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Chapter 54

Bluebreast is Best

Daegan eyed the glass in his hand suspiciously. There was the slightest blue tinge to the otherwise clear liquid.

“And the colour comes from red cabbage?”

“That’s right,” Ardy said and took a long satisfied gulp of the drink.

“I’ve never heard of alcohol made from cabbage,” Daegan replied, his nose scrunching.

“I think it’s mostly potatoes that the alcohol is distilled from.”

“Cabbage and potatoes?” Daegan said incredulously looking at the blueish drink. The inventive ways in which remote areas conjured to get drunk certainly impressed him but he wasn’t keen on trying it.

The pair were sitting at a table in a tavern near the docks. The place had plenty of grubby whitewhiskey bottles behind the bar but when Ardy had spotted one with a crudely drawn blue bird on the bottle, the Aeth man had practically whooped.

Daegan shrugged and tossed the contents of the glass down his throat. The incredibly strong alcohol burned at his throat and it had an ironically grainy flavour despite it being made from potatoes.

“Ugh,” Daegan grimaced, “I like a strong drink but that’s—ugh!” He retched involuntarily, the taste still lingering in his throat. “I can’t imagine the Aeth at Evier drinking that,” Daegan finished. He thought of the delicate and reserved Aeth men and women that sometimes visited his father’s court.

“Those brainwashed cultists?” Ardy scoffed, “nah those idiots don’t drink at all.”

“Is that why you left?”

“I didn’t even know what alcohol was when I left,” he grumbled and shook his empty glass at the bartender. Ardy really was one of the most fascinating people Daegan had come across, the man defied everything he knew about the Aeth.

“Why did you leave then?” Daegan asked, “most Aeth I’ve met always seemed to long for their home.”

“Love,” Ardy sighed, “same blasted thing most young idiots do anything.”

“I see, and that brought you… here?” Daegan looked around the shabby interior of the tavern.

“I suppose,” Ardy grumbled, “…eventually… after about ninety years of poor decisions.” Ninety years! Daegan supposed the scraggly grey-haired Aeth did have an aged look about him but he would place him in his sixties at best. This man must be over a hundred years old!

“How old are you?!”

“Left Evier when I was a young lad, maybe thirty?” His eyelids fluttered drunkenly, “twenty years in Durin… about forty years as a sailor… can’t remember how long it’s been since I came here,” he looked up at the barman, “you remember how long I’ve been here, Pader?”

“You was ‘ere before my young lad was born, so what fifteen years, at least?”

“Let’s call it at that so,” Ardy nodded, “one hundred and five,” he said, swaying as he raised his empty glass in cheers.

“So the Aeth do have longer lifespans then,” Daegan mused, “how long do your people usually last?”

“The elders in Evier, I think some of those hypocrites live to two, maybe three hundred years.” Ardy looked like life had already sucked out as much as his lithe body had to offer. He didn’t want to think how decrepit he’d look in another two centuries. An old memory surfaced to his mind—one that was burned in Daegan’s childhood—of a Yarji elder removing his mask to reveal a skeletal face with eyes like blue fire. Landryn had teased him for weeks for running straight out of the feast hall and hiding in their room.

“You’d look like dug up death if you lived that long,” Daegan joked, pushing his glass of the blue liquid over to Ardy.

“You’re implying that I don’t already,” Ardy plucked up the glass and downed it in one swig, “I won’t live that long anyway. I’m not bonded.”

“Bonded?” Daegan asked. Like married? How does that impact your lifespan? Ardy seemed to have grown too disinterested in the direction of the conversation or perhaps too drunk to realise Daegan had asked him about it. He spun around on his stool, surveying the other patrons in the tavern.

“What do you mean by bonded?” Daegan asked again. Ardy’s head bobbled as he turned to face Daegan.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“What?” He grumbled.

“You said you won’t live as long because you’re not bonded.”

“Ah” Ardy waved his hand dismissively, “cult nonsense. How do you feel about a game of cards? Feeling like luck’s on my side tonight.”

“Poker?” Daegan suggested also looking over the other patrons for potential players. He doubted they’d find any half-decent players of the game out in a remote town like Urundock but Daegan had no qualms about taking their money.

It was late in the evening and almost all of the twenty tables in the tavern were filled. Surely some folk here wouldn’t mind a game. Daegan’s eyes fell on a lonely figure sitting in the corner watching him. He felt his eyebrows heavy on his forehead and didn’t bother to mask his displeasure. Daegan had forgotten for a blessed few hours that Tanlor was sitting there. Daegan had spent the past week actively avoiding the man.

