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Fliss whipped her head back around to stare at the brick wall. It didn’t matter how many times she looked at it, the words on the poster in front of her refused to sink in. The commotion in her periphery took priority over whichever fine Liquidis establishment was trying to advertise to passerby in the market square. The busy stall to her left and its assortment of attendants were much more eye-catching, but she was trying not to stare. There was yelling and cheering and lots of liquid pouring. A liquid she’d never laid eyes on before.
She would count to five in her head again, one… two… three…
Fliss caved, glanced over, and yelped.
One of the attendants was much closer than they’d been a second ago.
“Back of the line, or you’re not coming back.”
“What?” It was the scariest attendant, a large, gruff bear-man whose sleek, shiny gun arm far outweighed the softness of his fuzzy white belly.
He was now gesturing with that gun arm. “Back of the line,” There was indeed a line formed in front of the stall that she hadn’t noticed before, “Or you’re not. Coming. Back.”
—
Fliss Constelle wasn’t sure if she could even get to a place other than here. She figured that there must be other places, that a lot of the non-aquatic people in the city had to be visiting from somewhere, but she simply didn’t know any of them. Not that she knew Liquidis any better, but she and Milla, her chosen moth, had at least spent the last few hours exploring.
And going home?
That chance left when the light came back.
So there was no choice but to sheepishly walk over and stand behind the last person in line, Milla fluttering after her. Fliss held out her finger, and the large moth landed on it. Thank goodness the Superiors insisted on light-training the moth companions even before they approved the knights for Chrysalis. Milla would have been long gone otherwise. Fliss glared up at the giant ball of light in the sky again, and almost missed it when one of the attendants yelled “Next!”
That was fast.
Up close, the stall looked even more hectic. The one who’d just spoken, a small boy, had a couple large sacks clipped to his belt, each filled with a different colour coin he’d sorted. On the counter were stacks of cups, all different styles, some bearing suspiciously familiar logos. Behind the counter stood the last attendant, shiny all over and moving faster than the flutter of a moth’s wing. There were empty crates stacked high, and full crates stacked higher, the yellow-green fruit piled higher still on the very top. And heaped on the table behind the stall. And, judging by the shadows, cradled by the very canopy that served as the stall roof.
“Hello Miss, what’s your order?” The small boy grinned up at her.
“Whatever that is.” Fliss pointed at the centerpiece of it all, the focus, the item in the stall that had caught her attention in the first place: an enormous jar, filled to the brim with the brightest liquid she had ever seen. “Be it potion, paint, or poison, it’s magnificent. What is it?”
The small boy laughed. “It’s limenade! You drink it!” He stood on his tiptoes and reached over the counter, the shiny attendant carefully placing a glass in his hand. To Fliss, the liquid glowed between his fingers. “That’ll be five gold!”
Right.
Currency.
No matter how many tourists stopped in Liquidis, Fliss was sure they didn’t have an inter-planar exchange set up. And she probably didn’t have much of her own currency to begin with. Not taking her eyes off the limenade, she flicked open the small pouch on her belt. Feeling around the guidebooks and bottles of stardust, she finally found something.
“I don’t have any coins. Will a trade suffice?” Fliss could feel Milla’s half-hearted whispers of disapproval, but she knew the moth was equally willing to give up a soalit berry for the bright yellow juice. And if one wasn’t enough, she had another.
But there were three attendants. Fliss remembered the third one right as the small boy called over to him.
“Gryffon! Another one wants to trade!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The gruff voiced attendant appeared in front of her again.
“Hi.” Fliss said, “Sorry, I’m not from around here.”
Gryffon squinted at her. “A lot of people aren’t from around here. They usually have money, though.”
Fliss sighed, and transferred Milla to her shoulder. Then she pulled out both soalit berries, their papery shells still intact, thank goodness. She held out a palm-sized, pointy-tipped round parcel in each hand, and was relieved to see that the small boy’s face lit up with intrigue as well as the steady glow from the slits in the shells.
“Are those lanterns?”
Fliss shook her head. “Berries. And I’m sorry I only have two,” she said to the attendant behind the counter, “I wasn’t exactly planning on an adventure today.”
“That’s quite alright, I don’t have the need for food. I assume the protocol stands, Ollie?”
Turning back to him, Ollie seemed to be vibrating. Fliss couldn’t tell if that was good or bad, but Gryffon put his face in his hand and let out a sigh. “Of course it does Alphonze, add it to the Earl pile.” A big paw scooped up one of the fruits and handed it over the counter, where Alphonze tucked it away into a corner of the stall.
Ollie snatched the other one, handing her the glass. Fliss held it up, examining the limenade, twirling the glass to watch it swirl. She didn’t believe it wasn’t magic, and looked to Ollie to say so. He was just as engrossed in examining the berry, turning it around and studying it from all angles, rubbing the shell with his fingertips and prodding at the bouncy fruit hiding inside.
“It’s best if you open it from the top.” Fliss pointed at the tip, where all four papery panels met and clung together, concealing the glowing fruit with all their thin and fragile might. Then she turned to Gryffon. “Are you sure this isn’t magic?”
With the issue of payment settled, he seemed much friendlier. “Yep. Just juice. Our captains’ secret recipe and all that.”
The word ‘captain’ pinged around Fliss’ mind, but she was finally free to taste this glowing liquid that had captured her attention all day. There was no reason to wait any longer. She lifted the glass to her lips.
It was like she could feel the glow running down her throat, like she was drinking the very rays of light that glanced off the rippling water of Liquidis. It was pure delight, with an underlying tartness that highlighted how refreshing that sweet first sip was. If the soalit berry tasted like starlight, sharp and cool and crisp, then limenade was absolutely liquid….
Fliss paused mid-gulp. “What’s that ball of light up there called?”
Gryffon frowned. “The sun?”
Limenade was liquid sunlight!
“We’re just gonna sidebar real quick.”
Fliss barely heard Gryffon over the fluttering of Milla’s wings next to her head. “Sorry, Milla.” She held the glass out so her moth could perch on the rim, the annoyed whispers turning to wonder and delight as she also got a taste of the limenade. Fliss let her have her fill, then finished the rest. The glass was clear now, empty, no longer glowing. Fliss sighed, and looked for where to return it now that she was done.
There was no obvious tray of dirty dishes anywhere. Did she get to keep it? Or did she have to hand it back to Alphonze? There was probably a heap of glasses under the counter somewhere. But all three attendants seemed busy, all huddled up and talking in hushed tones. If she left with the glass, she’d be stealing, but she didn’t want to interrupt whatever important business they were attending to.
Fliss was in the process of quietly setting the glass on the counter so she could run away when the huddle broke up and the three attendants stared at her moving in slow motion.
“Yeah, sidebar over. You’re clearly lost, out of your depth, and need some help. You’re coming with us.”
Fliss froze. “Huh?”
Ollie took her glass and shook her hand with enough enthusiasm to lift her off the ground. “Welcome to the Riptide Pirates!”