Chapter Seven: Wingless Elephants Lay Happier Eggs.

The moment I stepped into the bar, somebody threw a bottle at me. It was Tindonian Swamp Liquor, I think, although it might have been week-old dish water.

I tried to dodge out of the way in one of those cool slow motion moves, but I'd forgotten[1] to change into my uniform; and you just can't do stuff like that in anything other than black leather. I ended up jumping out of the way inelegantly, spilling half a dozen drinks and causing a small war to break out. Nobody noticed, of course; at the Giant Two-Headed Monster From Space's Head[2] on Titania Station, anything short of a nuclear explosion wouldn't so much as raise an eyebrow[3].

I strolled towards the bar, smiling casually; the screams behind me were already fading into the general battlefield atmosphere that the Head usually took on around early evening.

Behind the bar stood Sebastian, owner, part-time barman and full-time madman, wearing an impossibly clean apron and a friendly, if somewhat vacant, expression his face.[4] He was wiping energetically at a puddle of what might have been Surali Firefrog Ale, but was probably just blood. He smiled widely when he saw me. That is, he smiled, and I think he was looking somewhere in my direction; it was hard to be sure, since his eyes never focused for long, let alone on the same thing.

I reached the bar and leaned on the counter. There was an unpleasant slurping sound, and I realised that my left hand was now stuck to whatever it was that I'd put it in. It might have been...-- No. I was actually happier not thinking about it.

Sebastian beamed at me, or something just behind and above me. "Welcome, fair maiden, to my humble inn!"

I surreptitiously tried to separate my hand from the counter. "Hi Seb. Has Louis been in today? I need to speak to him."

Seb's head bobbed up and down a few times. He waggled his hands, winked at me and then stared intently at my left ear. This was his usual response when asked pretty much anything, and no one had ever worked out exactly what it meant.[5] I'm not sure why I bothered, really.

"Umm ... thanks, Seb. Guess I'll wait for him." There was another slurping sound, my hand was suddenly free from the stickiness, and I fell over. Several of the patrons around us stared at me when I got to my feet again. I stared back and was disappointed to find that my looks still couldn't kill.

I smiled at Seb wearily. "Give me a double vodka, would you?" I had no intention of getting drunk, but I really needed to blend in.

Sebastian produced what I could only assume was a fish bowl from somewhere under the counter and polished it ineffectually on his apron. Then, without looking, he took one of the bottles arrayed on the shelves behind him and emptied half of it into the bowl. The liquid was bright green, and fizzed violently when it touched the glass. Seb reached under his counter again and returned with a pile of exotic fruits, which he proceeded to attach to the bowl artistically. When he finished, the drink looked like a small rain forest; I could practically hear the monkeys[6].

But Sebastian wasn't quite done yet. There was more rummaging under the counter; just as I was beginning to wonder if he'd actually snuck off, he reappeared and jabbed an oversized pink cocktail umbrella into one of the fruits, which promptly deflated. Finally, he dropped an olive[7] on a stick[8] into the bowl and pushed the whole thing over the counter, smiling proudly. The liquid was turning purple as it dissolved the last ornament.

I tried hard to smile back as I picked up the bowl and held it as far away from my face as I could. "Thanks, Seb. Tell Louis I'm looking for him if he comes in, ok?"

Seb's head bobbed up and down a few times, &c. I turned around and went to look for a table.

The drink might not have helped me blend in, but it wasn't entirely useless: by the time I'd found somewhere to sit, it had swallowed three people, ten other drinks, half a table, and a goat.

I carefully put the bowl on a nearby table, flopped into the chair and looked around.

Quiet night, I thought. And then the bar exploded.

--
[1] That's right, "forgotten", cough cough.

[2] It used to be Heads, but one was stolen a few years ago.

[3] The explosion, at least, would singe them off.

[4] The expression was on his face. The apron was not.

[5] Because when somebody asked him about it, he'd bob his head up and down, waggle his hands and wink at them.

[6] Though this might have been unrelated to the drink.

[7] At least I hoped it was an olive.

[8] At least I hoped it was a stick.