“We will in a minute.” Marek moves them both towards the bar. “First, we’re getting a drink.”
“Oh, yes, of course!” Sei says, trying to sound natural.
Marek stares down at him with some trepidation. “You have at least tasted wine before, right?”
“Not quite,” Sei admits.
The Porcelain Guild emphasizes health and balance. Magic, soul, and body are all connected. As an extension of his magic, Sei’s body isn’t entirely his own. He can’t use it selfishly, and excessive alcohol harms the body. Sei absolutely can’t overindulge, and complete abstinence is better.
Even though the guildmasters certainly enjoyed their spirits during festivals.
“Whathaveyou done?” Marek shakes his head. “Come on. I’m grabbing a drink, but you don’t have to.”
“No,” Sei says quickly. “I mean, yes, I want a drink.”
Marek kindly doesn’t laugh. “They don’t have any good ale here, so we’re drinking wine. Do you want something sweet, or something tart?”
A few minutes later, Sei cradles a glass mug shaped like a rose. Pink wine refracts through the petals. Sei half-expects a guildmaster to jump out from behind a potted tree. But nobody is here to scold him. There’s just a light crowd of people not paying Sei any attention at all, and Marek Stormrider watching him consideringly.
Marek’s own rose-glass holds a darker, nearly purple wine. He taps it against Sei’s glass. “Clear skies,” Marek says, and takes a sip.
“Forever,” Sei replies in reflex, and takes his own sip. Marek chose well—the wine is incredibly sweet. The tiniest sip floods his mouth with flavor.
“Forever?” Marek asks.
Sei licks a stray drop of wine from his lip. Is the alcohol working yet? Does he feel anything? “That’s how we salute in Fellrin. It’s short for, ‘May we share wine forever, so we don’t kill each other later.’”
Marek snorts. “That makes more sense. Ours is short for, ‘clear skies for us and terrible storms for our enemies.’” Marek points with his glass. “You’re not going to get shit-faced on one sip, by the way.”
“Was I that obvious?” Sei can’t help grinning. “Wait, don’t answer that.”
Marek’s gaze drops briefly to Sei’s lips, then away. “We should head upstairs.”
The next floor of the Tipsy Tree is less garish. More a forest than a garden, with soothing green tapestries. Every table is round and uneven, with visible tree rings. There are fewer people up here too. One couple, one table of three, and one man with sky-blue hair sleeping on a table near the back. Kamil and Delline sit at a table near the staircase, dealing out a game with cards shaped like leaves.
Marek steers Sei in their direction. “Stay with Delline.”
“Not me?” Kamil asks.
“Delline is responsible,” Marek says, and doesn’t stick around for Kamil’s grumbling.
Delline doesn’t say anything. She just flips a braid over her shoulder and deals a hand of cards for Sei.
“Hello, Sei.” Kamil lifts his own glass in greeting. “I’m excited to get to know you without Marek breathing down our necks. Do you want to play cards or something?”
Sitting down without Marek feels strange. Sei has almost gotten used to Marek’s hand at his back, and he misses the guiding warmth already. At least he has his wine, which is starting to warm him up. “I’m delighted to join you. What’s the game?”
Sei doesn’t recognize the name of the game or the symbols on the cards. He drinks half his wine before Kamil finishes explaining the incomprehensible rules. When Sei chances a glance behind him, Marek is sitting across from the man with sky-blue hair. The man is still sleeping, and Marek’s back is to Sei.
Nobody is supervising Sei. Not his guildmasters, not his claimant. Sei’s new babysitters don’t seem nearly as grouchy as his previous minders.
“Did you get that?” Kamil asks.
“I’m completely lost.” Sei takes another sip. “Actually, I think I want more of this wine. If I put a bottle on Marek’s tab, will you two help me finish it?”
Kamil drops his hand of cards. “Stormrider’s letting you order on his tab? He never letsmeorder on his tab.”
Delline points at Sei. “I like you already. Kamil, clean up the cards. We’re heading downstairs.”
