Author's Note: I hope this chapter doesn't jump around too much, I've summed up quite a bit of her background in one chapter to keep the story from dragging.
Chapter Two: Hair of the Dog That Bit
Sixteen year old Amber half-climbed, half stumbled up the stairs to her room, singing off-key and laughing at nothing whatsoever. She and the handsome man beside her used each other for support, which gave him an excuse to stop and kiss her heavily every few steps. She turned the corner to the final stair with his arm around her waist and stopped at the sight of the unidentifiable obstacle between her and her door. She blinked her eyes clear and the blur coalesced into the form of Tish, wearing an angry expression and both fists planted menacingly on her hips. Amber faltered on the next line of the song and fell silent, trying to clear her head enough to get past Tish without removing her steadying hand from the wall.
"Amber Osho, what do you think you're doing?"
The voice was too loud and sharp for her in her inebriated state. She felt a kind of panic in her guts as she tried to concentrate on what the words meant.
"m'goin t'bed."
"mmmmm-hhhmmm. And where," she said looking daggers at the man, "do you think YOU'RE going then?"
The man quailed for a moment in the face of her wrath, then remembered his station in life and drew himself up indignantly.
"I fail to see," he said with suspicious sobriety, "how that's any business of a servant's."
"I see," replied Tish icily, "well then let me explain it to you. This," she indicated one arm towards Amber, "is my daughter, at least according to her da's last wishes. And as such, I'll be damned if I'm going to let some lecherous rich boy take advantage of her when she's drunk. So you can turn around and leave quietly, and never be seen with her again, or I can call out the bartender, who watches over her as his own, and HE can try explaining it to you in simpler terms."
Grander's reputation was almost legendary, and the man paled significantly. He pulled away from Amber and let her slump to the steps, no longer laughing. Holding up both hands he backed down the stairs, then fled out the side door they'd come in, cursing as the locks held him up briefly. He left the door swinging and Tish could hear the beat of his footsteps running at full speed down the alley.
She looked down at Amber with a sigh of disappointment and hauled the girl unceremoniously to her feet. She half-carried her downstairs and deposited her in a chair before locking up the alley door. She fetched a pot of tea and some mugs from the kitchen and placed them on the table as she sat down across from Amber. The girl was looking at her reproachfully.
"Whaddya do that for?"
Tish set herself like a stone, without emotion or pity.
"Your father would roll over in his grave if he could see you tonight."
Shocked tears sprang to Amber's eyes and she looked as if Tish had stabbed her in the gut.
"How dare you, how dare you say that to me!"
"Do you think you're the only one who misses him girl? Don't you understand that after all the work he went through to see you raised right, that what you're doing is like slapping the man in the face? He thought you'd amount to something great. And look at you...." She put as much scorn as possible into the last sentence, even though it broke her heart to treat Amber harshly. "If you go one more day like this you'll never amount to anything but another washed-up piece of bar trash like the other girls here."
"That's a bit rich, coming from you."
Trish nearly winced at the barb, but held steady. They'd tried everything to bring her around, it was time to remove the silk.
"Is it? You don't see me getting drunk every night and whoring myself out to any guy that can flash a gold coin..."
"He's not just any guy!" Amber interrupted angrily, "Radan loves me, and I love him. He was going to marry me..."
Tish snorted, then looked at her pityingly. "Radan Juno? Is that who that great sissy was?"
Amber nodded defiantly.
"He said he'd never met anyone like me, and that he didn't care where I came from."
"I'm sure he doesn't." Tish snorted, then her expression softened with sympathy. "Amber, sweetheart, Ranan Juno is engaged to be married tomorrow afternoon to a Kaldeshian heiress. It's been the talk here all night."
The girl looked stunned and sat back in her chair.
"That's...that's impossible..."
"He was using you for a last fling, and you're smarter than that. But you let the wine go to your head and believed every pipe dream he fed you, didn't you. Did he tell you he would build you a big white house? Keep horses? Children?"
Tish decided to back off when Amber put her head down on her arms and wept.
"I miss him," she cried, voice muffled by her sleeve, "I miss him so much."
Tish knew she wasn't speaking of her would-be lover.
"I know love. I miss him too. And terribly. We all do. And it hurts us even more to watch you disrespect his memory."
"I'm sorry....I just don't know what to do now that he's gone. I'm not a good enough singer to follow him."
"No, but his name is still known, and it's still yours. I think that as long as you keep it a respectable name it can be good to you. But we'll talk about it in the morning. Right now I want you to drink your tea and go to bed."
