Chapter 63: The Blue Cup II

Leo squinted outside the windows as he finished off his meal. By now, the sun was halfway below the horizon and the wall of light glowed brightly against the increasingly dark sky.

Lamplighters had lit the streetlamps half an hour ago, and yet the tavern and roads were just as full as before. If anything, it had only gotten more busy.

“They really don’t care it’s night,” Allan said, his own eyes fixed outside. He’d finished eating some time ago and set his plate aside for the tavernkeeper to take it away.

The three of them sat at the front counter, preferring it to the considerably more crowded tables and dance area. A few more musicians had joined the fiddler from before, adding to the noise, and even the bar was getting more busy than Leo would like.

“You three from outside?”

Leo turned to the tavernkeeper. He was wiping a glass while his eyes swept across the tavern with a subtle, practiced sort of caution that Leo knew well. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Just arrived today, actually. It’s very different here.” He set his fork down, and the tavernkeeper swept the plate away without pause. The man chuckled.

“You’ll get used to it. I moved here some ten years ago, couldn’t believe it when I saw folks roaming the streets at night.” He nodded his head out the window, where the wards were rendered distant specks in the dense shadows.

“After seeing Echoes clawing at the wards enough times, you start to realize it really is safe. There’s even some folks who like to watch whenever the Silence shows up. Think it’s fun to see the Echoes all pressed up against the wards.”

Allan frowned. “Really? I can’t imagine it.”

“Definitely not for everyone, that’s for sure,” the tavern owner said with a chuckle. “Personally I’d take living in a warded city any day, even if the guards’re a bit much.” The last part he said quieter, though Leo caught it all the same.

The man shook his head. “Anyway, that’s enough of that. You three need anything else? Some drinks? The Blue Cup’s got the finest ale around, perfect for a couple of weary travelers.”

Allan chuckled. “Thank you, but we’re fine. He’s very bad with alcohol.” He gestured to Leo.

“My tolerance’s average,” Leo muttered, shooting Allan a scowl. The [Healer] raised an eyebrow.

“Really? I guess you were just tired that time we tried some of old Marg’s—“

Leo groaned, cutting the man off. Allan’s face was a perfect picture of innocence, but he could detect the faint, subtle smugness buried beneath. He narrowed his eyes.

“You know what? A drink doesn’t sound so bad after all.”

—

“You weren’t kidding,” Spade observed.

The [Executioner] sat at the bar, posture relaxed as she took a sip from her drink, a scarred eyebrow raised.

On the other side of Allan, slumped over the counter, was Leo. The man was fast asleep, his own mug still a quarter full. Every now and then he would mumble something, the sound muffled by his arms, but he clearly hadn’t been fully conscious for a while now.

“Of course not. He can’t hold a drink to save his life,” Allan said amusedly.

“I don’t suppose that medicine book recommended drunken blackouts.”

The [Healer] rolled his eyes and took a sip from his own cup of plain water. “A bit of extra sleep doesn’t hurt,” he muttered.

It was obvious that Leo had barely slept the previous night. He didn’t know why or what was wrong, but the [Fragmentholder] was stubborn enough to keep pushing himself until he actually collapsed. If he couldn’t get him to explain what was going on, he could at least ensure Leo got some rest.

Spade chuckled. “How thoughtful of you.”

Before Allan had the chance to respond, the sound of glass being pushed against wood caught his attention. He glanced over to see the tavernkeeper sliding another cup over to him, the man simply nodding across the room in explanation.

Allan sighed and didn’t bother turning to see his “gifter,” simply pushing the glass over to the side without a second glance.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Is that the third one tonight?” The [Executioner] sounded amused. Allan grunted in assent.

“Pity. It’s a waste of drinks.” She reached over and took the glass in a smooth motion, draining her current cup (which had also been one of Allan’s). The man snorted.

“You’re cleaning them up just fine.”

“Well, you certainly don’t seem to want them.” She took a sip of the new glass, not showing any particular reaction to it.

