Dear friend and reviewer BookWol has created a site, The Tome & Tankard Inn, where she creates fantasy-inspired cocktails for every book she reviews.
Predictably, she created one for Jaeth’s Eye, named after our favourite shitbag Enosh.
I remember the plum wine references from when I was raiding my dad’s alcohol closet for umeshu (he has gout, he shouldn’t even be drinking), and they stuck around. So it was nice to try to recreate the drink myself.
First off, this is actually really fucking good. Like, this is easily going to be our go-to drink from now on, versus the two-week hangover-causing experiments my friends like to make (apple cider and vodka, blargh).
Also, I wrote a quick flash fiction featuring this drink. Enjoy!
A Parody From The Agartes Epilogues
Few things irritate Sapphire more than seeing Enosh with a smirk on his face. Not, of course, that he has much else by way of expression—if he wasn’t in deep thought, he seemed to be stuck with a look of perpetual amusement. Sapphire does not consider herself a violent woman by any means, but more than once she has found herself with the urge to punch that smirk out of him. She has never done it on account of the sneaking suspicion that he might probably enjoy the physical contact.
“Is there anything I can help you with, my dear Sapphire?” he asks, breaking her train of thought. He looks up, a bottle in his hands.
“They said there was a package. I thought my books had arrived.”
“Ah,” he says. “No, unfortunately. The package was for me.”
She looks at the bottle. She really shouldn’t ask, but… “Well? What is it?”
“It’s a gift,” Enosh says, picking up a card from the table. “From a certain…ahh…owl lady? This is a strange signature.” He turns it around, a brief moment of confusion crossing his face. “In any case, it seems as if it is a special drink she made in my honour.”
Sapphire nearly chokes on her spit. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not making it up this time.”
“Really.”
“Really. It’s what the note says.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Despite herself, she reaches for the note, and is amazed to discover it is exactly what he said. “A drink in your honour. How—”
“Amazing? Flattering? Touching?”
“Suspicious,” she corrects him. She narrows her eyes. “What kind of drink is it?”
“Let me see.” Enosh turns the bottle around until he finds a tag. “Ah, there you go. The drink, apparently is called…” He pauses.
“Well?”
“Enosh Sucks,” he says, half-mumbling the words.
“What?”
“Enosh Sucks.”
“Say it again.”
“Enosh—here, you read it for yourself.” He pushes the bottle into her hands.
Sapphire reads it, and it takes all the discipline instilled into her by the most skilled Givers in Eheldeth not to burst out laughing. “Who is this wonderful lady?” she asks. “I must meet her.”
“I don’t know,” Enosh says, dragging a hand over his brown hair. “The package came from Cael.”
“So one of your women.”
“Like I said, I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t a question.” She turns the tag over. “There’s a description here: a unique concoction of brandy and plum wine for lothario, anti-hero types.” Now she does laugh, at least briefly. She hands the bottle back to him. “It’s poison. It has to be. Plenty enough women in Cael who want you dead, never mind everywhere else in the world put together.”
Enosh uncorks and sniffs it. “Maybe.” He turns around and picks up a glass, slowly pouring enough that Sapphire could smell it from where she stands. The drink has a slight, reddish-brown tinge to it. Bits of green leaves bob around the liquid.
“You’re not really going to drink it, are you?” she asks.
“It’s a drink made by a lady who can’t stop thinking about me,” he says, the smirk deepening. “It’d be a crying shame not to.”
Sapphire watches in horror as he takes a sip, and then a little bit more. She waits a few seconds for him to drop dead.
He doesn’t. He turns to her with a grin. “It’s delicious. Like that plum swill they love to drink around here, only better. Slight tinge of salt. There’s a hint of ginger, too.” He smacked his lips. “And it’s fizzy.”
“Are you sure that’s not your bile threatening to come up and choke you?”
“You’re always so negative. Here. Try it.”
Sapphire recoils from the proffered cup. “I’m not going to drink that.”
“It’s not poison. Trust me.”
“I mean I’m not going to drink anything with your name on it. Or your spit.” She sighs and turns around. “I should get back to my research.”
“My dear,” Enosh begins, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve been at the books too often, too long. I can see how tired you are. Are you really sure you won’t stay and share a drink with me, Sapphire?” When she doesn’t move fast enough, he reaches out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.
Her own hand reaches up to punch him in the throat.
“I’ll see you at dinner, Tar’elian,” she says with a smile.
“Enjoy your books, my lady,” he manages to croak out, tears in his eyes.
As Sapphire closes the door behind her, she hears him grumble, “It’s damn good. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
She gives a snort before returning to her room.
