Ninia watched as Alinyaln and Syrin disappeared into the tailors shop, the building visible from the deck of the Mercy of Dradinoor. Though she liked the woman, Ninia couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous over Syrin. Captain Alinyaln had been spending a lot of time with the woman, so far as to seemingly ignore his promise to train her to use the sword, but now he was taking Syrin into new towns and delegating the task of teaching Ninia to someone else.
“Ayo, Prinia!” Higlim called to Ninia, hobbling up to her as she stood at the end of the gangplank.
“Ayo.” Ninia said quietly, taking her eyes away from the store.
Higlim clapped her on the shoulder. “The Captain has abandoned you, yes?” He smiled fondly. “Not to worry lass, ole Higlim will guide you today.” Then he took off, walking down the docks and into the town. The main section of the town of Branai faced the docks, but Higlim wound them through the back parts of the town where there were more homes and buildings that weren’t ridiculously tall.
“Where are we going, Higlim?” Ninia asked as she followed the cook, frowning as he limped along. It was a bad day for him, she decided, but the man still put on a cheerful face for her.
“Just need a few things for the food.” Higlim said with a wave, gesturing for her to keep up.
“Thank you for taking me along, Higlim.” Ninia said as she kept pace with the man, which wasn’t difficult to do.
“Don’t sound so bitter, Gnania,” Higlim admonished. “The Captain has not been home for many years.”
“He mentioned that, yeah.” Ninia nodded. “He said he was from Ignyal?”
“Aye, lass.” Higlim said. “Not too far, no, but still Siston is his home, even if he rejects it. Let him enjoy his day with his lady love, yes?”
“I—Yes.” Ninia said, a small weight she hadn’t noticed fading from her chest. “You’re right, Higlim.”
“I always am.” Higlim said, then he stopped short at a stout building made of dark woods, the once white paint now faded and cracking all along the building giving it the appearance of certain trees Ninia had seen once with white barks speckled with black spots. Smoke was billowing out the top of the building through a heavy brick chimney, the smell of which made Ninia’s stomach growl.
“What—What is this place?”
“A place even the Triplets envy.” Higlim said, opening the door for her and guiding her inside.
The darkness was broken through by lamps sitting at each table as well as a massive pile of glowing embers in the center of the building. Metal grates were mounted over the coals, each with massive pieces of various meats cooking slowly. Sometimes a few drops of rendered fat would drop onto the hot coals and hiss, the smoke flavoring the meats.
“A restaurant?” Ninia asked, looking around. Yes, it must be as there were people sitting at those tables eating meat that must have come from the fire. A woman came up to them wearing little more than her apron which was covered in dark marks. “Two today?”
“Aye,” Higlim agreed, and they were taken to a vacant table and seated. Ninia kept her eyes away as the woman walked away to tend to the fire.
“I’ve never been to a restaurant before.” Ninia admitted.
“You’ve eaten from an inn, aye?”
“A couple of times, yes.”
“Same idea.” Higlim said. “Though the food is usually better.”
A man came around this time, dressed in a similar way to the woman before, leaving little to the imagination. Higlim said to him, “Some of everythin’.”
Ninia could absolutely see his everything as the server walked away. “Why is everyone here naked?”
“Just the staff.” Higlim said with a shrug. “Never quite understood it, asked years ago and they only said that clothes took away focus from the food.”
Ninia looked around and realized that the people in the building, some scattered groups of men and women all joking quietly, paid little mind to the nudity of the staff here. “Is this normal in restaurants?”
“Only here, Winia.” Higlim said with a laugh. “You’ll love the food, eh?”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Ninia asked, “Why hasn’t the Captain been home?”
“It’s.. Not my place to say, lass.” Higlim shrugged. “Ask the Captain.”
“I don’t think he’ll answer me.” Ninia said, looking down at the table which had a white cloth on top of it.
Higlim eyes her, then nodded. “Aye, lass, but this can’t come back to me, yes?” He told her.
Ninia nodded, looking up at the cook.
“You’re familiar with the tradition here in Siston, yes?”
“What tradition?”
