by Martha Carr
Ember laughed when they got her settled in the chair. “Who are you looking for?”
“I told you about that old guy who does custom work on cars, right?”
“This is where you met him?”
“Yeah.” The halfling chuckled. “He was cool. I should call him.”
“What the hell would you have him do to a brand-new Porsche?”
Shrugging, Cheyenne shut the door and turned toward the street off the parking lot. “Whatever he wanted, I guess. It’d just be a cool thing to do.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Hey, you had your moment to go crazy with putting the apartment together. Which, by the way, is totally awesome. This guy does it with cars.” Cheyenne had to help Ember get the chair over the bumps in the parking lot’s entrance, then again when they reached the ramp up onto the sidewalk beside the rows of shops lining the street.
“You know, I never stopped to think about how crappy these ramps are before I tried pushing myself up onto one.” Ember jerked down on the wheels as Cheyenne pushed the back of her chair. “All about perspective, right?”
“That’s a good way to put it.”
They didn’t pass many other pedestrians on the street, given the mid-October chill in the air and that it was Tuesday. Ember glanced in the windows of every single shop they passed, grinning at her reflection. “So, how do we get down there?”
Cheyenne pointed at the marque above the froyo shop two stores ahead of them. “Gotta hit the frozen yogurt place first.”
“Hey, I like dessert before dinner as much as the next girl, but I’m not in the mood for froyo.”
The halfling laughed as she stopped beside the door and pulled it open. “Neither am I.”
“Oh. It’s this place?”
“Yeah. And it’s nowhere near the best part.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re late, Cheyenne.” Yurik stepped away from the counter at the back of the froyo shop with a smirk.
“By like three minutes. Relax.” The halfling shot Ember a crooked smile as they made their way past the tables and chairs and the stations of cookies and candy pieces.
“Who’s your friend?” Tate stuck his hands in his pockets and eyed the two magicals they’d been waiting for.
“This is Ember.” Cheyenne gestured toward the FRoE agents wearing their temporary human masks. “Yurik, Tate, and Bhandi.”
“Hey.” Bhandi jerked her chin at Ember and folded her arms. “You been here before?”
Ember shook her head, wrinkling her nose with an unsure laugh. “First time.”
“All right. Another newbie.” Yurik turned toward the man behind the counter and held out his fist for a bump. The man shoveled a heaping spoonful of lime-green frozen yogurt into his mouth and stared at the disguised goblin. “Okay. Good to see ya, Joe.”
Tate snorted and headed toward the back of the empty store. “Come on.”
The group followed him toward the door marked Employees Only. Ember’s eyes widened when he opened it and gestured for everyone to step inside.
“Do any of you work here?”
Bhandi sniggered. “No way. Our job is about as far away as you can get from serving ice cream to kids.”
Joe shook his head as he glared after them. “I shouldn’t have to keep tellin’ you it ain’t ice cream.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The troll woman waved him off and stepped into the tiny room.
Yurik followed, and Tate waited for Ember and Cheyenne to enter before he stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. The lights flickered on to illuminate the stainless steel walls of the elevator to the magical marketplace under Richmond, Virginia.
Ember pressed her lips together and scanned the small, cramped space as they started to move down. “We just walked into an elevator.”
Bhandi snorted. “Good one.”
Tate shot her a frown and shook his head.
“What? She said, ‘We walked into an elevator.’ Oh.” The troll woman looked at Ember and grimaced. “That wasn’t a joke?”
“Uh, not really. The chair’s pretty new for me. Still adjusting to my word choice, I guess.” The fae’s smile was tight and a little uncomfortable.
Bhandi shook her head. “Man, I’m sorry. I thought that was on purpose.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Cheyenne leaned against the wall of the elevator and watched the whole thing play out, her eyebrows raised. Perfect ice-breaker right there.
“Half the shit that comes flying out of Bhandi’s mouth is just that.” Tate shrugged at Ember with a quick glance at the troll woman. “The other half is, like, only half-serious.”
