Fenrem winced. His craft was by no means the least demanding physically, and he was rather muscular compared to, say, the scribe's apprentice, from lifting barrels and carrying bottles from the cellars to the ground. That said, he was certain Sandra's love tap would leave an ugly bruise on his arm by the next day. The minx jumped from one emotion to the next so fast that he could hardly lock down and soothe her before she was attacking him.
And she'd only gotten better at it over the years.
Resisting the urge to rub the spot where she had punched him, he raised his hands in a gently mocking gesture of peace.
"Very well," he said, snatching the flask out of her hands and taking a sip for himself. The little thing was nearly empty. "Let us talk of less interesting things."
He stood and placed his flask back into his pouch, only to replace it with another, slightly larger one. He had been planning to share it with the dear widow, but it seemed he would not meet her for some time yet... If his master's plans panned out, perhaps never again. He poured a forest-green liquid into the three glasses - no more than a swallow each - and handed them to Sandra and Veint. Unlike the metheglin, as soon as he unstoppered the flask, both Sandra and Veint could immediately smell the aroma of the hundred different herbs Fenrem's master distilled into his secret and highly sought-after liqueur
"I've seen men meet Nin on this," he said, raising his glass. "And swear by it from across the great seas atop high mountains. It seems fitting that we drink it on this night of nights, when we leave our child selves behind. To the tumbling children of Amber Falls."
He drank, and the all too familiar taste of sweet and spicy nectar of mint, anise and even a little citrus spread like a fire over his mouth and down his throat before spreading the warmth from his stomach to the rest of his body.
What he had not told either of them, of course, was that it was stronger than almost every brand in his collection, and the man who had met Nin on his master's liqueur had done it in three small glasses as Rem had poured.
Nodding to himself, he looked at the two of his friends pointedly, urging them to continue.