Snippets

Chapter 2

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(Shaf POV)

Two months earlier...

Wood clashed on wood.

Tankers met in gusto as a loud chant ripped from the many throats crowded into the shabby bar, mine among them.

"Hei! Ho! Nobody knows! A thousand drinks, a million toes! To us! To us! The lost! No lust! To us! To us! We beg!" The last word is dragged out as long as a chanter's breath lasts, though usually ending in a fit of laughter amid many coughs. As a hawker at the nearby bazaar, my voice was last to die out. I laughed as grimy hands pounded on my shoulders, the hands' owners cheering me on as a new chant was picked up.

"To her! To her! She's one of us! Her voice is farthest, carries us!"

Drinks once more slap together, splashing their owners in frothy, amber liquid. Amid the careless atmosphere, I found myself set at ease, slouching into an open booth and setting my drink down on the stained table. Breathing a sigh of relief, I let the voices and bickering drown my senses. Closing my eyes to the dim room, I focused on my inner being, feeling a smile pick its way into existence on my face.

I was rudely dragged back to the present when a beer was splashed directly in my face. I growled a curse, reflexively lashing out with my fist. My eyes snapped open as my fist sailed through the air unhindered. Confusion wrinkled my brow. No one was at the booth. Nor was it simply a drink flying by--there was no splintering crash of a mug over my head.

Then I smelled it. That wasn't beer at all. I touched my face, which should have been wet, but was dry. Suspicions confirmed.

My insides froze.

Automatically, I felt myself leave my drink at the booth, walking away from it, toward the back of the bar. Now I was passing the counter, my thoughts racing, It's not time! This isn't right. Why now? But of course she'd choose now. Of ALL times. Now.

Though I hated the smell of the mysterious instantly-drying-liquid, it certainly did the job of bringing oneself to their senses. Already, the drunken fog had lifted from my mind, and though I could do nothing but let my numb limbs take me back into the dimly-lit, eerie hallway, I felt no fear. Only regret.

~ ~ ~

"Ah, so fine of you to join me, Shaf," a cool, serpentine voice coiled over my ears, sending goose bumps down my arms.

"It is my pleasure, Kiza," I replied, my voice unnaturally clipped. I stared at the black curtain in front of me, squirming slightly in place where I stand. It was strange, to talk to a curtain. I suppose I ought to be used to it, growing up with catholic parents. But then there was the accident. Or what Kiza had said was an accident. I still wasn't sure if I believed her, though she had been nice enough to not make me call her by her full name: Kryzanth Ameliabix Patrimonai. I should probably take that as a "we're friends now." But one can never be too careful around Her Masterfulness, Kryzamepatri. I stoked the urge to roll my eyes at the frivolity of her pride. Before my rambling thoughts could truly admit what I thought of her, the snake-like voice again came from the other side of the curtain, but this time in a cynical chuckle.

"I hear you are doing well in this town, Shaf."

Nervous bile bubbled into my throat, but I shook it off, I've done this at least a thousand times before. Why am I so nervous?

"Yes, Kiza, I have the folk of this town well with me, especially that of those who like the spirit drinks." I decided against telling her about the recent scramble with the bazaar manager. Her calling me in today was almost like she knew. That would have not been good. Very bad, in fact. Let's just say I'm doing well, right? I am, really. Besides, she said it herself.

Her reply was slow, beginning with another chuckle, and a slight creaking from the other side of the curtain, as if she had shifted in a chair. "Indeed, that is well, Shaf."

I waited, but nothing more comes. Swallowing, I cleared my throat, "Is that all, Kiza?"

I had barely asked when a growl came from the other side, "Absolutely not, Shaf. When has that ever been all?" I can feel the venom in her voice as close as if it's in my very veins, sending a gush of adrenaline through my system.

"I'm sorry, master Kiza." I replied meekly.

She seemed to have suddenly had a change of heart, as her voice is light-hearted and friendly when she continued, "Very well, then, Shaf. Where would you like to go next?"

"Wherever you deign best, Kiza." The words rolled off my tongue. Finally, we had fallen back into the regular thousand-times-over routine.

"Of course, Shaf. I am always certain of that. But do you have an opinion?"

"Kiza, my opinion is that you are the best at choosing my placement." My reply was a flat monotone, the words easy and expected from my mouth.

"Yes, yes, that is all well, Shaf. But you would like to see me, no?"

I faltered, staring at the black curtain, uncomprehending, "Could you please repeat that?"

"It's Kiza, Shaf." she spat back.

I gulped. I'm always to say her name when I speak to her, as she does for me. "I am sorry, Kiza. I was merely shocked. What did you ask?"

"It wasn't so much a question, chartlet Shaf. You have wanted to see my face since before you knew of me." Her voice had regained its friendly tone, though the reptilian quality never faltered.

Chartlet? Why is she calling me her colleague?

"How could I want to see your face if I never knew you existed, Kiza?" I asked, pushing my confusion away. So much for routine. I should have said good-bye to that when I felt the splash of liquid--she had already summoned me three weeks before time.

"That's simple, Shaf. You've always known I existed."

Was that humor in her voice?

Impossible. I must have been imagining it.

I'd already taken too long to reply, "How is that?" I garbled quickly, again forgetting the Kiza. I tense, awaiting her reprimand... but it never comes.

"Simple, Shaf. It's your blood."

Oh why thank-you, Captain Obvious. Because my human composition is so simple, of course. Sarcasm ate away at my subconscious as I fought to civilize my tongue, "Would it be acceptable to be perplexed, Kiza?"

"And what would cause such a thing as that, Shaf?"

"Confusion, Kiza."

"There is nothing confusing in my words, Shaf. Perhaps you are not ready."

"For what, Kiza?" My brow was furrowed.

"Go now, Shaf. Someone is waiting for you. Respect them as you did me when we were first united. Your future awaits."

Well that was different. Usually it was her taking the leave, not me. Usually I had time to sit in this dark room and stare at that black curtain and wonder who had been behind it, and where they went. Was Kiza even real?

I automatically backed away, bowing myself through the doorway, "I will be looking forward to hearing from you, Kryzamepatri."

Her sound of pleasure, a soft hiss, escorted me down the corridor, chills trickling in its wake.

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Duhn duhn duhnnnn! So she has a really really long name, right? And then she can be called by Kiza, but that's a privilege, apparently.

I've never been in a bar. Nor do I have the intention of ever being in one, so if you have pointers for my "pub" scenes, please, please, help me. I'm going off of base-knowledge from fiction I've read in the past. Obviously this isn't a modern pub, haha! But I'm sure you all know better than me! I'm eager to hear (or should I say read) what you have to say (or should I say type)!

~ThePirateElf