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“I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch for so long.”
“You’ve gotten… How do I put this? So respectable.”
The gentle smile on her friend’s face as she responded with her thanks showed no sign of exhaustion or edge. It was enough to make Cow Girl very happy; she smiled and clapped her hands.
They were at the thermopolium. This being the capital, Cow Girl had wondered how fancy the place might be, but she was relieved to discover it was nothing beyond her means. A perfectly nice place for four young women to get together sometime after noon and enjoy the cordial atmosphere.
In the other seats were people who seemed to have come from all over the four corners, probably for the tournament. The people were profuse and the chatter was lively; it reminded her of the tavern at the Adventurers Guild that she sometimes visited. The biggest difference was that there was no one here with weapons or armor—only a panoply of different peoples.
I’m sure he would be dressed just like he always is, even here.
A mural, drawn with pigments on the plaster of one wall, was very much in the spirit of the capital.
Is that the Earth Mother? Cow Girl wondered.
The picture showed a beautiful, amply endowed goddess with wings. But for reasons Cow Girl didn’t understand, the wings were partially covered with cloth.
Strange.
“I certainly never expected to run into you here,” Guild Girl was saying.
“Me neither. Although I did get some letters from those kids that mentioned you would be coming to see the tournament.”
“I guess we owe it to the dice of Fate and Chance.”
“Indeed we do.”
Even as Cow Girl was busy being entranced by the environs, Guild Girl and Female Merchant were having a lively conversation. They both came from nobility; no doubt they were used to places like this.
A waitress dressed in finery of her own came to take their order, but even then they acted as if all was ordinary. Cow Girl was deeply impressed. She, for her part, stumbled over her order—frankly, she hardly understood what was on the menu. For example, she was sure she’d just heard Guild Girl order “glires.” What in the world was that?
Cow Girl was full of questions—and curiosity. Guild Girl saw her and nodded. “Ah! It’s a stuffed, roasted dormouse,” she explained.
“Dormouse?!” Cow Girl had no idea you could eat those.
Guild Girl giggled at her surprise while Female Merchant said, “In that case…,” and pointed at the menu. “The steamed flamingo’s tongue is particularly exquisite.”
“Flamingo…?” What was that? Cow Girl was nothing but confused. She was aware it was some kind of bird, but if you could eat its tongue, then it must be very big. Was it the size of a cow’s tongue?
Hmm. The centaur racer snorted, then indicated the part of the menu dealing with vegetables. “I’ll take the silphium salad, I believe. Gives you energy.”
“Take care not to eat too much of that,” Female Merchant said, heading off the excited diner before she could race down the menu. “At one point, there was a racer who used silphium regularly to treat asthma and was booted out for it at inspection.”
“Yes, because it does indeed make one stronger. It’s also said to have aphrodisiac effects in humans…” The racer asked if Female Merchant wouldn’t like to try a mouthful, to which the merchant simply replied, “Stop that,” her expression difficult to read.
What about leg of giraffe? They were out today. Really? That’s a shame. So went the conversation between Guild Girl and Female Merchant.
Cow Girl listened to them with one ear as she industriously studied the menu. She blinked at camel’s hump—you could eat those lumpy donkeys?!—but then she spotted something else.
“This is fish, right, not pork? It says something about sausage?”
“Ah,” said the waitress, a padfoot. (Even here in the capital!) “That’s delphinus. Delphinus salsus. It’s quite good!” The waitress’s ears twitched as she explained.
“I’ll try that, then.” Cow Girl didn’t have a lot of chances to eat fish, after all. Might as well take this one. She had no idea what kind of fish it was, but as long as she was having a meal in the capital, she might as well try something unusual.
“And to drink?” the waitress asked.
“I know it’s only noon,” Guild Girl said with an embarrassed chuckle. “But I think I might have a bit of wine.”
“For me,” Female Merchant said, “aqua mulsa.”
“My, you’re sure?”
“Yes, yes. Bumpkins’ wine, I know. When you deal in as much of it as I do, though, you realize it’s quite a lovely drink.”
“Sheer hubris, describing everywhere grapes don’t grow as bumpkin territory,” the centaur said with a laugh. “I’ll have one of the same, then.”
Cow Girl thought she recalled that aqua mulsa, or honey water, was produced by the people of the north. She knew that the jar of wine he’d brought as a gift from those parts was no longer quite full…
Her uncle abstained, for reasons she didn’t know, so he and she enjoyed it by themselves.
It doesn’t really seem like alcohol, though…
“Wonder if there’s anything sweet around here,” the centaur mused.
“I can offer you sapa or defrutum,” the waitress said. “Grape syrup or syrup of other fruits. What would you like?”
“Hmm… Fruit defrutum, then.”
“Excellent choice.” The waitress executed an elegant bow and withdrew. Cow Girl finally let herself exhale.
Still…
“Something on your mind?”
“Oh, n-nothing!” Cow Girl said, waving away the question as those lightning eyes focused on her. “It’s just, earlier you talked about a victory. So I was wondering if you’re going to be in the tournament, too.” This centaur was, after all, one of the very best in the water town. Wasn’t that the reason for the glances she seemed to attract?
Nonetheless, Cow Girl found her affable and easy to get along with. Maybe that was because the centaur’s bottom half so closely resembled the animals Cow Girl was used to working with.
“No, I’m an auriga. Not a sonipes.”
“Um…?”
“My legs are trained for running fast. I don’t know how to wield a spear.” That was why the most she could offer the wormfolk girl was victory in a race.
“She’s a thoroughbred, a bloodline devoted exclusively to running very fast,” Guild Girl added. She said that centaurs who raced devoted their lineages to being quick.
That, Cow Girl understood. After all, it was obvious from a glance at the runner’s legs. They were so thin, so angular, so lean and beautiful—but also singularly unsuited to carrying heavy objects. They looked delicate, almost like glass. Beautiful but fragile.
“I sure wish I could see you run,” Cow Girl said.
“Hoh-hoh. Now, that is an honor. I promise I’ll invite you to the Circus Maximus someday when I’m running.”
Cow Girl thought back to the iron horseshoe he’d come back with not long ago. It had belonged to a runner named Silver Blaze. Even Cow Girl, however, realized it would be uncouth to ask which of them was faster. Still, she couldn’t help wondering what the lightning-eyed centaur’s legs looked like and found herself stealing glances under the table.