CHAPTER 10

The front of the Hive & Harrow was crowded with people coming and going, but definitely more coming than going.

“Dave, heads up, man,” Chad said. “Justin and Pari are my special guests, tonight. Got it?”

“Yeah, Chad. Absolutely. Sorry about that.”

“No problemo, amigo. But next time, get on the ball. Okay? You don’t know something, you need to ask. Got it?”

“Got it, Chad. I’m really sorry.”

Chad breezed inside, his arms still around Pari and Justin. The second she stepped inside, Pari was assaulted by the sounds of laughter and music—and the smell of beer and sweat and smoke from the big fireplace. The huge common room was packed to the rafters with people partying, but everyone cleared a path for Chad.

“Hey, y’all? Everyone having a good time?” he yelled.

The crowd cheered as Chad brought Pari and Justin to the center of the room and signaled to the minstrels to pause their song.

“This is Pari and Justin,” Chad announced in a loud, strong voice. “Some of you might know Pari. She’s from Wood and Silence—”

Some people booed at the mention of her fellowship. Others laughed.

“C’mon now,” Chad grinned. “We’ll have none of that. Let’s show a little pity for the underprivileged.”

More laughter.

“And this is Justin. He’s brand new here. Like most of you all. So let’s show them both a Hawkin’ good time!”

The crowd whooped and cheered, and the music started up again. Chad signaled Old Wex the barkeep who was walking by with a tray of beer mugs.

“You ever have mead before, Justin?” Chad plucked two mugs off the tray and gave one to each of them. “This is the real deal. Beowulf style.”

Justin took a swig. “A little sweet.”

“Yeah. It’s made with—”

“Fermented honey. Yeah, I know.” He took another sip. “I also taste cloves and cinnamon.”

“You have a refined palette, my friend!”

Chad waved over two other officers of the Golden Hawk, by the looks of them. Both were tall and impossibly good-looking. Pari knew that players in the game were supposed to look pretty close to how they did in real life, but she wondered if the Hawks hadn’t figured out how to game the system. Either that, or they simply recruited on the basis of looks.

“Hey Tyson, Giordana, I want you to meet Justin and Pari.”

“What’s up?”

“Hey!”

Tyson looked like a rugby player while Giordana could give Celia a run for her money in the statuesque blonde department.

They all chatted for a little while, then Chad brought them to meet the band, a group of minstrels from Northfleet.

“These guys are freaking awesome, aren’t they? We saved their caravan from bandits a few weeks ago near Durrow and then we partied all night long! Justin, can you play the guitar or lute or anything?”

“No, but I always wanted to learn the drums.”

“You should man. Why the hell not? I know a leather crafter who could probably make you some drums.”

“Cool.”

Justin seemed to really be enjoying all the attention—and the mead. Pari wondered what the alcohol content of the mead was. Probably pretty high, but it was masked by the honey flavor.

As they continued to make the rounds, Pari noticed that Chad was focusing more and more on Justin and excluding her. Well, he was taking his shot, wasn’t he? Good for him, but she wasn’t about to let him recruit Justin out from under her.

“You want to see some dwarf tossing?” Chad asked Justin. “We got them set up in the back courtyard. Lukas is our reigning champion.” He waved at the barkeep again. “Yo, Wex, more mead for my buddy here!”

Pari shook her head. Dwarf tossing? That was pretty insensitive, even for the Hawks.

A bunch of partygoers swarmed in front of Pari, momentarily cutting her off from Justin and Chad. She saw the two of them disappear out the back door. Well, they wouldn’t go far. The Hive & Harrow was definitely the place to be tonight and Chad was not about to let Justin forget it.

As Pari turned to squeeze through the crowd someone knocked into her and she felt cold liquid splash all over the front of her kirtle. Her own drink fell out of her hand and splashed on the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

A twenty-something woman started pawing at her, trying to brush away the beer foam. But all Pari noticed was the woman’s bright pink hair, which was styled into a mid-length wavy bob.

“I love your hair!”

“What? You’re so nice to say that—especially after I just gave you a beer bath. I’m such a spaz.”

“No worries. How did you get that color? I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you come in that way?”

