Edgewise

41

The walls of the Edgewise shuddered and groaned with the ominous tenor of overstressed wood. The cast iron chandelier hanging in the main common room shivered violently, causing a spinning dance of shadows and light across the stunned patrons occupying the table closest to the bar.

"What the devil?" Lady Agatha whispered. She cocked her head as a high pitched ringing filled the air. The ringing grew in volume and force, joined by a faint tinkling clatter. Lady Agatha had the good sense to glance down at the rows and rows of painstakingly collected and cataloged liquor from innumerable realms. The bottles clinked and vibrated in a manner that made her curse and duck under the shelter of the bar moments before several exploded, permeating the room with an eye watering perfume.

Lady Agatha heard the others cry out but couldn't chance a peek at their welfare as another bottle exploded, a shard of glass nicking across her cheek with a sharp sting. The counter over her head suddenly writhed, like a live creature, caught in some sort of seizure. The movement spurred a sliver of unease in her chest. Heaven's fire, give her an enemy she could swing at! Yosepf appeared beside her in a flutter of black cloth like settling crow feathers. His long mask was stained and splotched with liquor that dripped off the end of his prodigious beak. He caught one of the shivering bottles as it leapt from the bucking counter, sparing both of them a dousing of Humemarian Fire Water, a liquor that literally caught fire when exposed to open air.

The tavern gave one final creaking shiver and settled into a weighted silence.

"Are you alright, Lady Agatha?" He tilted his head, withdrawing a cotton swatch to apply to the cut on her cheek with his customary attention to detail. The position and dripping liquid from his beaked mask gave him the appearance of a curious bird caught in a rainstorm. She smiled and took over pressure on her cheek, carefully brushing his approximation of fingers aside.

"Quite, Yosepf, though I can't say the same for the Edgewise," she said, her words dipping to a murmur as she carefully rose to her feet. Most of the bar's collection of liquor lay in shattered ruins, swirls of iridescent liquid spreading over the floor, giving the appearance of an open wound. It felt like a wound. She glanced up to find the others huddled behind an overturned table, the large lad Caliban shielding his siblings and father with widespread arms.

"Anyone injured?" Lady Agatha clambered over the bar with warrior's grace, her muscles tense with battle alertness. The silence didn't feel like the end of a catastrophe but the beginning. She picked her way through fallen chunks of ceiling plaster, spilled liquor, and broken glass, her sense of unease wenching tighter as she crouched down beside the others.

"We survived," said Cesario, her elfin face pale as she glanced around. "The tavern's not healing."

Lady Agatha blinked, pin pointing her sense of unease. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing good," said Cesario.

"I should check upstairs," said Lady Agatha, bracing her fingers against the underside of the table. "See how much damage was done to--" Her fingers traced carved grooves in the wood. She frowned, shifting her fingers. There, scoured into the ancient wood of the tavern's table was a name. "Melvin Deacon."