Page 22 of Ryld's Shadows
Back home, at least he’d had the excuse of isolation, living on the mountain with Mom and Dad. Mom had taken on mercenary work after she and Dad had married, so she was away from home for long stretches. Dad was an herbalist and always busy. They did have neighbors, though. Families scattered across the hillsides. The village in the valley wasn’t far, and they’d made regular trips down for supplies.
He’d made friends. He’d had the occasional lover, both human and goblin. Tended not to last long since the parents never approved of their sons and daughters seeing a half-breed.
But he’d never been so alone until he’d come to this city of eighteen million people. Something ironic in that, he supposed.
Miranda pulled him from his reflection by saying, “Oh my, that’s certainly a look he’s put together.”
Ryld had found a wide-brimmed sun hat with large pink and yellow flowers attached to the band, oversized pink sunglasses with crystals all around the frames, and a long velvet coat in a shade Hank believed was called eggplant. The get-up should have made him look absurd, but somehow on his slender frame he carried it off.
He knew the smile blossoming on his own face probably looked goofy as heck, but he didn’t stop it. “It really is. Does he buy a lot here?”
“Yes. Off and on. He used to buy a lot of things and go home with bags of stuff. Now he’s more selective.”
“Good thing. You should see his closet.”
“I bet. If you bring him to the garment district, you better bring a cart, unless you want to work those muscles.”
“Hank.” Ryld wandered over to them. “Did you find any needful things?”
“Right. We were talking, and I got distracted.” He pointed to the silver four-slice toaster on the shelf and asked Miranda, “Can I plug that in and see how it’s working?”
“Absolutely.”
A short while later, they leftNeedful Thingswith the toaster and Ryld’s newest outfit. Ryld kept running his fingers over the plackets of the coat and holding out his arms to look at the color, or maybe he was admiring the faint paisley pattern. A few odd looks came their way, but Ryld seemed oblivious to any of them.
“Do you like to go to bars?” Ryld asked.
“Oh, sometimes.” Hank stepped around a tiny elderly human and her shopping cart. “Though the last time, it was because I was feeling down and drank something stupid.”
Ryld looked so earnest when he asked, “Was it the liquid pickles come in? It smells like it would be good, but it isn’t. Not at all.”
“Ah, that’s true. Pickle juice isn’t great. But it wouldn’t get me blind drunk. No, I had a glass ofterabin. Very bad idea. That’s when I nearly walked in front of the truck you were in.”
“Oh. Yes. If it makes you walk where people are driving, it’s very bad.” Ryld paused. “I sometimes go to bars. The drinks are more expensive than if you buy them at the liquor store, but people don’t like to talk as much in the liquor store.”
“Good observation. Right, bars are more of a social thing than really for good booze.”
“There are as many types of beer as there are types of cheese. More families. Would you like to go out tonight?”
“Sure? I’m off the pain meds now, so it should be fine. You can show me where you usually go.”
* * * *
Hank wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Whatever it was, this was not it. The bar was at the end of an alley, crowded with a mixed-age group of locals both human, and not. It wasn’t exactly a dive bar, but definitely not upscale either. A faint haze of smoke hung near the ceiling despite theno smokingsigns.
Ryld strode inside to the bar. He still wore the coat and sunglasses but had left the hat at home.
“Ryld, how’s it going?”
“Good. Can I have a beer please? You choose. This is Hank.Terabinis a bad idea. Hank, this is Deshun. He makes all the drinks here.”
“Hey.” Hank gave the barman a wave as he looked over the taps. “I’ll have the stout you have on draught. Haven’t had anything from that new pixie brewery yet.”
“Good choice.” He gave Hank a once-over only slightly more discreet than Miranda had earlier. “Cress not with you tonight?” he asked Ryld once he’d deposited their beers in front of them.
“No. Cress isn’t coming back.”
The little crease line between Deshun’s brows smoothed out. “Well, I’m sure someone will miss him.” He sniffed and shifted his attention to Hank. “New in town?”
