maps and scrolls, some ancient and some familiar. "This one looks like the city, only it's got to be like 50 years old. It doesn't even have Radacast’s Soundstage. Looks like this whole area used to be a mud pit or something odd, and what are volcanic vents… Oh, I'm getting distracted again, aren't I?" With that, Tawney put down the map and continued on to the next crate.
"I hope I find something soon," she said to herself. The next crate wasn't much help either, just a bunch of old camping equipment. The one after that had dozens and dozens of clockwork animals of all shapes and sizes.
"This is getting me nowhere," said Tawney. Just then, a small mechanical mouse the size of a house cat fell from the pile, and started darting into the distance. Tawney had no choice but to chase after it. Once the mouse started moving, though, it kept going at a breakneck speed, dashing down row after row of canvas-covered crates.
"No, stop, come back," yelled Tawney, leaping for it but missing and crashing into a crate full of what seemed like random rocks. She picked herself up and continued to chase after the clockwork troublemaker.
The mouse charged forward and seemed like it ran nearly the full distance to the far wall until it suddenly sharply turned. Tawney hadn't been prepared and tried to change directions too, but unfortunately, her momentum carried her forward directly into the far wall. Thankfully, the wall was only wood and not stone, which meant that instead of stopping, she barreled straight through it and kept going.
"What did I just do? Mr. Beanhammer is going to be so mad," Tawney thought to herself. The room she found herself in now was similar and yet different from the one she had just been in. It seemed like she had gone so far that this couldn't possibly be under the coffee shop anymore. Looking around, she saw similar boxes covered in cloths, but unlike before, the boxes were stamped with a different name – Randy Tubalfinch.
"Who is Randy Tubalfinch? That's a very odd name," Tawney pondered. She looked inside the nearest crate and found dozens of musical instruments of all different shapes, sizes, and descriptions – ukuleles next to fiddles, ocarinas, small drums, and large drums. The next crate was full of musical instruments too; Tawney realized that this must be the basement of Radacast Soundstage.
At the far end of this space, almost exactly opposite the ladder she had climbed down, was a stairway spiraling up. "Well, no broom yet, guess I gotta keep going," Tawney said to herself. As she started up the stairs, she could hear the sound of guitars, drums, and bass. She rushed up the stairs and pushed through a set of double doors to find herself backstage. A punk band was tuning up their instruments and going through a sound check for tonight’s show.
The drummer turned around to look at Tawney, "Who are you?"
"I'm Tawney. I was just looking for a broom," she replied.
"Right there," he said, pointing at a small broom and dustpan off to the side of the stage.
"Thank you," she said gratefully.
"Welcome," said the burly drummer.
Tawney couldn't believe her luck; she had found the back way in. Now she realized that the wall had been put up for a reason – she wasn't supposed to be backstage. This was a place for musicians and stage hands, not for her. But she wanted to be part of the show with all her heart. Back home, she loved performing at holiday gatherings and festivals, but it was always for such a small audience. This was different – massive crowds of people came to see shows here.
As she looked out at the empty concert hall, she imagined what it would be like to be on stage with thousands of people cheering for her as she sang, like she did back home. She watched the musicians tuning their instruments and dreamed of being up there.
Suddenly, someone jostled her from behind. It was an orc in a large business suit with dark glasses. "Not supposed to be here, only bands and groupies," he sneered.
"No, I'm just… I was just looking for a broom.”
“Not a groupie?”
“I'm leaving," stammered Tawney, darting towards the stairway down to the basement.
"Good riddance," said the orc.
Tawney's heart was racing; she had been found out. She darted back towards the basement, back towards the magic mug where she was supposed to be. How long had she been gone? Bloodwyn was going to be so mad at her. Up the ladder and into the kitchen/office she hurried, hoping she hadn't caused too much trouble.
At the top of the ladder, she heard a familiar deep voice. "You're back! You find broom?" It was Grog.
"I found..." The words caught in her throat as she realized it was a secret she'd have to keep for herself; otherwise, she'd get in trouble. She didn't belong backstage, she didn't belong in that basement, and she certainly didn't belong going through all that old stuff.
Her shoulders sagged, and her back drooped. "I found a broom," she managed to say.
"Bloodwyn looking for you.”
“Oh no, Bloodwyn was looking for me," Tawney thought, her heart racing again. She darted to the front of the shop, her mind racing, trying to come up with a way to explain what had happened and how none of it was her fault.
As soon as Bloodwyn saw Tawney, she said, "Oh good, you finally found one. Now, will you please clean up that mess? The ashes from the last broom have been sitting there for 20 minutes.”
Tawney was relieved; apparently, she had gotten away with it. She had been backstage, and no one would know.
"Where did you find the broom anyway?" Bloodwyn asked.
Tawney immediately tensed up, "Downstairs," she said hesitantly.
"Amazed you managed to find anything in Mr. Beanhammer's old knickknacks. No wonder it took so long. Well, hurry up," Bloodwyn instructed.
Tawney breathed a sigh of relief. She had gotten away with it. She had seen the magic backstage and gotten away with it. And she knew this would not be her last time backstage.