“Yeah, okay.” Bhandi scowled at him. “I can be serious.”
“Not where we’re goin’.”
Yurik cleared his throat. “So. Ember. What made you decide to come with the halfling for your first time down here?”
The fae looked up at Cheyenne and chuckled. “She convinced me it would be worth my time, I guess.”
“You guess.” Tate nodded and slipped the thick black ring off his finger before shoving it into his pocket. “Have you seen Cheyenne fight somebody? ‘Cause that’s when she gets real convincing.”
“Right.” Cheyenne rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, I have.” Ember shrugged. “She didn’t have to fight me, though. It just took some stories about you guys, and I figured I’d come watch the show.”
“Oh!” Yurik put a hand to his mouth and stared at Bhandi. “Was that a burn from the new girl?”
Bhandi lifted her chin and glanced from Ember to Cheyenne and back again. “What stories?”
“All of them.”
The troll woman hung her head as Tate and Yurik burst out laughing. “A troll can’t make one mistake.”
“Yeah, right.” Yurik pulled off his ring, and his topknot faded into the yellow strip down the center of his head, his skin changing quickly from human-pale to washed-out-goblin-green in an instant. The bullring through his septum stayed where it was. “Like you’ve only ever made one mistake.”
“All right.” Bhandi glared at him. “Should we talk about all the shit you pulled at Rez 17 last year? ‘Cause I sure as shit could come up with some stories of my own.” The troll woman raised an eyebrow at Ember and slipped off her “mask,” sticking the black ring in her pocket. “I’ve got plenty of stories too. And I know you haven’t heard those.”
Tate sniffed at the air and leaned against the wall of the elevator as Bhandi’s auburn-haired illusion faded, revealing her purple skin and thick, braided scarlet hair that matched the color of her eyes. “Smells like fae in here.”
“Seriously?” Ember looked up at Cheyenne. “That’s three times in one day.”
The halfling smirked at her friend and slipped into her drow form to match everyone else’s magical appearance. “Guess I’m the only one who doesn’t pick up on it.”
“Wait, that’s you?” Tate grinned. “We get to show a real fucking fae around Peridosh for the first time. There’s a lot more to celebrate than I expected.”
Cheyenne nodded subtly at Ember, who didn’t miss a beat and stuck her hand into her jacket pocket to slip on the illusion-charm ring. With her other hand beside her thigh, Ember finished the trick by moving her fingers in a quick series of gestures. Cheyenne pressed her lips together.
She really thought that one through. No one’s gonna know she wasn’t wearing an illusion.
Ember’s light-brown hair deepened with a purple tint, the blonde highlights taking on the same violet color as her luminous, slightly larger eyes, and the fae glowed with internal pink light.
“No shit.” Bhandi pointed at Ember as she shot Yurik a surprised glance. “Did you know what she was?”
The muscular goblin shrugged.
“Man, I haven’t seen a fae in decades!” Clapping her hands, Bhandi nodded repeatedly. “This is just the kinda thing I needed today.”
Ember spread her arms. “Well, here I am.�
�
“Hell, yeah, here you are.” The troll woman folded her arms and briefly eyed the wheelchair. “How long are you stuck in that thing?”
“Dude.” Tate shot her another disgusted glance and shook his head. “Not the kinda question you ask someone you just met.”
“Hey, I’m just curious. I didn’t know fae rolled around with their own set of wheels.”
Yurik snorted. “Shoulda known your head would still be up your ass.”
“Hey, screw you!”
“No, it’s okay.” Ember lifted a hand, trying to stop the tense reactions before they got even worse. “It’s a lot better to be asked about it than have you pretend I’m on my feet like everyone else.”
“See?” Bhandi flipped Tate the bird. The troll man snorted and shook his head.
“Honestly, I have no idea how long I’m gonna be in this thing. It hasn’t even been a week.” Ember patted the armrests with another shrug. “But it’s proof that fae can get messed up just like anyone else.”