“The one of young men going to sea? No? Well, Alinyaln went to sea aboard a cruise ship, old idea of a home for normal folk on the waves. Still hasn’t caught on outside of Siston. But anyways, Alinyaln soon took up with Captain Yamadeon as part of his crew. Once his apprenticeship with the old Captain was over, Captain Alinyaln made his way home, but his folks wanted little to do with ‘bloodthirsty pirates.’” Higlim rambled, taking a breath as the server came back with a heavy plate filled with various meats, setting it on the table before them.
Ninia reached forward and grabbed what looked to be the leg of a boar, but the flesh came off easily. It was hot to the touch, but instead of dropping the meat, Ninia quickly put it in her mouth. Behind the burning of her tongue, she opened her eyes wide at the sudden burst of flavor that erupted from the meat. How had they put so much taste into a piece of meat? Spices and smoke and fat all intermingling.
Delicious,
Grabbing the bone this time, Ninia held the entire leg of boar and began to pull chunks off, then her eyes lifted to Higlim who only smiled at her. “Enjoy, lass.” He said, then grabbed a large sausage link with his gnarled fingers. “As I was saying, the Captain left at that point, yes? As he wasn’t wanted at home. Only, a few short years later he received word of his mother’s passing. He was able to attend the funeral, but he then left, making his father run the mill alone, widowed.”
Ninia looked down at the pile of meat. “Is his father still alive?”
“I don’t know, Minnie,” Higlim said, biting into his sausage, the casing snapping as he did so causing juice to dribble down his chin. “Can’t say he’s ever said more about ‘im to me.”
“And the Captain told you all of this?” Nina asked around a mouthful of delicious food.
“Aye,” Higlim said with a nod. “It was part of my initial payment from him. His story.” He specified at Ninia’s confused glance. “Everyone has a unique story, and his is more unique than others.”
Silence fell again as they continued to work their way through the plate of food. Ninia had never seen such a large plate of food before, and this was for two people? Outstanding. Cubes of dark meat were sitting in a puddle of savory sweet sauce that burned as Ninia took a bite. “What is this stuff?” She asked, putting her finger in the sauce and tasting it directly.
“Barbecue sauce.” Higlim explained. “Made of tomatoes and sugar, mostly, with spices added in.” He eyes her and smiled. “Good, isn’t it?”
“It’s amazing.” Ninia said. “I feel I could drink this stuff.”
“Ye probably could lass.” Higlim said. “Eat up.” He ordered.
*
Some hours later they exited the restaurant. Ninia herself had eaten more than an entire plate of food, thoroughly trouncing Higlim in the eating competition that the cook wasn’t aware they were taking part in. The feelings of pain that came as Ninia moved, however, was her punishment for victory.
“I don’t feel so good, Higlim.” She whispered as she stood outside of the building, holding her stomach in as to stop it from falling out.
“I told ye to slow down, lass.” Higlim shook his head. “Ye better not vomit up all that food, lass, good money was spent on that.”
“Aye aye.” Ninia said, breathing deeply. Her body hurt to move, she was so packed of food.
Higlim shook his head at her, and she saw some measure of disgust on the man’s face, though tempered by a little bit of awe. The cook then turned and waved for Ninia to follow, hobbling away far too fast for her food leaden legs to keep up with, even with the cook’s limp.
Fortunately, they weren’t going very far. Just past a grouping of taller buildings sat a small shop with a woven bag painted onto the wood, below it was a word written in the Sisim script, blocky characters all connected into a single line. “Whe—where are we?” Ninia wheezed as she reached Higlim.
“Spice merchant.” Higlim said with a nod. “You had a taste, now see where it came from, yes?” He said, then pulled open the door for them to enter.
A bombardment of smells struck Ninia, warm and inviting but also cold and bitter, it all melded together in the air in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, but left something to be desired. Great big wooden bins lined the room, each with a lid set onto hinges allowing for easy opening.
Behind the counter set in front of a piecemeal window that looked to have been broken on more than one occasion was a tall man, almost as tall as Drags. His skin was perfectly white, whiter than the foam of the sea, with a strange texture to it that was far more noticeable around his eyes. His head was bald, completely bald, as if the man were simply born without hair.
