“Who’re you callin’ a lady, little man?” She set thetray on the side table furthest from him and plopped onto the sofa between Dion and Yoi.
As I cracked the pitcher’s lid, steam wafted out with the scent of apples and cinnamon. “Hot cider?”
“Only the best for my friends.” Brenda flashed a toothy grin before jerking a thumb at Cleggs. “And that guy.”
I poured glasses for everyone and slumped into the empty armchair, my entire body just melting into the cushions. “So the mages survive another week, huh?”
“But you’re not gonna survive the brutal defeat in tonight’s game,” said Brenda.
I sat there for half a minute, just soaking it all in. The sights, sounds, scents… the company. It made the brutal week worth it. I straightened up and glanced at the game board laid out on the glass table. “Grand Caravan, huh? Where’d you find that?”
“At the back of the games cabinet.” Yoi, the nekojin woman who’d rescued my belongings from Count Greanderal’s bedecked brigands that first day, spoke at a soft whisper. “There were a few pieces missing, but I borrowed replacements from another game.”
“Nice.” I uttered the word as a half sigh, unsure if I meant the setting, the company, or the joy in being able to relax a little. Probably all three.
“To the mages.” I extended my glass to the others.
“Damn right,” said Brenda.
We all clinked glasses.
The cider was sharp to the nostrils, spicy, and too hot for more than the tiniest sip. It was perfect.
Brenda grabbed a deck and began shuffling, casually showing off little card tricks as she did. Caravan Adventure was a common board game for two people or two teams; Grand Caravan expanded the playing board for up to six. The principle was simple: move your pieces, called traders, from your home village to another player’s village while avoiding monsters. Dice rolls and card draws introduced randomness, but it was a decent mix of chance and strategy.
“Grab your favorite color,” said Brenda. “As long as it’s not red. Red’s mine.”
I fished through the box to pick out stylized midnight blue pieces a little smaller than my pinkie. Each player started with eight, and would win if they could get four to their destination.
“Lindworm as your castle defender?” Cleggs snorked. “A little on the nose for someone from a forestry town.”
“Says the guy who chooses ogre as a defender.”
“Ogres are a lot of fun. Just gotta watch out if they have a little too much to drink.”
I glanced at him over the rim of my glass. Had Cleggs actually met an ogre in person? It was hard to tell truth from tall tales with my roommate. Not that he spent much time in our room; the guy hardly seemed to sleep. “Uh-huh,” I said, noncommittally.
The first few rounds went uneventfully, as we sipped cider and nibbled biscuits.
“That a self-heating pitcher?” I asked Dion, who was closest.
He nodded. “You want a top-up?”
“Thanks.” I held out my glass. “You guys hear any more about the so-called controversy? You know, about the mage specialization?”
“Pfft! Controversy.” Brenda clunked her glass solidly on the table. “In my neighborhood, something doesn’t count as a controversy until the third corpse shows up.”
“Don’t the merfolk in Lake Arania devour the bodies of anyone the underworld wants to make disappear,” said Cleggs.
Brenda responded with a finger gun. “Exactly.”
Dion shook his head. “Arania. Claims to have the lowest murder rate in the region.”
“Yup,” said Brenda. “But you should see the missing persons list.”
“Umm,” said Yoi. “From what I have heard, it’s not even about the mage specialization. It’s about battlemages.”
“From the time of the Empire?” said Dion. “A century and a half ago. Making a mermaid out of a minnow, isn’t it? Your turn, Theodore.”
