I glanced at Suri. She shrugged. “Three, four hours?”
“Okay! That should be long enough.” She pumped a fist, while Ebisa stood by with an expression of stoic confusion. “Come back here and pick me up before you leave, okay?”
“Pick you up?” Suri checked the ties on her cloak before standing. She had swapped her heels for leather boots during the trip here, but she’d left the dress on. “Thought you had projects to do? Plural.”
She flushed. “I do! But I’ve got a couple that are like, high priority. The actual crafting part of making things is usually pretty fast for me. It’s finding all the materials and making blueprints that takes time, and I’ve already got some blueprints, kind of. Ones I can adapt for the, umm, the thing! And by the thing, I mean a-”
“Ah, Rin! I didn’t even see you up there! Good to have you back!” Soma, having finally stopped ogling Karalti like a side of meat, bellowed up at us. “Come down here, will you! I want to ask you something!”
“Sigh. Good old Soma.” Rin gave a nervous little laugh, shrugged her shoulders, and scooted over to Karalti’s shoulder. We followed her down the wing to the ground.
Soma slapped Rin’s shoulder as she dropped down, but didn’t do the same for Ebisa. The assassin, all in gray save for her crimson devil mask, radiated all the personal warmth of an open vat of liquid nitrogen.
“Right, right,” he said, to no one in particular. “Now, Rin: I have a job for you! We’ve finally managed to sort out the oxidizer pumps connecting to the proximal engine on that blasted Warsinger of ours, but-”
Rin clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry, Soma, but I can’t help you tonight. I have an emergency project to do that’s super important. Issue of national security, actually. You know… now that Hector is Voivode and all.”
Ebisa grunted in agreement.
'Don't react. Don't read into him,' I reminded myself Suri and I waited behind, her hand resting on my arm. 'Is he slighting us, or is he so focused on his work he only noticed Rin and Karalti?'
Even as I thought it, Soma’s bright blue eyes flicked to me and Suri, and he startled up before bowing and flourishing. “Oceans, I didn't even see the two of you! My apologies, Voivode, Voivodzina. Please forgive my rudeness. I've been tits-deep in this Warsinger for the last week and it's stripped me of my manners. To what do I owe the honor of this sudden visit?”
“We came to see Nocturne Lament and take a tour of Litvy,” I said, doing my best to smile. Soma was the only NPC I’d met here that I would have happily drop-kicked off the side of a castle. He was a great engineer, and as long as he was head-down, ass-up in his machines, we were square. But I didn’t like the way he treated Rin, or the way he looked at Karalti. Or me.
“Well, you lovebirds arrived at a good time, didn’t you? The Night Market is on tonight.” He gave a little chuckle, slightly forced. “The three of you ought to take a tour by one of the mana-powered carriages we build.”
“Three of us?” Suri arched an eyebrow, offering the man her hand.
He bowed and kissed it as he had Karalti’s claw, though less enthusiastically. “Yes, lady: I assumed you, Her Holiness, and his lordship would be going out together?”
“I’m staying here, if you don’t mind.” Karalti squatted down on her hind feet and yawned, flashing massive rows of razor-sharp teeth. “I know you’re a wonderful host, Lord Soma. Do you have anything I could eat?”
I glanced at her, and frowned.
“Eat?” Soma flushed, suddenly frantic. “Why… yes, yes of course. I shall arrange hospitality at once, my queen. What manner of food do you prefer?”
“Fresh red meat,” she sighed. “If you have an un-bled corrun carcass…?”
“I shall order some cattle slaughtered at once.” Soma looked around, searching for a face in the warehouse. “Ah! Orlev! Please bring a droshka out from the carriage line! I have to go to the office and write a telegram.”
“You’re STILL hungry?” I asked Karalti, as I offered Suri an arm.
“Ugh. Yes.” Karalti shivered hard, wings rustling against her flanks. “I dunno. I feel weird.”
I frowned up at her. “Are you sick? Do you feel okay?”
“No, it’s… I dunno. We did a whole lot of stuff today, and I just want to eat.” She craned her head toward the ceiling of the warehouse. “And well… no, don’t worry about it. You two have fun, okay?”
“Worry about what?” I grimaced to one side.
“Nothing,” she said, more tersely. “Just… don’t forget your promise to me, okay?”