Amber sniffed and obeyed mutely, unable to look her foster mother in the face. At the foot of the stairs she turned and threw her arms around the woman in a fierce hug. Tish held her a moment and smoothed out a tangle in the gyspy braids Amber still wore for luck.
"Its ok sprout," she said gently, "you've got some family left."Amber woke earlier than usual and groaned as the rays of the sun drove what felt like blunted nails into the backs of her eye sockets. She rolled out of bed and pulled on a random set of clothing, not even bothering to see if they were clean. She stumbled down to the bar and poured herself a shot, raising it in a toast to the morning sun against the picture windows.
"Hair of the dog..."
She tossed it back and grimaced. She looked gravely at the bottle, then jammed the cork back into the neck. She went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of strong black coffee, carrying it to a corner table to think.
By the time Tish silently joined her at the table an hour later Amber was sketching on a sheet of parchment with a flush of excitement. She acknowledged the woman's presence with a bare nod and kept drawing. When Grander was lured through the room by the smell of coffee he was stopped in his tracks by a war whoop from Amber. She jumped out of her chair and planted kisses on the cheeks of her surrogate parents before dancing over to the posting board and tacking the parchment to it.
Tish and Grander exchanged long looks, smiles tugging at both their mouths. Amber did another wild dance around the room before collapsing in her chair to catch her breath. She looked at the two immobile adults and acted piqued.
"Well!? Aren't you going to read it?"
They made their way to the posting board.
Introducing unto the city Amber Otho, a barkeep of extraordinary style and integrity, now available to hire for private events, parties, and short-term replacement. Please enquire care of the May Leaf, Lansovar.
Amber's career as a wandering barkeep began auspiciously. An officer's award banquet found itself shorthanded at the last minute when their barkeep dodged his gambling debts right out of the country. The messenger sent to bring her to the interview showed her into the hotel office where a nervous, sweating man paced the floor. When she entered he looked up and gave her a clinical once-over that ended in a more personal scrutiny.
Amber had retained some training by her father and immediately swept a formal bow to the man. She kept her movements fluid and slightly pretentious at all times, and smiled warmly while offering her hand. The man held it overlong, and gave it a sweaty, caressing shake that made her want to wipe her hands on her tunic.
"You're awfully young..."
The man's statement was tinged with a certain eagerness that Amber reluctantly played to.
"Old enough."
Her eyes meet his for a long moment, then flicked back to the wall behind him. He became, if possible, even more agitated. Her eyes barely moved as she took note of his balding, greasy head and the food stains of various antiquity running down his unwashed shirt. He sat across from her and tore his eyes away long enough to peruse the papers in front of him.
"Well your recommendations are excellent, and of course your father played here in his time. I will offer you the contract. The terms are two percent of the profit at your till, plus tips."
She considered taking it, after all this was her first job. But she knew that whatever price she agreed to would be locked in for years to come. She reluctantly placed her folded arms on the man's desk and leaned forward, offering him a clear view down her neckline.
"Five percent, unfortunately, is my standard fee."
The man started to shake his head, but Amber met his eye again with a knowing smile and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. He leaned forward closer to her and she managed to not wrinkle her nose. He studied her face anxiously, then nodded.
"Five percent."
He changed the wording on the contracts before him and initialed the changes before signing. She scribbled her own name and plucked her copy neatly from his fingertips as she headed out the door. He opened his mouth if to call her back, but was thankfully silenced by the click of the heavy oak door swinging smoothly into its frame. She caught a last view of his angry and disappointed face, and laid a theatrical kiss on the rolled contract in her hand. Once outside, she tipped her hat to the messenger and finally took the time to wipe her hand on her tunic, disgusted.
She quickly became a success, and fell into such demand that she was able to raise her take of each night's profit by another five percent. She became the favorite of some of the less reputable guilds, for she was discreet and professional, looked the other way when asked, and did not gossip about what she heard on the job. She became the darling of the city guard, who nicknamed her "Whiskey" and took her under their wing as a sister and mascot after she humiliated a much hated officer in a drinking contest. They were violently protective of her reputation when rumors were spread, which at times caused more trouble for her than it resolved. She poured for the high nobles and the seediest riverfront rowdies and found little difference between the two under the leveling influence of music and drink.
Six years and a string of wrong men later she was standing behind the main bar at the Governor's annual masquerade ball, watching the richest couples in Lansovar turning languidly to an equally apathetic orchestra, and wishing she had chosen a livelier appointment for that evening.
