Page 17 of Inferno
“A midi of ale,” Yorin said, after a moment’s hesitation. Nerik got the impression it had been a long time since he’d been in a pub.
“A whisky,” Nerik said, without being asked. “Neat, no water. I’d like the good stuff.” In case the waitress had any concerns about the ability of a mere messenger to pay for ‘the good stuff’, Nerik slid four copper coins across the table towards her, enough for his meal, the drink, and a tip for her. “And yes, I can tell the difference,” he added, looking her in the eye. More than once in the past, bartenders had attempted to pass off an inferior product as a more expensive one, and it had taken Nerik only one bad experience to learn that trick – thankfully without doing himself any serious harm in the process.
The problem there was that liquid of any kind was a hazard for an infernal. A simple glass of water could kill him, putting out his fire completely. But after he’d arrived in Minia, Nerik had soon figured out that people drank as a social endeavour, and one who refused to drink anything, even something as simple as orange juice, was quickly excluded from social gatherings. So Nerik had had to figure out at least one thing he could drink. And thankfully, high quality whisky contained enough alcohol that he could burn it as fuel, negating the water content.
“Not a fan of tomato?” Yorin asked, once the waitress had left.
“Makes the sandwich soggy,” Nerik said. Like drinking liquids, too much water in his food could create a problem. In truth, he didn’t need to eat at all, and would actually be better off if he didn’t. All his energy requirements were met through burning wood. But once again, there were certain social expectations to meet. “You’ll figure out pretty quickly that I’m quite a picky eater,” he told Yorin, knowing the issue was going to come up on a regular basis, if they ended up spending any time together. He could eat any food that was relatively dry – bread, fried meat, roasted potatoes or carrots – but he had to avoid anything too wet. No soups, stews, sauces or fruits. “When I was younger, we had an outbreak of some kind of digestive fever. Finally traced the source to a cow that was dead in the river upstream. But I was sick for about a week, vomiting every time I ate anything. So pretty much anything I tried to eat during that week is now something that just makes me feel awful eating it, just remembering how sick I was at the time.” It wasn’t the first time Nerik had used the story, and in the past, he’d found it effective enough that people stopped trying to pressure him into eating things he didn’t want to. But at the same time, he often wished that people would just accept that he didn’t want to do something and leave it at that.
“Fair enough,” Yorin said, thankfully not pushing the topic. Nor did he question Nerik’s choice of drink. There were far cheaper ways to get some alcohol on board than top shelf whisky, but Yorin either respected his opinions or simply didn’t care enough to make an issue of it.
A brief but awkward silence followed, now that they’d exhausted the topics of the weather, Yorin’s customers and Nerik’s deliveries.
The waitress came back quickly with their drinks. The faster they served their customers, the quicker they would finish their drinks, and the sooner they would order more. Good customer service was good for business. Nerik picked up his glass and took a cautious sip, concentrating on the way the liquid interacted with his flame. The water hissed and spat a little, but the alcohol heated up quickly, providing a comfortable glow deep in his belly. It was the good stuff. Excellent. Now he could just sit back and enjoy the evening.
Yorin, on the other hand, simply spun his glass in slow circles without attempting to drink from it, and Nerik got the impression that neither of them actually wanted the drink in front of them, but they were both keeping up appearances in an attempt to please each other.
Once they’d moved onto their third or fourth date, they might reach a point where they could be honest about such things. It was a heartening idea.
“So I was thinking about what we talked about this afternoon,” Nerik began, knowing they were going to have to talk aboutsomething, and keen to use the opportunity to learn more about Yorin’s stance on all things demon related. For all his obsession with the man, it would ultimately be difficult to have a relationship with someone who firmly believed demons were all evil. Their chat about the dragons had been promising, but by no means definitive. “I saw Stanley this afternoon.” Stanley was a rough old man who lived out in the sticks. He was an antisocial sort who happened to have an almost magical ability with horses, and his main trade was training other people’s horses or schooling them if they had picked up a few bad habits. “I asked him about the dragons, and he’s much the same as you. He basically said he’s happy to have them around so long as they don’t cause problems for anyone.” It was perhaps overstating the sentiment Yorin had expressed, but Nerik was all in favour of nudging the humans’ opinions in the right direction, at every possible opportunity.
“But then he said something weird. He said that if dragons can be tamed, then what about unicorns? I mean, they’re equines, just like horses, and if anyone could train one, I’m damn sure Stanley could. All we’d have to do is catch one or two of them and take it from there.”
Ironically, Stanley had actually been rescuing unicorns that came through the gate for years. Though Stanley himself was human, he knew plenty about the Chalandrians living in Minia, about their magic and the situation in Chalandros, and he’d helped the unicorns create a refuge up in the mountains where they could live peacefully, away from humans. The current population of the herd was about eighty-five, with more joining them every cycle.