“Nah.” Yurik waved her off. “You’ll be outta that thing in no time. I heard fae are expert healers.”
Bhandi snorted. “Who told you that, huh? The same gremlin who tried to sell you a tonic for hair growth?”
“I have hair, man. Tate’s the bald one.”
“By choice.” Tate rubbed his bald, tattooed head, then gave it a sharp smack.
“Nice.” Bhandi reached out to do the same, but Tate blocked her and batted her hand aside.
“Don’t touch my head.”
“Oh, now you have a problem with personal space, huh?”
“What, you want me to start playing with your hair too?”
Cheyenne and Ember shared confused glances, then the halfling looked at Yurik. The goblin’s arms were folded, and he raised his eyebrows with a little shrug.
Everybody’s tense tonight. We’ll fix that.
The elevator ground to a slow, shuddering halt when it reached the bottom of its long descent into the underground marketplace. Bhandi and Tate stopped bickering, and the troll woman’s eyes lit up.
“This is why we’re here, fae.” The elevator doors opened the second Bhandi pointed at them. “I don’t care what anyone else does, but I’m gettin’ hammered.”
“Hasn’t changed since the last time we were here,” Tate muttered as he followed her out of the elevator. “Or the time before that. Or before that.”
“You know what? Just quit yacking at me until I get at least a whole pitcher of grog down my throat, huh? Think you can do that?”
“Maybe.”
Yurik rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from the wall to step into the wide, sweeping entrance of the underground marketplace for magicals only. Cheyenne left next and waited for Ember to wheel herself out onto the relatively smooth stone floor. The fae’s luminous violet eyes widened even more when she saw the wide, sweeping arc of the massive tunnel stretching farther than they could see. “Holy shit.”
“Welcome to Peridosh, Em.” Cheyenne nudged her friend’s shoulder and nodded after the FRoE agents disappearing into the throng of hundreds of magicals conducting their business down here. “I’m sure your first time will be less eventful than mine.”
“We can only hope, right?” Ember laughed. “I’m not much good in a bar fight right now.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Woven rugs over here! With thread straight from back home, people! Stained with pure O’gúl radan dye and everything.”
“Hey, you. Fae! Yeah, you. You need a Vrexes Scrubber for your potions? Don’t even bother with the shop down there. That goblin’s on his way out. I got what you need at much lower prices.”
Ember spun away from the orc as he reached toward her over his table, a sludge-covered thing that looked like a squid dangling from his hands. “I’m good.”
“Oh, come on. Fae like you needs to keep up her supplies, yeah?” Spit flew from the orc’s mouth between his jutting tusks as he spoke. When Ember moved past his wares, the guy walked around the table and tried to follow her.
Cheyenne stepped between them and glared up at the vendor, who had a good six feet on her. “She said she’s good.”
The orc’s eyes widened when he took in the drow standing in front of him. “Sure, sure. I’m just tryin’ to make a living, you know? Gotta do what we gotta do.”
“Well, do it from behind your table.”
“Uh-huh.” He looked after Ember one more time with a grimace of disappointment, then returned to his post behind his spread of nasty-looking wares. The squid-thing dropped onto the table with a splat, sending dark, muddy sludge splattering onto a tall, gangly goblin walking by at the right time.
Cheyenne left those two to argue and caught up with Ember. “People can get a little pushy down here.”
“People?” Ember looked up at her with a smirk. “Every magical I’ve met is a little pushy, Cheyenne. I’m pretty sure that comes with the territory. You know, living in this world where we’re not supposed to be.”
She’s not talking about the FRoE agents or us. We were all born here.
The halfling nodded. “Makes sense. Just don’t be afraid to push back.”
“Oh, I can push if I have to. Don’t worry about that.”
Cheyenne snorted. “I’d like to see that.”
“Careful what you wish for, ha—” Ember stopped herself and wrinkled her nose. “I’m guessing that’s not gonna fly down here, huh?”
“No. We can keep that part to ourselves.” Let the rest of these magicals keep thinking I’m a full-blooded drow. Just like they think those FRoE agents are in the same boat as everyone else.
