Stardeep_ The Dungeons - Bruce R. Cordell [53]
"Then welcome to the Green Man, travelers," said the barkeep, her smile returned. "What is your pleasure?"
They crossed the room to stand before the bar.
"We'd like to try the rootweal?" said Adrik, his voice uncertain as he looked around the room. He was the only human in the Green Man's common room.
"You have heard about our specialty, I see. Are you sure you are up to it? The draught is potent for one not of… someone not used to it."
The sorcerer ducked his head and said, "If it's all right, I'd like to try it."
"Of course! And the same for you, traveler?" She looked at Raidon.
"None for me-please, could you prepare a pot of tea?" he responded.
The woman cocked her head and a few nearby patrons glanced quizzically at Raidon.
"I am most sorry, but we do not serve 'T' in the Green Man. I have a few wines, including the rootweal of which you speak. I can offer you a pipe, packed with any of a variety of leaf harvested and dried with an eye toward quality. We also have boiled mushrooms, a multitude of fresh berries, baked biscuits, and roasted venison."
"Venison sounds perfect, with a few mushrooms? And, very well, I would like to try the wine, too. Rootweal."
"You shall find none better, traveler."
In short order, Raidon and Adrik sat opposite each other at a high table. Steaming platters were set before them, heaped with all manner of food, hardly any of which Raidon recognized. But it was all delicious.
The rootweaj was oddly compelling. Raidon expected it to be too sweet, too sour, or too much like drinking vinegar-such was the extent of his experience with wine. The rootweal, a wine the color of red silk, was smooth and full, and tasted… of something for which he had no name. If pressed, he would have to say that it tasted like a forest meadow alive in the glad light of the sun.
As they ate and drank, listening to the musicians, Adrik's face grew redder and redder. His smile widened and his laugh-ter grew more frequent and louder. Raidon found a smile on his own lips as he listened to the musical anecdotes.
A batd strumming a lyre launched into a song describing the founding of the city. The four central trees, he sang, sprouted from the buried foot of the ancient god Relkath of the Numberless Branches. This god, claimed the lyrics, walked the woods primeval along with several other mysterious powers who predated the elves. Several stanzas described unlikely adventures featuring Relkath, and the song ended with the god deciding to test.
The bard wrapped up the song with a flourish of twanging strings and announced, "Relkath yet sleeps beneath the forest's soil, someday to awaken when the people of the Yuirwood need their ancient gods once again."
Everyone in the Green Man raised a goblet, pipe, or whatever was handy high in the air, cheered, and drank.
Raidon followed suit. Adrik sighed, "Tha wa' nice," and toppled from his chair.
Several half-elves nearby laughed, their eyes glinting with festive glee. One said, "Yout friend sleeps well tonight, if a bit early." More chuckles. Raidon looked beneath the table. His sotcerous ttaveling companion was curled beneath the empty chair, already snoring the sleep of the over-intoxicated.
The monk, familiar with similar antics from Shou not pledged to Xiang Temple, nodded. If the truth were told, he was sutprised he hadn't followed the Commorand sorcerer to the floor. Never before had he consumed wine in such quantity.
It occurred to Raidon that his relative clarity of thought was more evidence of his mother's blood.
The monk set down his wine and pulled fotth his fotget-me-not from beneath his clothing. The white, treelike symbol in the center was haloed in night's darkness. Night, where sky blue once winked.
Raidon stood and held the stone on its silver chain high above his head. He called out, "Who knows the meaning