Chapter 30
We let the carriage take us to the Night Market, but damned if we were going to stay in the cabin. Neither Suri or I were the kind of people who enjoyed watching the world go by from the window of a car. We abandoned the carriage at the Merchant District gate, then ran hand-in-hand through the singing, laughing, chattering throng winding down toward the Market, grinning like kids. The air was heavy with the smells of sausages and frying onions, butter, machine grease, flowers, fruit, and spices.
“I swear we’re going the right way!” I called back to her over the noise.
“Just follow your nose!” she called back, white teeth flashing in the twilight gloom. “Can you smell that?”
Hell yes I could. And when we broke out of the street and emerged into the plaza, we saw the Holy Grail laid out before us: rings of stands selling every possible type of street food from every part of the continent.
“We finally found it,” Suri said hoarsely. “This, right here, is what Heaven looks like.”
I pulled her in against my hip and turned to look at her. The cloak had blown back, and the metal links poured down her body like a river of gold. Her brilliant red hair hung around her face in thick curls, burnished by the light of the lanterns.
“Nope,” I said. “I’m pretty sure Heaven is standing right beside me right now.”
Suri’s face flushed a dark cinnamon-brick red, and she playfully whacked me on the shoulder. “Shameless flatterer.”
“I’m serious. You’re stunning.” I pulled her in closer, and she pressed her body in against mine. “But I hope you’re ready to gain about twenty pounds tonight.”
“I was born for this.” Her full mouth spread out into a broad grin just before she leaned down to kiss me. It was lingering and sweet, the kind of pleasure I knew I’d want to hang onto in the days and weeks to come.
We started at one end of the night market and worked our way around. There were wheels of juicy veal and lamb kebab, served in fresh pita with pickled vegetables and garlic sauce; breads of all kinds, from sweet fried cheese donuts to cherry croissants. Then there was the burek: ring-shaped pastries dripping with butter and garlic and filled with meat, vegetables, cheese... and, well, more cheese. Vlachia was a great place for cheese: goat cheese, sheep’s milk cheese, and cheese made from the milk of more exotic species, like...
“Dolphin... cheese?” We stopped in front of a Meewfolk food stand, the only one in the entire market. Since Ignas had taken the throne, the cat-folk were allowed to trade in the city again, but while there were a couple of people ordering, there was no queue at this stand. Still, the Catfolk had gone all out. The stand was dressed with tropical silk flowers, with their to-go selections laid out in baskets and on trays: steamed fish, pungent with herbs and fresh chilies and baked in large, fragrant leaves; skewers of marinated songbirds, and translucent rice-paper wraps of squid, crab, shrimp, and giant water-beetle meat with chives and a thin, smoky sauce. And, yes - the dolphin cheese. It was fatty, firm, and yellow; chopped into cubes, then flash fried and served in a giant water-beetle shell.
“Is this really made from dolphins?” I asked the chef, a tall Meewfolk with heavily pierced ears, tabby points, and brilliant blue eyes.
“Yes, of course! That is ki’kira, mrah? A dish of royal court! Very tasty, very rare.” He flashed me an attempt at a human smile, showing off a pair of inch-long canines as he deftly ladled oil into a w
ok of frying crickets and tossed them up into the air. “You want try? It is expensive, mrah, but is a true delicacy of tropics! Two silver!”
It was easily the most expensive food we’d paid for during the night, but I was about to tell him to hit me when Suri’s eyes narrowed. She clapped me on the forearm and leaned in. “Is this the real shit? Or is it made out of tofu or something?”
The Meewfolk man’s tail bristled with offense. “Of coursssse it’s real!”
“Right. So a stack of food normally served to the courts of the Praa’ Rachini just fell off the side of an airship and happened to land in Litvy?” Suri arched an eyebrow.
The chef’s ears flickered as he tipped the crickets into a leaf-lined basket and passed it over to his fellow trader, an adorable little Meewfolk barely out of kitten-hood who went to go and serve them to a delighted Lysian customer. “This one has good connections, my lady. My brother work at Royal Nursery. He cut me good price for festival, so I send money home, mrah? I would not serve fake ki’kira here after so many troubles we have in Vlachia.”
Suri seemed satisfied, and nodded. I passed the Meewfolk two and a half rubles. “One serving of your finest cetacean curd, please. And I’ll take a beetle wrap and a tweety bird skewer as well.”
