11. I Don't Need To Pay My Bill

“More ale!” cried Eelam.

“I think you've had enough,” replied Brat, the bartender. The Careless Stag was, it had to be said, a fairly seedy tavern in Bridgeport's south residential district. The proprietor, Brat, was a fat man with a weeping sore on his lip, but the beer was good.

“I don't,” replied Eelam. “Another tankard, please.”

“Of course, sir!” the barkeeper replied as Eelam's eyes flashed with the light that only he could see. The barkeeper pulled another tankard of ale and brought it to his table. Eelam took a long pull. “That brings your bill up to forty-three sails.”

Eelam's eyes flashed again. “I don't think so,” he said.

“Of course not! You're our guest here. Drink up!”

Eelam smiled. Of course he wouldn't have to pay. He didn't have forty-three sails, and Brat knew it, but he would never have to pay.

The waif on his knee was struggling. He tightened his grip.

“Don't wriggle, sweetheart,” he said as his eyes flashed again. “I'll let you go shortly.” She stopped struggling and put her arms around his neck. “That's better,” he said, smiling. He took another drink.

He noticed that Brat had returned to the bar and was now speaking with Pon, the large and heavy man whose job it was to eject unruly customers. Sometimes violently. Pon carried a stout cudgel in his belt, and plied it liberally. They both looked over to him. He raised his cup and smiled. They didn't smile back. In fact, they started moving in his direction.

“Brat here says you haven't paid your bill,” said Pon in a voice as heavy as his body.

Flash.

“I don't need to pay my bill.”

“You'd damn well better,” said Brat, “or I'll have Pon here...”

Flash.

“That's not necessary.”

“Let me go!” said the wench on his knee.

Flash.

“Stay a while.”

“If you don't...” said Pon…

Flash.

Eelam's eyes were starting to hurt. Perhaps it was time to take his leave after all. He released the young lady, who took the opportunity to get as far away from him as possible, and drained his tankard.

“Gentlemen,” he slurred, “I thank you for your hospitality. I'll take my leave now.”

“Not without...” started Brat.

Flash.

Outside, he paused a moment to steady himself – one hand against the nearest convenient wall, and the other massaging the bridge of his nose. It had been a while since the last time he had tried to flash three people at once. The last time had been when he was caught trying to stab the king.

He had just discovered his ability to make people do what he wanted them to, and he had used it to get into the feast. But when he had tried to make his way to the king's table, the guards stepped in and stopped him. He had tried flashing them, but he couldn't flash so many at once and he had been taken to the castle's dungeons to await judgement.

Fortunately, he was interviewed by the guard captain. After giving him the names of a few people who had annoyed him recently, Eelam was able to make the captain release him. Oddly, those people had disappeared. Rumours held that the guards had come and taken them away, but he didn't care.

He moved off down the street in the direction of his home. Or, what he thought was the direction of his home. He was drunker than he had realised. How many tankards had he had? He couldn't remember, but it was at least six or seven. He couldn't remember how much Brat said he owed.

As he staggered out onto a main road, he realised that he couldn't remember where he lived.

Didn't matter. He picked a direction at random. For a while he didn't care where he walked. He stopped once to throw up in a gutter, but he didn't care about that either.

“Pssst,” he heard. “Hey you! Come here.”

He laughed, but staggered toward the voice anyway. The man the voice belonged to stood half-shrouded in the evening light. The man drew a knife.

Flash.

“You don' wanna do that,” said Eelam. The knife vanished and the would-be bandit retreated back into the alleyway, but Eelam's headache was threatening to split his skull.

He collapsed to his knees, retching. He dug deep and evicted the last of the ale from his stomach before crumbling and falling face-down on the cobbles.

He didn't even notice when the buildings came crashing down around him.