They pushed their way through the moving, bustling crowd. Cheyenne hadn’t noticed how uneven the stone floor in the massive tunnel was until Ember slowed down. The halfling turned to ask if she needed help, but a soft violet light lifted the fae’s wheelchair for two seconds before lowering her again on the other side of a rough patch of protruding stone.
Ember wiggled her eyebrows. “At least I can do this much for myself.”
“Looks like you’re gettin’ the hang of it.”
“That’s what happens when I can only do one thing with my magic.”
Cheyenne shook her head as she stared at a knobby, twisted-looking magical with skin that looked like tree bark. He hunched over a long walking stick and sneered at Ember, but when he glanced up at Cheyenne’s narrowed golden eyes, he quickly looked away and thumped his cane faster against the stone floor.
A piercing whistle cut through the din of magicals shouting out their wares and shoppers shouting their annoyance over each other.
“Hey, Goth drow!” With one hand clutching the large handle of the Empty Barrel’s front door as she held it open, Bhandi leaned back over the throng and waved at the tavern. “I thought you knew the drill by now. Hurry the hell up!”
Ember laughed. “She calls you ‘Goth drow?’”
“It’s better than ‘rookie.’ Doesn’t mean she has to shout it out every chance she gets.” Cheyenne stared right back at the magicals walking past her, most of whom noticed her for the first time once she’d been called out by her race for everyone to hear. Other vendors peered over their tables to get a better look at the drow in their midst, and the halfling nodded toward the tavern. Bhandi had already slipped inside, and the door shut again with a muted thump. “Come on. If you want an O’gúleesh drink, Em, we better get in there before she drinks that place dry.”
“O’gúleesh drinks, huh?” Ember followed her friend through the crowd toward the tavern. “You sound like you fit right in down here.”
“I’m trying.” They stopped at the two steps leading up to the huge, thick wooden door beneath the rotting wooden sign with the tavern’s name painted sloppily across the boards. “You want some help up these?”
Ember frowned at the stairs and cocked her head. “Just open the door, maybe?
”
“You sure?”
“Hey, if you can run around the state testing your magic on every idiot who pisses you off, I’m allowed a little trial and error too, don’t you think?”
“I’ll open the door, then.” Trying not to laugh, Cheyenne quickly climbed the stairs and pulled on the massive iron handle. Raucous laughter and a few angry shouts spilled out of the Empty Barrel, but she was focused on her friend.
Ember rolled backward three inches, then grabbed the wheels and gave them a fierce tug to launch the chair forward. The small front wheels hit the side of the first step with a thud and almost threw the fae forward, but her hands and all four wheels lit up with strobing purple light, and the chair soared over the steps and right through the door. It landed on the sticky wood of the tavern floor with a squeak, knocking into the closest table. Frothy grog sloshed over the sides of the tankards on the table while their owners leaped away from the sudden interruption.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Ember backed the chair up and aimed it at the center aisle running the length of the tavern. She looked over her shoulder and grinned at the orc shaking spilled grog off his hands. “Still learning how to drive this thing.”
“Well, drive it somewhere else, huh?”
“Yep.” She glanced at the orange-skinned, rat-faced skaxen woman sitting on the other side of the table and nodded. The skaxen slammed her palms on the table and hissed. Ember’s grin disappeared, and she hissed back before quickly wheeling herself down the wide aisle between the dented, sticky bar and the rows of tables.
Watching with a mix of amusement and caution, Cheyenne stepped into the tavern and let the door swing shut behind her. The orc and skaxen at the closest table glared at her too, but they quickly looked away and leaned over their dripping tankards when she jerked her chin at them.
Either I look scarier than normal today, or the magical gossip train has made its way around Peridosh. I wonder who they think I am?
“All right! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” At the end of the bar toward the back of the tavern, Bhandi pounded both fists on the dented wood as Ogsa set two frothing pitchers of grog down in front of her.