The chef’s ears pricked this time, and his long tail curled into a question mark as he gently bit the first coin to test the silver, nodded, and handed them to his kid. “My thanksss. Giant water-beetle food is called ti’kak’ak in my mother’s tongue. You want try?”
“Hell yeah,” I said.
“Then you take while I make ki’kira,” he replied. “And if you like, take another!”
“You have to be kidding me.” Suri watched with dismay as I wiggled my fingers over the basket of giant water beetle wraps, then plucked one from the heap.
I grinned at her. “Hey, man, if prawns are the chicken of the sea, then giant beetles are the prawns of the land. Right?”
“If you say so.” She watched on with her arms crossed.
“Here goes.” I jammed the end of the roll into my mouth before I lost my nerve and bit down. Juice squirted out the other end, narrowly missing Suri. She let out an indignant yip. I chortled at her, then moaned as the flavor hit. It was like a really good shrimp taco. The meat was almost translucent, delicate and sweet. The sauce was smoky and fiery, with layers of flavor: chilis and lime and some kind of herb with a nutty, celery-like taste.
“This is great!” I said, once my mouth was clear. “Kind of does taste like shrimp. I dig the shit out of that sauce, man. Suri, you want to try?”
“Yeah no, I’m fine.” Suri held up both hands. “Ate enough bugs in Al-Asad to last me the rest of my life.”
I took another bite. “Mmph, yeah, but now you’re the Voivodzina, you can eat bugs just because you want to. And I swear, it’s worth it.”
The Meewfolk pinned his ears to his skull, and his fur puffed in surprise. “Voivodzina? You, my lady?”
“Don’t tell anyone.” I winked, shrugged, then pulled one of the songbirds off the skewer and wolfed it down. It was decent, but it was gamey and not nearly as good as ti’kak’ak had been.
The Meewfolk chef cocked his head, then looked to the right and slightly over my head. His eyes widened. “Khom pra quai! You new Count and Countess of Myszno?”
“Shhh.” Suri was trying not to laugh, because it was way too late now. As soon as the chef remarked on it, other people nearby started to pay attention to our status.
“I am sorry – this one did not mean to expose you.” His ears were still back as he deftly scooped out the small ladle of cheese from the oil, shook it, then turned it into a metallic giant beetle shell. “You are… eehh… what we call Dāwā dĕk. Star Children? You, you drive Demon out of Myszno?”
“Uhh, yeah.” I swallowed my last bite of barbequed bird and nodded. “That’s us.”
He glanced behind us for a moment. “You do me great favor, great praise to eat our food, my Lord. I cannot take money.” To the kittenfolk, he said: “Kaathi, hee rin pawk nan nai maaw?”
The kid nodded, and went to retrieve the coins.
“No no, they’re yours.” Suri held her hands up. “We insist.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” I said. “I want to pay you. This is great.”
“As you say, Your Grace.” He sketched a nervous bow. “I will add garnish for you if you wish, mrr? Usually only Prrupt’meew like, but if you like ti’kak’ak, you will enjoy this, I think. Do you like spicy? Sweet?”
“Both,” I said. “But make it as spicy as it goes.”
The chef grabbed a small handful of chopped bluish leaves and threw them on the cheese, followed by tiny chilis, sugar, lime juice, and then a small handful of small brown beetles in some kind of marinade. A collective gasp went up behind us. Confused, I looked over my shoulder - and saw that we had actually drawn a crowd of townspeople, who were watching us eat with startled expressions.
The Meewfolk jammed a toothpick into the cheese and passed it over. “This is how I would eat it in my home, mrah? They’re good - juicy and sweet.”
“This looks great, thanks.” I made sure I got a piece of cheese with extra beetles and turned to Suri. My six-foot-tall Berserker girlfriend, a woman who had once literally torn the head off a zombie with her bare hands, turned green around the gills as I flourished the toothpick and nipped the cheese off the end.
“Hmm…” I looked skyward as I chewed. “Sweet, spicy… crunchy… “
“Hector.” Suri had fixed a grim little smile on her mouth. “When we get back to Kalla Sahasi, I will wring your neck.”
It was definitely an adventure in food, but it was actually pretty good. The cheese was very, very fatty, like a cross between butter and perfectly tender tuna steak. The portion had looked small, but it was so rich that I was grateful he hadn’t given me more.
“Wow,” I said. “This is fucking amazing. Seriously, Suri. Want to try some?”
“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”
I squinted at her. “Hey, I’m trying something here. I want to see if we can drum up business for this guy.”