Still, it had its perks. She reminded herself that she didn't have to fight off as many drunken groping hands at these high-blown gigs. In fact, her station in life as servant kept most of the men from noticing her as anything but practical decoration. This, of course, suited her just fine.
She continued to smile through these reflections, finding just the right balance between the friendly warmth required for tips, and the cool distance preferred by most of this crowd when it came to the hired help. She finished mixing a series of weak but colorful drinks for a gaggle of powdered and beribboned women and turned to help the next customer. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled at her from behind a black leather mask, and her carefully arranged expression faltered for a moment. After staring for a few seconds she realized with horror that she was actually blushing and tossed her hair defiantly behind her shoulders.
"What can I pour you, sir?"
He continued to stare for a moment, then gave his own head a quick shake. She registered that he was as disconcerted as her, and the knowledge gave her back a measure of control. He leaned onto the counter without moving his eyes from hers. Amber noticed that when he leaned, he rested on the tips of his fingers. His balance was that of a duelist, but his hands were nobleman's hands, without callus or scar.
"My name is Ihan bin'ferroch, May I buy something for you?"
The name didn't sound Catavan, but then the event was diplomatic, and dancers in exotic foreign dress and speech had been up to the bar all evening.
"What did you have in mind?"
"A drink, of course. To start."
Her eyes gleamed in amused challenge.
"What can you afford?"His lips and eyes smiled around the mask again, accepting the challenge.
"I can't quite afford to buy the city itself."
Amber shrugged pulled a bottle adorned with silver filigree from a special locked shelf beneath the bar. She watched the man's impassive eyes as she poured a shot of the dark hundred-year old whiskey. He never blinked, and his composure was somewhat unnerving. She raised the shot to him in a toast and drank it down in one swallow. The drink was smooth and powerful, and left the taste of smoky peat on her tongue. She carefully replaced the cork and set the bottle back on its shelf.
"That will be fifty gold."
The man's smile, if anything, widened.
"How much for the rest of the bottle?"
Whiskey raised an eyebrow and quirked her mouth.
"One thousand."
The man pulled out a thick pouch and began counting platinum coins onto the table, each worth ten pieces of gold. When there were five stacks of twenty Whiskey pulled the bottle from behind the bar and set it carefully in front of him. He waved it aside with a casual gesture.
"Give me one glass, no ice. Keep the rest."
She poured him a glass, and barely managed to keep her hands from shaking. He accepted it with a bow, tipped her another platinum coin, and strode off into the room.
She tracked him with her eyes throughout the night, taking note that he never danced with the same woman twice. At the end of the ball he returned to the bar as she was wiping it down.
"If you wish to share that bewitching bottle, I would welcome your company in my suite."
She laughed out of habit.
"Sorry, against my policy to...shall we say fraternize...with patrons of my employer."
"That's a shame, because I don't have in mind what I think you assume. I am here on business from Thardunn, and haven't had a moment yet when I've been free to have a real, non-diplomatic conversation on which nothing hinges but out own opinions. I was hoping you'd be free for a nightcap, and perhaps a game of cards."
She assessed him carefully, but found no indication that he was lying. She lost a brief argument with herself and nodded.
"Wonderful," he said, "Suite 210, when you're finished here."
She couldn't help watching him as he walked away.
The next week was a blur for her. They spent most of the time in Ihan's bed, with occasional forays into the town when the scenery became too monotonous for them. When he asked her to return to Thardunn with him she accepted readily, to the dismay of Tish, Grander and her wide circle of friends. As she packed for the carriage ride her foster parents hovered anxiously nearby.
"Do you have something warm to wear?" asked Tish for the umpteenth time.
Whiskey nodded again and smiled patiently at her.
"It's all right Tish, in fact it's more than all right. I've finally found the one!"
Tish and Grander exchanged dubious looks with her past disastrous love affairs firmly in mind.
"Well, your bed will always be open to you here Amber," said Grander, "In case you feel like visiting... or coming back."
Whiskey hugged them both with a laugh.
"Oh ye of little faith! I may come back to visit, although probably not right away. But this one's going to be forever, you'll see."
Grander helped her into her carriage with a stern eye towards her new lover. Ihan took it all in smoothly and shook hands with Grander and Tish. His behavior towards Amber was courteous enough to appease Grander, and smooth enough to raise Tish's suspicions. But she bit her tongue against them, and waved reluctantly to the carriage as it flew down the eastern road to the Unclaimed Territories.