Page 30 of The Sorcerer's Thief
“Do we, though? Here’s a thought. We could take turns stabbing each other’s eyes out instead. Might be less disgusting.”
He ignores my proposal and hands one over. “Does this count as eating animals? It’s just a bug.”
What I don’t tell him is that I value the lives of bugs as well. I don’t squash or swat them if I can help it, with the exception of stinging or biting bugs, which is only self-defense.
But I take the bizarre snack from him and glower. This one is already dead. Can’t have Cricket thinking I’m a coward, and I’ll admit my curiosity is piqued.
Cricket sniffs his, wrinkling his nose. “Smells like curry. Maybe it’s good?”
“Maybe it’s poisoned.” The innards have been peeled from the shell and cooked to a finely charred crisp, then doused inspices. The weird little bug does, in fact, smell good. Savory and wood-smoked.
He grins. “You first.”
“Not likely. This was your idea.”
“Together, then?”
“On three.”
“One…” says Cricket.
“Two…” we say together. “Three.”
I open my mouth, pop the nillyslug in, and bite down with a satisfying crunch. Cricket and I lock gazes and chew. Though I’d feared the texture would be revolting, it isn’t. The whole thing snaps like a cracker, crumbs and all. The taste is like the smell, a flavorful curry with a zing of heat that leaves the tongue tingling wickedly.
“It’s good,” says Cricket with his mouth full, which should be off-putting but is annoyingly charming. His eyes shine with mirth. “Who knew you could eat nillyslugs?”
I swallow the thing. It’s not bad, but I certainly don’t want more. The idea of what I’m eating gives me the crawlies. “Just because a thing is edible doesn’t mean one should eat it. Let’s find something to wash it down with.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“I didn’t hate it. But I’d like flavored ice much more.” The cart advertising sweet ice caught my eye and hasn’t let go. “My treat.”
“I won’t say no.” He darts to a sign advertising flavored syrups.
I choose coconut. Cricket chooses something bright blue that immediately dyes his tongue the same color.
We eat our way through the village, one decadent snack at a time. Perhaps our priorities line up with Slinger’s better than I’d thought.
“We should stay the night.” Cricket nods toward the many encampments sprawled along the edges of the festival. “It’s not like we’re in any hurry. At least, I’m not.”
Though my end goal waits in the southern slums of Irondale, Cricket is right. I’m in no hurry to get there. And I need the coin first anyway. “Me neither. I agree. We should stay.”
We circle back to explore what goodies each side street has to offer. We stumble upon a hay bale tossing contest midtournament and settle in to watch.
“Ooh.” Cricket leans closer and points to a brawny fellow who seems to have lost his shirt. “I bet he wins. Look at those muscles.”
The man is human and a giant compared to most fae. Cricket stares at him unabashedly. Much to my annoyance. “Big muscles aren’t the only asset in a game like this. Skill and technique must play a role. See her?” I nod toward a middle-aged woman on the sideline who seems to be drilling a practiced movement. “She’s put some thought into this. Practice too, I assume. I think she’ll win.”
“Shall we bet on it?”
Tempting. “What will you wager?”
“Not the coin,” he says. Cheeky little bugger for reading my mind. “Barring that, what do you want?”
“Let me study it at least. Briefly.” I want to feel the coin’s magic for myself, get a sense of the power within. Perhaps use my magic to sway it to my side.
He tightens his lips to a thin line. “Only while I hold it for you.”
