Far Removed by C B Lansdell

Author:C B Lansdell
Language: eng
Format: epub

Oklas’s body quaked. He buried his blank face in his hands, but no tears wet his palms.

Chapter 16

Prismer

An attendant bearing a tray of frothing bira tumblers stepped aside to let five masked customers pass by. The maskads continued down the aisle to the wooden ramp at the pub’s exit. They were a peculiar group by most standards, but not unlike many of the Husk and Brewer’s regulars. Also known as Huskhouse, the pub occupied a wonderfully crooked narrow building in the Dolna District. A stairway to the left branched out onto three incomplete floors set at different levels in the wall. Curtains were drawn around some tables, providing maskads with private spaces to eat unencumbered by their masks.

‘Prismer,’ called Gazda, the swarthy owner of the Husk and Brewer, ‘don’t wait another year to show that fancy mask of yours around here.’

Prismer held back from the group and turned to find him behind the counter. ‘Your selection of steeping flowers alone will lure me back,’ she assured him. Gazda thrust his shoulders back appreciatively.

Had it been a year since Prismer’s last visit? She would have to return alone, with her sketches. It could become a revolution-end ritual. She passed the fountain made of barrel staves and started down the gravel path.

The Husk and Brewer lay between larger shops, at the end of an alley only wide enough for two to walk abreast. A wooden deck had been built above the gap, and the floorboards cast stripes of shadow and sunlight on the gravel. Strings of golden lights dotted the walls of the neighbouring buildings, guiding customers to the pub.

There were few safe havens for maskads in Apidecca, which could have been why the Husk and Brewer’s scumbled patrons outnumbered their whole counterparts. If this scared off some knyads, it did not seem to trouble Gazda. He had found his niche and catered to the specific requirements of his patrons. The establishment offered everything from affordable drinks to specially-adapted eating utensils. No single maskad could spend a great deal there, but many of the three hundred or so in the city frequented the Husk and Brewer with some regularity.

The maskads Prismer knew waited where the alley opened onto the street. Taber stood to one side, facing the others. He wore his wooden mask with the vertical band painted in the ashy pink of his skin. Even before she heard his synth-speech, Prismer could tell he was deep in a discussion by the exaggerated movements of his head.

‘And at the next meeting, Driminn will cover the subject of maskad-safe charities in the city. We’re sharing a list of drop-off sites for food and clothing. You can find us in the workshop again.’

Gryta, a young maskad in a pale blue hooded jacket, groaned. ‘I can’t make that one—working late. Our shipments go off the next segere.’

‘We can take notes for you,’ offered Onella, slowly turning her stippled bronze mask from Gryta to Prismer. ‘I know the Husk and Brewer is a fair walk from the Chambers, Prismer.

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