“No. I had dark hair like yours.” The woman smiled faintly, and Pari saw that she had been crying. “I’m Zoë, by the way, the biggest klutz in the world Or at least in Greystrand.”

“I’m Pari.” She noticed that Zoë wasn’t wearing a gold cape, but judging from her clothes and gear, she wasn’t a newbie either.

“Well, Pari. Let me get you another drink.” She wiped her eyes.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Really? I know where Chad keeps the good stuff? You like wine, babe?”

“I do, but—”

Zoë said, “C’mon. You can help me pour out anything we don’t drink.”

That was a weird thing to say. Pari quickly inspected Zoë.

:::::. Zoë Keene. (Enchanter). Player, Level 6 .:::::

Wow. She was a January—perhaps a January who was pissed off at her fellowship. Pari had to find out more about this.

“Okay,” Pari said. “And maybe you can tell me the secret of the hair.”

“Sure. It’s not much of a secret, though.”

Zoë led her around the bar into a store room filled with casks of ale and mead and hundreds of different bottles and other glassware.

“Are you sure we should be back here?” Pari asked.

“We’re just cutting through to Wex’s office.”

Zoë grabbed a few goblets on their way out of the storeroom. Sure enough, they exited the store room into a short hallway which led to an office lit by glowstones set in sconces on the wall.

“Shut the door, babe,” Zoë said.

Babe? What was the deal with that? She wasn’t sure what to think of this girl.

“Red or white?” Zoë asked.

On the floor was a wooden box the size of a footlocker, filled with bottles packed in with wood shavings.

“This is really good stuff. Cost a fortune. What do you like?”

“Red, please.”

“It’s just supposed to be for Chad’s inner circle, but screw him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s a major asshole.” Zoë rifled through the box and started pulling out bottles and placing them on the floor—eleven bottles in all. Zoë handed two to Pari. “Hang on to these.”

There wasn’t any sort of label on any of the bottles just a wax seal with some sort of mark pressed into it. Pari couldn’t really figure out what the mark meant. Maybe red or white?

“Everyone knows that Chad’s an asshole,” she said. “But why are you so pissed at him?”

“How about I tell you over a glass of wine, babe? Almost done here. This is going to burn him up.”

From the box, Zoë removed a small bundle wrapped in paper. “Ooh, jackpot!”

“What’s that?”

“Ghir! Definitely taking this.”

Ghir shoots were the closest thing Greystrand had to drugs. They were soft stalks of the ghir plant and you were supposed to chew them and get really high. Pari had heard about ghir, certainly, but had never actually seen any. It was incredibly rare and supposedly cost a fortune—if you could even find any.

“Okay, now the fun part,” Zoë said. “Stand back.”

She waved her hand at the bottles on the floor. Pari heard the tinkling sound of a spell being cast. Suddenly the wine bottles started teetering back and forth and their corks began inching their way out of the bottles. There was a succession of muted pops as the corks flew from the bottles and then the wine bubbled up and gushed out all over the floor.

Zoë laughed and grabbed Pari’s arm. “Let’s jet!”

They went back through the hallway and then out a back door into the courtyard.

Lanterns and glowstones lit up the yard which was crowded with everyone who couldn’t fit inside. People stood around a big fire pit which blazed in the center of the courtyard. Some of the tables and most of the benches from inside had been dragged out here and now were mostly covered by half-empty food plates and mugs, flagons, and goblets. Here and there, Pari saw people making out—and passed out.

“There’s a free bench!”

Zoë scored them a place to sit while Pari scanned the crowd for Justin.

Soon Zoë had one of the bottles open and their goblets filled. She lifted her glass in a toast.

“To fortune and glory!”

“And pink hair!” Pari added.

They both drank. “That’s good stuff, right?”

It was good. Smooth and rich. No bitterness. You could really tell the good stuff. Even in this dream world.

Zoë said, “Okay, first things first. The hair. So there’s this alchemist in Jodrell that I heard about from some of the girls who get their hair bleach from him. You notice all the blondes we have, right?”

“You mean the Golden Hawks?”

“Yeah, Chickenhawks is more like it.”