The man smiled at Ninia and his pointed teeth told her all that she needed to know. “Orsinum!” She shouted, backing away as fast as she could, almost knocking over one of the bins lining the wall.
“Lass, stop!” Higlim barked. “It’s all good, yes?”
“I certainly do not eat humans,” The man said, his smile fading from his face. Ninia paused at the accent of his words, closer to a Rythmin accent like her own. “I doubt you would even taste good. No, girl, I am a Dragonkin.”
“A—I thought Drags was the only one?” Ninia said, her heart still racing out of her chest. She may not need to worry about vomiting up all of her food now, at the very least. Now that she was able to get a better look at the man, she saw that his skin wasn’t completely white, more of a… She couldn’t think of the words. Like the grain of wood, only various shades of white with a layer of prismatic color on top of it?
“Drags?” The Dragonkin asked, raising his nonexistent eyebrow at Higlim.
“Tongueless,” Higlim said with a nod.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Ah, yes, Tongueless. How is he doing these days, Higlim?”
“So proper, my old friend?” Higlim asked, walking over to the Dragonkin. The merchant stepped out from behind the counter and embraced Higlim in a firm hug, then held the man out at arm’s length. “You look good, Rigma.” Higlim said to him.
“I feel good, Higlim.” Rigma said with a warm smile.
“Higlim?” Ninia asked, uncomfortable. “Can you introduce me?”
“Ah, yes,” Higlim stepped away from the Dragonkin. “Virinia, this here is Rigma. Rigma, this is Jirina.”
“Ninia.” Ninia said, holding out her hand. “I’m sorry for my… reaction.”
“Think nothing of it, Ninia.” Rigma held out his arms as if for an embrace. “We are family now, no?”
Ninia glanced down each arm, thinner than the arms of Drags but still large compared to her. Taking a subtle breath to ease herself she stepped in for the embrace, but made sure she escaped it as fast as she could.
“Excellent!” Rigma said jovially. He turned to Higlim, “Now please, my friend, tell me what it is that you need from me this beautiful day.”
“I brought you a list,” Higlim said, rummaging around in his pocket, then handed the slip of paper to the merchant.
“You know how much I love a good list.” Rigma accepted it and read the contents. “We have everything on here for you, if you give me some time I can gather everything you request.”
“That would be much appreciated, Rigma.” Higlim said with a nod. “And anything the lass might want.”
Ninia glanced at Higlim, “Are you sure?” She asked. “You’ve already spent so much money on me today.”
“Ah, lass, take your pick. Some of these might help improve the slop I cook, no?” He winked at her.
Eyes travelling around the room, she watched as Rigma took a small metal shovel and scooped dried powder into a small bag and drew up the strings. “It really is a spice shop.” Ninia said in wonder.
“What did ye expect, lass?”
“Did you perhaps fantasize about this being an illicit operation, young Ninia?” Rigma asked as he moved to the second bin, opening the lid and repeating his process.
“I mean—Sort of.” She admitted. This was far less exciting than some sort of drug operation, or perhaps laundering stolen goods. But then again she couldn’t argue against having something to improve Higlim’s cooking for herself.
“The only crime that we commit,” Rigma said as he poured a reddish powder into a new sack, “Is neglecting to pay the full value of our taxes to the Government. And they largely ignore me for that.”
“Why wouldn’t you pay the full taxes?” Ninia asked, wandering around the room. The bins all had writing on the top of them but they were all in Sisim, illegible to her uneducated mind.
“Abandonists don’t enjoy fun, Xinia.” Higlim said, hobbling to the counter and sitting down in Rigma’s chair. “The leadership here is strongly Abandonist, they love the idea that the Gods have left us due to our excess, so we must separate ourselves from everything tasty.”
“That’s ridiculous they would let that interfere with laws.” Ninia said, opening up a smaller bin filled with a black and gray powder that reminded her of gunpowder. The smell was pungent, almost sharp, and it made her sneeze. “Shouldn’t religion and laws be separated?”
