Asides

    "That one is Muta."

    Nils placed the small, spiral-shelled creature down on the surface of a broad leaf with a crinkle of his nose, certain that he was the butt of some joke. Even with eyes as sharp as his own, he could scarcely tell the differences between the mottled stripes on the snails' housings. It was sheer witchcraft for it to come from the half-blind potter.

    "See if you can find Jiya for me," Ori continued. "She likes to hide in that jug there."

    Nils went down to his hands and knees with a quiet grumble, putting his face close to the patch of grass and dirt. He pressed his fingers into the crack of a broken vase that was anchored in the ground. Inside, he felt something cool and smooth. After a brief wrestle, he dislodged it from the ground.

    "Is this it?" he asked, presenting his catch.

    Ori nodded sagely, with a smile more apparent in voice than face.

    "Yes," he said. "That's her. Be careful with her, she's a bit shy."

    Nils raised an eyebrow. "You keep saying 'she'—how can you tell?"

    "You can't."

    "Wait. Then, why?"

    Ori shrugged. "She just looks like it."

    The young man frowned, but got the strong impression that he would not be getting a more satisfying answer from the man. He placed "Jiya" on the other end of the leaf, opposite from "Muta." All told, there were five of them on the clay tray, looking more like a buffet presentation than anything else.

    "Is that it?" Nils sighed.

    Ori stroked his chin. "Yes, looks like all of them. I need to look in on the kiln. Can you manage?"

    "'A thumbnail of crust for each of them, soaked in ale.' Are you sure they can eat this?"

    "It's their favourite. Make sure you put them right back down on top, so they can find it."

    "Yep. Got it."

    He watched with a frown as Ori pulled himself off the porch edge and trundled off the to stone ovens behind the house. The snails wriggled slowly across the platter, leaving slime trail behind them. His stomach turned. Rather, it grumbled.

    He looked over at the plate of hard bread and the empty flagon. He grabbed the earthen cup, and went to the cask, giving the spout a few jiggles before it would put out. Dark brown ale sloshed into the cup. He replaced the stopper and took a swig. It was thick and rich, with almost a taste of syrup—far too good for a buffet of bugs.

    Nils followed the instructions as given, breaking off small spots of the bread's crust—sized to Ori's thumbnail, not his own—and dipped each once in the cup. He set the morsels down on a second tray, already prepared with a bedding of leaves. With a sneer, he picked up "Muta" and set her back down on her rations. He repeated this one by one with the others, until he came to the last, the name of which he had already forgotten. He held it aloft. Its thick, slimy body undulated like a tongue, like one long muscle, or a tail. Nils's own tail flicked in agitation. If only his nails were still grown out to their full points. He could dig in beyond that seam, pry from its bearings the sinew that held the body to its casing, and—

    "It something wrong with Bibi?"

    Nils looked up with a start. Ori came trundling back, his heavy arms swinging at his sides. Nils shook his head and lowered the snail; he hadn't realized how close it had come to his mouth.

    "I-I was just thinking," he stammered. "They're very interesting. It's amazing how they can stick to so many things!"

    Ori smiled visibly. "It is, isn't it? I wish sometimes I had a skill like that. It would be very handy."

    Nils nodded vaguely. He stared at the bottom of the snail a moment longer, until he felt the saliva pooling in his mouth, then finally, set the snail down on the bread-adorned leaf.

    He gulped down the rest of the ale. He would be needing a few mugs more.