“The gods died hard, but they did die. The God Hunt was proof that humanity can stand against the divine and win.”

-Bron Silvers, Minister of Glory, 188 U.E.

 

Stephan and Yin worked together in the upstairs kitchen, moving in practiced unison, to prepare tonight’s dinner. Qui-ling, her favorite. Stephan was frying grubs while Yin handled the spiced rice.

“That hooker doing any better?” Yin asked, gaze fixed on the bowl as she mixed the ouwei spice. She fought to keep her tone casual.

“She’s recovering well,” Stephan said. “Whether she’ll stay off the laughing-bark is up to her, I suppose.”

“Good for her. Why is she still here?”

“Amaline said she wants to work here, which suits me fine, because we don’t have any waitresses. She’s going to stay on tonight so I can see how she works.”

Yin dropped her spoon and turned to Stephan, staring daggers into his back while he tossed fatty grubs in the frying pan. “Really, Dad? You’re going to hire a hooker? A drugged-up hooker, no less.”

“I haven’t decided anything yet, but I won’t discriminate based on her former profession. She’s assured me she wouldn’t touch alcohol or drugs while working here. That’s more than we can say for our former crewmates.”

Yin threw her arms up. “Great, Dad. That’s super reassuring. You realize that hooker’s probably just waiting for an opportunity to rob us blind so she can buy more of that shit, right?”

Stephan set the frying pan on a cold stove plate and turned off the heat. He turned to face Yin, brows furrowed. “I suggest you find a more sensitive term to use while Amaline’s around. She’s not given me any reason to doubt her honesty.”

Yin crossed her arms and met her father’s gaze. “Yeah? And I suppose those huge tits of hers don’t have anything to do with it.”

Stephan’s face flushed. “Language!” he barked.

Yin tensed. She was ready to defend herself if need be.

Then, her father’s face softened. He reached out for her. She pulled away, but he persisted, taking her by the shoulder and pulling her into a warm hug.

“What’s gotten into you, sweet pea?” he asked. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

Yin melted into his embrace. She struggled to form words. Tears came instead. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “It’s just… I don’t want someone to ruin this. It’s better when it’s just the two of us.”

“I understand.” He patted her head. “But that’s part of life. You have to learn to share your world with others. That’s how you make friends.”

“But someone might take you away.” Yin wiped tears on her sleeve, sniffling. She crumpled under Stephan’s concerned frown. “I… I just mean… You’re the only person I could ever trust. I don’t want that to change. It’s my…” She bit her lip. “I have nightmares about it. Every night. I don’t want to be alone again. That’s what I fear the most.”

Stephan smiled, a smile full of the most unconditional love Yin had ever seen. “I understand, sweet pea. Listen, I’ve promised Amaline a night here so we can see how she works. Me and you. If you don’t like her, I won’t hire her. All I ask is that you give her a chance. Does that sound fair?”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Deal?”

Yin slowly nodded.

*****

Stephan served an Arcana Twist to an Ashlandic man in a burgundy robe. Amaline brought half-a-dozen glasses behind the counter and placed them in the large sink to be cleaned.

“I’m on fire!” she chirped. “What’s next, boss?”

“Those gentlemen in the back look a bit thirsty,” Stephan said, pointing to a small group of dockworkers. “See if they’d like refills.”

“Got it, boss!” Amaline moved with purpose, her whole face stiff with single-minded determination.

“One more thing,” Stephan said, causing Amaline to stop and turn around.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Don’t call me boss. I liked Steph better.”

“No can do, boss.” Amaline winked and strutted off.

“Never seen someone so excited about serving a bunch of drunks,” Yin remarked dryly, seated on the other side of the bar with her elbows on the counter.

“I reckon that’s a good thing,” Stephan said. “She’s got enthusiasm to spare—can’t fault her for that.”

Amaline had gone home to change into her ‘work uniform’, as she called it. A short, low-cut black dress that left concerningly little to the imagination and white stockings drawn over the knees worn with white flats. Her pink hair was in long pigtails. Stephan had had some reservations about her choice of work attire, but they’d already seen a sharp increase in customers, and the night was still young.

Stephan decided he wasn’t feeling very picky.

A new patron entered the bar. A pirate, Stephan guessed, based on her scarred arms and belt laden with not one, but three pistols. She approached the bar, hopped on a stool, and afforded Stephan a brief nod in greeting.

“Good evening,” Stephan said. “What can I get you?”

“Rum,” the woman said. Her voice was rough and whispery. She stared into the countertop, something distant about her gaze. She slapped down a twenty-standard note. “Keep ‘em coming.”

Stephan poured her a shot. She drained it, then a second, then a third. Sighing, the pirate’s shoulders slumped as she eased into herself.

“You’re a pirate, right?” Stephan asked.

The woman nodded.

“Who do you work for?”

“Captain Orthus.”

“I see. Hit any good prizes lately?”

She snorted. “You’re joking, aren’t you? There are no prizes to be taken. Concordians make sure o’ that. Their warships already guard the major trading routes. I was lucky to get out o’ that last one with my life.” She shrugged, let slip a bitter chuckle. “Others weren’t so lucky. Rest of the Orthus Crew's on the bottom of the Shipbreaker.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Stephan slid the bottle of rum across the counter. “Help yourself to the rest of that. I figure you need it.”

The woman nodded. “Thanks.”

“Dad,” Yin said. When he looked up, she pointed towards the dockworkers’ table. “Trouble.”

One of the men had thrown an arm around Amaline’s waist and was reeling her close, wet eyes alight with something less than savory.

“Damn, girl, you are something else,” he said, loud enough for the whole bar to hear. “How much you pay to look like this, huh?”

“Thank you very much, sir,” Amaline said with a bright smile, making no effort to pull away. “And I wouldn’t know—it kind of came with the job. I’m not much of a numbers person.”

The man guffawed. “I can tell! Say, how about you come back to mine later, I’ll teach you some numbers.”

She glanced uncertainly in Stephan’s direction, practiced smile slipping a hair.

“Amaline!” he called. “You don’t need to be friendly with assholes!”

The smile dissolved. She tilted her head slightly, questioning. ‘Are you sure?’, she seemed to ask.

Stephan nodded.

Amaline spun, dress whirling, and grabbed the dockworker by his throat. Blue sparks flew from her fingertips. The man’s whole body tensed, fingers wriggling like worms, legs shooting straight out.

“Listen here, you creature,” Amaline said, peeling his hand off her waist. “If you touch me ever again, I’ll scramble your brain so bad you won’t know two-plus-two.” She stepped back, relinquished her electrifying grip, scowl replaced by a full-face smile. “Okay, can I get you boys anything else?”

The dockworker went slack, sinking down his chair, and ended up on the floor in a growing puddle of his own saliva. His friends muttered apologies, gazes downturned, and Amaline left to see to another table.

Yin whistled. “Seems your new friend knows some tricks.”

“That’s an understatement,” Stephan said. “Sweet pea, why don’t you see that man outside? Make sure he recovers.”

With a nod, Yin jumped off her stool and set to work.