Yorin pondered the idea, tracing patterns in the condensation on the side of his glass. “One thing I’d like to know, before we start filling stables with highly flammable equines, is why they’re trying to cross the gate in the first place.” He frowned, then finally took a sip of his ale.
Nerik felt a rush of excitement in response to the question. It was something that most humans never got around to asking, and it was the starting point to a much deeper understanding of the ‘demons’ and their interactions with humans. But he held his tongue. Though he knew the answer to the question, he was currently entirely unable to explain it, given that Yorin believed him to be a simple, twenty-something year old human man.
“And for that matter,” Yorin went on, “why are the dragons trying to get across? Or the hellhounds, or any of the demons? They must have realised by now that they’re going to get killed, so why go to all that effort?
“It’s something the warriors never talk about. They won’t even listen to the question. They just spout the same ideas about demons being evil and trying to corrupt humanity, but… I think the truth is that we have no idea why they’re trying to cross the gate. Just like we have no idea why the gate exists in the first place. What’s on the other side? I don’t think anyone has a clue.” Nerik was captivated by the running monologue. Every single question Yorin was asking was right on point.
“Honestly, the more I look at it, the more I realise there’s a lot of things going on in Minia that aren’t what they appear to be. Everyone says they respect the warriors, but more and more people are admitting they find them rude and entitled. Serving women are turning down proposals, dragons are now tameable.
“A few months back, Captain Leefe was killed. His body was found in the town square, little more than a charred husk, but nobody saw anything. Or at least, they won’t admit to it, if they did. And everyone says that that demon woman who was in the cage beside him was completely harmless – which was the warriors’ official way of preventing a panic, given that it seemed she’d somehow got free and is now roaming the countryside – but at the same time, nobody’s talking about how the captain died. And furthermore, if that demon woman was, in fact, perfectly harmless, then why is our army killing them? None of this adds up. None of it makes sense.”
Perhaps Nerik should have left things there. Yorin’s opinion on demons was clearly a ‘sitting on the fence’ sort of stance, on the basis that he lacked the information to make an informed decision. And that was perfectly reasonable. But despite his own sense of caution telling him to back off, there was one more thing Nerik was dying to know. “So just out of curiosity – and I’m not going to blame you one way or the other on this one – do you actually think a demon killed Captain Leefe?”
Yorin shrugged. “I don’t know enough about it to say one way or the other. Maybe it was a demon. Maybe some drunk threw a lantern at him and he got set alight from the oil. Maybe someone actually had it in for him and murdered him, then tried to set it up so that it looked like it was the demon. With the warriors and the new captain all burying their heads in the sand, I don’t think we’re ever going to know.”
“A lot of people are saying it was a tragedy…”
Yorin raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me if I think hedeservedto die?”
Nerik shrugged. “You don’t seem particularly upset about it.”
“I barely knew the man. I can’t imagine what someone would have to do to make someone want to set them on fire. But… I mean, you seem to be very interested in all this. So I have to ask, what doyouthink killed Captain Leefe?”
Nerik froze. Gods damn it, he should have known better than to venture down this path. He did know better. But he’d done it anyway, too eager to somehow pardon Yorin for having any misgivings about the demons, and now he had to answerthisquestion. A question which was very much a problem, because Nerik knewexactlyhow Captain Leefe had died. And by whose hand.
By some stroke of luck, the waitress chose that moment to come back with their food, and Nerik used the distraction of clearing a space on the table for the plates and thanking the waitress to compose himself. It was well past time he stopped being a fucking idiot and started avoiding topics of conversation that were going to turn his life into a disaster zone.
As the waitress walked away, he managed a shrug, hoping it looked natural. “Like you said, there’s too many unknowns. And odd that no one saw anything. But you know what? This was supposed to be a fun evening,” he said, plastering on a smile and taking a sip of his whisky. “So how about we talk about something less serious. I want to get to know you. Or let you get to know me. So pick a topic. Any topic. What else would you like to talk about?”
CHAPTER NINE
Nerik watched as Yorin picked up his fork and poked at his pie. Sure enough, it was mostly mushroom, plus a generous amount of carrot and potato. A couple of small chunks of beef were tucked in under the rest of the mess, but Yorin seemed happy enough with it. “But thisisgetting to know you,” he said, a pleased little smile on his face. “I’ve had a dozen conversations in the last month about the gate and the dragons, and everyone I talk to thinks having dragons here is crazy and the warriors have made a grave mistake by allowing it, and how the entire town is doomed to corruption as a result.