A tic started beside her eye. “Fine. But give me a piece without any bugs on it.”
No sooner had I picked out a morsel for her than other people - humans, mostly wealthy townsfolk - began to come up to the food stand to order. The chef put his hands together under his chin and bowed to us, then dragged his attention away from us to serve the customers now waving money at his kid. I stepped aside before feeding it to Suri. She took it off the toothpick carefully, but once she tasted it, she made a high-pitched sound of surprise and nodded.
“Actually,” she said, once she’d swallowed. “That’s not bad, is it?”
“Nope.” I looked over to the gathered crowd. There were nearly fifty people now, clamoring to eat the same food the Count and Countess of Myszno were raving about. “Dude, this is crazy. And kind of scary. They’re going to sell out of food.”
“That’s what Renown does, hey?” Suri shrugged. “Whether we like it or not… we’re kind of famous.”
“Yeah.” I looked back to the Meewfolk. The pair of father and child were cooking up a storm now. They’d probably spent years living in squalor in Litvy’s International District – aka the Meewfolk ghetto – and now they were going to be rolling in dough because we liked their food. “Hey, if you’ve never tried Meewfolk cuisine before, how come you knew to ask about the cheese?”
“Oh. Well, I knew a bunch of Meewfolk when I was a pit fighter,” Suri replied. “One of them told me once that if I ever met a ki’kira seller, I needed to make sure it was the real thing and not a rip-off. Sometimes it’s made out of ki-fur.”
“What’s ki-fur?” I asked, happily snacking on another piece of cheese.
“Prra’nat told me it’s dolphin jizz.” She laughed. “I shit you not.”
I stopped chewing.
“He said that the dolphin nurseries fob it off because the dolphins make it year-round, the
y make bucketloads of it, and it has basically the same protein content. They feed it to criminals, apparently.” She waved her hands as she talked, animated and lively.
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. Apparently some Meewfolk tinkers will try and pass ki-fur off as ‘dolphin cheese’ if they’re selling it to humans.
I eyed the beetle shell and remaining cheese with deep suspicion. “Why the fuck would they do that?”
“Have you ever owned, or even like… met a cat before? Cats are jerks. So are dolphins, for that matter. We’ve treated Meewfolk like garbage for thousands of years. They probably think it’s hilarious. They make a kind of prison hooch with the stuff, too. Call it ‘Fin Rum’. The cats in my old syndicate I was in used to troll their recruits with Fin Rum.”
“Dolphin jizz liquor. Now I’ve heard everything.” I suddenly didn’t feel quite as hungry as I had before. “So, can you tell if this is actual dolphin milk? From actual female dolphin tiddies, I mean.”
“No idea, to be honest with you. I never ate the stuff before. Prra’nat said the real thing is really soft, kind of like eating butter with a really mild fish aftertaste. He said if it doesn’t wiggle like jelly, you shouldn’t put it in your mouth.”
I experimentally jiggled the cheese around. It wobbled in a reassuring manner.
“Okay. I think we’re good.” I resumed stuffing my face with it.
Suri wrinkled her nose. “Wait. So you’re okay with eating bugs, but dolphin spunk is where you draw the line?”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” I said. “The thin, gooey white line.”
Suri busted up laughing: a wild rolling belly laugh that ended with a snort and her hand clapped to her face with embarrassment.
We left the stand and the crowd behind, and did a circuit of the market. Suri introduced me to Dakhari food - spicy and rich, like a hybrid of Middle Eastern and Indian food, but with slow-cooked dinosaur meats instead of mutton and chicken. We found kim-chee at a Jeun merchant stall and nearly bought him out of his stock. We drank strong malty beer and even stronger rakija, ate cotton candy and even got our hands on some frozen custard, which was being sold by a trio of robed and hooded Mercurions showcasing one of their best-selling inventions: placeable Artificed sigils that could turn any insulated container or cellar into a walk-in freezer. By the time we waddled out of the other end of the market and into a long street full of busy bars and cafes, we were pleasantly drunk, had round stomachs, a new feat - Adventurous Gourmet - and the Overstuffed debuff on top of her Fatigue and my Exhaustion. But we were happy, walking beneath the ropes of colored lanterns with our fingers linked. We passed a small courtyard below a tall clocktower. There was a party going on there, with people dancing, and I pointed at it as we went by.
Warsinger Page 27
