“There!” Scorio grinned at his friends. “Come on!”
Together they approached where the crowd milled in the copper light, and Scorio felt drab and underdressed compared to their finery; his functional training robes were completely at odds with their silk and sheer fabrics, the patterns and metallic hues.
“Why are their robes all torn?” asked Naomi, pressing in close. And Scorio saw that they were; almost everybody’s robe was ripped, revealing flashes of shoulder and inner thigh or bare midriff. Nobody seemed hurt, however, or upset; if anything, those whose robes were the most ripped were the most effusive and confident.
Scorio slowed as they finally reached the crowd. Two men stood on guard, one of them clearly the bald man from the last time he’d visited. “All right. Now, about getting in. Last time I threw that man into the canal, but I don’t think we should take that approach.”
Lianshi turned to stare at him, hands above her head as she twisted her hair into a knot and slipped slender sticks through it. “You what?”
“I can take care of this,” said Leonis, puffing out his chest. “And if my charisma fails me, my octs should open the way. One moment.” And he strode forward, parting the crowd with the sheer force of his personality, the waiting throng actually moving aside so that he could step up to both men.
“I’ll be genuinely impressed if he pulls this off,” said Lianshi, crossing her arms. “Naomi, you want your hair up?”
“I—sure.” Naomi blushed again. “But keep it simple. Nothing… silly.”
“Nothing silly,” agreed Lianshi, gathering Naomi’s thick hair in her hands. “Your hair is gorgeous. How do you get it so smooth?”
Scorio watched as Leonis leaned in to talk to both men, then gestured back to where the three of them waited. For a moment, he thought things might go well, but then the bald guard saw Scorio, and his face closed like a trap.
Leonis insisted, drew forth his pouch, but the man only lowered his hand to the long knife at his hip.
“Rats,” whispered Scorio. Where else could they go? Any bar would do, any venue, but there was a symmetry to celebrating at the Flame that appealed to him, to seeing Helena and Feiyan again, showing them how far he’d come—
A group was approaching from the other side, carrying bottles and fiddles, playing raucous, atonal music as they laughed and pushed at each other, and in their center, tall and rangy, dusky skin adorned with swirls and spirals of crushed paste that glowed luminously in the copper light, a familiar face.
“Helena!” He raised his arm and waved to get her attention.
She paused, frowned at him, and a smile lit up her whole face like the sun-wire hitting Amber. “Scorio!”
She broke away from her friends and approached, arms out wide, eyes alive with delight and amusement. “You live! And have new robes! And are clean and well-fed!”
“Helena!” He beamed, a warm rush arising within his chest. “These are my friends, Lianshi and Naomi, and over there trying to get us into the Flame is Leonis. We came to see you. To celebrate!”
“Celebrate?” She placed a hand on an angular hip and considered him, expression momentarily crafty before she raised both eyebrows. “What are we celebrating?”
Lianshi smiled bashfully. “Scorio was offered patronage today by House Chimera.”
“He was?” Helena’s eyes widened and she clapped her hands together with effusive joy. “That’s great! Come on!”
She led their trio through the crowd which called out greetings to her, but she only waved and smiled at the different people till she reached the men at the door. Leonis turned, bemused, and bowed his head; Helena impulsively leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek, leaving lip marks the color of the palest, glowing yellow on his skin.
Both guards parted immediately, and Helena reached back to snag Scorio’s hand, pulling him in after her, into the smoky darkness, into the rich and immersive music. The room beyond was as full of life and activity as before, the stage packed with musicians who were all accompanying and supporting a wild man who appeared lost in a trance, his mallets dancing across a great hollow drum from whose interior he summoned rippling, beautiful music that flowed out over the crowd like an endlessly crashing tidal wave.
Overhead burned lamps of Coal mana, casting forth a medley of different, virulent hues, but none so strong as to banish the shadows in which danced the crowd, many of them smoking pipes, lifting their hands to the sky, drinks in hand, laughing, pressing close.
“This way!” shouted Helena, not releasing Scorio’s hand, tugging him through the tight crowd. He reached back, clasped Lianshi’s hand, and saw that she was tugging Naomi along behind her. They wound their way through the crowd to the room’s far side, to a deep alcove in which a table was set, Feiyan laughing with friends, bottles before them, along with what looked like a pile of masks, her mallet, and other assorted weapons.
“Look who I found!” shouted Helena as she reached the table’s edge, raising Scorio’s arm as if he’d just won a race. “Remember Scorio?”
Feiyan’s brow immediately lowered, but before she could protest, Helena pointed out his friends, calling out their names. “Lianshi, Naomi, Leonis! They’re here to celebrate! Scorio’s got himself a House sponsorship!”
Feiyan’s heavy brows shot up in surprise, then immediately lowered in suspicion. The music was so loud that she didn’t bother to shout back but instead gave Scorio a grudging nod.
“Let’s get you some drinks!” Helena shouted into his ear, and they were off again, plunging through the crowd like seals diving into waves, Helena laughing and greeting everyone they came across as if she was best friends with the entire crowd. Which she very well might have been. Scorio pulled his friends behind him, and then bellied up to the bar, where he saw Old Memek, in a sophisticated suit of white, pouring wine into lined up cups, his hair pulled back into a tight bun, a line of glowing paste down the length of his nose.
“Memek!” Helena leaned in, waved at him. “Look who it is!”
Old Memek did a double-take at the sight of Scorio, then threw up his arms and shouted in joy. “My benefactor, my guardian in the night! Scorio!”
He could feel his friends studying him, seeing him a new light, rethinking the Great Soul they thought they knew in these iridescent blacklights.
“He’s celebrating!” shouted Helena, “pour him and his friends some drinks!”
Old Memek leaned over the bar to clasp Scorio’s shoulders, his wizened face beaming. “You! You!” He turned to Leonis. “This man! He came into my life like a thunderbolt! Dragged me here, and before I knew it, I was playing my oud, impressing Feiyan, and now? Now! Life is good! Drinks for my friends!” And he lined up four eggshell-thin cups and filled each to the brim with a luminous golden drink.
Helena laughed, grasped Scorio by both sides of his head, and pulled him into a kiss, planting a smack on his lips from sheer exuberance before letting him go. “Enjoy! Come find me later!”
And with that she was gone, her thick braid flashing behind her before she disappeared back into the crowd.
Scorio licked his lower lip and took up his cup, turning to his friends with a hesitant smile.
“Why did you ever join the Academy?” yelled Leonis, taking up his cup. “Why would you leave this?”
To which Scorio could only smile foolishly, overwhelmed by happiness and a sweet incredulity. His friends took up their drinks, raised them high.
“To Scorio!” shouted Leonis, clicking his cup against theirs. “A madman, a great heart, a good friend, and endless source of surprises!”
“To Scorio!” shouted Lianshi, then let out a whoop as they all raised their cups to their lips and drank.