Allan studied the [Executioner] closely. So far, nothing about her appearance or behavior had changed at all despite the sizable amount of alcohol she’d consumed. His fingers squeezed around his cup, a bit of tension lingering in his shoulders. It was an ingrained habit at this point.

“I suppose you’re not a fan of drinking,” Spade continued. Allan pursed his lips, eyes darkening a little.

“No, I’m not.”

Spade remained quiet, studying him with those uncanny, unreadable eyes. Allan simply took another sip of his water, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. Finally, the [Executioner] shrugged and looked away, dropping the subject.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, the tavern cheering behind them as the fiddler played faster and faster and the dancers tried to keep up with the tempo.

Allan glanced over at Spade, noting the empty cups beside her. He frowned.

“Can you even get drunk?” He finally voiced the thought.

“I have a very high tolerance.”

“Doesn’t sound like there’s much of a point then. You can’t even taste the drinks, and you can’t get drunk. ”

The [Executioner] shrugged, taking another sip from her most recent cup. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.” Her voice was plain and casual, as detached as ever.

Allan gave her a long look. Finally, he shook his head and set his empty cup down. He stood.

“I’m heading back up,” he said. Spade waved dismissively, not moving from her own seat.

Allan turned to Leo’s slumped form. The [Fragmentholder] shifted every now and then, head still flat on his arms, but the [Healer] didn’t hear any snoring.

He tapped his shoulder. Leo swatted his hand away, so Allan shook him harder until Leo finally groaned and lifted his head an inch.

“What?” His voice was slurred. Allan smiled.

“I need the room key,” he said. Leo squinted, clearly attempting to process the words. Allan elected to step over and help the man up, deciding this would be faster than trying to talk.

Making his way up the stairs turned out to be significantly more difficult when he was also supporting a stumbling drunk, but they did manage to reach the second floor without injury. It was probably a good thing they weren’t on any of the higher levels, Allan thought.

The hallway was empty, and they easily made their way over to room 208. By then, Leo seemed to have regained enough consciousness to have pulled out the key, though his hands were far too shaky to actually get it into the lock.

“Here,” Allan said, taking the key himself. Leo scowled.

“I don’t need help,” he said. His voice sounded a little less slurred than before, even if his movements remained sluggish. Allan just raised an eyebrow.

“Sure,” he said. He pushed the door open. Leo stumbled inside, flopping down on the nearest of the three beds with a groan. Allan shut the door lightly and moved over to the table to grab his book.

“You should sleep,” he said. “It’s already late.”

“Thought I just did.”

Allan chuckled. “I don’t think collapsing on the bar counter counts.”

Leo raised his head just enough to look over at the [Healer]. The man had taken a seat at the table and was already staring down at the book pages, dark eyes focused.

Leo’s brows furrowed. “What about you?”

“I’m not tired yet,” Allan said, gesturing to the book. “And I have to wait for Spade to come back anyway.”

The [Fragmentholder] flopped back down on the bed. It was thankfully a firmer mattress, but still much softer than he’d prefer. In his drunken state, though, he found he cared much less. “I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, that’s not really a surprise.”

“I’m serious. I might vomit.”

“Please don’t,” Allan said simply.

Leo sighed and rolled over so that he was facing the ceiling. The wooden planks looked uniform at first, but there were a few patches of darker or lighter colors where old leaks must have been fixed. Allan flipped a page. Leo sighed again.

“Fine,” he finally relented. “But wake me up if anything happens.”

“I will,” the [Healer] promised. Despite the assurance, Leo didn’t feel much more at ease. He turned to the side so that his back was facing Allan

He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid sleeping no matter how stubbornly he clung to consciousness. Even now he could feel an incoming wave of weariness threatening to take hold. He pursed his lips.

Maybe it was better to rest now, in the safety of the tavern and Alnwick’s wards, than to put it off until later.

Might as well get it over with, Leo thought. He shut his eyes. It took some time to calm down enough, but he finally allowed sleep to wash over him.

He wasn’t surprised when a familiar notification appeared. Instead, he simply braced himself as his surroundings dissipated into another [Dreamscape].