The Heavenly Host

It seemed like a pretty good deal to Gastropé, albeit a bit odd. Seamach had talked about his contacts in the alvaren intelligence community, but they were not being particularly circumspect. True, there were plenty of alvar in town, so that was not unusual, as well as a fair number of dwarves, heartheans and other races compared to Freehold or most of Turelane, for that matter. However, the only aetós in town were the ones with them, and that did attract quite a bit of attention. Tall, extremely attractive humans with large, colorful feathered wings and wild hairdos were not common anywhere that Gastropé had ever heard of. Most thought the aetós to be creatures of myth and legend. He felt rather sorry for their discomfort. In the more crowded areas people, especially children, would just randomly reach out to touch their wings. Gastropé had to imagine it felt rather awkward to be continually groped and touched like that. However, Danfaêr and Treyfoêr seemed to maintain a pleasant demeanor.

Eventually they were able to see the sign for the apothecary. They had a list of chemical and alchemical ingredients they needed to pick up for the ship; ingredients that helped keep the air fresh when it had to be recycled at high altitude, along with items to keep the stored water pure. Apparently, there was what Gnorbert called a sophisticated life support system onboard the cloud, and it was rather high-maintenance. While all the organic components were generally available in the grove, there were some elements that were easier and cheaper to obtain in Murgandy and a few other areas.

After awkwardly crossing the crowded square, Treyfoêr opened the entrance to the store. He ducked at the waist and tightened his wings close together to squeeze through the door. Gastropé noted the door was a bit larger than a normal human door, but still a bit tight for the winged warrior.

Jenn followed Treyfoêr and then Gastropé entered, with Danfaêr bringing up the rear. As she entered, Jenn drew a soft but sharp breath. He glanced ahead to see what had caused her reaction and blinked at the sight of an extremely ugly fellow behind the counter. His skin was green and pockmarked all over. He was balding with greenish black hair streaked with white. His nose was rather snout-like and his mouth sported a set of huge bottom teeth and two rather large tusks.

An orc, Gastropé realized in surprise. His first thought was that the orc had broken in and killed the apothecary; but then he realized the orc was wearing a white lab coat. This was quite unusual. He, and he was sure Jenn, had never encountered an orc actually engaged in legal behavior.

To be fair, he had only encountered orcs infrequently in Exador’s army, so technically he had only experienced them as part of an Army of Evil, of which he himself had been a member. As of the time they had left Freehold, the Council still had not ruled on Exador vs Lenamare, so in theory that might have been a legal activity, except for Exador being an archdemon. Which, he was pretty sure, was illegal in most regions.

“Yeah?” the orc behind the counter grumped at them. He seemed none too pleased to have customers.

“Uhm, yeah... we need to purchase some items?” Jenn asked rather hesitantly as she unfolded the list.

The orc gestured for her to hand him her list. “It’s in Noralese, do you read Noralese?”

The orc looked at her as if she was insane. “I speaking it now! What you think, I stupid?”

“No, not at all,” Jenn said. “I’m sorry.”

“Would be shitty business orc if I not speak and read Noralese and Etonese. I also good in Gnomish Prime and can talk Mogradin if have to. No read stupid runes. Who put words as pictures? Dumbies, that who! No alvaren, any kind. Crappy language, too complicated to bother. Don’t speak wingdings either.” He pointed to the aetós.

Danfaêr and Treyfoêr looked at each other in puzzlement; they had no idea what “wingdings” was. Treyfoêr had told Gastropé that the aetós generally spoke either Noralese or Etonese, depending on where they lived. The actual Aetóên language was only spoken in High Council, ceremonies and when privacy among other races was essential.

“I apologize; can we please get what’s on the list?” Jenn said.

The orc gave her a stare, nodded and looked at the list. “Lot of weird dung here.” He glanced up at the two aetós. “Must be Grove business, those crazy always do weird dung.” He shook his head. “Need half candle to put together.” He gestured to a candle that was lit on his counter, even though most of the room was lit by lanterns. Some merchants used candles as an indicator of time, Gastropé remembered his father saying.

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