They both laughed and drank some more wine.

“Well, you just use the bleach—which is basically vinegar and lemon and salt and some other stuff—and that gets your hair lighter.”

“But what about the pink?” Pari asked.

“I’m getting to that. There are some farms up near Skelheim that grow beets. All kinds of beets. Red beets. White beets. Pink beets.”

“Are you serious? That’s beet juice in your hair?”

Zoë fluffed her hair to show it off. “All natural!”

They drank some more and then Pari got a glimpse of Justin. He was standing with a bunch of Hawks watching a big guy and a little guy who looked like they were doing some kind of acrobatics act.

“You’d look good in pink,” Zoë said. “I could show you where to go if you want.”

“Maybe. Thanks.”

Zoë refilled their goblets and asked, “What’s your deal, Pari? Are you here with anyone?”

“Kind of. That guy.” She pointed over to Justin, who was now trying to arm wrestle one of the Hawks. “I’m supposed to be recruiting.”

“Ah, I get you. Well, why the hell are you here talking with me? Go back to your boy over there.”

“It’s fine,” Pari said. “I’ve got this. We spent most of the day adventuring. He’s definitely going to want to join W&S.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll be looking for a new fellowship, too. What are you guys like?”

Pari took another drink. This wine was awesome.

“You should come hang with us. It’s a good bunch. Well, it used to be a good bunch. Half the fellowship wiped out yesterday. Including my sister. She was level five.”

“Your sister? Babe, I am so sorry.” Zoë hugged her. “I can’t believe your leader sent you to recruit the day after your sister died. That’s hardcore.”

“Yeah. I think Lazarus wanted to distract me.”

“Well, at least it sounds as if he’s concerned about you. Chad doesn’t give a shit about anyone. That’s why I’m out of here.”

“You’re quitting your fellowship?”

“More like getting booted? Can you believe it? I’ve been here from the start, and I was one of the first toons in the fellowship to hit level 6.”

“I don’t get it.”

“The Chickenhawks are getting too big. The whole organization is a mess. Chad wants more newbies like your boy over there, so he’s pushing some of us more experienced players out to make room.”

“But isn’t that the whole reason you guys have multiple fellowships?”

Zoë drained her goblet. “Yeah, he told me I could start my own fellowship that could join the Hawks, but that would be like starting from scratch. Screw that.”

They chatted some more and drank some more. Every once in a while some intoxicated newbie guys would come over and try to chat them up or get them to dance. Probably attracted by Zoë’s hair. But she always brushed them off.

Zoë didn’t seem like the typical Hawk. She was a little rough around the edges, with a smart, sarcastic sense of humor. Definitely a refreshing change from all the sorority types around here. Even if she did say ‘babe’ a lot.

The two of them killed the bottle and Pari began to feel pretty lit, but she kept glancing over at Justin across the courtyard. He was laughing with a bunch of Hawks who were trying to juggle empty beer mugs—with disastrous results. There were a bunch of blonde Hawk bimbos around giggling and flirting. That was fine. She’d let Justin get the partying out of his system, and then tomorrow once they got serious about the fellowship, she’d take him to Rathenhall to meet the others.

“Wanna chew?” Zoë asked, holding up a ghir shoot.

“I don’t know. What’s it like?”

“It’s no big deal, babe. Just perks you up is all. We’ll split one.” Zoë broke a shoot in half and handed a piece to Pari. Then she popped the other half in her mouth.

Why the hell not? If it didn’t agree with her, she could always cast treat disease on herself. Pari started nibbling on the ghir shoot. It tasted a little bitter, with kind of chemical aftertaste.

“Cannonball!” Zoë giggled, handing Pari a refilled goblet of wine. “We don’t have any tequila, so this will have to do.”

More guys came over, but Zoë shooed them away. This really was like a frat party. And Pari noticed more and more people making out.

Justin looked her way and waved.

If he thought that the two of them would be hooking up, he had another thing coming. She wouldn’t take that kind of bullet for the team. No way.

After about five minutes, Pari started feeling the effects of the ghir. Her heart started racing and everything seemed brighter.

The next thing she knew she was dancing.

And then right after that she blacked out.