broccolifloret

  Ages ago they thought El Meandro would be a bigger deal than it turned out to be. That’s why they still have a marble fountain by the entrance of Hotel Rekul, the kind with naked people pouring water out of their big jars. But that’s wasteful so close to the desert, so they plugged it up. Now it's a giant fancy marble flowerpot, bursting with the local pnt life instead of water. Finches nest on the marble people's heads and the jar mouths. They won't even look at you, as if they're fancy guests and you're beneath them. As for the hotel's interior, it’s cssy yet full of energy, with murals in bold colors and vague shapes. There's a firepce made of roughly hewn rocks and potted cacti in different sizes. The desert experience! Or that's how they hope tourists will feel. For the true desert experience, please put some grit on your water bottle and scorpions on your sleeping bag.

  When we walked in, the owner’s son was talking to a clerk sitting behind the counter. The former’s name was Irio Cordel and we got along pretty well. I made his clients a little bit happier and sometimes got them to buy me dinners and drinks, so he let me hang around the hotel and sometimes invited me. We'd also fucked a couple of times, just in passing. He saw me coming in and, I think, at first assumed this was just another one of my regur visits, though usually I dropped by much ter in the day. As I said, I'd gotten kind of a reputation. If I walked in along with two men, you didn’t need to ask what was going on.

  But then, his eyes were snagged by Valentino’s emerald bird badge. Then he saw Vanth, and at that point it was anybody’s guess what he thought. The youngest Cordel dropped his conversation and hurried to my side.

  “Good afternoon, Mr Cordel,” I said. “I’m going on a trip to see some retives.”

  Everyone knew I was reted to the Megarchon, but most of the time I suspected they simply forgot. With Valentino standing there, though, there could be no question of who these retives were.

  “Of course.” The youngest Cordel was good at his job; after the initial confusion, he quickly nded on his feet. “We happen to have a private room unoccupied, if Your Excellency would like it.”

  Private rooms were usually unoccupied in the dry season at this time of the day, but I wasn’t going to be the one to mention it.

  “Sure. Let me pay for our lunch first.” Before he could object, I retrieved my bundle from Vanth, found the knot of underwear and socks, and extracted one check. “Here, keep the change.”

  That was a considerable change to keep, as you could tell from the youngest Cordel’s struggle not to gape at me. Not that it bothered me or anything. The way he looked at me felt so weird, though. I’d sucked him off behind the coach house st autumn. Now I might as well be one of his city guests. Weirder than that, actually. It was as if Azul Mamani had never existed.

  Our private room had a lovely view of the best side of town and the distant Lagoon. It felt so good to let myself sink into a plush chair in the cool calm of the hotel. A waiter brought us a jar of water and a basket of cu?apés, and I could’ve just sat there in silence eating and drinking and waiting for the lunch someone else ordered.

  Valentino said he’d have what I was having and went to wash some of the dust off.

  “You know what’s good,” Vanth said. Maybe it was the angle of the sunlight through the wide window, but he looked oddly delicate without makeup. Even more colorless than usual, like one of those creepy porcein dolls. One someone had stomped on and put back together, but not as fwless as it used to be, not anymore.

  I picked the menu. “Gonna treat myself then.”

  Vanth picked up a cu?apé between index and thumb and bit off half of it. Way too dainty for a guy so tall. “Chipa, isn’t it?”

  “Guess so. Cheesy yucca buns. Tasty.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you a few.”

  That was probably a snide reference to the fact that I’d already eaten three. Well, I didn’t care what he thought. After everything going on, I needed sustenance. Seeing how he didn’t care, I also ordered a light red wine I’d enjoyed in the past.

  As the waiter walked away, Vanth stared at me.

  “Would you rather have ordered the wine?” Surely he wasn’t surprised ‘cause the peasant turned out to know something of wine?

  “Honestly, I know very little about it. Left to my own devices I prefer beer.”

  Huh.

  “Yeah, me too. But it’s a fancy hotel and all, so I might as well show off what I learned from men who dined and wined me in the past.”

  “Sugar daddies?” He looked at me with mild interest, not judgement.

  Huh.

  “That implies they supported me, but they never did. At any rate, I’m off the market now.”

  “It’s up to me to make sure you’re well provided for, then.”

  I beamed at him. Vanth didn’t show much of a reaction, but I felt he was vaguely pleased.

  When Valentino returned, still dusty but a far better sight, we were on our first wine gsses and my mood had improved.

  I poured a gss of wine for the newcomer. “Seeing how I’m your host, it’s up to me to answer your questions, if you have any.”

  “What have you done with my spell would be a good start,” Vanth said. “Why is there a hint of miasma around it?”

  I turned to Valentino with a huge smile. “See? Didn't I tell you those weren't any old gss fragments?”

  “Feel free to enjoy your triumph,” Vanth said.

  “Well, I certainly didn't mean to,” I replied cheerfully. Vanth accepted my hankie, hair spell and gss fragments and all. First he removed a locket from his neck and pced the spell there.

  I stood up and walked around the table so he could put the locket around my neck. All pretty normal, so of course I had to go and make it weird.

