Phony Potions

Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was nice, but not the nicest tavern I'd ever been in. Probably was Blythe's nicest tavern though, clean and with a high ceiling. The waitresses and waiters working were attractive and their clothes were spotless despite handling food all day. They had picked their best staff for the occasion. The floors were stone, but not haphazardly placed. Circling patterns of light and dark gray unveiled themselves as I walked. The walls had artwork on them, and although I couldn't get close enough to see anything but the tapestry hanging next to the door, in the distance I saw even more brightly colored clothes, paintings, and some shields.

The food there looked better than my usual fare, glimmering in the diffused candle light. The biggest improvement was the smell. The tiny tavern sat on one of the ascending hills that leads toward the sorcerer manor, so all of the waste was routinely washed away from the street gutters by the rain. Just like the enchanted inn I was staying at, not a one of the customers smelled like farm despite the place being packed.

"Ah...." The server, a cute woman in a tidy apron with her hair tucked neatly beneath a hat placed one hand on my arm. She scrutinized my outfit. "Although you are welcome any other time, this establishment is reserved for sorcerers and Avalons for the duration of the festival. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"I'm a sorcerer's Assistant. You may have heard of my master, Fushon of Merode." I jerked my arm away from her in simulated outrage. "Are you saying that I cannot check the quality of this place for my master? Are you trying to hide something?"

"Ah, ah! No! Okay! Sorry. Most of the Assistants are sitting outside, but you are saving a spot for your master, so I suppose..." She bowed several times. "I saw you were ungifted, and... oh, my apologies... Ah, this way, follow me." She led me to a small table from which all but one chair had been taken and relocated to other tables. I sat down, and she set a small, sleek slab of wood, engraved with the meal options. I noticed there were no prices. If you had to ask, you didn't belong here. I hoped this meal didn't hurt my coin purse too much.

I scanned the immaculate, deep blue table cloth for my eating utensils. If they were wood, I was in good shape. If they were silver, I'd probably be better off gorging myself on the stall food. However, there was nothing to eat with on the table at all.

Instead of the cacophony of bowls, plates, spoons and knifes clattering against each other, I heard chanting. Food was floating through the air, from the plate to the patrons' mouth. Is that how sorcerers ate?

I recognized the red clothed CMA Arcana Enforcement agents. Their masks were off, set on the table. The shorter one was from around here, a pale face and blonde hair spilling out from the band around his head as he sliced through a nice cut of meat on his plate with nothing but his words. He drank from his floating tankard. A jagged, white scar ran across his face, one eye milky white and sightless. Wouldn't he heal any wounds with magic before they scarred..?

The older one had undamaged dark skin, and I realized this must have been.. Qua... Quarantine? Kashimi? The one with the accent was probably the one with the tanned skin, and he had already finished his meal and was reaching for his mask to put it back on, the leather straps falling between his narrow fingers.

"Ah, server..?" I began. The harried waitress stopped at my table and dropped a set of wooden eating utensils on the table before me. They were wrapped in a thin sheath of cloth, worn from many uses and washes. So they did have spoons and knives. Of course. Usually there were only what, two, three sorcerers in the entire town? "I'd like the smoked pork with almonds," I said. My mouth was already watering. I usually got meat salted, not smoked. "And an ale."