Page 48 of Ale Storm

“Yes.” Mya took a clump of raisins from the collection of cinnamon-roll ingredients set out on the counter and stuffed it in the bottom.

“I’m sure that will keep it from leaking,” Rylana said dryly.

“When you lose the cap, you have to improvise. Shall we find some ale to put in it and see if it responds? At this hour, the alcohol flows freely at the tavern.” Mya waved in the direction of the alley and the building behind her bakery. Outside, night had descended, but the gnomish fire-fliers were buzzing about, bringing streetlamps to life.

“Doesn’t alcohol flow freely at all hours in a tavern?”

“Mostly.” Mya took her cinnamon rolls out of the oven and turned it off, apparently ready to close the shop for the night. Only one customer had come in while they’d been chatting, a troll needing a loaf of bread to leave as an offering for the gods. “Come on. I know the owner.”

Mya turned the open sign to closed, locked the doors, and led the way into the alley where there was a back entrance for the tavern.

Before they opened the door, raucous laughter, jeers, and even a throaty roar—was that an ogre?—reached their ears. Inside, the air smelled of wood chips and beer. Rylana fought the urge to turn promptly around. Though she’d occasionally joined the troops of her mercenary unit in drinks to celebrate victories—and the lives of fallen comrades—she’d never enjoyed spending time in noisy taverns.

Undeterred, Mya strode in, waving for her to follow. She pointed at a dwarf bartender, the blond-bearded, broad-shouldered male standing on something behind the bar to put his eyes even with those of the humans, orcs, trolls, and other taller species summoning drinks. Maybe he sensed the arrival of another dwarf, because he spotted Mya right away. She held up two fingers and waved toward one of three doors that looked like they led to offices or maybe private rooms. One had a sign with two figures in skirts holding up mugs.

“The ladyies’ lounge,” Mya said over the noise and walked toward that door.

Inside, they found a wood-paneled room with red-velvet upholstered chairs around low tables. There was a smaller bar in the back, nobody serving drinks there currently. The lounge wasn’t exactly quiet, since the noise in the crowded main room pierced the walls, but only a few female patrons sat at the tables, and they weren’t speaking loudly. It would be far easier to carry on a conversation in the room.

“Is there a men’s lounge too?” Rylana asked.

“No, they lounge all over the place.” Mya waved toward the door, then headed to the bar and climbed onto a stool high enough that she could rest her elbows on the scarred wooden surface.

Since the position put her back to the door, Rylana resisted taking the seat next to her, instead leaning against the bar so she could see Mya and the exit. She wasn’t as paranoid about sitting down with her back to a door—or sitting down at all—as Sylin, but old habits died hard. She liked to see when trouble was coming.

Fortunately, a shaggy-haired half-troll teenager was the only one who entered after them, and he was carrying their drinks on a tray. He deposited chilled glass mugs of ale on the bar in front of Rylana and Mya, left another for a patron in a corner, then barked, “No males allowed inside,” as he exited, shouldering aside a curious goblin who was peeking in.

“Most of the males who visit the tavern respect that some females don’t want their company,” Mya said, “but many have trouble with that, and there are also theories about what goes on in here. Sometimes, I’m able to sell naughty pastries to the more curious.”

“An overlap in clientele?”

“Yup.” Mya pointed at the horn.

Rylana lifted the twine over her head and held out the potential drinking receptacle. The raisins had fallen out, so she used her thumb to cover the smaller opening.

“We should have brought more fruit to stuff in there.” Mya poured half the liquid from one of the mugs into the horn, the frothy amber ale spilling and dribbling down one of the carvings.

“Or one of the cinnamon rolls.”

“I suppose baked goods might work to stop up a hole. They’re somewhat absorbent. Though it’s more frosting and butter that I want them to absorb than ale. Usually.”

“I was thinking more of having one to eat while I sit here with my thumb in this hole.” Rylana peered into the half-filled horn, not sure what she expected to happen. She also checked the outside in case the mugs started glowing.

While she investigated that, Mya drank the remaining ale in the mug.

“Maybe you need to take a few swigs out of it,” she suggested.

Rylana doubted she had magical lips that would bring forth the power of the horn, but she sipped some of the brew, finding it bitter from the gruit. Usually, when she imbibed, she preferred wine or cider.

Still, she sipped gamely. Just in case. And she checked the carvings again. Nothing glowed, but did the horn warm slightly in her hand?

“It’s doing… something,” she said.

“Oh?” Mya asked. “We may need another round to try. Maybe a beer.”

“One Lumi Lake Stout coming up!” a male voice rumbled, startling Rylana.

It had come from a square stone slab with a dome-shaped glass carving on top. It glowed as the voice spoke, then fell silent.