“You find the point in the end, lass.” Higlim nodded. “That’s why Rigma here doesn’t pay all of his taxes, as he doesn’t feel he should do as the religiously minded say.”
Rigma shrugged. “That is largely accurate.” He said.
“So, what do you believe?” Ninia asked the Dragonkin. “About the Triplets.”
“So soon to be asking me of religion.” Rigma said with a suck of his teeth, making a tut sound.
Ninia flushed at this, dropping the lid of the bin that she had been investigating, filled with little green pods. Rigma came over to her and opened it up again, pulling out a handful and despositing them in his bag. Something off of Higlim’s list? She turned away from the man’s curious stare. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Oh, you did not.” Rigma said with a laugh. “I believe that we are all masters of our lives.” He gestured to the room. “Even if your goals are not very lofty, you still have control over some things. But there will always be something else that you cannot control, and while it may frighten you, does not make you any less important in your own life.”
Ninia looked up at the man. His eyes were kind. “That was… Beautifully put.” Ninia said with a nod. “I—Thank you.” She said to him. “Do you have any of that burning wood that Higlim bought?”
Rigma glanced over to Higlim who shook his head. “The lass means sinbark.”
“Ah, sadly no.” Rigma shook his head. “Sinbark is not very easy to come by, unfortunately. Is that what you were interested in?”
Ninia hesitated a breath before responding, “No. I just wanted to know if it was real or not.”
“It is very real.” The man closed the bin and dropped several bags of spices onto the counter. “And very expensive, usually.”
“I liked that it burned my nose.” Ninia mused. “What all do you have that’ll do that?”
The pale Dragonkin glanced from side to side, deliberating. Then without a word he took a step to the back corner of the room, behind the counter, and opened it up. Instead of there being one large cavity inside of the bin, there were a dozen sections within, all with different colors of powders and flakes. “Now, the experience will not be quite akin to that of sinbark,” Rigma said with a gesture of his hands, proffering the contents to Ninia, “But these will certainly burn.”
Ninia took a step forward. Some of the powders were green, some red and orange, there was even a purple and a blue. Did plants grow blue? “Wait,” She said, remembering. “Godkiller peppers?” Ninia pointed at the blue powder toward the center of the box.
“Smart lass.” Rigma said, nodding. “Higlim, why have you waited so long to bring this one to me? She is wonderful!”
“Linia has only been with me new crew for a year.” Higlim said with a laugh. “And, my Captain has a distaste for Siston.”
“Understandable,” Rigma said. “It has a certain quality to it that not everyone appreciates.”
Ninia listened to the back and forth passively, but then Higlim’s words struck her. “A year.” She had been aboard the Mercy of Dradinoor a full year? No, no that wasn’t right, but it was close, a few more weeks left at the very least, right? Perhaps Higlim was exaggerating a little, it wasn’t important.
“I met a woman in Tusana,” Ninia began, “Who had godkiller peppers on her dining table, and quiat peppers too if I remember right.”
“My beloved wife, curse her soul.” Higlim said with a nod. “You were wise to not eat any of them that day, Qinia. You would have been cooked alive after eating a Godkiller pepper.”
“What about quiat peppers?” Ninia asked. “Are those… Less firey?”
“Indeed they are.” Rigma said with a nod, pointing at a section filled with orange powder. “Would you like some?”
Ninia opened her mouth to say, “yes,” but then she realized that a fabric bag might not be sufficient. “You do have a better container for the powder?” She asked.
“I actually don’t.” Rigma said, crestfallen. Then he perked up. “Hold on for just a moment.” Then he disappeared through a doorway Ninia had not noticed before, likely leading into Rigma’s living space. A moment later the Dragonkin was back with a small bottle of what had once been beer. He was swishing around water in the bottle, rinsing it before dumping it out through the window.
Rigma then blew a thin stream of fire at the bottle, turning the glass a shimmering molten red. He pulled off the top section of the bottle with his bare hands and threw that out the window as well, the molten glass popping as it landed in the puddle of water. After a few moments of meticulous molding, the beer bottle turned into something resembling a jam jar, though taller and skinnier than a typical jar would be.
