Chapter 18 #2
"The idiots who got shot? Nah, they're alive," his friend answered, much to Shiro's relief. "Heard the guy who shot them even threw coins at them afterward, to cover getting their friends healed at the temple."
So that's where the money went. Some of it, anyway.
Just then, Headbird arrived with a drink, setting it down in front of Shiro with a bit of ceremony. "Call this the Corpse Reviver. Gin, Cointreau, Lillet Blanc, lemon, dash of absinthe. Does wonders for a hangover."
Shiro, who didn't feel remotely hungover, opened his mouth to say so, thought better of it, and settled for, "Thanks.”
“What should we get you for breakfast?"
Headbird took Shiro’s order and stepped away, leaving Shiro alone with someone who very clearly had something to hold against him. Seriously. What did I do?
"You're sure I didn't do anything else?" he asked. He didn't want the answer, but he had to know.
From somewhere behind him, a voice rose in disbelief. "Seven people?!"
"Yeah. Broke their arms, their noses."
"Same guy who shot the other two?"
"Positive. Did that before the shooting even started. Beat those seven first, went after some random woman too. Then shot the two."
Seriously, what the fuck didn't I do that night.
Shiro sank lower in his chair. None of this sounded remotely like him.
He must have been genuinely, deeply drunk, but he was fairly confident that wasn't the kind of drunk he was.
There had to be some other explanation, something beyond simple alcohol, because this whole thing felt off in a way drinking alone didn't quite explain. He tried tracing it back.
And realized something. The strangeness had started right after his first drink, but his memory had gone missing before that, right after he'd split from the priest. Right after he'd taken that potion.
That priest. That goddamn priest.
"Don't tell me the aphrodisiac he sold me doubled as some kind of fully weaponized narcotic," Shiro muttered, mostly to himself, already drafting the specific and creative ways he intended to make that man regret it.
"For what he claimed it was, sure, it worked.
But the part where it comes with total memory annihilation as a side effect never made it into the sales pitch. "
The man had only mentioned something about relaxing the system, nothing about full blackouts. His attention drifted back to Chaska. "Are you mad at me?"
"No! Why?"
"I don't know, you're looking at me like you're about to draw a bow on me. I really did somethi— wait." He paused. "You're the one who brought me back, but I was out there, which means you actually went looking for me."
"Yes," she confirmed, offering nothing more. He kept staring until she relented. "You didn't come back. I assumed something happened to you."
That was, genuinely, sweet, Shiro thought. Even though he could guess exactly why she'd worried, and it had less to do with him personally than with the fact that he was, currently, her best lead on Nazim. "Must not have been easy, finding me in this city."
"Actually, it was easy. I just followed the noise."
The noise. "...Commotion."
"Damn that priest and his potions," he muttered.
A moment later, breakfast arrived, or part of it, brought over not by Headbird this time but by a young woman with bright green hair tied into a ponytail.
As she set a mug of warm milk and a bowl of sugar in front of him, she said, "Still warming your bread, it'll be ready shortly," smiling. "Oh, new face. Don't think we've met."
"We haven't," Shiro said, extending his hand. "One of the Bower's guests."
"I mostly work early mornings, that explains it. I'm Sarah," she said, taking the handshake.
"Shiro. Nice to meet you, Sarah. Very pretty name, by the way."
"Thank you," she said, clearly pleased, before the pleasure cut short the moment she caught the glare aimed at her from across the table. "I'll be right back with that bread," she said, retreating toward the kitchen.
Which left him alone again with Chaska, who said, in a tone that left no room for negotiation, "Eat fast."
"Why?"
"We're leaving as soon as you're done."
"Leaving for where?"
"We're going to scour the city for him."
He didn't need clarification on who she meant. There was only one person Chaska cared about finding in this entire city. Well, not a person exactly. A kobold, named Nazim.
"What's your actual basis for thinking he's even here?" Shiro asked. "Wouldn't a shop like his, if it existed in a city this size, basically be the city's biggest attraction?"
It could be, frankly, he hadn't asked around much yet, but it stood to reason something offering what Nazim offered would be the talk of the whole town, not just a rumor. Which made him lean toward assuming there simply wasn't one here. Or at least, nobody he'd met so far knew about it.
"My basis," Chaska said, "is that his shops aren't the kind ordinary people stumble onto. Only heroes find them easily. Which means it could just as easily be here as not."
"Let's be honest for a second. You still think I'm one of those heroes, don't you."
"What I think is irrelevant. You stumbled onto his shop once. You're likely to do it again."
There it is, he thought, without much resentment, that's the whole reason she's still tagging along.
He'd happily put up with worse for company this pretty.
But something in him still hesitated at the request, which she clearly misread, her expression softening as she added, "Besides, it'd be a good chance to learn more about you too.
Don't you want to know who you used to be? "
He did. That part wasn't wrong. But. There was a but. "Would you mind if we did that in a few days instead?"
"Why," she frowned, already leaning forward, ready to push back.
"Don't get me wrong, I'll help with whatever you need," he said, leaning in himself, keeping his voice low, which only had the opposite effect, drawing even more attention from the surrounding tables.
"After whatever mess I apparently made last night," he added, dropping his voice further, "I think what I actually need right now is to lay low.
At least until people forget I'm the reason a bunch of guys ended up being sent in urgency to the temple. "