They’d not spoken since Tanlor’s outburst in the yard behind the inn the week before. Daegan had spent that time drinking whitewhiskey and generally enjoying himself. He didn’t know what Tanlor had been doing and didn’t particularly care much either. He’d always found it awkward trying to talk with Tanlor compared to Rowan. Maybe I should just leave, what do I care about going north? That was the Archduke’s plan. Once again, Daegan found himself questioning why he was even going along with the plan. What did he owe the Archduke? What did he owe Tanlor? Sure the man had saved his life but wasn’t that his job?

“You and your friend have a falling out?” Ardy asked, nodding towards Tanlor.

“Yeah,” he replied in a tone that implied he didn’t want to talk about it. The way Tanlor had spoken to him had been so utterly disrespectful. He’d experienced plenty of disrespect in his life, both subtle and aggravated. That didn’t mean that he would just lie down and take it. He was sick of it. Sure, Daegan might have had a little too much to drink and pressed on a topic that Tanlor was touchy about but that didn’t give the man any shred of right to explode at Daegan the way that he had.

No, Daegan figured he should finally tell Tanlor that he no longer required his service, and to head back to Rubastre. Daegan could then give up this ridiculous plan of heading north and make his own way home to Reldon. That’s what he should have done from the beginning. Why had he allowed himself to be talked into this ludicrous idea in the first place? It made absolutely no sense to be heading up into the wilderness. He should be going home.

Tanlor seemed to take the pair of them looking over at him as an invitation to approach. He strode over to them and nodded to Daegan who returned the gesture with a glare.

“I thought the iceraft would be fixed today, shouldn’t we be preparing for the journey tomorrow?” Tanlor directed the question at Ardy.

“Megar says it’s fixed, aye,” Ardy replied.

“So we can leave tomorrow?”

“Not if you’re wanting us to freeze to death in the blizzard. It’s rolling down off the hills tomorrow. A big one too, no icerafters doing runs this week.”

“You promised to take us even if the conditions were poor. That was the deal!” Tanlor growled.

“Poor conditions is one thing,” Ardy’s words slurring slightly, “but a fucking blizzard. No way, that’s not worth no measly thirty marks.”

“And you’re just going to keep paying for this cheat’s drinks during that time?” Tanlor directed at Daegan.

“You don’t control my money,” Daegan grunted at him.

“He’s playing you,” Tanlor said, snidely, “the storm’s probably not even that bad. He’s just realised he’s got you to cover his tab for a few extra days.”

“At least Ardy knows how to have a good time,” Daegan snapped.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Tanlor snorted, looking at Ardy hiccup and slump in his stool, the Aeth no longer listening to the interaction.

I should tell him now. Daegan shook his head, “we’re not crossing during the blizzard.” Or ever. “No need,” Daegan could feel his own head swaying. Maybe he’d drunk a little too much too. “Would be dangerous,” he continued, “wouldn’t want to jeopardise the mission now, would we?”

“You’re drunk,” Tanlor stated, and then leaned in, speaking barely above a whisper “come on, let’s get back to the inn before you say anything that might give you away.”

“Not fucking going nowhere,” Daegan pushed Tanlor away from him. “you hear? Not the inn, not up to fucking nowhere, up there,” he waved a hand dismissively trying—and failing—to get the meaning of crossing the Nortara Sheet. “So, just,” Daegan made a shooing motion, “go away.”

Tanlor’s jaw tensed, his eyes darting around the tavern. Likely looking for assassins and what-not.

“There’s no one here, Tanlor,” Daegan scoffed. “There’s no one chasing us. Just leave it be.” Ferath could be caught already for all we know. It was more and more ridiculous the more he thought about it. Why would the Archduke concoct such a nonsensical plan. Simply hide Daegan in a dangerous and remote part of his country… to keep him safe? It made no sense. Was he really that afraid of Ferath? The man wasn’t some mystical demon, he was just a man. A man that been Daegan’s friend… and had betrayed him. A man who could rot in hell for all Daegan cared. Tanlor can too.

“I’ll be over there,” Tanlor sighed, nodding back to the corner he’d been lurking in.

“You know, Tanlor,” Daegan badgered, “being all shady, not drinking—in a tavern—makes you stand out a lot more than me,” Daegan raised an accusatory finger at the man. “Maybe you’re the one who’s the risk, eh? Ever think of that? Go on, get out of my face.”

Tanlor shook his head and left them. Finally. He turned back to Ardy who was busy trying to get the barman’s attention for another round.

“I don’t want another of that blue shit,” Daegan said.

“Bluebreast is best,” Ardy replied, flashing his stained teeth. The comment sounded like the type of thing Rowan would say. Those little tidbits that the man had on seemingly everything in life.

“Fine, go on,” Daegan sighed, “another one.”

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