CHAPTER 25 — THE x DRUMMER x AND x THE x CROWD
⟢───── Ashes × Aether ─────⟣
The door stuck halfway open as the trio entered Lilly’s.
The first thing they noticed was the smell, booze, sweat, and clouds of pom smoke hanging low over the crowd.
Every corner had a deal attached. Dockhands traded coin for work permits. Freight runners whispered routes that probably didn’t exist. Even off-duty XPA frequented Lilly’s, but no one paid them any mind, and they did the same.
Talla took the lead socially, pulling her hood tighter as she slipped toward a group of women near the back. They weren’t natives, she could tell by the way they spoke. Voices soft but deliberate, the kind of accent you could tell they’d been working to hide. But Talla’s ears picked up subtleties like that.
Their brown skin glowed faintly in the low amber light, black hair braided and wrapped under dark veils. Each woman wore a line of henna markings across the face. Clan insignia, prayer sigils, a native language? Talla didn’t know.
They looked up as she passed. One tilted her head in polite recognition. Talla nodded back, almost smiled then second-guessed it. A smile might be weakness in a place like this.
Set and Riven stayed behind at the bar but didn’t order drinks. Riven asked for a menu and pretended to browse it as he drummed his fingers against the counter — tap… tap… tap tap…
Each rhythm sent a small pulse through the floorboards — a trick he’d learned back in Sylvanna’s Elven Harmonic Gardens: sound as aether. He listened to the returns as the pulses bounced off metal, skin, and the tavern’s ambient noise, sound itself.
It was the sound he paid attention to most. Like Set had noticed nights ago on the High-Noon Rail when the Conductor entered their car — not all summoners had visible aura or traceable aether signatures. But no matter how powerful, a person’s aether always leaked through their voice.
“Probably why the strongest ones usually have the least to say,” Riven murmured to himself, then kept listening.
Set glanced over but didn’t question it.
The tavern spoke in ripples, and Riven had been trained for years to hear them.
Tap… tap…
The pulse came back scattered at first, then a few beats returned clean, heavy, deliberate. Riven stopped drumming.
Whoever those belonged to had noticed his tracing technique.
He glanced toward Set, who hadn’t said a single word since they came in. The panther’s eyes were fixed on the far end of the room, where a narrow staircase climbed into the mezzanine shadows.
Set spoke low. “You felt that too?”
Riven nodded once. “Yup. No more drumming for me. Unless they really want a show.”
That was Riven’s rhythm, understanding the danger, but always ready to rise above it.
Before too long, Talla rejoined them at the bar.
“Great gals,” she said with her usual brightness.
“Who were they?” Set asked.
“Oh, they had a really cool name but I couldn’t pronounce it,” she said, letting out a slight frown as her brain worked to remember. “Trezz… her mamas?”
“You really are something,” Riven teased. “But what did they say? Anything useful?”
“Well, they said my hair’s really pretty and that they’ve never seen a squirrel like me before,” Talla said, clearly flattered.
“Talla,” Riven and Set said together.
“Oops.. almost forgot.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “They noticed that little present on your arm, Set. Said it’s a tracker. Said it’s not good news. Anywhere within the borders, and we might as well have a marching band playing behind us.”
That didn’t ease Set’s tension at all. His eyes lowered, then he looked back toward the staircase.
Set’s ears flattened. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
⟢───── Ashes × Aether ─────⟣