He blew on the new top of the bottle and it grew red hot again for him to begin pinching with his fingers delicately, reforming the narrow tip of the bottle. Rigma held it up triumphantly, a smile on his alien face. “I think this might do nicely for you, young Ninia.”
Ninia reached out for it and Rigma pulled it away quickly. “Oh, no Ninia this will be far too hot for you still.” He said as the man held it in his bare hands. Rigma set it down on the counter for it to cool. “I have a piece of cork that we can use to stopper your new little bottle, that way it should not leak and lead to any… Unfortunate circumstances.”
“What do you mean by ‘unfortunate?’” Ninia asked, now concerned about what she might be given.
“Well,” Rigma hesitated, glancing over at Higlim who looked to be dozing. “These peppers can be quite dangerous if they get into your eyes or nostrils, or really anywhere indecent. Oral consumption only, and even then I only recommend a small amount until you develop more of a tolerance to the burning.”
“It’ll still burn, but not be firey?”
“‘Burn’ in this instance meaning the sensation of burning.” Rigma explained. “Certain foods, though mostly capsicum, simply trick your tongue into feeling as though it was proverbially ‘on fire.’ Hence we say that they ‘burn.’” He took out a small scoop and dug into the pile of blue pepper powder. “These Triplets forsaken fruits, Godkiller peppers as you called them, have a fascinating property that physically causes the temperature of the person consuming it to increase at the primary points of contact.” He held it out before him, inspecting the cobalt blue dust. “And,” He added as if to prove the point, “It also tricks your tongue the same way common peppers do, though it’s difficult to notice because of the more—ah—volatile sensation. I really wish I knew the science as to how they work. A theory I have seen, and agree with, is that it is related to the latent power within sugarcane, the cause of it taking to the Shift so well and form the holy crystals.”
“You’ve eaten some of these, haven’t you?” Ninia asked, partly in awe of the Dragonkin.
“Yes I have.” Rigma said with a wry grin. “It helps when you’re largely fireproof.”
“Did Drags eat some of these, and that’s why you call him ‘Tongueless?’”
Rigma blinked. “No, he’s called ‘Tongueless’ because he cannot talk.” He said it with the fading patience of a parent explaining something to a nosey child. “The Elders gave him the title once he reached his naming age and he hadn’t yet spoken. He isn’t literally tongueless, mind you, he just… Can’t talk.”
“Naming age? Is that normal among the Dragonfolk?”
Rigma only smiled. “You have a lot to learn, my new young friend.” He took the blue scoop of powder and dumped it into the handmade bottle, along with a scoop of the orange quiat powder. “To lessen the effects, hopefully.” He said with a wink. A cork in the top of the bottle sealed it, and Rigma shook the contents vigorously to combine them. Then he hesitated, opening it again to give it a sniff. “Well, this just won’t do.” Without allowing Ninia to ask what he was doing, the Dragonkin went around to several different bins and mixed in seemingly random spices.
After a minute he returned, gave the bottle a good shake, then handed it to Ninia. “A gift.”
Higlim snorted awake at this. “Nonsense,” He said blearily. “I’ll pay for anything she got.”
“No, no, this time I insist.” Rigma argued. Turning to Ninia he said, “I’ll call this spice blend the ‘firestarter.’ Be careful with it.” Ninia took the bottle in reverent hands. Though the glass was dark, she could still see the various bits and pieces of whatever had been put in there.
“Can I… Can I try it now?”
Rigma looked over to Higlim who shrugged, amused. “Very well.” Rigma said, grabbing a pitcher of water from behind the counter. “Only a small amount, mind you.”
Ninia’s mouth began to water. She uncorked the bottle and a puff of scented air came from it, savory with a touch of sweetness. Licking her fingertip to wet it, she touched the rim of the bottle where a trace amount of blend remained. Her little finger began to grow warm. She hesitated, then touched it to her tongue which then exploded in pain, a searing of her tongue that caused her to squeal and reach for the pitcher of water which provided no relief to the pain.
Higlim, the cursed man, only roared with laughter at Ninia’s misery.