  “It's like colring a stray cat that followed you home, don't you think?”

  Though his face remained expressionless, there was an interested gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps. But all stray creatures should be trained before they can share your bed.”

  “I wonder if you know anybody who can do that,” I said innocently.

  This time there was fire in his eyes. I basked on my own smugness for a moment before returning to my seat. Vanth squeezed my ass on the way, a warning of what he’d do to me when the time was right.

  I'll have you know that when the entrée arrived soon after, I wasn't doing anything untoward. I could’ve ordered something fancier, but in the end I went with what felt comforting: potatoes in cheese-and-peppers sauce, with wedges of boiled mitema egg and crisp lettuce and bck olives for decoration. Would I miss it in the capital? I could whip one up if I needed to, at least theoretically, but the sauce I made never tasted quite right. Was it hard to find mitema eggs in the capital? It wouldn’t be the same otherwise.

  As I wondered that, something slithered from Vanth’s side of the table to mine, cautious but determined. Like a dumbass, for a second I wondered if the cutlery had come to life or something. It was a silver snake, about the right size to curl around someone’s wrist—jewelry, then. I didn’t know shit about that, as you might expect, but it looked like an antique from the days when aristocracy was a thing; a heavy piece with a profusion of delicate details. Every single scale had been cast separately; its little tongue flickered in and out, shining like quicksilver.

  My checkbook was more money than I’d ever held, but a dozen thousand nureals wouldn’t come even close to paying for this snake.

  “It’s cute,” I said, ‘cause I didn’t know what else to say. And it was cute.

  “It’s yours,” Vanth said.

  I extended my hand. The snake hurried up my wrist and curled up around it, immediately falling asleep. Or whatever you call it when pieces of bespelled jewelry stay still.

  “It prevents its owner from bleeding out,” Vanth said. “A modest power, but I hope it’ll help you when harm can’t be avoided.”

  Modest? Modest? This is why everyone hates aristocrats. I could’ve twisted his head off.

  “I can’t thank you enough.” I covered the snake bracelet with my sleeve. “That means I’m its owner now, right?”

  “Of course. It’s unspeakably uncouth to ask for a gift to be returned. Just make sure never to take it or the locket off. Not in the shower, not anywhere.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” I saw enough of Valentino’s reaction out of the corner of my eye to know he thought I was the real weird one in this situation. Vanth didn’t pay attention to him.

  I could’ve dropped the conversation and focused only on eating my meal, but I’d been raised to be a better host than that.

  “Just to be clear,” I said, “what do you think those gss fragments could be?”

  “Crystallized murder,” Vanth replied without hesitating.

  “I think I picked the wrong conversation subject,” I said.

  “Don’t worry in my account,” Valentino said. “You can’t make it into the Order of the Sabrewing without—getting used to some things.”

  Yeah, I’d been trying to ignore that fact all day. But never mind. My stomach triumphed over queasiness anyway. The potatos were crumbly and the sauce delightfully cheesy.

  “So that’s where the ghost came from,” I said.

  “Where else?” Vanth asked.

  “Yeah, I should’ve known. But they only tell you crystallized murder is worth an instant death sentence, you know? They don’t tell you it’s a person in there.”

  “This is why education is important. The official position is that the less citizens know, the easier it is for them to follow the w, but I’m not entirely sure this is supported by evidence.”

  You could tell Vanth was a big deal: I would never have dared coming so close to criticizing the Megarchon on a Sabrewing’s hearing distance. Some people just don’t have to worry about being sacked, never mind something worse.

  “As you can imagine,” Vanth went on, “it’s not easy to open the gates, but death will work every time.”

  “Yeah, makes sense.” I thought of him pricking his finger to help the ghost cross. And of him just cpping his hands to send the needleteeth away. Your average necromancer couldn’t hope to pull off stunts like those. “An iron bde shall win them back.”

  Vanth almost-smiled.

  “I don’t follow,” Valentino said.

  “Oh, it’s that ditty about Their Illustrious Highnesses. You’ve never heard it?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be old. Anyway, do necromancers murder someone every single time they want to open the gates? That sounds—unwieldy.”

  “Certainly, keeping a live human around to sacrifice them at the right time is a huge hassle. If you destroy a crystallized murder with the right procedure, though, you can easily summon whatever you want from the other side.”

  “That’s pretty clever,” I said tentatively, “if immoral.”

  “Clever indeed.” He smiled sadly. “If only humans were clever and moral more often.”

  I didn’t really want to make the next question, but I just had to know. “So the person inside the crystallized murder, are they—aware?”

  “They’re frozen in time, so we can only hope they feel nothing. It’s an interesting question, though. I’ll ask one of them if I can, but it’s unkind to prod dead people with invasive questions. And that’s assuming they remember clearly to begin with. Violent death is of course unpleasant, and more often than not confusing as well.”

  Not what I’d expect from one of the Megarchon’s minions. In my experience, the best you could hope from them before crossing the gates was simply being overlooked.

  Our main course and sad arrived, so I hastened to change the subject to something that wouldn’t turn my stomach.

