Subira knew that she should no longer feel surprised anymore at how smoothly and quickly Sahreni recovered, after a moment of shock at the sight of her unladylike beer slurping, and managed to offer yet another blandly courteous response that betrayed none of the consternation he was undoubtedly feeling. Yet somehow, she still was surprised. In the tremulous lantern light, his expression flickered from dismay to well-bred politeness so swiftly that she wondered whether she had seen the change at all. Petch, she thought, her cheeks reddening from beer and embarrassment alike, he makes a better noble than I do, sometimes.
The thought caused a familiar feeling of shame to resurface, the shame that she always blundered and bungled her way through noble society like a galleon floundering in shallow waters. Not that she wanted to be some snobbish socialite, but she did wish now and then that she were more graceful, more tactful. This half-breed West Wind, with his mere two arms and diluted blood, behaved with the gracious charm and subtlety of a true Eypharian noble. If Subira was a diamond in the rough, then Sahreni was a glass diamond--of humble make, yet faceted so facilely and polished so prettily that it sparkled brighter than a real diamond did.
All these thoughts meandered slowly through the growing warmth in Subira's head from the too-rapidly guzzled beer. She was a little startled when Sahreni dismissed the use of a personal straw, which she'd thought was necessary for drinking beer in general, but when he explained why, she discreetly tucked the brass tube back into her pocket while the half-breed went to fetch fresh beers.
Out of the warm, shifting shadows he reemerged, holding a new cup and guiding her in lifting it. Subira felt the impulse to resist and snatch the cup from his grasp. I'm not some child to be patronized and spoon-fed! was the first thought to cross her mind. I don't need any help drinking beer!
She twitched as Sahreni tipped the cup for her to drink.
Never let it be said, though, that Subira of the South Winds ever failed to recognize a professional when she encountered one or to yield to his superiority. She sensed Sahreni's professionalism in his calm, sure hands and authoritative voice and submitted to it, realizing that he was captain here and she merely a passenger. As it turned out, the beer did taste better in smaller, slower sips and fuller after she breathed in its pungent, grainy aroma. It had a stronger, more bitter taste than the first sample, with undertones of rich earth and cream, but flowed down her throat with surprising ease.
"This is good beer," she commented decidedly, as though she tasted and judged new brews everyday. "I commend you on the novel recipe. I've tasted beer flavored with oats before--I dare say it was one of your uncle's brews, from what you say--but never milk. It's almost…bittersweet." Fitting, she supposed, for a half-breed.
As Sahreni retreated to nurse his own beer, she chuckled at his final remarks, though part of her winced at the word "dally." They were not in here to steal kisses like illicit lovers. Hmph.
"Privacy and time to ourselves, away from the watchful eyes of others, is a gift to be cherished indeed," she agreed, her tongue loosened by the beer. "Let's linger in here as long as we can. If someone comes in here demanding to know why you haven't made the rounds with your guest, just lay the blame on the uncultured South Wind woman for being so tasteless as to prefer the party in here to the one out there. I'm quite used to being blamed for social missteps, as you can probably imagine," Subira added, flashing a wry smile.
"Besides, we might as well take advantage of the solitude to talk about tomorrow." Despite her desire to speak gracefully and sweetly, her words stubbornly refused to cooperate and came out sounding blunt as ever. "It was nice of you to invite me to the harvest celebrations, but, well… I mean, I've no qualms about picking fruit, but I haven't ridden a horse since my sixth birthday, when a groom led me around on a pony. Ovek favors the well-prepared, they say, and I…"
Subira stopped abruptly, as though fearing to say too much.
"I…could use another drink," she finished finally. "That lighter ale you suggested sounds like a fine idea. Let me bring you my cup, and you can pour me another fine brew to wet my throat before we start to talk strategy."
What happened next was unexpected, yet tragically somewhat understandable for a woman in a new place with which she was unfamiliar, without much light to illuminate obstacles or paths, and with a few drinks in her system. The beer made Subira's momvents a little more shuffling and her depth perception a bit less trustworthy. As she picked her way toward Sahreni's comfortable perch atop a keg, the sway in her stride more pronounced than usual, she stumbled slightly over her own feet.
That in itself was hardly an incident, let alone a disaster, but Subira made it worse when she tried to regain her balance and her dignity. Blinking in the dim lantern light, she took a wide, wavering step to the right, only to overshoot and stumble again as her momentum carried her sideways. A tall, bulky shape loomed close by, and gratefully she threw an arm toward it to catch herself, while her other arms windmilled to keep herself from teetering further. Unfortunately, the shape was closer than she had judged. While her outflung arm brushed empty air, Subira herself crashed right into one of the stills, the side of her face banging heavily against the metal.
After a moment of blurriness, punctuated by the sound of something clattering on the ground, Subira found herself sitting on the floor with her knees splayed to one side. Reflexively, she ran her hands over her arms and legs to check for injuries. Her backside ached and it felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her, but nothing seemed to be broken, at least.
"I'm all right, I'm all right," she exclaimed as soon as she caught her breath. "I'm a fool, but I'm all right. Except…"
Her lower right hand had just brushed over her heart and discovered only emptiness there. Her oceanite brooch was gone! It must have been jarred loose by the impact with the still or the ground and tumbled off into the dark. That had been the clattering sound that Subira had heard: the sound of her one prized piece of jewelry going missing as she fell.
Heedless of how unladylike she looked now, Subira swiftly dropped onto all fours and scrambled across the floor, reaching out with her second pair of arms to search blindly beyond the circumference of the lantern's glow.
"Help me," she pleaded helplessly. "I've lost my brooch, the one set with oceanite. I always wear it, to keep a piece of the sea with me. Please, help me find it." |
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