To cough as the burn roared down
his throat into his belly would be even worse. Sven grinned and slammed the
glass down on the bar. The tender poured a tall glass of cooling amber and slid
it down without spilling a drop. Sven took a sip, smiled wider, and took a long
draught to quench the fire in his gut. The tender nodded approval and went back
to pouring drinks as fast as his servers could whisk them away. Sven sat down
at the bar. It might take all night, but he had earned at least one or two
answers from the tender. He would wait.
It did take all night, and
several more fiery shots and cooling draughts, but Sven got the answers he
needed before he tucked ten scarlet bars in the tender’s chest pocket, where he
lay with his head rolling on the bar. Enough to buy the bar, if he chose.
Enough to pay his passage home.
Sven’s walked out of the port bar
and looked up to the tri-moons, setting before the first sun’s light. Answers
always seemed to lead to yet another question, but for now, he had a new
destination, and a new hope, that his search might one day lead him home.
Dogs in house:
|
Houdini
|
|
|
Time writing:
|
20 minutes
|
|
|
May word
count:
|
16,382
|
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