  “This, my friends, is olluquito con carne.” I picked up a forkful of stir-fry. “A potato-like thing boiled and then fried with jerky.”

  “Potato-like thing?” Vanth barely lifted his voice above a whisper, as if he couldn’t even stand to hear those words. “You mean a tuber.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are they supposed to taste like beets?” Valentino asked.

  “Yeah, they do taste kinda like beets.”

  “Oh, good. They’re actually quite tasty, don’t get me wrong. It’s just—unexpected.”

  The stir-fry came with a side of rice. I dumped a huge spoonful of ljwa on top of it before passing the sauce on to Vanth. Spicy rice, comfort for a weary heart. The sad was k’allu, which Valentino had had at home but Vanth hadn’t.

  “There’s spicy peppers in the sad,” I said. “If you don't want them, I'll have them.”

  Vanth spooned sauce on a side of his pte with his pinky out, then passed it to Valentino. “Only a child would do that.”

  “Aw, you shouldn't force yourself to eat things you don't like. Especially spicy things. Besides, I like those peppers. They’re slightly less spicy than the ones we grow at home, but juicy.”

  “I do enjoy a fair level of spice, though. The beef, I must say, is rather excellent.”

  “Oh, it's lma! Isn't it good, though? Tourists will either love it or want nothing to do with it. But of course you're not tourists.”

  “What are we?” he asked.

  “Guests.”

  While I thoroughly stirred the sauce into the rice, Vanth delivered a heaped spoonful of k’allu on my pte. “You should have more sad.”

  “Well, if you say so. Hope you don’t dislike sheep cheese.”

  “What, no lma cheese?”

  “I don’t think that’s a thing, sorry.”

  “Likely for the best. Sheep cheese is indeed to my liking, especially if it’s sharp.”

  To be perfectly honest, I didn't like the hotel’s cheese as much as ours. Slightly too acidic? But then, I wouldn’t even pretend to be unbiased. Homemade food is simply best.

  I’d rather leave all necromancy behind for the rest of our meal, but I just happened to think of something else and had to bring it up before I forgot.

  “Do you think we could use these fragments to find out the ghost’s identity?”

  “For better or worse, what remains after the crystal's broken is simply an echo of the strongest emotions it contained. Certainly nothing about the personality of the human it trapped. The ghost’s name is Karolina Leni, if that means anything to you.”

  “Oh. No it doesn’t. I suppose she didn’t happen to know who murdered her?”

  “Is it ever that easy? I must thank you, though. I’ve been far too remiss on investigating her.”

  “No need to thank me.” I basked on smugness for a moment. “It was the necromancer who did it, right? Please tell me there's no bck market trade on crystallized murder.”

  “There isn’t one. A crystalized murder can explode in your hands at the briefest distraction. Passing them from hand to hand would only cause many amateur necromancers to blow themselves up—no big loss, admittedly. On the other hand, a skilled necromancer can hold on to a crystalized murder or several for quite a long time. Years even.”

  Well, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Not that I really expected to find the necromancer that way, but still.

  Did I really want to hold on to the fragments, then? I mean, I’d rather not. But Vanth didn’t seem to have any use for them, and they might just come in handy, and whatever he said, the miasma was practically gone. So in the end, I got them back.

  “Maybe this’ll help me draw the necromancer out,” I said.

  “What is Your Excellency talking about?” Valentino asked. He sounded curious rather than critical, so I expined our pn. “I see. Your Excellency is very brave.”

  Well, I did like the sound of a handsome man calling me brave, even if he was one of the Megarchon’s ckeys. On the other hand, Vanth looked tense. Well, well. Not amused by someone else toying with his prey, was he? I stretched out a leg and touched his foot under the table.

  He moved it away.

  “If you say so,” I replied, looking at Valentino and knowing Vanth wouldn’t miss a word. “I might have second thoughts in the end, though.”

  The way Vanth looked at me, I was surprised the table hadn’t frosted over. The waiter arrived with our soup, professionally ignoring anything that might be happening at our table.

  Vanth tried a spoonful and his eyes lit up. “I don’t suppose you knew peanut soup is my favorite.”

  “Of course not. I don’t suppose you’ve tried inchicapi de gallina before, though?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, it’s my favorite soup too, though it’s not a common treat for me. By the way, Hotel Rekul doesn’t always live up to the standards it pretends, but the soup stock is properly made with hen, cooked real slow until it’s more tender than the tenderest chicken. It’s so good with peanut, too.”

  “I did say you knew what was good,” Vanth said.

  He really had to go and be smug about that too, didn’t he? Now he was asking for trouble.

  “Does Your Illustrious Highness think we have good chances to find the necromancer?”

  “Honestly, it’s too early to tell.”

  “I see. His Illustrious Highness seems to doubt my ability to draw anybody’s attention.” I smiled innocently. “Your Illustrious Highness, would you consider me unmemorable?”

  I refused to look away from Vanth's indifferent eyes, but I swear Valentino was beaming with amusement.

  “Far be it from me to doubt Your Excellency’s word,” Vanth said.

  I smiled pleasantly. “Well, Your Illustrious Highness will find out for sure before long.”

  broccolifloret