“We are all out of mushroom mead,” General Pol whispered into My‑re’s ear as he tipped the remaining drops into three glasses on a serving tray from behind the bar of the Broken Sword tavern.
“What in the nine hells? Are you kidding me? You had a barrel of the stuff two weeks ago. Not even the Shews can drink that much. Where is it?” My‑re asked.
“I sold it to your pet cat, Ssskah. It’s likely sitting on the Nightie now.”
“Buy it back from her.”
“I tried. With supplies cut from the mainland from Timshard's directive that no boats are to travel on the Lake of Mists, she wanted double the cost.”
“You’ve got a real problem on your hands. It’s early, and the Shewish Giants are just getting into the spirit of the evening. They won’t thank you for that when you tell them,” My‑re scoffed and picked up the tray.
“No, you are going to tell them,” Pol gestured to her.
“No, I’m…” My‑re’s voice trailed off. Pol placed five gold coins on the bar and pushed them toward her. She continued, “…not…”
Pol then added five more coins to the pile.
“…going to tell them until a little later this evening,” My‑re finished and scooped up the ten coins. She gave a parting scowl at Pol and took the drinks to the giants' table.
Over the next half-hour, My‑re kept an eye on the Shews’ table in worry as they finished the last of their mushroom mead. Almond, who also worked with her tonight, passed her carrying a tray of three glasses of beer.
“Give me that,” My‑re said, grabbing the platter from him.
“Hey, that’s for my customers.”
“We’re out of mushroom mead,” My‑re whispered. She darted her eyes to the Shewish Giants’ table.
Almond followed them and then went back to My‑re. He must have seen the concern on her face as he let it go. He said, “May the Roll Up Gods grant you luck.”
As My‑re approached the giants' table, Gromp, the largest and leader of the three Shews, smiled an unsettling grin, showing his massive teeth. A disturbing thought crossed her mind: He could easily squish her head like a grape.
“Ah, Gromp’s favorite little human female. Gromp would like three more mushroom-”
My‑re cut him off. She placed the three beer mugs on the table. Gromp’s brow wrinkled in confusion.
“On the house,” My‑re said, pushing them toward Gromp and his two companions.
The three Shews looked at the three beers and then at each other. The two smaller but equally impressive Shews issued a low growl in their throats. Their smiles turned upside down. Gromp picked up one of the beer glasses and studied it. He set it down and said, “Why human female bring us this human horse urine? Gromp good customer. Gromp tip well. Why Gromp treated this way?” The enormous Shew rose from his seat, followed by his two companions, each towering over My‑re. From the scowls on their faces, they were not pleased.
My‑re glanced at General Pol, who scooted the bucket filled with sawdust from behind the bar. Almond hesitantly walked toward her, like a man heading to the gallows, and stood to her side. She heard him swallow hard. At least she’d have company in the infirmary.
Gromp then issued an unexpected and forced jolly belly laugh, slightly more unsettling than his tooth-filled maw. “Little human female make joke.” When Gromp looked to his companions, they also joined in the amusement, but it followed a moment later and seemed forced. Gromp leaned over the table, his face within inches of My‑re, and he said, “Gromp no like jokes. Gromp like mushroom mead. Gromp thinks little female should depart to get mushroom meads. Gromp then forget about little joke.”
Almond stepped in front of her and, to her surprise, said, voice cracking in nervousness, “Sir, we are all out of mushroom mead. However…”
The giant’s eyes snapped in his direction, causing Almond’s voice to trail off. Their fists balled, and their knuckles turned white. The three were like forces of nature about to be unleashed within the tavern. Things were going to get really ugly, really fast.
SLAM!
All heads in the tavern turned toward the entrance. In the entryway stood Captain Darien, Lady Greywand’s military attaché, a figure of authority and power. In snug leather armor, his round helm covered his entire head with only his scowling mouth visible, a sign of his stern demeanor. The massive great sword strapped to his back symbolized his might. Flanking both sides of the captain were four warriors in plate armor wearing the white mantle cloaks of Lord Protectors, each bearing a gigantic halberd, whose ends had just struck the floor, and large enough even to take down a Shewish Giant in a single blow. The five new arrivals scanned the bar and stopped when they saw My‑re. They advanced toward her like nothing else in the tavern existed, their purpose clear and their determination palpable.
“Gromp only joking with little human female. Gromp will try human horse urine.” The three Shewish Giants sat down and began sipping on the beers.
Captain Darien approached. “By order of the Lady of the Ice Garden, Witch of the Northern Waste, High Sorceress of Glacks Island, Lady of the Fire, the Enchantress of-” Darien announced, then stopped the litany. “My‑re, you are hereby summoned to the chambers of Lady Sheila Greywand.”
My‑re said, “Hold on. I have several things-”
“No, now.”