“Never turn down a generous offer,” Ryan replied. “Just three rooms-seven beds, two twos and a three-for one night’ll do it. Won’t turn down supper and breakfast tomorrow, before we get on our ways again. Thank you kindly.”
“Sure thing. Tell me, Ryan Cawdor, whatever happened to that fine old boy, Trader? Heard he’d bought the farm against some renegade Utes up near the Sippi?”
“No. Last I heard be was somewhere out in the western islands. Give him your best next time I run into him.”
“Do that, Mr. Cawdor. Please do that.” He smiled and nodded like a clockwork Buddha. “Now, you turned down the ladies, I believe. Jack-free offer extends to them if any of you. No? Fair enough, friends. Let me show you to your rooms and then there’s a bathhouse out back with good hot water.”
“Food?” Krysty asked.
“Of course.” A slight frown crossed his eager face. “Right now only some heat-up soup and bread with refined beans. Cook’s not here until six in the evening.”
“Perhaps we might delay our repast until the evening,” Doc suggested.
There was a general murmur of approval, though Dean sighed, rubbing his stomach meaningfully.
Clinkerscales smiled again. “How about a small drink before you go up to the rooms? We got the best range of predark rarities anywhere round Washington Hole.”
“Predark drinks!” Jak stared suspiciously at the barkeep.
“Cross my heart and hope to die, friends. The center of the old ville was wiped clean away on minute one of hour one of day one of skydark. But plenty of the stores out in the suburbs were still left standing. Not many people alive for miles, so there’s plenty of stuff around.”
“What kind of drinks?” Mildred asked.
“Normally some of them go for a barrow-load of jack, lady. But for friends of Trader.”
“Come, jovial mine host,” Doc urged, “list us your drinkables, there’s a good fellow.”
The arrival of Ryan and the others had silenced the card players, who were all sitting, open mouthed, staring at the exotic newcomers.
“Well.” Clinkerscales began to tick off his drinks on his fingers, glancing at the row of dusty bottles behind him to refresh his memory. “Peach schnapps, cream of menthe, amaretto, Cointreau.that’s a land of fiery orange flavor. Real nice. Not sure how you pronounce that blue stuff next to it. Spelled c-u-r-a-c-a-o. Sounds kind of Mex to me.”
“You got any fine drinking whiskey?” Ryan asked. “Those all look and sound too fancy.”
The barman tugged at his curly side-whiskers, sniffing and wiping his beaked nose on his sleeve. “Well, I wouldn’t steer you wrong, Mr. Cawdor. First things to go were the good whiskies. Corn and malts. There was a warehouse out beyond Rockville. Been buried under some nuke damage for years. Quake uncovered it eight years ago. Baron Sharpe was out that way on one of his hunting expeditions. Him and me had a sort of arrangement over my girls.” He winked at Ryan. “Know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. And you got first hands on the liquor.”
Clinkerscales nodded. “Sure did. But these foreign drinks is all I got left. Folks say they taste real good. Why don’t you try some of them?”
“I’ll have a glass of the Cointreau,” Mildred said.
“Same for me,” Doc added quickly. “Make it a double, if you will. Most excellent. Fill the flowing bowl, landlord, and let who will be sober.”
“How’s that, Doctor?”
“Ignore him,” Krysty said. “I’ll try that green drink. Cream of something.”
“Menthe. Reckon it means mint. That’s what it tastes of. Kind of sweet.”
“Can I have that as well, Dad?” Ryan nodded. “Sure.”
The barman was busily blowing dirt off the bottles, finding an array of glasses and wiping them round with a corner of his apron. He poured out generous measures of the clear Cointreau and the dark green mint liqueur.
“Gentlemen?” he said to Ryan, J.B. and Jak.
“Nothing for me,” the Armorer replied. “Hot bath and a rest’ll do for me.”
“Got some Russkie vodka. Strongest proof you ever knew. Got to swallow it soon as it touches your lips. Or it strips the coating off of your teeth.”