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“Don’t tell me you don’t like beer.”
“I don’t like any alcohol. Too hungover to even think of it. Also, a brewpub is hardly a private location, if this really is a clandestine rendezvous.”
I couldn’t hide my curiosity. “For Project Lazarus?”
“Quite possibly.”
We hurried through the rain, which chilled to hail and rattled on the rooftops. By the time we reached the Dirty Boar, we had to shake hailstones from our hair.
Wendel opened the door to the brewpub for me. “Let’s make this quick.”
30
Inside the Dirty Boar, I shrugged off my coat.
I hadn’t spent much time in this brewpub before. It didn’t hit that sweet spot between cheap beer and decent clientele. Their beer was a little too watery to cost so much, and the men drinking it always eyed me lecherously.
“Over half an hour late,” Wendel said. “Hopefully Konstantin gave up and went home.”
“You’re out of luck.” I pointed at the bar.
Konstantin perched on a barstool, splitting open hazelnuts with a nutcracker. He hadn’t yet noticed we were here.
“Archmage.” Wendel raised his voice over the hubbub. “Archmage!”
“Wendel?” Konstantin swiveled on his stool. “You’re late. Ardis! I didn’t expect you.”
“Good morning.” I could have sworn the archmage was tipsy, though he had no drink.
“Back from another mission?” he asked. “Margareta has been keeping you busy?”
“Not at the moment,” I muttered.
“Pardon?”
“I’m on leave for three weeks. Margareta’s suggestion.”
He popped a hazelnut into his mouth. “Very nice!”
I started to correct him, then thought better of it. He must have thought my last mission was a success. There was no reason to relive my failures.
“If Margareta didn’t send you, why are you here?”
“I’m with Wendel. Why would she send me?”
Konstantin fumbled with the nutcracker. “You know Margareta, always has a finger in every pot. Hard to cook up anything she doesn’t know about. Especially if she doesn’t approve of the ingredients.”
I grunted in agreement. “I know what you mean.”
Wendel sidled up to the bar and caught a barmaid’s eye. “A shot of vodka, please.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” The barmaid leaned on the bar and bared her cleavage at Konstantin. “Sure you don’t want anything with those hazelnuts?”
“No, thank you.” Konstantin seemed oblivious of her impressive breasts. Maybe he wasn’t interested in women? “I’m here on business.”
“What kind of business?” Wendel asked.
The barmaid plunked down the vodka. Wendel knocked back the shot without hesitation.
