Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive 3)

Veil scowled, holding it up. “You got mine wrong, barkeep; I ordered sapphire. What is this, water?”

The bouncer nearest Veil snickered, and the barkeep stopped in place, then looked her over. Apparently Shallan had already made one of those mistakes she’d been worried about.

“Kid,” the barkeep said, somehow leaning on the boxes near her and not knocking any over. “That’s the same stuff, just without the fancy infusions the lighteyes put in theirs.”

Infusions?

“You some kind of house servant?” the woman asked softly. “Out for your first night on your own?”

“Of course not,” Veil said. “I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“Sure, sure,” the woman replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It popped right back up. “You certain you want that? I might have some wines back here done with lighteyed colors, for you. In fact, I know I’ve got a nice orange.” She reached to reclaim the cup.

Veil seized it and knocked the entire thing back in a single gulp. That proved to be one of the worst mistakes of her life. The liquid burned, like it was on fire! She felt her eyes go wide, and she started coughing and almost threw up right there on the bar.

That was wine? Tasted more like lye. What was wrong with these people? There was no sweetness to it at all, not even a hint of flavor. Just that burning sensation, like someone was scraping her throat with a scouring brush! Her face immediately grew warm. It hit her so fast!

The bouncer was holding his face, trying—and failing—not to laugh out loud. The barkeep patted Shallan on the back as she kept coughing. “Here,” the woman said, “let me get you something to chase that—”

“No,” Shallan croaked. “I’m just happy to be able to drink this … again after so long. Another. Please.”

The barkeep seemed skeptical, though the bouncer was all for it—he’d settled down on the stool to watch Shallan, grinning. Shallan placed a sphere on the bar, defiant, and the barkeep reluctantly filled her cup again.

By now, three or four other people from nearby seats had turned to watch. Lovely. Shallan braced herself, then drank the wine in a long, extended gulp.

It wasn’t any better the second time. She held for a moment, eyes watering, then let out an explosion of coughing. She ended up hunched over, shaking, eyes squeezed closed. She was pretty sure she let out a long squeak as well.

Several people in the tent clapped. Shallan looked back at the amused barkeep, her eyes watering. “That was awful,” she said, then coughed. “You really drink this dreadful liquid?”

“Oh, hon,” the woman said. “That’s not nearly as bad as they get.”

Shallan groaned. “Well, get me another.”

“You sure—”

“Yes,” Shallan said with a sigh. She probably wasn’t going to be establishing a reputation for herself tonight—at least not the type she wanted. But she could try to accustom herself to drinking this cleaning fluid.

Storms. She was already feeling lighter. Her stomach did not like what she was doing to it, and she shoved down a bout of nausea.

Still chuckling, the bouncer moved a seat closer to her. He was a younger man, with hair cut so short it stood up on end. He was as Alethi as they came, with a deep tan skin and a dusting of black scrub on his chin.

“You should try sipping it,” he said to her. “Goes down easier in sips.”

“Great. That way I can savor the terrible flavor. So bitter! Wine is supposed to be sweet.”

“Depends on how you make it,” he said as the barkeep gave Shallan another cup. “Sapphire can sometimes be distilled tallew, no natural fruit in it—just some coloring for accent. But they don’t serve the really hard stuff at lighteyed parties, except to people who know how to ask for it.”

“You know your alcohol,” Veil said. The room shook for a moment before settling. Then she tried another drink—a sip this time.

“It comes with the job,” he said with a broad smile. “I work a lot of fancy events for the lighteyes, so I know my way around a place with tablecloths instead of boxes.”

Veil grunted. “They need bouncers at fancy lighteyed events?”

“Sure,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “You just have to know how to ‘escort’ someone out of the feast hall, instead of throwing them out. It’s actually easier.” He cocked his head. “But strangely, more dangerous at the same time.” He laughed.

Kelek, Veil realized as he scooted closer. He’s flirting with me.

She probably shouldn’t have found it so surprising. She’d come in alone, and while Shallan would never have described Veil as “cute,” she wasn’t ugly. She was kind of normal, if rugged, but she dressed well and obviously had money. Her face and hands were clean, her clothing—while not rich silks—a generous step up from worker garb.

Initially she was offended by his attention. Here she’d gone to all this trouble to make herself capable and hard as rocks, and the first thing she did was attract some guy? One who cracked his knuckles and tried to tell her how to drink her alcohol?

Just to spite him, she downed the rest of her cup in a single shot.

She immediately felt guilty for her annoyance at the man. Shouldn’t she be flattered? Granted, Adolin could have destroyed this man in any conceivable way. Adolin even cracked his knuckles louder.

“So…” the bouncer said. “Which warcamp you from?”

“Sebarial,” Veil said.

The bouncer nodded, as if he’d expected that. Sebarial’s camp had been the most eclectic. They chatted a little longer, mostly with Shallan making the odd comment while the bouncer—his name was Jor—went off on various stories with many tangents. Always smiling, often boasting.

He wasn’t too bad, though he didn’t seem to care what she actually said, so long as it prompted him to keep talking. She drank some more of the terrible liquid, but found her mind wandering.

These people … they each had lives, families, loves, dreams. Some slumped at their boxes, lonely, while others laughed with friends. Some kept their clothing, poor though it was, reasonably clean—others were stained with crem and lavis ale. Several of them reminded her of Tyn, the way they talked with confidence, the way their interactions were a subtle game of one-upping each other.

Jor paused, as if expecting something from her. What … what had he been saying? Following him was getting harder, as her mind drifted.

“Go on,” she said.

He smiled, and launched into another story.

I’m not going to be able to imitate this, she thought, leaning against her box, until I’ve lived it. No more than I could draw their lives without having walked among them.

The barkeep came back with the bottle, and Shallan nodded. That last cup hadn’t burned nearly as much as the others.

“You … sure you want more?” the bouncer asked.

Storms … she was starting to feel really sick. She’d had four cups, yes, but they were little cups. She blinked, and turned.

The room spun in a blur, and she groaned, resting her head on the table. Beside her, the bouncer sighed.

“I could have told you that you were wasting your time, Jor,” the barkeep said. “This one will be out before the hour is done. Wonder what she’s trying to forget…”