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“Sounds like you’d just die,” you said, catching yourself reaching for the spoon again. No. No, bad. Reach for the napkin. “With a fish’s face jammed so far up your ass it’s looking out your mouth. Not a way I’d want t’ bite it.”
“You would think, but not so,” Van Halm said in a tutor’s tone, “At least, not if you consider a mermaid and a siren the same. Fish aren’t known for their talent at singing, to lure their prey of enchanted menfolk. So, they have no choice but to suffer your half, and yourself, no choice but to suffer their tail’s wont. Work as a team or perish, no matter your spite for each other.”
“Ain’t that a familiar feeling in uniform,” you grimaced in reflection. “…Hey, can we get something t’ eat that ain’t fish balls? At least, not soft an’ nude an’ whatever the fuck?”
“So picky,” Van Halm tutted, “This is the first time I’ve seen Anya Nowicki turn down free brunch, especially of such expense…but, something more appropriate for the time can be arranged. Mano!” He called, and the waiter came, “Nothing wrong with the preparation, but the texture needs an alternative. Crab Pierogi and Toast Points, please, with mint seltzer and coffee. That will be all.”
“Steamed or fried, milord?”
“Anya is partial to fried, so that,” Karel said, “Though only a half portion.” C’mon. You gave Van Halm a sour pout. “What if your Sir Edelschwert wants to eat, Anya? You’ve plans for when you walk out of the Lady Consort’s Grand Station, do you not?”
“Sure,” you said, “Whatever he wants to hit first, I guess.”
“Strosstadt is a large city, Anya,” Karel advised, “I doubt he’d be able to make up his mind. Were I in his place, I’d ask where <span class="mu-i">you</span> want to go. Most ladies would expect to be taken to one of the Courts of the High Houses, if they stated no particular preference. I’m going to guess you’re not interested in that.”
You clicked your tongue. “I don’t think they’d let me in if I wanted to be there.” Though he had a good point. You ought to decide what you wanted to take Magnus to when you met him at the station…
A steaming bowl was set before you, Mano this time helped in carrying all needed by another younger attendant. It smelled great- but you glanced skeptically at Van Halm, then thought of a jab.
“This ain’t secretly Crab Cock or whatever, right?”
Halm’s face scrunched up with an inscrutable expression of humor. “Of course not, Miss Nowicki. It’s crab meat and cream cheese with sweet glaze alongside. A transplant from Ellowian cross-cultural innovations, even. Quite popular in any ports whose sailors have touched the Seas of Dragons’ Blood.”
