Chapter 17 #2
The grate slid shut, and a series of locks clicked before the door swung open.
The bouncer, a big fellow dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, gave us all a long once-over.
Once he was satisfied we were all humans, he stepped aside and allowed us to descend the long, steep staircase into the cellar.
To my surprise, the place was packed. It was a large cellar, with enough space to fit at least three hundred people.
There were so many wooden tables that the servers barely had enough room to squeeze by with their trays, and a bar at the back.
Somehow, we managed to grab a table right behind the stairs – not the greatest spot for people watching, but it allowed us some privacy and shielded us somewhat from the loud buzz of conversation.
We all ordered beers and pretzels, as well as an assortment of plain food, and then the man who invited me leaned back in his chair and looked at me.
“So, what’s your name?” he asked, and though his tone was friendly enough, there was just a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around town. ”
“Brandt Urson,” I replied, the name coming easily to my lips as I’d already decided on it hours before. “I live in Rowanville.”
“Rowanville!” Another man, this one steel-haired and pot-bellied, spat. “So you’re one of those fools who think we can co-exist with the others.”
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” I lifted my chin, speaking coolly. “Or maybe I had a good job over there. What’s it to ya?”
The man who’d invited me laid a hand on Potbelly’s beefy shoulder. “Now, Jemin. Let’s not jump down each other’s throats. We haven’t even made introductions yet.”
Jemin grumbled a little, but he relented. “I’m Jemin Fillbaker,” he said.
“Fiden Trumbel,” the third, a lean, curly-headed blond chimed in. He had blue eyes and the kind of earnest baby face that made you think pure souls might really be a thing. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Manson Grandish,” the first man said, “and yes, we appreciate your help, especially since you’re not a Maintown citizen.”
“It’s no problem,” I said as the beer arrived.
“I would have done the same for anybody. I was on my way back from checking on my grandmother, and she taught me that everybody deserves to be treated with the same level of respect, no matter what race or background you come from. Beneath it all, everyone’s worth the same. ”
Jemin scoffed, and Manson leaned forward on the table, his expression growing serious. “Do you really believe that?” he asked. “That we’re all the same?”
I picked up my beer, took a long drink, and pretended to savor it as I considered my answer.
It was warm, but the brew was decent enough.
“I don’t believe we’re the same,” I finally said as I put my mug down.
“That’s impossible. We all have different personalities, different levels of intelligence, different abilities, et cetera.
But underneath all that, as a whole, we’re not that different, right?
Mages came from humans, and so did shifters. ”
“Very true,” Manson nodded, then took a sip from his beer. “In fact, you might say we’re the original race, right? The master pattern of creation, while the others are just later aberrations?”
“I suppose,” I allowed as alarm bells started ringing in my head.
“Maybe you might even say that we’ve got more right to own this world than any of the other races, including the mages who have had their boots on our throats for thousands of years?”
I shrugged at that. “As far as power is concerned, I think the phrase ‘might makes right’ still stands. And since the mages have all the might, I don’t foresee humans taking power anytime soon.” Just who the hell was I talking to, anyway? Were these guys members of the Resistance?
“How can you say that?” Jemin demanded, slamming his mug down on the table. “Didn’t you see the morning paper? The Resistance is more than holding its own against the Mages Guild. They might even win, at the rate things are going.”
“Right?” Fiden chimed in, his blue eyes glowing with excitement. “What do you think is going to happen when the Resistance wins? What kind of government do you think we’ll have, once the mages are out of the way?”
I managed not to roll my eyes at the sheer stupidity of these men.
“Even if the Resistance does manage to prevail here in Solantha, that wouldn’t last long.
Mages from other parts of the Federation would come here to turn the tide – in fact, they might be on their way right now,” I added, though I had no idea if that were true.
“Mages from other countries could even come to join the fight. There’s no way mages across the world would allow a victory from humans to stand – it sets a dangerous precedent for them. ”
“What you say sounds very reasonable,” Manson said easily, leaning back in his chair, “but I don’t think you have the full picture.
Our time is coming, Brandt. In fact, it’s a lot closer than you think.
Soon, mages and shifters will be gone not just from the Northia Federation, but also from all of Recca, the world over.
Humans will be able to take our place once again as the strongest species on this planet, as we were for thousands of years before the mages arose. ”
“That’s… interesting,” I said, struggling to hide my outrage.
So these guys didn’t just think that mages should be gone – they wanted to get rid of shifters too?
I had half a mind to flip the table and storm out of here, but another part of me told me to stay put and see what else I could learn.
It seemed like there was some kind of plan among the humans I was missing out on.
Besides, the guys were friendly enough, and I was still too pissed about the meeting at the Mages Guild to return to the Palace.
“I’d love to know what inspires all this confidence.
It would be great if the human race could be on top again. ”
“Maybe you will,” Manson said, lifting his glass to me. “But enough about politics for now. Let’s kick back and relax!” He downed his beer in one go, and the others did the same.
I spent another hour drinking, eating, and talking with the guys.
When the vast quantities of beer consumed, coupled with the late hour, made them too tired and incoherent to continue, Manson signaled for a server and told her we wanted a room for the night.
There was some grumbling when she told them that the usual price had doubled due to the curfew, but we all pitched in a bronze coin.
The woman led us behind the bar, down a hall, and into a sparse room with six cots.
Two men were already snoring in them, I noticed, and I made sure to take the cot on the opposite side of the room, so that my back wasn’t facing any of the men.
Hopefully, my new companions didn’t snore too much, because unlike them, I was completely sober.
My mind was working overtime and not ready to switch off, despite my exhaustion.
As I settled into the less-than-fresh bedding, my mind turned to Iannis.
Would he care that I wasn’t back at the Palace by now, and if so, was there any chance he would come looking for me?
Surely he knew by now that I’d stormed out of the meeting in disgust – Fenris would have told him.
My logical mind hoped he wouldn’t, because having the Chief Mage show up at a human-only bar to retrieve me would blow my cover for sure, and it would destroy any chance to learn more about the plan these humans were hatching.
But the emotional part of me, the one that still wanted to get closer to Iannis, wished he would come and find me.
He’d told me he loved me, hadn’t he? That he wanted to make me his?
And yet, despite his words, despite the hot kisses and erotic caresses, he’d sat me on the farthest end of the table from him at that meeting.
And as much as I wanted to believe he was different, Iannis was the chief of the mages who had earned the hatred of the whole city, and who were now considering executing citizens in order to set an example.
For all I knew, he’d given that asinine mage the go-ahead after returning to the meeting, and tomorrow morning, those prisoners would be rounded up and brought to the city for a public execution.
Come on. Iannis wouldn’t actually do that, or at least he wouldn’t make the decision so hastily. You know better.
Even so, in the face of such prejudice, such stupidity, how could I blame the humans for wanting to take control? How could I even blame them for thinking the mages were stupid and disorganized enough that the Resistance stood a chance?
Something needs to be done about this, I thought, rolling over and trying to get comfortable. Someone needed to stand up, someone all three races would be willing to listen to, and talk sense into the people before we succeeded in tearing what was left of Solantha apart. But damned if I knew who.